Three Eight-Chapter 32

He picked up the padded jacket that had been tossed near the shoe cabinet. Just a few days ago it had been so clean—now it was covered in dirt, smeared with mud and footprints, and the sleeve was torn. He rummaged through a drawer until he found a needle and thread, then stitched up the torn part. After that, he took a damp towel and started wiping the jacket clean.

His hand brushed against the outline of the phone in the inner pocket.

"Did he reply?"

When he turned on the phone, a notification popped up. Hongju quickly opened his message box.

[Who's worrying about who?]

A soft breath of laughter escaped him. It sounded like a sigh of relief. Mu-gyeong’s message wasn’t wrong, after all. He was the one who’d be getting the shit kicked out of him again tomorrow. Someone like Mu-gyeong, with all his money, could survive anything—stabbed, hit by a car—he could afford surgery without blinking.

"Even worrying gets scolded."

Though blood still oozed little by little from his palm whenever he moved, his fingers didn’t stop tapping the keypad.

[Still, please be careful.]

...He was just glad he hadn’t died. That the rope he was hanging onto hadn’t snapped just yet. Hongju exhaled slowly, hand resting against his chest.

***

"Whatever you talked about yesterday, I don’t care. You better fucking beg, got it?"

If Guppping was someone who understood reason, this wouldn’t be happening. Choi-geun and Doksu kept telling him to beg, but Hongju didn’t say a word.

What was he supposed to beg for?

Sorry I didn’t suck your dick?

I’ll be better at it next time?

No matter what he said, it would only be degrading. Might as well just take the beating.

"......Hoo."

"Don’t worry, Hongju. I’ll try to keep Guppping distracted, okay?"

For once, Doksu—who usually slept in a separate room or crashed at the house—had actually stayed the night at the dorm. He’d been saying the same thing since they left for work, and at this point, it was starting to wear a hole in Hongju’s ears.

"Just put some ointment on."

"Ointment? Should I come put it on for you?"

Hongju shook his head and raised his bruised, swollen palm.

"If I pass out or something, just press on it and put some ointment. It’s stopped for now, but it’s going to burst again soon."

"Ah..."

Doksu grimaced, and Choi-geun raised his voice, scolding him—asking what the hell he was doing, not putting medicine on his hand when it looked like that.

Hongju just shoved his hands into his pockets.

"......."

They were there when this happened, too. He swallowed the familiar feeling of bitter resentment and resignation and buried his hands deeper in his coat.

"We’re here."

"Gu Hongju, get in there."

As soon as they stepped onto the third floor, Yang Siljang’s cold voice cut through the air. Hongju passed the desks and headed toward the back room with the safe. He felt Doksu’s worried eyes trailing him, but never once looked back.

"Ran away like a little bitch, but you showed up after all, huh?"

Guppping, swinging a golf club around, glanced at him and started sneering. With a sharp whoosh, the club sliced through the air.

"Nice shot."

He swung forward again, making a visor with his hand to shield his eyes like he was looking off into the distance, giggling to himself. Hongju didn’t take his eyes off the heavy-looking golf club. Even blinking for a second might mean it’d come crashing into his body.

"Hongju. If paying off your debt is such a fuckin' drag, then run. I won’t stop you. This time I really won’t come looking for you."

They were standing quite far apart, but when Guppping extended the club, the head of it tapped Hongju’s shoulder.

"Think about it. You weren’t the one playing the fucking cards, but you’re the one stuck paying it all off. Doesn’t make any sense, does it? You’re the only one getting screwed."

Hongju squeezed his eyes shut. He already knew what would come next. Every time he got caught running away, Guppping would corner him with this kind of psychological pressure.

When he was younger, it worked. Enough that he couldn’t even leave the neighborhood—like he had a leash around his neck.

"I’ll dig through every back alley in the Philippines and find your old man. So you can just let go. He’s probably still sitting on his ass playing cards after wrecking his son’s life.

Maybe if he gets beat up enough doing collections, he’ll finally come to his senses. Yeah?"

"......."

Of course, that hadn’t changed. His father was a fucking mess. Resentment didn’t even begin to cover it.

But still—he was the only blood relative he had left.

So even now, Hongju couldn’t say "go ahead."

"Let’s write this again."

Guppping rifled through the safe and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

The loan agreement his father had signed, using him as collateral.

The paper was yellowed and old after fifteen years, but the handwriting—messy and haphazard—was still clear.

"Not coming? What the fuck are you standing there for?"

When he didn’t move, Guppping cursed and yanked him forward.

"Come on. Might as well do it in blood, huh? That’s how you make it binding, right?"

Hongju ground his teeth as Guppping yelled in his face.

Fucking piece of shit. Always the same.

"Here, here. Write your name, say you’ll take responsibility. What are you waiting for? Hurry the fuck up!"

The pen was forced into his hand. As he gripped it, a wave of pain surged up from his palm.

He didn’t have the guts to say fuck off, do what you want.

But he also couldn’t say I’m sorry, I’ll pay it back, just leave my father out of it.

His lips just worked silently, biting down on themselves over and over.

Guppping suddenly screamed and slapped him across the face.

"What the fuck are you just standing there for, like a moron?!"

His left ear, already dull, throbbed with heat.

The beating didn’t stop there.

Like he needed to vent his frustration, Guppping hit him again and again.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you little shit?! If you’re gonna run, don’t fucking come back! Now you’re back just to fuck with me again? If you’re gonna stay, then shut your mouth and do what I say, got it?!"

Hongju collapsed onto the sofa from the force of the blow. He covered his head with his arm, suppressing his scream, eyes wide open. His gaze locked on the loan document his father had signed—specifically, the part that read Collateral: Gu Hongju.

"Ugh..."

Fifteen years of this. The same cycle of breaking away and crawling back in regret. No matter how much older he got, Hongju was still a coward. Still useless.

And then—knock, knock—a jarringly foreign sound interrupted.

Guppping, chest heaving with rage, turned his glossy eyes toward the source.

"Sorry to interrupt while you're busy."

Just hearing the voice, it was obvious it was Mu-gyeong. The crisp click of polished shoes drew closer.

"W-What brings you here at this hour?"

"Can’t I come when I want? The snow’s too heavy—they said the construction’s on hold for now. Gotta push our meeting back."

Mu-gyeong approached the sofa across from Hongju. He pulled Guppping’s jacket from the backrest and laid it over the cushion before sitting down. The clean lines of his trousers and the spotless polish of his shoes gleamed. He crossed his legs.

"Y-Yeah, the supervisor texted me too. So, you came just to say that?"

Ignoring Guppping’s reply, Mu-gyeong reached over and picked up the loan agreement on the table. He raised it up, reading aloud.

Original amount: 45,000,000 won.

Upfront interest: 9,000,000 won.

Collateral: Gu Hongju.

"You saw that last time, right? That— that’s the loan his old man signed!"

Mu-gyeong, having scanned the document without interest, tossed it back on the table. The fluttering paper landed halfway off the edge.

"You said the father signed it. So why are you getting a blood oath from the son?"

His pitch-black eyes slowly scanned the bloodied palm of Hongju’s hand.

Guppping let out a forced laugh and waved his hand awkwardly in the air.

"T-That? His hand? He got into it with a customer. Right, Gu Hongju?"

"You heard about the punks sniffing around the construction site?"

Mu-gyeong changed the subject with complete disinterest. Guppping tugged up his pants and sat on the sofa.

"Punks...?"

"What, am I just a walking wallet to you now? Even the supervisor only contacts me when money’s involved. Tiring."

Mu-gyeong narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. Guppping pushed his messy hair back, darting his eyes everywhere. Hongju, groaning, managed to sit upright. As he used his bleeding hand to brace against the cushion, blood smeared across the leather. He barely held back the groan that almost slipped through his teeth.

"What do you mean, ‘wallet’? There’s more money going into this?"

Guppping tilted his head like it was the most absurd thing he’d heard.

"Some gang assholes came by demanding a fee for the space. How many fuckers are playing landlord on that tiny plot of land?"

"What? They’re demanding... what, rent? Who?"

Hongju watched Mu-gyeong in silence as he gave a noncommittal shrug. Even without focusing on the conversation, something felt off. No matter how lawless the punks were, they wouldn’t mess with the house without Guppping’s approval.

"I don’t know. They said construction couldn’t move forward, so I helped out. Pay me back slowly."

"What? Why me?"

"Why not? It’s your house, Gu Madam. The real owner should take responsibility. You said you didn’t have cash, so I covered it for you. What’s with the attitude?"

"Maybe you misunderstood something? There’s no way..."

Muttering like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Guppping pulled out his phone and started flipping through his contacts in a hurry.

Mu-gyeong shifted his eyes to the blood-stained sofa.

"If you’re done here, can I borrow him for a bit? Gotta go collect some debts."

His voice held a touch of amusement. Guppping looked startled, eyes darting again.

"...You can take him, but you’ll have to pay for his hours. You know I’ve got no cash, so you’ll have to give it to him directly."

"When have I ever skipped out on paying?"

He demanded money using Hongju like it was second nature. In that short moment, Guppping had already recalculated everything. After a few deep breaths and a glance # Nоvеlight # at the clock, he gave in.

"Just bring him back before midnight. I might need him here."

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

"Thanks."

Mu-gyeong stood and nodded his chin. Hongju grabbed a few tissues from the table and followed behind.

"I’m Guppping from the house! Are your guys seriously going around collecting rent? We’re already tied up in enough shady shit, and now they want protection fees?"

Guppping’s voice had started loud but quickly dropped when he remembered Mu-gyeong was still there.

Mu-gyeong didn’t even flinch, striding ahead without a glance back.

From the side, Doksu and Yang Siljang, sitting at the desk, motioned with their eyes, silently asking what was going on.

But Hongju just kept his head down, swollen eyes fixed on the floor, and walked past them without a word.