Three Eight-Chapter 48

"So then, that city hall employee Gu Madam was close with—did he hang around with him too?"

Hongju, sifting through his memory, shook his head.

"I’ve never seen him come with Mr. Kim before."

Mu-gyeong took another swig of beer, eyes narrowing.

"He looked pretty friendly with the guy earlier. They just know each other as customer and dealer?"

"That guy wanted to become a player. There used to be a lot of players Guppping would bring around, and he clung to them like crazy. Kept asking them to teach him some techniques. But from Guppping’s point of view, he didn’t have what it takes. Said he’d only bring him out in half-assed games."

Makes sense. Despite all the eagerness, Gu Madam never seemed very interested in him. Probably invited him under the pretense of helping while using him for something in return. If it was about passports and people, that would've been plenty useful to Gu Madam.

"Ahh. So he just pretended to include him while using him as a tool, huh?"

"That’s probably it."

Hongju was still sitting stiffly upright, looking painfully uncomfortable. In contrast, Mu-gyeong had leaned an elbow on the sofa’s backrest, resting his forehead in his palm. From his slanted view, he could see the tightly belted waistline of Gu Hongju’s robe.

"You know how he was being used?"

His fingers slid under the robe's belt. The light pressure made saliva pool in Hongju's mouth.

"...I don’t really know. I don’t hear much about what gets said during the games."

Hongju’s throat moved as he swallowed. He always swallowed dryly after speaking, like a reflex. Whether it was the outfit, the atmosphere, or because they’d already been physically close once—Gu Hongju was clearly wound tight right now.

"Did even the civil servants borrow tails often?"

"Yeah. But they were charged less interest than others."

Each time he nodded, his hair moved faintly. On his pale, delicate nape, a vague bruise was visible. Mu-gyeong, eyes flickering, hooked his finger around the robe collar and tugged it down. The bruise was more visible now.

"Then did those guys show up in the ledgers too?"

Hongju, already curled up tight, seemed to stop breathing. Mu-gyeong had only wanted to check a bruise he’d left himself, but the way the kid tensed was like he was being interrogated. Mu-gyeong scoffed and pulled his hand away. Hongju’s back heaved, and only then came his delayed reply.

"...Probably. Chief Yang handles the books, so I don’t see them."

"Right. I’ll be able to check it myself eventually anyway."

"Um, but—"

Hongju’s voice faltered as he turned his head slightly. His face was still pale as death, but the question in his eyes was clear. Mu-gyeong raised an eyebrow instead of answering.

"You said you were investing in the house. So why do you care about all this? Ever since last time, you keep..."

His black eyes reached cautiously toward Mu-gyeong. Why bother with the details if all he had to do was bankroll it? That was the question. Mu-gyeong couldn’t hold back a smirk and burst into laughter.

"Haha."

He’s already way more useful than those idiots who only know how to slap down hwatu cards. With a laugh still lingering on his face, Mu-gyeong straightened up. He draped an arm around Hongju’s slender shoulder and leaned in close. The thin body he pulled into his arms froze completely, too stiff to even squirm.

"I’ve gotta keep a grip on the house’s weak points too. That way, if I get stabbed in the back, I can handle it, right?"

His voice was soft, like he was teaching a lesson. With the fingers resting on Hongju’s shoulder, he tapped lightly on his arm.

"Look. Just by having you in my hand, that gangster bastard couldn’t even manage to kill me."

But wasn’t that more than just being aware? If the disappearance of the Gweyum-dong thugs had anything to do with Mu-gyeong, that’d be something else entirely. When Hongju furrowed his brows, unconvinced, Mu-gyeong dipped his head lower, closing the space between them. Startled, wide eyes turned straight to him.

"What? You think I’d just sit back if my money got burned?"

Their faces were so close now, their noses almost touched. Every question that had filled Hongju’s head a moment ago vanished into white noise. Even swallowing felt unnatural.

"So, should I finally hear your little favor?"

The pressure gripping his shoulder finally eased, and the gaze that had been boring into him fell away. Mu-gyeong grabbed his beer can instead and drank the rest in one go.

Hongju licked his lips—they were parched. All the way from the house to the hotel, and even while answering Mu-gyeong’s questions, he’d been at war with himself.

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Was this really something he could ask of Mu-gyeong? Was it even right to ask this kind of thing from someone else in the first place? But he kept thinking of the man with the surname Gu he saw at Gwangpal’s house.

"My father..."

More than anything, he had this unexplainable trust that if it was Mu-gyeong, he’d actually listen. Maybe it came from a lifetime of reading people’s moods and learning when and where to speak. Betting wisely was a skill too—one he’d learned on the hwatu mat.

"I want to find him."

The request burst out of him, blunt and unfiltered. Mu-gyeong laughed, his shoulders shaking.

"What am I, a fucking PI?"

First he called him a player, then treated him like a gangster—and now this? Asking him to track down a person? He was genuinely curious how this kid saw him.

"A father’s something his own damn son should find. Why ask me?"

"Because I think President Mu-gyeong can do it."

For someone speaking so confidently, Hongju looked terrified. Mu-gyeong snorted and brought the can back to his lips.

"Gu Hyun-geun, born in 1972, birthday’s May 11th. According to Guppping, he’s in the Philippines."

There was no reply, just the sound of beer being swallowed. Still, Hongju didn’t stop.

"I just want to know where he is. If he’s still in the Philippines or came back to Korea. That’s all. If you find that out for me... I’ll do anything you ask."

To be honest, once the debt was paid off, the very first thing he wanted to do was find his father.

A padded jacket, a place to lie down—those things came second.

He wanted to find his father, to let loose all his blame, to vent all his resentment, and then... to try leaning on him, just once.

"You're really the type who’s just begging to be conned, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) huh. Bet you hear that a lot."

Mu-gyeong ended the sentence like a joke, but there wasn’t even the shadow of a smile left on Hongju’s face. Mu-gyeong crushed the empty can in one swift motion and finally spoke.

"You should know—I don’t make losing deals. If you want to trade with me, you better bring something tempting to the table."

He figured at most the kid would ask him to help pay off the rest of his debt. But this? He hadn’t expected that. And to think he’d been trembling like that back at the house just to ask this?

"I’ll do anything."

"What the hell can you do?"

Pressed lips, bloodshot eyes. Was this the same face seventeen-year-old Gu Hongju had made when he ran off to find his father and got beaten bloody for it? Even though he’d never seen that version of him, Mu-gyeong could almost picture it. He ran his tongue along the edge of his mouth, swallowing the last of his buzz.

"You’ve got no money. The only thing you know how to do is beat down doors and collect debts with your body. No education, no family, no connections. Oh, wait—you do have something to offer."

The merciless, sharp-edged assessment made Hongju feel small. But like always, he couldn’t talk back.

He’d tried to trace his father’s steps for fifteen years, and not once had it worked. But if it was with Mu-gyeong’s help... he really believed it could be different. Most of all, he knew that if Mu-gyeong got involved, Guppping wouldn’t be able to interfere. Pride and shame meant nothing right now.

"The debt. You’ve got more of that than I do, right?"

"..."

"Why are you even looking for the bastard who left you with nothing but debt? What, you think he’ll throw in a few extra bucks?"

Every time he saw a man about his father’s age at the house, his heart would leap. Even though he barely remembered what his father looked like. What if he was still gambling his life away somewhere, or worse, living more pathetically than him, conned by people like Guppping? What if he never once thought to go looking for the son he left behind in the gutter? Didn’t even wonder how badly he’d been beaten, how much he’d hurt just trying to find him?

"I’ve always blamed Guppping and Chief Yang... but I know who really deserves the blame. Just once—I want to meet him."

Every moment he struggled with the frustration of not being able to hear, he remembered the vague silhouette of his father.

"That’s called being hung up. You haven’t snapped out of it yet."

Mu-gyeong’s icy tone sent chills down Hongju’s spine. He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t mean Hongju thought he was wrong either.

"What’s going to change if you find him? You’re the one who paid off the debt. You’re the one who took the beatings to collect that money. You’re the one who spread your legs for me, and sucked off Gu Madam for spare change."

"..."

"You’re already living like this. What difference will it make to find him now? It won’t undo any of it."

He wasn’t hoping for anything to change. He didn’t want gratitude. He didn’t need an apology. He wasn’t expecting life to magically transform.

"I just..."

What Hongju needed was someone—just for ten minutes—someone he could unload everything onto. Someone who, like Mu-gyeong said, had made him into what he was. His only blood relative.

"You might not like it. But I’ll work hard."

"Work how? You gonna sell your ass again?"

The knuckles gripping the robe sleeve—pulled down over the back of his hand—were turning white. Mu-gyeong glanced at the pale hand, then looked away with cold disinterest. Foolish. He didn’t say it out loud, but he thought it.

"I hope... it wasn’t bad for you."

The voice was small, crawling out of him in a way that didn’t fit Gu Hongju at all. Maybe even he felt like he’d crossed a line. Why the hell do you want to find your father so badly? Mu-gyeong couldn’t make sense of it.

"Gu Madam really taught you some shitty habits."

He had said to bring him something tempting—but he hadn’t meant this. And yet, Gu Hongju’s first instinct was to offer up his own body. Even when people called him iron-skinned for how well he took a beating, he always wore the same blank face. Maybe giving up his body was the only method this kid knew. The only way he knew to get what he wanted.

"Thinking you can just trade your body and get what you need. That’s a dumb, outdated way to live."

His voice was laced with irritation, and Hongju swallowed dryly. Unlike when people jeered at him with lewd remarks, or talked about popping his cherry—Mu-gyeong didn’t even seem interested. Maybe because they’d already done it once. Was he just not interested anymore? Then why had he kissed him? If he really wasn’t into it, he shouldn’t have done that in the first place.

"..."

Chewing anxiously at his lip, Hongju slowly reached for the knot tying his robe closed and began to untie it.