Three Eight-Chapter 64

"I'm fine."

Hongju subtly turned his head and looked up. His gaze inevitably locked with Mu-gyeong, who was looking down at him. Narrowing his eyes slightly, Mu-gyeong leaned down and brought his lips close to Hongju’s left ear.

"Don’t look at me like that."

He spoke so quietly, the sound barely reached his right ear. But Mu-gyeong didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He straightened up and turned away without a second thought.

"Let’s make that the last round and call it a night."

It was a command that could’ve easily been taken as rude. Even so, Guppping and Yang Siljang just nodded silently. He was likely cutting it off on purpose, leaving them hanging when things were at their most exciting, to make sure the hook stayed in.

"Huh? Why? It was just getting fun! Didn’t we say we’d go all night?"

The man who had just flipped his cards over pushed up his glasses and protested.

"You gotta end while it’s still fun."

Guppping laughed loudly, voice rough and boisterous.

"Aaah, right. Let’s stuff our pockets and meet again soon. On that note, I’m sweeping the pot this round, alright?"

Guppping slammed his hwatu cards down on the table. Smack! The crisp sound rang out for a while. But the final pot also ended up going to the man. It was a small sum by House standards—basically chump change—but the man, having gotten his first taste of winning, couldn’t stop stroking the cards with satisfaction.

"Next time, let’s really meet again. All those rich kids ever do is sip wine when they hang out—they never do anything this fun. It’s just not my vibe."

"Of course, of course. Let’s all come loaded with cash. Set a date and tell Mu-gyeong. We’ll match up our schedules."

The ridiculous conversation dragged on for quite a while. The man slipped his watch back on, threw on his jacket, and slung his loosened tie over his arm. As he reached for his car keys, Guppping and Yang Siljang followed the movement with dark, glinting eyes. Just then, his phone rang, and he brought it to his ear.

"Yeah. You got it from the legal team? Just toss it over to me."

As he barked orders into the phone, he covered the mouthpiece with his hand and gave a quick farewell.

"I’ll head out first. See you next time."

With that, he left the room. Even after the door closed, silence lingered for a long moment.

"What do you think? Looks like he’s getting into it more than last time."

Mu-gyeong asked as he sipped from the water bottle. Guppping met eyes with Yang Siljang, who was gathering up the cards, and nodded.

"He’s properly hooked now. Starting next round, we can definitely raise the stakes."

Even though the guy had lost nearly all the money Mu-gyeong had lent as betting funds, Guppping looked satisfied. A cash-heavy mark with no guard and personal ties to the table—he was the perfect prey for someone like Guppping.

"His hands are probably already twitching for the cards, and he’s gonna see ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ hwatu when he closes his eyes. No need for you to suggest another meetup. He’ll be the one asking first. So don’t throw out any bait yet."

"Right. Let’s aim for four days from now."

Guppping checked his phone and nodded. The grin on his lips radiated the confidence of a seasoned hustler.

"Keep everything verbal—don’t leave a paper trail. People like that always have some lawyer friend who’ll bite your ass with the law later."

"For a guy that sharp, I don’t get how you botched the last scam."

Mu-gyeong drained the rest of the water and crushed the bottle in one swift motion. Crack! The harsh sound nearly drowned out Guppping’s awkward laugh.

"I’ll have the betting money ready, so until then, don’t screw around. Just rest."

Mu-gyeong tilted his head from side to side like he was tired, then handed over a card. Guppping’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t take it right away.

"What’s this, a card?"

"You did well. Go grab a drink or something."

"Mu-gyeong, you really wanna strip that guy down to nothing, huh? You’ve been throwing money around like it’s nothing these days."

Doksu, already putting on his outerwear, took the card instead. Mu-gyeong dropped down onto the sofa and tapped at the blanket on the floor with the tip of his foot. Yang Siljang, who had just finished collecting the cards, caught the gesture and quickly gathered up the blanket.

"That’s part of it. But mostly, I just want everyone out of here."

As soon as he said it, Guppping’s gaze shifted toward Hongju. Hongju stood and turned his back on the slimy, half-lidded stare.

"Oh, then we can eat whatever we want?"

Mu-gyeong didn’t answer—just slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. Since the only things they’d brought were the cards and the blanket, packing up didn’t take long.

"Man, I’m finally gonna stretch my legs and sleep tonight."

Guppping stretched and walked toward the door. Hongju followed behind. But just as he was about to step out—

A sudden tug on his padded coat made his thin frame jolt.

"You stay."

"......"

The moment Mu-gyeong stopped him, the others seemed to get the picture. The staff all quickened their pace, grinning with strange amusement.

"You two enjoy yourselves, alright?"

Guppping gave a leering look as he slapped Mu-gyeong’s shoulder and was practically shoved out. Mu-gyeong all but kicked them out and, still gripping the padded hood, turned and walked deeper into the room.

"I wanted to ask earlier..."

Hongju parted his lips to bring up the man he’d seen, but before he could finish, Mu-gyeong raised a finger and pressed it to his own lips.

Shhh.

Hongju, reading the soundless words, quickly shut his mouth. Once they stepped into the now-empty sitting room, Mu-gyeong gestured toward a table pushed off to the side. Quietly approaching it, Hongju knelt down near the table. There were only some magazines, a tissue box, and a half-empty coffee cup. Tilting his head slightly, he ran his hand along the underside of the table.

"......."

Something snagged lightly against his fingertips. He quickly bent to check—there it was. A small black object, about the length of two finger joints, was stuck beneath the table, emitting a faint red light.

A recorder?

"It’s too quiet when everyone’s gone."

Mu-gyeong turned on the TV mounted on the wall. He flipped through until he found the noisiest, loudest channel, then raised the volume a couple notches. At that level, their conversation would probably be lost under the TV sound.

"Gu Madam’s doing, obviously."

Mu-gyeong leaned in close and whispered into Hongju’s right ear. The only one who would pull something like this was Guppping. Whether to eavesdrop on a call or catch something in conversation with another person—he must’ve hoped for some clue to Mu-gyeong’s identity. It was a cheap trick, laughable even, but the fact that Mu-gyeong had noticed it was honestly impressive.

"......."

As Hongju nodded silently, Mu-gyeong smirked. After slipping on his coat, he beckoned for Hongju to follow. Even then, the red light on the recorder still blinked from beneath the table. Leaving only the noise behind, the two of them exited the room.

"The guy from earlier. That was the same one from last time, wasn’t it?"

Mu-gyeong shrugged, hands in his pockets. He looked freshly groomed, like he hadn’t just been playing hwatu. His eyes, which had been staring at the elevator panel, slowly shifted to Hongju.

"Who knows."

They’d seemed pretty close the first time. So why bring him in as bait?

"Does he still owe more?"

"Stay out of grown-up business."

The sharp edge in his tone drew a clean boundary. But even so, Hongju could vaguely sense—Mu-gyeong was plotting something.

The car carrying Hongju ran through the dark, mostly unlit road for a long while. That isolated mountain path, which had terrified him the first time, no longer seemed so scary. Quietly gazing out the window, Hongju spotted a red cross glowing in the distance. The events from earlier in the day resurfaced.

"Boss. That man earlier—how did you know he wasn’t really a pastor?"

"His face looked familiar."

From another gambling den? That man hadn’t looked the part, though. He’d been awkward, both in gambling and in borrowing and dodging repayment. Hongju lowered his eyes, lost in thought. Watching him, Mu-gyeong slapped the steering wheel with his palm.

"He just looked like a goddamn scammer, so I took a shot."

It wasn’t annoyed, but it wasn’t exactly a kind tone either. He remembered the slightly crooked nose and the deceptively mild-looking face. Hongju gave a small nod.

"Even if he really was a pastor, it takes just a moment to lose your head in front of money. What the hell were you doing, standing there without dodging?"

Most of the people he’d met through collection were practically bottom-feeders. Not because of their jobs or their wealth—but their mindset and behavior.

They’d blow through their money and refuse to pay it back. And then they’d think, if the collector disappears, maybe they can just pretend the debt doesn’t exist. Some had even raised a hand to him. It was through meeting people like that that he’d come to understand something—if you flinched or showed fear, they only got more emboldened.

"If I act scared, they like it even more."

"You were scared?"

Fiddling with his seatbelt, Hongju thought back to that moment he’d been face-to-face with the blade. Was he afraid of being stabbed? Of dying? No matter how many times he turned it over, the answer was always the same.

"No."

If he died, he wouldn’t have to worry about the debt anymore. He’d finally be free from the House. No more beatings. No more living on edge. He wouldn’t be tormented by that choking mix of resentment and longing for his father anymore. Maybe death, for Hongju, was the happiest ending imaginable.

"I get that you wanna die fast, but hold it together until the House construction’s finished."

He had to earn what he’d been paid. Hongju chewed on his lower lip and gave a slight nod. The streetlights zipped past the window, and he kept his eyes fixed on their streaks of light.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

As soon as they arrived at the secluded house, he turned off his phone. He glanced at the black screen before shoving it back into his pocket. Mu-gyeong’s eyes followed the motion.

"Why the phone?"

"If it’s on, they can track where I am."

He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the passenger seat. The winter wind stirred the dry branches, making a harsh rustling sound. It was eerily quiet, but somehow, Hongju found it calming.

"Even the neighborhood gamblers are watching you?"

Of all the employees, Hongju was the only one being monitored. He had to be worth the money they were spending—and since he kept trying to run, this was their stopgap solution.

"Yeah. I used to run away a lot when I was younger..."

Even if they had a tracker, once he disappeared into the mountain, no one would find him. Hongju gazed out toward the pitch-black forest and brushed his disheveled hair back from his forehead.

"So back then, you had the balls to run, huh."

Maybe he was older now. Or maybe he’d finally accepted reality. He didn’t feel like running anymore. Sometimes he snapped and lashed out, sure. But if he really tried to escape again, they’d probably find his father first and sell off his organs.

"Back then, I believed in my dad."

His mouth tasted bitter every time he said the word "dad." The man who sold his son and vanished somewhere. Living off the fact that Hongju was breaking himself in the House just to keep him breathing. Would he even be grateful? Hongju bit down hard on the soft flesh inside his lower lip.