Three Eight-Chapter 2

Choi Jun, having finished his can of coffee, led the way with Hongju and the thug trailing behind him. The inside was already bustling with activity. Upon reaching the third floor, they found Manager Yang with his legs propped up on an old metal desk. He lifted the eyepatch he was wearing, revealing his wrinkled, closed eyelids.

"Hey, Hongju, got beaten up pretty bad by the post office guy? I heard he used to be a boxer back in his day."

Hongju frowned involuntarily at Yang's teasing tone. The area around his swollen eye still throbbed painfully.

"I've deposited the collections."

"Yeah, I saw. You'll be waiting tables in the house for a while."

"What about Uncle?"

Hongju asked nonchalantly, already aware from what Choi Jun had told him but probing nonetheless.

"That bastard spilled the beans. Didn’t you know? After getting a few ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) tips, he started making deals with the guests. You'll fill in for now. Despite being beaten up, your face is still the best looking around here."

It was nonsense. Sacking someone for absurd reasons like those was either a way to cut costs or due to some other hidden agendas. Still, Hongju wasn’t particularly close to Uncle, so it didn’t bother him much.

"What are you waiting for? Are we going to make money or not? Move it!"

A loud clap echoed through the cold, lifeless interior. Hongju sniffled and zipped up his padding to the top. Normally, he would be out collecting debts, but today it seemed he was stuck waiting tables inside.

"Hongju, if you see anyone smoking, tell them to stop. Politely."

"Why?"

"The wallpaper is still good. We might use this place for the staff later."

As Manager Yang finished speaking, his phone rang loudly. He gestured for Hongju to wait and answered the call.

"Ah, boss. Why haven't you been visiting?"

Seeing the place during the move, Hongju knew the wallpaper claim was just an excuse. How much could it possibly cost to replace? Dismissing the absurdity, he entered the hallway lined with rooms. The rooms, stripped of doors, each housed noisy groups engaged in games. Thanks to Yang or Choi Jun's firm management, there was no smell of smoke. Only the last room at the end was silent, seemingly empty.

"...?"

Just to be sure, Hongju peeked into the last room. A man sat alone inside. As Hongju intrusively stuck his head in, their eyes met— the man had a stern and intense look. Unlike other gamblers, his eyes weren't dull or his cheeks sunken. He wore black leather gloves, between which a white filter was wedged.

"You shouldn't be smoking."

Hongju stepped over the threshold. The man, sitting with crossed legs, flicked his foot and took a deep drag of his cigarette, then exhaled a long stream of smoke over Hongju's face. Hongju coughed and waved his hand in front of his face as the smoke cleared, and a sarcastic voice interjected.

"Why?"

The man tilted his head, still holding the cigarette. He didn’t have the usual scars of a regular gambler and was overdressed for the venue, in a suit and coat, unlike Hongju’s worn and tattered padding.

"It gets into the wallpaper."

His slick hair didn’t even flutter as he nodded.

"Ah, sorry?"

There was no sincerity in his apology. The man flicked his cigarette ash onto the floor, then looked around before crushing the half-smoked cigarette on Hongju’s padding. Sssst. The cheap fabric sizzled and blackened instantly. The incident was too sudden for Hongju to react.

"What are you doing?"

Hongju managed to hold back a curse, but couldn’t keep his voice from raising. Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway.

"It's out now. Where’s the ashtray?"

The man shrugged as if it were no big deal. Hongju angrily dusted off his burned padding.

"Moo-kyung, the boss!"

Goobong rushed in, using a tone he typically reserved for wealthy clients. Hongju fumbled with his burned padding and glanced at the man.

"Is this how you treat people here? With the house going under soon, this is how it’s going to be?"

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The man's toes twitched. His shoe tips nudged Hongju’s shin with every tap, narrowing Hongju's eyes. Goobong quickly pushed Hongju aside. Hongju staggered heavily in his padded jacket.

"He’s not used to this kind of work. You, go do something else!"

"Madam Goobong. If there are too many restrictions—no alcohol, no fighting, no smoking, no drugs—clients won’t spend freely. Isn’t that right?"

The man, who seemed too classy for his surroundings, lightly tossed his expensive-looking Zippo lighter. It slid across the table and barely stopped at the edge.

"Go ahead, Moo-kyung. As you like."

Goobong waved his hands dismissively, and the man chuckled, sliding his hand into his jacket.

"Ah, he’s not the boss."

"Why not call him that? He looks the part, and he’s about to take a significant position."

Goobong was always good at buttering up important figures. What was so great about this guy that Goobong was groveling? Hongju looked suspiciously at them. Goobong quickly sat across from the man, thumping his feet on the ground.

"Go on, get out!"

His dismissal was like shooing away an animal. Hongju turned his head in disbelief, only to meet the man's sharp and chilling gaze. The black pupils confronting him emitted a strange sense of pressure. The man then pulled out another cigarette, gesturing for Hongju to light it.

"..."

As Hongju stood still, the man slowly raised his heavy-lidded eyes. Once again, their eyes met. Hongju involuntarily swallowed dryly.

"Hey, Hongju. Call the thug. Is Moo-kyung planning to start construction right after clearing the house?"

"Probably? But he was saying the building's too dilapidated; the construction quote will be hefty. Usually, he wouldn’t spend that much."

Goobong had been making a fuss about remodeling the house. How grand must he plan to rebuild it to go to such lengths?

"Do you think it'll fail? Why not just sell the house to that big company from last time and disappear?"

Might as well wash his hands of the gambling business entirely. How great would it be if his debts and interest also disappeared? Hongju indulged in this unattainable fantasy.

"He's thinking long-term. Wants to secure his spot without losing clients. He mentioned something about investing in one house for consulting or something. Apparently, he mixed gambling with drug sales and helped build several buildings. It looks flashy enough that inspections stopped. Goobong was hooked on that."

"Oh, so..."

The neighborhood had been noisy about redevelopment and building a department store, and there had been several attempts to push out the gambling den, considered a nuisance. But Goobong had firmly held his ground. Long established and closely connected with local thugs and police, it wasn’t hard for him to drive away any forceful eviction.

Still, he was always looking for a sure way to secure his position. Recently, there had been a wind of legitimate business fronts, a grand dream he didn’t know about. To think there was still hope after rotting in the gambling world. Hongju muttered his true feelings under his breath.

"Dream big for a gambler."

"Shh. Here comes Manager Yang."

Coughing and straightening up, Choi Jun now pretended to scan the surroundings vigilantly.

"Hey. Stop whispering. I may have only one eye, but I see everything. Let’s focus on work?"

Manager Yang never passed without a comment. He patted Hongju’s shoulder in an annoying manner as he walked by.

"Hey, Hongju! Bring the Absolut!"

The gruff voice called out to Hongju.

"He’s calling you. Go on."

Manager Yang nudged Hongju towards the fridge as he grumbled curses under his breath. He gathered the expensive vodka, ice, and glasses that seldom sold in the house and headed towards the room where Goobong and the so-called Mr. Moo-kyung were.

"Here, set this up quickly."

A blue tablecloth covered the table, with several documents spread out. Goobong quickly gathered the papers into an envelope and passed it to the thug standing behind him. Hongju placed the tray on the cleaned table and arranged the vodka and glasses.

"Who's this guy?"

Moo-kyung's voice was low, laced with amusement. Hongju slowly shifted his gaze. The man, leaning casually, scrutinized Hongju from head to toe.

"He chases down guys who don’t pay their debts. Despite appearances, he’s tough, so his collection rate is high."

Narrowing his eyes, Moo-kyung looked up at Hongju. He studied his bruised and swollen face slowly.

"Seems a waste to let him get beaten up."

As he spoke, the cigarette bobbed up and down on his lips.