Three Eight-Chapter 22

Did they send the wrong cards? Doksu looked just as startled. What the hell was going on? Hongju’s dark eyes trembled slightly.

"You got a lighter or not?"

Yang Siljang bobbed the cigarette in his mouth up and down as he spoke. His uncovered eye was fixed squarely on Hongju.

"Uh... no, I don’t."

"Tsk. You don’t carry a lighter?"

"Want to borrow mine?"

"Forget it. Lost my mood for a smoke."

Yang Siljang even refused Mu-gyeong’s offer, sighing as he plucked the cigarette from his lips and tossed it onto the floor.

Hongju’s hands, clutching the bright red hwatu cards, started trembling. The winning hand—the one meant to take down Mu-gyeong—was in his hands. Why? Why had the plan changed? Had Yang Siljang made the decision alone?

Hongju’s gaze shifted to Guppping, who was perched on the windowsill. Arms crossed, he was silently watching Hongju, his stare unwavering. It was as if he was testing him, waiting to see what he would do.

"......."

So they’d changed the plan without even telling Doksu. A warning. A reminder that he was still on their side. No matter how much interest Mu-gyeong showed, Gu Hongju was nothing more than a low-level debt collector, a disposable lackey who would do anything to pay off his debt.

"Huuh..."

Hongju exhaled, pressing his back against the chair as he snuck a glance at Mu-gyeong. He was toying idly with the corner of his hwatu cards, dragging them back and forth across the table as if nothing else mattered.

"Should I start?"

Doksu, ever quick to read the room, played his part smoothly. Seeing as the six-point hand had landed in Hongju’s grasp, his role was now to bait Mu-gyeong into raising the stakes.

"Boss Mu-gyeong said he was getting bored. We should bet big. Hongju, how much do you have left? Go all in."

They were forcing Hongju to push his entire stack in. Of course, it was just for show. If Hongju raised the pot, Mu-gyeong would naturally follow—Doksu and Yang Siljang had both picked up on that.

Doksu matched Hongju’s total and moved the bet to the center. Hongju hesitated, running his fingers over the rough texture of the hwatu cards.

"What, getting cold feet, Hongju? Guppping would loan you some backroom cash. No need to be scared."

"He’s no pro, just a coward. Hey, come on, bet big. It’s not even your money. Mijin gave it to you, and we’re not counting it as debt."

Guppping snickered from behind, snapping a small jackknife open and shut as he stared Hongju down. A silent warning. Move according to plan—or else.

"......."

Should he just fold? But everyone except Mu-gyeong already knew he had ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the six-point hand. If he backed out now, Guppping might actually pull that knife on him.

What should he do?

Hongju hesitated, dragging his nails across the hwatu cards. Then, finally, he opened his mouth.

"......All in."

Now, Hongju was empty-handed. By the time the bets had made their way around, the total in the pot had climbed past eighty million. And if he won with a six-point hand, they’d have to pay double the usual payout. Maybe it wasn’t a huge sum for Mu-gyeong, but it was more than enough to end things here.

"The stakes are getting high. What about you, Boss Mu-gyeong?"

It was Mu-gyeong’s turn to bet.

Fold. Just fold.

It was obvious this was a setup. Just throw the hand away. Hongju sent every desperate signal he could.

"I’ll call."

But Mu-gyeong either didn’t see or ignored them entirely. He grabbed his remaining stack of bills and matched Hongju’s wager. With that, he was down to barely three hundred million won left. Not even close to enough to cover the double payout. He would have to take a loan or pull out his wallet.

"Time to reel him in, sucker."

Hongju shut his eyes tight to hide his despair.

"You’re playing so bold, I can’t even guess what kind of hand you have."

Even Yang Siljang, who had been mocking him, pushed his bet in. The center of the table grew heavy under the weight of money.

"One more card for each player."

Yang Siljang dealt the final cards. Hongju dragged his over with his palm, just enough to peek at the image.

"......."

The six-point card. Again.

Yang Siljang took one look at his own hand and cursed under his breath. Since Hongju had no money left, he had no choice but to reveal his hand.

Doksu grinned and dramatically flipped over his cards.

"Yang Siljang’s got trash. I’ve got Gabo."

Then, feigning interest, he flicked his gaze between Mu-gyeong and Hongju. Mu-gyeong, unreadable as ever, gestured with his chin toward Hongju.

"And you?"

Hongju hesitated. The table was already set. Guppping’s cold, piercing gaze had been locked onto him the entire time. He wanted to flip the whole thing over, make a mess of it. But if he did, he’d be dead before Mu-gyeong could even attempt to get him out of here.

"Huuh..."

Why the hell had he joined this game in the first place? He’d risked everything to drop hints, to give Mu-gyeong a warning.

With a quiet breath, Hongju made his decision and flipped over his cards.

"Six points."

"Fuck. The bastard survived."

"Shit, we could’ve wiped out Hongju!"

Yang Siljang and Doksu slammed their fists onto the table, cursing in disappointment. The neatly stacked pile of cash shifted slightly. Hongju reached forward to collect his winnings—when a large hand wrapped around his wrist.

"You’re not a pro, huh?"

"......No, I’m not."

He tried to twist his wrist free, but the grip was firm. Impossible to escape.

"Then how’d you get such a good hand?"

He saw it coming. Saw exactly where this would go. Hongju steadied himself, keeping his expression neutral.

"Guess I got lucky."

"Yeah. Hwatu is more about luck than skill, after all."

Muttering, Mu-gyeong finally let go. The pale skin of Hongju’s wrist bore deep red imprints where his fingers had been. Hongju gathered the pile of cash with trembling hands. Then, glancing at the mere three stacks left in front of Mu-gyeong, he spoke.

"The payout is double."

"Yeah, no shit."

Yang Siljang snapped, whether genuinely irritated or just putting on a show, it was hard to tell. If this were a real game, he probably wouldn’t have even paid the full amount.

"Wait."

Mu-gyeong’s voice made Hongju freeze. There was an undeniable confidence in those two short syllables.

"You’re not even going to check my hand?"

"Oh, come on, we all know how this ends. What, are you gonna tell me you pulled a Chil-tteng or something?"

Since Yang Siljang had dealt the cards, Mu-gyeong’s hand should have been something around two or three points. But instead, he was smiling enigmatically.

"Even that wouldn’t have been a bad hand."

Mu-gyeong calmly flipped over his cards. The first one—January Light. Hongju’s gaze snapped to the remaining card in his hand. A sharp flick, and it landed face-up on the table.

March Light.

Il-sam-gwang-tteng.

A hand that could beat almost anything.

Hongju’s eyes widened, his mouth parting in disbelief. That hand—there was no way it should’ve ended up in Mu-gyeong’s possession.

"W-what the hell?"

Yang Siljang, who had been lounging back in his chair, immediately straightened up, grabbing Mu-gyeong’s cards.

"Damn. Looks like all the good luck landed on me."

Mu-gyeong casually tapped the back of Hongju’s frozen hand, brushing it away as he pulled in his winnings. The heavy drag of money scraping across the table filled the silence.

"Fuck, what is this shit?"

Guppping, who had been reclining leisurely against the windowsill, nearly tripped over himself rushing to the table. His wide eyes flickered with panic. Even Doksu had gone pale, shooting glances at Yang Siljang.

"What, am I not allowed to pull a hand like this just because I’m not a pro?"

"T-that’s not... no, that’s not it..."

Guppping’s face twisted, completely unable to mask his flustered state. He gaped like a fool, stammering. Mu-gyeong chuckled, his shoulders rising with the motion.

"Three times the payout for Il-sam-gwang-tteng, wasn’t it?"

With long, elegant fingers, he rhythmically tapped the stacks of million-won bills, counting aloud. In the suffocating silence, only his voice echoed.

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"The pot’s just over 1.1 billion won. Rounding down and tripling the payout... that’s 3.3 billion each. Ah, was there a rule that all-in players don’t have to pay extra?"

"......."

"Guess that means Gu Hongju doesn’t owe anything."

Adding in the initial wagers, Mu-gyeong had won over 7 billion. If things had gone according to plan, Hongju’s six-point hand would’ve secured all of it for Guppping. But the game had flipped so drastically that no one could even form a coherent response.

Mu-gyeong wasn’t a professional gambler. That much had been clear after thirty minutes of play. He’d only just learned how to play Seotda. He had no sleight of hand tricks, no pattern in his betting. He hadn’t even cut the deck this round, meaning there was no chance he’d manipulated the cards. And Yang Siljang—there was no way he would have given Mu-gyeong a hand like Il-sam-gwang-tteng.

None of it made sense.

"Il-sam-gwang-tteng? How the fuck does that happen?"

Guppping shoved Yang Siljang roughly in frustration, snatching up the two Light cards. But the only tampered cards had been the two six-point cards that landed in Hongju’s hands. No matter how much he examined them, there wouldn’t be any evidence.

"Why, how—"

Guppping’s expression darkened, his furious gaze locking onto Yang Siljang. But the man himself only looked dazed, completely lost.

Mu-gyeong, meanwhile, was stacking the scattered piles of money neatly in front of him, his attention shifting between Doksu and Yang Siljang.

"Looks like you guys are a little short. How do you plan on paying up?"

Hongju knew the gambling house always kept some cash on hand, usually around two to three billion won, but that wasn’t nearly enough to cover the payout for this round.

"I’ll just take what’s here for now. Too bad—it was just getting interesting, and now the game’s over."

Mu-gyeong flashed a slow, easy grin at Yang Siljang.

"Uh, Boss Mu-gyeong, this game..."

Yang Siljang faltered, shooting a desperate glance at Guppping.

"You’re not about to say some bullshit about this being just for fun, are you?"

The cold edge in Mu-gyeong’s voice wasn’t directed at Yang Siljang—it was aimed squarely at Guppping. The manager of the gambling house opened his mouth, then shut it, lips pressing together tightly.

"That look on your face... you remind me of someone who set a fire but got burned when it didn’t catch properly."

Mu-gyeong chuckled softly, reaching into the pocket of his coat slung over the chair. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. The metallic click of a Zippo lighter broke the silence, followed by the quiet hiss of a flame.

The room was so silent that even the sound of his cigarette burning was deafening.

"Huuuh..."

Mu-gyeong took a deep drag, exhaling slowly as he turned his head to the side.

"If you’d bet that last eye of yours, you’d really be fucked now."

His laughter, laced with amusement, mixed with the smoke curling through the air and drifted toward Yang Siljang.

The man, with only one eye left to lose, trembled violently.