Three Eight-Chapter 54

“If we leave it like this, it’s gonna be a fucking disaster.”

“No! I showed you last year’s ledger! We can at least pull that much in again, I swear!”

Guppping raised his voice, veins popping, trying to persuade Mu-gyeong.

“Was the loan from here through the tail end?”

Mu-gyeong suddenly turned to Hongju and asked. When he nodded, Mu-gyeong asked how much the interest was.

“...Twenty percent.”

“Ah. And then another twenty percent added every month on top of that?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

Dragging out the end of his voice, Mu-gyeong lowered his eyes and gave a slight shake to the leg Guppping was clinging to.

“Don’t get scammed somewhere else—borrow it from me instead. I’ll pay it back for you.”

“Y-you’ll... pay it back?”

“I’m not gonna be stingy and collect interest every month. Let’s just slap on twenty percent once, and that’s it.”

Guppping, who had always been in the position of lending, would likely find it unbearable to be the one saddled with interest at a rate of twenty percent.

“...Wait, there might be a way. I-I just need to think for a bit.”

That’s why people don’t understand until they get burned themselves. Remembering the snowballing interest that had been choking him for fifteen years, Hongju swallowed a bitter smirk. Watching Guppping’s eyes dart around in panic, he even felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

“Guess you’ve had it too good. Still got enough pride to worry about saving face.”

“That’s not it, I just... maybe I can figure something out. Huh? If I can’t, I’ll b-borrow it, that thing...”

Mu-gyeong tapped the floor with the heel of his shoe. Even in that short scrape of sound, there was clear irritation.

“Get off.”

“Boss Mu-gyeong, just think of it as saving someone’s life, yeah? Please reconsider pulling your investment. I’m begging you. It’s all almost over now, right? Please?”

As the pleading dragged on, Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue in annoyance. He checked his wristwatch, then exhaled slowly like he was weighing something. Meanwhile, Guppping kept up the pitiful groveling, and Doksu and Yang Siljang stood there huffing, faces red.

“Then let’s use the staff here when I need them.”

“Wh-why the kids?”

“Seems like your investment could use some collateral. Better that than money, don’t you think? But hey, if you don’t like it, forget it.”

“No! Yeah, take them. You can work them however you want, work them hard.”

Mu-gyeong brushed off Guppping’s hand, which was clutching his pants, without hesitation. With a composed motion, he pulled out his wallet, then took out a thick wad of checks and placed them lightly on Guppping’s head.

“If you can’t find the money, get in touch.”

The dozen or so checks scattered to the floor with a rustle.

“For now, don’t go around alone, don’t act up, and lie low like you’re dead. Unless you want to lose another finger.”

He gave Guppping’s shoulder a couple of taps, then nodded at Hongju. It was a signal to follow. Hongju turned his body. In the past, he would’ve hesitated, watching the House members’ reactions—but not anymore. His unhesitating movement drew sharp glares from Yang Siljang and Guppping, trailing behind him like knives.

As he followed Mu-gyeong down the stairs, they ran right into several men in black suits. Hongju froze in place, stiffening, but Mu-gyeong gave orders to them like it was nothing.

“He’s in the inner room. Keep a close eye on the bastard missing a finger.”

“Yes, sir.”

It looked like they were used to giving and receiving orders like that. The large men brushed past Hongju. Mu-gyeong flicked a finger and continued leading the way.

“I absolutely need to be the one lending that money.”

“Why go that far? He’s not even someone worth trusting.”

“This way, he can’t ditch the House and run, and he won’t dare crawl over me again.”

So this was how Mu-gyeong used money. Lending it to desperate people to stay in control... just like he did with me.

“...Ah.”

The early morning air was freezing. The tip of his nose and the rims of his ears quickly went numb.

“Those guys will keep watch on Gu Madam.”

“Yes.”

Then what happens to the job I was given? Hongju thought of his phone, probably still in the pocket of the padded jacket he’d taken off, and nodded.

“For now, just commute from the hotel.”

“Why?”

“You’re still useful, and it’d be a shame if you got beaten to death.”

Mu-gyeong raised the corner of his mouth and opened the car door. As he was getting into the driver’s seat, he glanced back at Hongju.

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“Hurry up. Before the scary uncles come downstairs.”

Between the sound of his chuckling, someone started screaming again. A familiar voice. Guppping must be throwing a fit like earlier. Hongju looked up toward the third floor for a moment, then started walking.

A space that once felt unfamiliar had already become something he’d grown used to from just a few visits. Stepping inside brought him a weird sense of relief. Even Guppping wouldn’t recklessly barge in here. Hongju awkwardly tugged at the itchy neckline of his sweater and stood there hesitantly. Mu-gyeong walked past him into the bedroom and came back out with a few document envelopes.

“You can ride the elevator alone now, right?”

He recalled how not too long ago, he’d tried to escape but got caught because he didn’t have a keycard. The embarrassing memory made him avert his gaze and nod.

“Yes.”

“Stay here until Gu Madam holds his hand out for that loan.”

He was to stay at the hotel until Guppping actually asked for the money. Hongju figured he’d probably be out of here in a few days. Mu-gyeong gave the sitting room a quick glance and grabbed a few items. It looked almost like he was preparing to leave for good.

“Aren’t you staying here?”

“No. In case you strip down and jump me again.”

As Mu-gyeong switched out his watch, he casually gave Hongju a once-over. The way the corner of his mouth curled up made it clear he was enjoying making Hongju uncomfortable.

“That coat...”

“You’re the only one having fun. That’s a loss for me, don’t you think?”

A few thick document envelopes and a tablet were stacked on top of the arm where he had slung his removed coat. Mu-gyeong walked around like that without any sign of discomfort.

“I’ll bring your clothes later, so check and open the door properly.”

He must be referring to the padded jacket left at the House. Hongju nodded «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» in reply. Once Mu-gyeong saw that nod, he turned as if he was about to leave the room. Hongju trailed close behind him.

“I know you said other people would be watching Guppping. But still... if anything comes up, I’ll be the one to contact. I know his personality better than they do.”

I can’t let myself become useless. This is the man who loosened the noose around my neck from debt, who might even pull me out of the House completely. Sure, he ignored my plea to find my father. But just because there’s someone new, I don’t want to become someone who’s not even worth the money, someone with no use left. I had to show I was different from the rest of those gamblers, who live by cheating and being cheated.

“Hm.”

He stopped walking for a moment and dragged out a sound, tilting his head to both sides. As Hongju kept his gaze on Mu-gyeong’s broad back rising and falling calmly, Mu-gyeong glanced over his shoulder.

“Crafty little shit.”

Even while cursing out of nowhere, the corner of his mouth never dropped. Maybe he didn’t find being called cunning unpleasant because he’d spent his whole life reading the room.

“Do what you want.”

Mu-gyeong gave a short reply, then left the room. In the now ownerless space, Hongju awkwardly sat on the couch, unable to do anything in particular, just letting time pass.

Before long, there was a knock, and a man dressed like the ones he’d seen at the House earlier handed over some bags.

“Thank you.”

The man barely acknowledged the greeting before leaving. Hongju brought the thick padded jacket and heavy shopping bag inside.

“...What is all this.”

It was packed with new clothes and underwear, tags still attached. None of it matched the monochrome style he always stuck to. Hoodies, sweatshirts, knitwear—all designed for someone his age to wear. Hongju stared down at the shopping bag full of bright colors for a long time.

***

A spacious, ownerless bedroom—large enough that even if all the House staff came in, it wouldn’t feel crowded. It didn’t take long for the once-unfamiliar place to start feeling familiar.

Guppping wasn’t one to give up his pride easily. He ran around here and there trying to scrape together money, but the date on the loan note kept drawing closer. The sparks from his growing anxiety started hitting all the wrong people.

“If you can’t borrow the damn money, then go do day labor or go out and beg. I want that money by the end of today!”

“I mean, how are we supposed to suddenly come up with cash at this hour?” said Choi with disbelief.

Guppping’s eyes twisted in fury.

“Fuck, then dock it from your damn paycheck. Got all your limbs and all you do is sit around eating free meals.”

“That’s not—”

“What! Now you’re looking down on me too? Just ‘cause I botched one game and got saddled with debt? I bring in some punk and fatten him up and this is what I get?!”

He snatched a mop leaning against the wall and swung it at Choi without warning. Choi instinctively grabbed the handle, but he lost it under Guppping’s crazed thrashing. The stick slammed over the desk, sending things flying, and finally struck Choi’s forehead, opening a wound.

“Ugh!”

Clutching his bleeding forehead, Choi stumbled back. Only then did one of the goons step in and restrain Guppping. Yang Siljang and Doksu stood nearby, each with fresh cuts on their faces like they’d just been fighting too.

Hongju, sitting quietly and not getting involved, found it all vaguely funny. The House and its staff were a mess, but his own wounds were healing. Just yesterday, he was the one always getting hurt, always bleeding, and no one ever spared him a glance.

“Hey.”

A drawling voice came from the stairs. Guppping, still flushed from swinging the mop, froze in place like someone had arrived. He threw the mop to the floor and, panting, ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

“My guy. Barely opened your House and it’s already dead in the water, huh?”

The one who appeared was Gwangpal. He ran a House in the neighboring district and was close to Guppping. As soon as Guppping recognized his bloated face, he spat on the floor and scowled.

“Fuck off. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Rumors already spread to our House, you know?”

“...”

“Hear you got caught up with some god-awful nouveau riche. That guy’s no joke, I hear. If you can’t pay up, you might end up floating face-down in the ocean.”

Gamblers, once they start playing, often spend half a day crammed together in tight spaces. Staring at their hwatu cards, gossiping, spreading stories.

For them, the news that Guppping—once a big name in this area—had ruined the game and ended up neck-deep in debt was probably pure entertainment.

‘Thought he was all hot shit, trying to build a House. Now he’s sitting on over 4 billion won in debt after a go-bak.’

‘They say Guppping’s out there begging for money from everyone.’

‘Turns out the mark was some ex-gangster who used to brawl for a living. If he doesn’t pay, he’s dead meat.’

‘He even had some ringers, but the mark still wiped the floor with him.’

The rumors proved true: the House was completely deserted. The stationery shop owner Mr. Park, who used to drop by out of habit, the perpetual bachelor, the PC bang owner who once claimed to have opened several franchise branches with gambling profits—they were all gone, as if they’d coordinated it.

“You here just to rub salt in the wound? Huh? Get the fuck outta here.”

Guppping turned his back in irritation, but Gwangpal just shrugged and laughed.

“Damn, this how you treat someone coming to lend you money?”

At those words, Guppping’s eyes lit up, and he led him straight to the room with the safe.