Three Eight-Chapter 5

The next day, and the day after that, Mu-gyeong kept coming to the gambling house. All he did was take over the heater and laze around doing absolutely nothing. The desk was already cramped, and having to sit next to ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) such a big man only made it more uncomfortable. When Hongju, unable to hold back any longer, asked why he kept coming here, Mu-gyeong responded.

"I invested a shitload of money. Can't I at least keep an eye on it?"

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Guppping even went as far as clearing out a private room just for Mu-gyeong to rest in. With the kind of money that passed hands at a single table, giving him special treatment like this was no small decision. Hongju didn’t know exactly how much Mu-gyeong had invested, but seeing how both Guppping and Yang Siljang didn’t dare make a peep around him, it must have been a considerable amount.

In a way, Hongju felt relieved. At least now, he wouldn’t have to sit uncomfortably next to this overbearing man or be drained by his pointless nonsense. But Mu-gyeong still called on him whenever he had the chance. He’d demand the heater be turned up higher, order Hongju to get him a hot Americano, or, like today, ask for the table to be moved by the window. After moving the table and chairs, Hongju dusted off his hands and turned around, only to see Mu-gyeong standing there the whole time, arms crossed.

"I'm really busy right now. You could... do this yourself."

"I could, sure. But I might catch some disease and drop dead if I touch it."

So that meant Hongju was free to catch whatever disease he wanted? He stared at Mu-gyeong in disbelief, but the man simply chuckled and spread a handkerchief over the chair before elegantly crossing his legs and sitting down.

He really didn’t belong in this rundown, shabby place.

"Go on."

Mu-gyeong waved his hand dismissively, signaling he was done with him.

Hongju turned without another word. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he was called again. But he couldn’t just ignore the man, either. After all, he was the gambling house’s biggest source of money. If business went well, they’d have more work, and if they gave him a raise, he could pay off his debt faster. Exhaling a small sigh, Hongju stepped past the doorway.

Once Mu-gyeong was settled inside, Yang Siljang reclaimed the desk. Flipping through his ledger, he noticed Hongju and gestured him over.

"What’d Mu-gyeong ask for this time?"

"He wanted the table moved by the window."

Yang Siljang let out a loud, cackling laugh, lifting his eye patch slightly to wipe away tears.

"That guy’s a riot. You better keep kissing his ass, got it? If this place goes under, how the hell are you gonna pay off your debt? You’ve got no skills, no education, and it’s not like you’re selling your body. Huh?"

He tapped Hongju’s bruised cheek mockingly. Annoyed, Hongju smacked his hand away, lowering his voice.

"Are you really sure that guy isn’t a con artist?"

Even if he was here to keep an eye on his investment, it made no sense for him to sit around doing absolutely nothing all day. Where did all that money come from? And why, out of all places, did he decide to invest in this gambling house? But Yang Siljang crushed his doubts immediately.

"Shit, we already looked into him. He’s just some rich guy’s kid. Two syllables—ho-gu."

"You’re telling me he dumped that much money into this place?"

Yang Siljang held up two fingers.

No way he was talking about two million. That meant it had to be in the billions.

"Two hundred million?"

"Fuck no, twenty billion."

"What?"

Hongju’s eyes widened. Why the hell would it take that much money to run a gambling house?

"Did you guys know him before?"

"Not really, just got introduced through some connections."

That amount was more than what Hongju had been trying to pay off for fifteen years. And he just threw it into some gambling house he barely knew? It didn’t make any sense. Hongju frowned, and Yang Siljang leaned in slightly, glancing around before lowering his voice like he was about to share a secret.

"We’re going full pro now. Gonna start hiring real players, install cameras to monitor games properly, bring in rigged tables. If we’re doing this, we need real money, not some measly two billion."

They were planning to run this place on a much bigger scale. Increase the stakes, recruit real professionals.

"We’re gonna own all the land around here. That way, even if some fuckin’ department store or whatever tries to move in, we won’t have to back down. No one’s gonna send bulldozers here to tear down shit. And of course, we’ll raise your pay too, so you can clear that debt faster. Huh?"

His single visible eye gleamed with excitement.

But Hongju had only latched onto one part of that speech—paying off his debt faster.

Fourteen billion won.

It was such an unfathomable amount that he couldn’t even remember his father’s face anymore. He had spent years getting beaten to a pulp while paying it off, but there was still so much left. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever see the day it was all gone.

But if they raised his salary, maybe he could leave even a little sooner.

"Where’s Gu Madam?"

It was Mu-gyeong’s voice. Instinctively, Hongju tensed, almost standing up before realizing he wasn’t the one being called.

"Uh, here."

Guppping answered as he came up the stairs. He used to throw a fit whenever people called him Madam, but now, it seemed like he’d gotten used to it. He was fixated on his phone, his huge fingers jabbing at the screen. No way he was pressing the right buttons like that.

"I need to borrow someone’s durability."

"...Hongju?"

Both Guppping and Yang Siljang’s gazes fell on him. Hongju, who had been absentmindedly rubbing the fading bruise on his cheekbone, blinked.

"Some bastard borrowed money and hasn’t paid it back. Thought about calling in some thugs, but I hear this guy can take a beating pretty well."

Mu-gyeong smiled slightly as he looked at Guppping. Guppping shifted uncomfortably, rolling his eyes. The only one available to handle things right now was Hongju. If he left, either Yang Siljang or Guppping himself would have to deal with it.

"What? Not gonna work?"

Mu-gyeong tucked his phone into his coat pocket and leaned in, lowering his body just enough to meet Guppping’s eyes.

His tone was casual, but the air around him felt dangerous.

"...Shit. Go ahead, take him. Hongju’s got a talent for wringing money out of people. Ha ha."

"That’s what I keep hearing. Figured I’d see for myself."

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Yang Siljang, grinning, shoved at Hongju’s back, urging him up.

Reluctantly, Hongju stood. Without another word, Mu-gyeong turned and walked off.

"Hurry up, move it!"

Guppping barked in a hushed voice. Hongju had no choice but to follow.

The stairs were a mess from all the snow. Hongju slowed his steps, careful not to let his sneakers get too wet. But Mu-gyeong strode ahead without hesitation, descending without so much as a slip.

By the time they stepped outside, the toes of Hongju’s tattered sneakers were already splattered with dirty slush.

Mu-gyeong’s leather shoes, however, remained pristine.

"Get in."

Mu-gyeong's car was parked right in front of the building. Hongju had seen it before when he came to work. He remembered it because one of the thugs had made a fuss about how there were only a few of these in the country.

"Shake off your shoes."

Mu-gyeong, standing by the driver’s seat, briefly gestured toward Hongju’s sneakers. Feeling oddly self-conscious, Hongju stomped his feet against the ground a few times before hesitating, then reaching for the backseat door handle. The moment he did, Mu-gyeong slammed the car body with a sharp, aggressive thud-thud. His slightly hooded eyes fixed on Hongju.

"Fuck, what, you think this is a taxi? Get in the front."

"...Okay."

He had only done it because he thought sitting together might be uncomfortable, but now embarrassment crept up his throat. Curling his cold fingers, he opened the passenger door. Settling onto the seat, he let his legs hang outside the car. His worn-out sneakers knocked together mid-air, sending clumps of black snow tumbling down. He repeated the action a few more times before finally pulling his legs inside. As he did, he felt a gaze on him. He glanced sideways and met Mu-gyeong’s stare. Feeling the need to explain himself, Hongju mumbled,

"They’re clean now."

"Yeah, I saw."

Mu-gyeong responded with a short huff of laughter.

The inside of the car was overwhelmingly luxurious. It didn’t have the nauseating, headache-inducing stench of Guppping’s or Yang Siljang’s cars. The sound of the tires rolling was muted, the seat warm. It was on a completely different level from the freezing motel hallway Hongju had been enduring with a single heater. The car sped down the narrow, snow-covered road.

"Where are we going?"

"Would you even know if I told you?"

So he was just supposed to follow orders and do whatever he was told. Hongju's eyebrows scrunched slightly.

"I might know."

At that, Mu-gyeong let out a small scoff. Hongju considered snapping back but swallowed the words instead. Silence quickly settled inside the car. At first, it was comfortable. But as time passed, the atmosphere grew heavier, making Hongju oddly tense. Back at the gambling house, Mu-gyeong had always found some pointless excuse to pester him with conversation. But now, he was staying completely silent. Why? Tightening his grip on the seatbelt, Hongju sat up straight. A moment ago, the warm seat had felt comforting. Now, it was unbearably stiff. He shifted his gaze, scanning his surroundings. The car was heading toward a remote, deserted area. It drove onto untouched snow, leaving the first set of tire tracks behind. Something was wrong.

"...We’re not going to collect money, are we?"

"Why? You think I’m gonna bury you or something?"

Mu-gyeong’s voice was light as usual, but there wasn’t a trace of laughter in it. Hongju swallowed dryly, trying to make it seem unnoticeable. His lips, already cracked and scabbed over, felt even drier. With his left ear deaf, he struggled to catch the faint shifts in Mu-gyeong’s movements.

"I’m not a gangster, you know. I don’t do crude shit like that."

Despite his words, Mu-gyeong suddenly slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car shot across the snow at a terrifying speed. Hongju had no time to react. His thin body was forced against the seat. The frozen lake was getting closer. His grip tightened on the seatbelt, veins bulging against the back of his hands.

Somehow, this bastard always felt like a con artist. Was he someone with a grudge against the gambling house? If so, why take him instead of Guppping or Yang Siljang? The thought briefly crossed his mind, but it was overshadowed by something else. A strange sense of relief. The moment was short-lived.

Screeeech!

The car came to a violent stop. Hongju's body jerked forward, restrained only by the seatbelt. He gasped, his head hanging forward. With the engine cut, the world outside was completely silent. Inside the car, only two sounds echoed loudly—his pounding heartbeat and the dry swallow that scraped down his throat.

"How long have you worked here?"

Hongju stayed quiet.

Tsk. Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue, then suddenly reached out and grabbed Hongju’s hair. His fingers dug in roughly, forcing Hongju’s head up. The view in front of him remained the same—a pitch-black lake, so close that a single roll of the tires could send them plunging in.

"Gu Hongju."

"I already know the answer. I’m just asking to confirm. Don’t try to bullshit me. Looks like there’s not much left on your face that hasn’t been busted open yet. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be."

Mu-gyeong’s grip was brutal, making it feel like the back of his skull was being torn apart. Hongju's lips, still scabbed over, barely moved. Despite the rapid pounding in his chest, his voice came out eerily calm.

"What the hell are you?"

"What do you think? I’m your cash cow. Now answer me."

Mu-gyeong gave his hair another rough yank. Hongju's throat bobbed. He still didn’t know what was happening. But one thing was clear. Once again, Gu Hongju had become collateral.

"Fifteen years."

"And your remaining debt?"

It was just like the first time they met. Forcing his mouth open, shoving alcohol down his throat. Over the past few days, they had sat side by side, exchanging meaningless conversation. It had made him forget. This was who Mu-gyeong really was. His head was still bent at an awkward angle, his gaze fixed downward. His eyes lingered on the frozen lake, watching the shards of ice bob on the surface.

"Fourteen billion."

The number was so absurdly large, he had never even seen that much money before. After spitting it out, his mouth tasted bitter. Mu-gyeong finally released his grip. The tension in Hongju's neck screamed in protest as he straightened up. He turned his head. Mu-gyeong was leaning forward, gripping the steering wheel. Half-reclined, his gaze was fixed squarely on Hongju.