Three Eight-Chapter 80

"Oh, you had him thrown in jail? How?"

"Well, I didn’t do it myself! But the guy still didn’t learn his lesson—came dragging in some half-assed punks waving around sticks. I laughed out loud at that, I did! Like I haven’t shared tables with gangsters for years? Even the cops piss themselves in my House!"

Watching Guppping pound on his chest, Mu-gyeong swallowed the sweet wine. He had been trying to get more out of him with alcohol, but Guppping didn't say anything further.

The kind of information not written in the documents could only be pulled from Guppping when he was drunk—but that also meant it was lacking in detail and quantity.

Especially in a place as closed-off as the House, neither the people coming in nor the transactions going on showed up on the surface. What Mu-gyeong needed was accurate, thorough intel.

He dragged it out under the pretense of "testing the waters" until the biting cold set in. Then Mu-gyeong opened his wallet. He slammed down the so-called "tens of billions" that Guppping always screamed about when he was drunk.

The two men sat across from each other with money and a contract laid between them. They reviewed the notes summarizing their prior discussions.

"In short, the first priority is to rebuild and reopen the House as quickly as possible."

"Right. I’ll do what I can to keep things smooth on that front."

They were proceeding with rebuilding the House without any permits, but Guppping didn’t seem to care in the slightest. He acted confident, as if he had something backing him up—but didn’t reveal what that “something” was.

"I’ll see if I know anyone on the new construction company side."

"If it comes to it, I’ll scrape together all the local muscle to lend a hand, so don’t worry, President Mu-gyeong."

He flashed a grin, revealing his yellowed teeth. Mu-gyeong didn’t return the smile. Instead, he pointed to the bottom section of the contract.

"Plan B: if the new construction company offers you ₩30 billion. Then you’ll take the payout, vacate, and move somewhere else?"

Mu-gyeong tugged slightly at the end of his glove, as if he were about to pull it off.

"If it comes to that, I’ll give you a cut too, President Mu-gyeong."

"And how much would you be cutting me?"

"Hmm."

Guppping rubbed his chin and let out a long breath. It was like you could hear the gears grinding in his head.

Strictly speaking, there was no real reason he had to give anything to Mu-gyeong. But there was hardly any chance the company would agree to such a ludicrous compensation sum anyway. In the end, ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) building a relationship with Mu-gyeong seemed more important.

Putting on airs, Guppping named a number.

"₩3 billion total. I’ll add ₩1 billion on top of your investment and return it to you. That’s better than any bank interest."

"As expected, Gu Madam’s boldness makes him easy to talk to."

Mu-gyeong pulled off his glove and stamped the contract.

That was how the two men shook hands. Mu-gyeong officially set foot into the House just after the new year. It was in a stinking, chaotic, run-down building being used as a temporary House where he first met the young man from the photo.

"You can’t smoke in here."

Gu Hongju’s voice, unlike his appearance, was low and had a metallic rasp. He was taller than expected, but slighter in build. His hair and eyes were so dark they seemed nearly black, and Mu-gyeong found his face oddly arresting.

As he guzzled his whiskey, he studied the boy’s face more closely. There were more scars than in the photo—and they were worse—but the ferocious light in his eyes hadn’t dulled. In fact, Mu-gyeong liked it more than he’d expected.

He wondered, for a moment, what that face would look like without all those bruises. Glancing down at the stains of whiskey on the floor, he opened his mouth.

"That scrawny kid does debt collection?"

"Yeah. He’s been through some shit. Rough life since he was young, but he's tough as nails."

Guppping held up a thumbs-up. Mu-gyeong already knew the story from the files, so he asked something else.

"I saw a bunch of big guys around. Why does he do it?"

"Well, it’s a long story. Those big guys, they eat money. Money going in, money going out. You don’t spend that kind of cash just to send ‘em out collecting. They’re for cleaning up when shit goes down. If they’re out doing rounds, who’s gonna hold the fort?"

"Ah, because Gu Madam’s always at the House?"

He winked and laughed like he was making a clever joke. It was disgusting. So he only paid to protect himself, because there were dangerous guys always coming through the House?

"Too many psychos pass through here. That one’s got no appetite and doesn’t cost much. Real cost-effective."

"As expected. You sure know how to run a calculator."

Mu-gyeong gave a dry laugh. Not realizing the sarcasm, Guppping grinned wide, baring his yellow teeth. A few days later, Mu-gyeong reached out to Hongju, just as he had planned months ago.

And so, Mu-gyeong began preparing in earnest to devour the House. He had planted people in several spots, but Gu Hongju was undeniably the biggest asset. Thanks to him, the plan moved along without a hitch.

—The revised zoning plan was announced! Just like President Mu-gyeong said, my land was completely excluded from the redevelopment area. You really do have some powerful connections, don’t you, sir?

"Powerful, my ass. Just someone who knows someone, that’s all."

Guppping was convinced that the House had been spared from redevelopment thanks to Mu-gyeong pulling strings. A department store was being built right next door, the House was getting a sleek rebuild—he was giddy with anticipation, ready to take flight.

—I feel like I can finally breathe easy. I’ll finally be able to sleep with my legs stretched out. Oh! What if we start luring the construction workers to the House? That could make for some solid profits, huh?

Guppping rambled on in an excited tone. Mu-gyeong let it wash over him, continuing to prod at the man’s desires.

"Imagine if you’d left with a piss-poor payout. You’d be punching the ground in regret right now. It’s only when you invest, like you did, that you make real money. Congrats."

Since he was the type to chase nothing but money, it wasn’t hard to manipulate him with dreams of riches.

—It’s all thanks to you, President Mu-gyeong! I really do have an eye for people. If I hadn’t mentioned this to you back then, I’d be...!

As the dramatic rambling dragged on, Mu-gyeong scratched his brow and spoke.

"Ah, Gu Madam. An important guest just arrived. Let’s talk at the House."

—Ah, yeah, of course! Go handle your business, I’ll hang up.

Guppping hastily ended the call. Minho, who had been tapping the desk with the end of his pen the entire time, pushed up his glasses.

"He’s really crawling now, huh?"

"For money, he’d fake his own death."

"But the guy you planted—he works at the House too, right? What if he just runs off and rats us out?"

Minho occasionally voiced concerns like that. But having been in and out of the House himself, Mu-gyeong knew. He’d seen the way Gu Hongju looked at Guppping. Knew that the beatings, the debt collection, the self-inflicted labor—it was all to escape the mental agony.

"He wouldn’t do that. Kid’s sharp."

He could run numbers like the rest of the rats, and would do anything for money—but Mu-gyeong spoke about him with a strangely even tone.

"Wouldn’t it be more solid just to send in the guys now? I mean, they’re about to bring in the cranes—what the hell are they gonna do? Tell us to move the cars?"

Mu-gyeong, once he made a plan, pushed forward alone. Even with Minho, who had worked with him for years, he only assigned necessary tasks. The complete picture was always in his own head.

"Not yet. If we force them out now, they’ll use whatever means they can to halt construction. Looks like they’ve got some strong connections."

It was a situation halfway to success. The goal was different, but they’d gotten Guppping’s agreement to vacate the House. They’d reached a step even previous companies hadn’t. But this wasn’t the time to get comfortable.

Mu-gyeong, despite his temperament, moved slowly and precisely. He was never reckless. The pace was perfect for deceiving seasoned gamblers.

"So you’re gonna keep going in and out of the House to keep fooling them?"

"There’s only one way to crush a gambler. Make him lose the money he won playing Hwatu."

Mu-gyeong’s plan was to weaponize Guppping’s greed. He had no sense of scale, but a lot of appetite—and too much caution. Still, once he decided someone was a mark, he clung until he got what he wanted. If Mu-gyeong could become the perfect mark in Guppping’s eyes, everything would fall into place.

"Guys who’ve tasted money through Hwatu can’t quit easy. They think playing in a setup game is their fate, their skill."

A gamble that would decide the House’s fate. In this round, the real player was Sung Mu-gyeong. The cards were Gu Hongju. The mark was Guppping.

From watching carefully over time, Mu-gyeong knew—Gu Hongju was a damn good card. He brought back information that never made it into documents. And he took the bait every time Guppping’s traps were sloppy.

‘Guppping’s setting up a game. He’s trying to drag you in, President Mu-gyeong. You’ll lose everything. Don’t take the cards.’

Why go that far? Just do what you’re paid for. Even if Guppping got fleeced, it wouldn’t affect him.

Hongju’s overly desperate behavior occasionally left Mu-gyeong with a strange feeling.

"I’ve reported the temporary House a few times, but it takes forever for them to do anything. This year’s report probably won’t get a raid until next year."

The ones reporting the House were Mu-gyeong’s people. It was a way to test whether raids were actually being enforced. If the place kept avoiding busts, it meant Guppping’s pet inside the police was still doing his job.

"I think I’ll take a few days off."

"Yeah. No need to clock in at the House too."

Mu-gyeong, in the middle of slicing his steak, found himself thinking of Gu Hongju again. Just hearing the word "House" now made him picture Hongju with a deck of Hwatu cards.

The way his eyes dropped to read the cards, the shadow of his lashes, the straight line of his nose, lips red like the back of a Hwatu card.

"Didn’t realize Hwatu was such a sexy game."

Sexy? Minho, picturing neighborhood uncles gathered to play cards, recoiled in disgust.

"You’ve gone off the deep end. You’re way too into this whole ‘mark’ role."

Mu-gyeong just laughed. Of course Minho reacted that way. He hadn’t seen Hongju holding a hand of cards yet. Before that, even Mu-gyeong had thought Hwatu was just some trashy gambling game.

"Maybe so."

He recalled those white, slender hands fanning out the cards. That cold, mechanical motion of laying down money. The indifferent gaze. The red fingertips, smoothly shuffling the deck.

"Yeah... guess I am a little obsessed."