Substitute-Chapter 136

Park Geonwoo sensed someone.

He opened his eyes inside the sack. He tried to make noise through the gag in his mouth and wriggled his bound hands and feet, but that was all he could do. Communication was impossible.

All he knew was that he was imprisoned together with Son Geonwoo. In burlap sacks, like trash.

Son Geonwoo had run out of luck, and Park Geonwoo’s luck had simply ended.

Honestly, it was more accurate to say Son Geonwoo had brought this on himself. He could have just escaped together with Number 9, his teammate, but he’d gone looking for them out of some stubborn need for revenge. More precisely, for Kim Jiwon.

By contrast, Park Geonwoo was only now paying for the sins he’d committed.

If you wanted to put an actual charge on it, Park Geonwoo’s crimes were involuntary manslaughter and involuntary injury, but he had never received any legal punishment for what he’d done. He had never taken responsibility.

All he’d really done was flee to Korea.

And then he’d lived a new life like nothing had ever happened. For eight whole years.

He’d come back to Seoul and, using the special admission track for overseas Koreans, he’d belatedly gotten into a prestigious university. Because he was a US citizen, he’d been exempt from military service, and he’d enjoyed nightlife without a care on his parents’ dime. He’d even managed to quit the drugs he’d thought he’d never escape, in one clean break.

Even by his own standards, he was shameless. He lived as if he’d come down with amnesia.

He’d known perfectly well what he’d done and still turned away from it. Eventually, he deluded himself to the point where he truly believed it had never happened. There had been clear victims, but because he didn’t see them, it was as if they didn’t exist.

His parents bore a large part of the responsibility for how he’d ended up.

Like many Korean parents, they cherished their son more than their daughter, blood grandchildren more than the grandkids from their daughter’s side.

They had become US citizens, but still did business only with Koreans and socialized only with Koreans. Maybe because of that, their worldview had become even narrower than when they’d lived in Korea, and their conservative streak had grown more rigid.

To people like that, their eldest daughter’s marriage had come as nothing short of a shock. The fact that she had married not a white man but a dark-skinned Hispanic, and a divorced man with two children to boot, was something they simply couldn’t accept. They regarded their daughter as a disgrace.

Then that incident had happened, and the parents were actually pleased she would be divorcing “that bastard” over this. They spewed that cruelty at their daughter, who was so shattered she could barely move, as if it were comfort.

Just as Park Geonwoo had done, they acted like nothing had ever happened.

Conveniently, the guy who’d been with Park Geonwoo that day took the fall for everything.

Park Geonwoo’s boyfriend, who had gone to prison three times for drug possession and dealing, had been so high he was barely conscious. Naturally, he remembered nothing and really believed he had done it. His hands were covered in flour and chocolate, so there was no way out for him.

That’s how it had gone. That day, Park Geonwoo had been baking muffins with his boyfriend.

The idea to sprinkle ecstasy on the muffins as decoration had been entirely Park Geonwoo’s.

While the muffins baked in the oven, his boyfriend swallowed several tablets of ecstasy and danced, high on the music and the drugs, and Park Geonwoo decorated the finished muffins alone. The ecstasy happened to be in pastel rainbow colors, looking no different from the sprinkles people typically put on muffins or cupcakes.

Excited, Park Geonwoo had piped whipped cream on the muffins and then crushed the ecstasy into small bits and sprinkled it on top along with chocolate chips.

The house was filled with the rich smell of baking bread.

His hands and the kitchen were a mess of powders, but the muffins tasted incredible.

After scarfing down three muffins in no time, Park Geonwoo had giggled with his boyfriend and started dancing.

And that was when his older sister visited his place with her kids.

Unlike with their now-estranged parents, his sister had stayed on good terms with her younger brother. She was the only one who knew he was dating a junkie. Naturally, she worried about him. So she had gotten into the habit of visiting his place alone or with the kids two or three times a week.

That day, too, she’d shown up unannounced.

When he let his sister into the house, Park Geonwoo had been high as well. He hugged her while dancing to the music.

He remembered her getting angry. He remembered her picking up her phone and saying she would call the police.

Did he turn the music off? Right.

His boyfriend turned it back on, and his sister, screaming at the top of her lungs, jabbed her finger at him. Even when she pushed him and punched him, the boyfriend didn’t resist. He’d never been a violent person.

That’s my sister, same temperament as ever.

Watching that, Park Geonwoo giggled, then decided this wasn’t going to work and stepped in.

He gave a wink to his six-year-old niece, who was more mature than kids her age.

It’s okay. It’s nothing.

He tried to reassure her.

His sister grabbed his hand and dragged him into the bedroom, and he got the same lecture again. The one where she told him to break up with the guy.

While the two of them were in there bickering, only the boyfriend and the kids were left in the living room.

It should never have been like that...

The boyfriend had probably handed the muffins to the kids with good intentions. But the result had been horrific.

In the police investigation, Park Geonwoo pinned what he’d done on his boyfriend. Crushing the ecstasy, sprinkling it on top as a topping together with chocolate—everything became the boyfriend’s doing.

The police believed the word of the “upstanding” Korean rather than that of the barely conscious junkie. The fact that the boyfriend was a drug addict ten years older than him was also a huge help to then-twenty-year-old Park Geonwoo.

That was how he escaped from the sin he’d committed.

Because it hadn’t been intentional, he didn’t feel anything resembling guilt. He simply thought those kids had been unlucky.

From that day on, Park Geonwoo never once went back to the US. No, he couldn’t. Just in case. Even if the boyfriend remembered the events exactly one day, the police wouldn’t believe him, but still—you never knew with people.

Despite that tragedy, his parents kept living their lives. They socialized actively with the Korean community and made sure to return to Korea once a year to attend family gatherings. They brought Park Geonwoo along.

And so he lived, having forgotten it all.

What reminded him that the incident had really happened was the footage on a USB delivered to his house. Footage of people who were still suffering because of his foolish mistake.

It had been eight years.

He should never have opened it. Even if he’d ignored it then, it was the sort of footage he would have had no choice but to see sooner or later.

The people who lured Park Geonwoo here had been relentless. He had never imagined that anyone could dig into someone’s weakness so thoroughly, so ruthlessly. In the end, he gave in.

He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been scared. When it came down to it, he’d wanted to run again, just like back then.

He’d known nothing would actually happen to him. If he’d brazenly refused, they wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him. What they had was not evidence.

But after seeing that footage, Park Geonwoo simply couldn’t turn away.

Because of that tiny piece of pastry, the lives of five people had been ruined. And yet, in his stupidity and selfishness, he’d thought only of himself. He’d buried the truth under lies.

He’d come to loathe himself so much he couldn’t stand it.

Crushed at last by guilt, Park Geonwoo did as the man told him. As a result, he’d checked into this isolated place.

And then something truly astonishing had happened. Once he was here, he’d felt joy.

He’d been happy in a way that almost felt wrong, and unexpectedly, he’d met younger guys—brothers and teammates—who really clicked with him.

Above all, what thrilled him most was the drugs provided here. The drugs that drifted in the air and that they sometimes ingested directly were in a different league from the ones he’d been addicted to in America.

They were definitely hallucinogens, but there were no apparent side effects. All he felt was pleasure and delight. He could function in daily life without issue.

Thanks to the drugs, his life felt richer.

Park Geonwoo had been full of hope. He’d thought maybe he really could live a new life.

At least until his dirty secret was exposed during the Board Quiz Show.

The reason he’d tried to kill Kim Jiwon had been the drugs. The guilt the hallucinations had stirred up had almost made him kill a friend. The idea that there were no side effects had been a massive illusion.

Even now, his heart pounded whenever he thought about what had happened.

He’d only learned today—no, yesterday—that the guy was someone he was supposed to protect.

Kim Jiwon, and Yoon Jiwon.

He had never imagined he’d be an undercover cop, but it suited him.

No wonder the vibe had felt different.

Park Geonwoo started to picture Jiwon in a police uniform, then shook his head when his own face appeared over that image.

The idea that someone who looked like him could be living a life so completely different from his own was both cool and envy-inducing.

Aside from the severed penis, he wanted to make everything about that guy his own.

If that guy dies, could I become Kim Jiwon, no, Detective Yoon Jiwon?

He had even indulged that silly fantasy.

What a greedy bastard.

In any case, his usefulness ended here, and he didn’t even hope to get out alive.

Still, those fantasies alone made him feel a little better.

“Fuck, what is this place.”

Just then, the source of the presence whispered.

As a last desperate struggle, Park Geonwoo and Son Geonwoo thrashed almost at the same time.

“Holy shit, fuck!”

He heard the guy who’d found them fall over in terror.

No wonder.

No one would imagine that living people were stuffed inside those sacks.

Son Geonwoo bucked harder, and the guy who’d fallen over belatedly stammered, “Wh-who’s there? Who is it?”

The voice was familiar. Someone he knew.

Choi Minjae.

Park Geonwoo unconsciously felt relieved.

If it was that guy, maybe he could help them.

Son Geonwoo seemed to share the same hope. His movements grew even more frantic.

“Wh-who’s there? Is someone there?”

Fuck. What’s he dithering for?

Instead of hurrying over and untying them, Choi Minjae just kept asking questions, and it annoyed Park Geonwoo.

Well, to be fair, he’d have been scared too. For all he knew, what was in the sacks might be animals, not people—dogs or cats, stuffed in there in some horrific state.

At last, he heard the sounds of Choi Minjae slowly mustering his courage and approaching.

For fear he’d only rescue Son Geonwoo, Park Geonwoo also worked hard to broadcast his own presence from inside his sack.

After hesitating several times, Choi Minjae opened Son Geonwoo’s sack first.

“Shit!”

With a gasp, he blurted out, “Fuck, what—why are you... No, fuck. Wow, fuck. Are you okay?”

While he had time for such leisurely questions, he could have been untying him too!

Park Geonwoo squirmed again.

After a brief delay, Choi Minjae came over to him and carefully loosened the mouth of the sack.

That was how, nearly two hours after being captured, Park Geonwoo finally got out of the bag. The blindfold over his eyes and the gag in his mouth came off as well.

The nauseating stench of rot stabbed at his nose.

Of the seven sacks, aside from the ones holding him and Son Geonwoo, five were oozing a sludge-like liquid. It was probably food scraps they’d eaten upstairs, or butchered meat left over and now rotting away.

“Hyung, what are you doing here?”

Choi Minjae asked.

“What are you doing here, Geonwoo?”

He was scared out of his mind.

“Minjae, hurry up and get these off me too.”

Park Geonwoo, his hands and feet bound with cable ties, shouted.

“Ah, yeah. It’s just... they’re cable ties... There’s nothing to cut them with.”

With clumsy hands, Choi Minjae grabbed the cable ties and pulled. Because of that, the ties, which had been binding his wrists with no slack at all, dug even deeper into his flesh.

When Park Geonwoo groaned, flustered, Choi Minjae let go.

In his desperation, Park Geonwoo tried biting through the cable around his wrists, but it was useless. It felt like every last one of his teeth would fall out before he ever managed to bite through it. Even the thin, small cable ties were hard to break; these were industrial-grade.

“Isn’t there anything we can cut this with?”

He figured the only thing Minjae had on him was a small flashlight, but he asked anyway, just in case.

“No. I don’t have anything.”

Choi Minjae answered in a drained voice.

“Minjae, we can’t run like this. You know that.”

“Huh?”

Choi Minjae stared down at him blankly.

“Run?”

he repeated.

What the hell is wrong with this guy?

“Fuck. Don’t just stand there—go look for something!”

When Son Geonwoo snapped at him, Choi Minjae awkwardly got to his feet.

It was only then that Park Geonwoo noticed blood running down Minjae’s forehead.

There was a reason he’d been moving so slowly.

With a frown, Park Geonwoo said,

“Don’t ride him so hard. He’s hurt.”

“So what, fuck. Is he more hurt than I am?”

Son Geonwoo sneered.

Granted, compared to the beating Son Geonwoo had taken from them, Choi Minjae’s injury was nothing.

But who knew?

For all they knew, despite appearances, Minjae could be in worse shape than Son Geonwoo.

Still dazed, like his soul had left his body, Choi Minjae flusteredly looked around the room and then said, “There’s nothing here.”

“For fuck’s sake, then at least go check another room!”

At Son Geonwoo’s shout, Choi Minjae hesitated for a moment and then finally walked toward the door.

“They’re going to catch me...”

he muttered to himself.

The moment he heard that, Park Geonwoo wondered how Minjae had ended up here.

But he didn’t need to ask.

Because when his hand closed over the doorknob and he started to turn it, Choi Minjae froze solid.

He whipped around to the two of them and went “Shh.”

Park Geonwoo held his breath, and even Son Geonwoo, who’d been swearing and huffing, shut his mouth.

The three of them listened intently.

There was someone else out there in the dark.

Even with carpet on the floor, they could feel the weight of a person walking.

Step, step. Step...

The sound stopped right outside the door.

Backing away, Choi Minjae suddenly bolted like a madman and shoved himself into the sack Son Geonwoo had been in earlier. He was completely # Nоvеlight # panicked and flailing.

What the hell is he doing?

Park Geonwoo had no idea what was going on and only blinked, while Son Geonwoo cursed.

Slowly, the doorknob turned.

“Fuck. We’re screwed.”

Son Geonwoo burst out laughing, somewhere between fear and resignation.

Park Geonwoo, on the other hand, made ready to accept his fate.

It was atonement, eight years overdue.

****

Han Seoho was hanging from the ceiling, his two arms tied up like a slaughtered carcass.

Before the power went out, the inside had been blindingly bright, but now only the red LED lights installed at each corner fought back the darkness.

Beneath Han Seoho’s feet were tiles, and directly behind him, Lee Jihoon—who had been discharged two days earlier due to an injury—hung on a hook, his face bloodless and pale. In other words, dead.

He had cried so much that he had no tears left.

Where had it gone wrong?

It had been just before Hide-and-Seek started, during the countdown.

With Kim Jiwon’s help, Han Seoho had barely made it outside the building and was sprawled in the garden.

The hastily pulled-on wetsuit was uncomfortable, and his bare feet hurt on the ground.

There were no perks even for doing spy work; the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.

That bastard Manager Kim. Just wait till I see him—I won’t let it go.

He ground his teeth.

And then two men in the exact same wetsuit as his approached him.

Faces he’d never seen before.

Who the hell are these guys?

“Mr. Han Seoho?”

They called his name exactly.

Han Seoho immediately got scared and edged backward, getting ready to bolt if things went sideways.

“The Chairman asked us to escort you to him.”

But they spoke politely and bowed their heads.

Fuck. This is it.

Only then did a bright smile spread across Han Seoho’s face.

I knew it. The Chairman’s the only one I can count on.

He burst out laughing without meaning to.

They seemed to be security, and, mindful of the other Crew watching, they’d apparently put on matching wetsuits on purpose.

Under their protection, Han Seoho strode proudly back into the building.

He’d had not a shred of doubt.

If he’d known it would end like this, he would never have followed them.

That miserable old man. How could he do this to him?

His tears had dried up, but Han Seoho was still out of his mind with fear, regret, and rage.

“You fucking bastard. Piece of shit.”

He spat curses in a voice that trembled.

The cold was making his mind foggy.

The temperature in here was currently minus two degrees Celsius. The blackout had done nothing to change the interior temperature.

The place where Han Seoho was imprisoned was what they called the “meat cold-storage room,” used to keep butchered meat in short-term storage. In other words, all the meat they’d been eating at the cafeteria upstairs was kept here.

Seoho barely managed to lift his head.

When he did, he saw the Professor sitting on a folding chair, blowing on his hands.

“Professor, please let me down.”

He begged him again.

He knew the man had no authority to do that, but he was grasping at straws.

The Professor only glanced up.

“Don’t dwell on how unfair it is. If you think of it as a sacrifice for the Chairman, you’ll feel better. Honestly, if there’s anyone who’s lived well thanks to the Chairman, it’s you, Seoho.”

He answered his plea with bullshit.

“You fucking asshole. Is that supposed to be comforting? If you like him that much, you be the sacrifice! Why me? Why does it have to be me?”

Han Seoho raged.

The chains holding his body clanged loudly.

“D-don’t get too worked up. It’ll be over fast.”

With that, the Professor blew his nose and soon turned his back.

Han Seoho screamed a scream no one would hear.