Three Eight-Chapter 42

"Did you see Guppping pissed off? His lips were fucking trembling."

Doksu ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) burst out laughing, clutching his stomach like it was the funniest thing in the world. Hongju wanted to laugh along too, but his stiffened mouth wouldn't budge. Instead, he picked up the water bottle and walked the same path the two men had just taken.

"There’ve been some big incidents at the house before, right? Maybe that’s why they’re being so cautious now—everything’s moving real slow?"

"Incidents? You mean that time I mentioned before? It all blew up because they barged in trying to demolish the place on our day off. They were in a rush too, let their guard down and caused the whole mess."

Apparently, they had already told Mu-gyeong about the incident during the house demolition process. Of course, they must have glossed over the details and only given him the outcome. That’s how they could lie so smoothly without even a tremble in their voice.

Guppping’s methods of keeping the house running inside the redevelopment zone were pathetic and vile. First, he’d send in the Gweoleum-dong thugs to use force. If that failed, he’d stage fatal accidents to force the companies to back off. That extreme tactic had worked several times. Which meant people had died—more than a few.

And afterward, with the backing of contacts in city hall and the police, he’d roughly cover up the incidents. Once things quieted down, he’d reopen the house and casually run the games again like nothing had happened.

"This time, there won’t be an incident. No way!"

Mu-gyeong said nothing in return, his lips tightly shut. Maybe afraid Mu-gyeong might pull out his investment, Guppping scrambled to reassure him.

"How are you so sure?"

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"Huh?"

"What makes you so sure, Gu Madam?"

Just a while ago, Mu-gyeong had seemed to be going along nicely. But now, his voice was icy cold. Even Hongju, eavesdropping just outside the door, swallowed dryly.

"Well, this time we gave up our spot willingly, and we gave them plenty of money and time, so..."

Guppping trailed off awkwardly. Mu-gyeong listened to his pathetic excuses for a while, then burst into laughter.

"Why’re you so defensive? All I meant is, don’t let your guard down."

"Oh, is that what you meant?"

"Who said it was your fault? Why’re you so jumpy?"

Guppping let out a hollow, mechanical laugh. He’s testing him, Hongju thought. Only when the topic shifted and the tension eased did he enter the room. The conversation abruptly stopped, aware of the intruder.

"Here."

"Thanks."

Mu-gyeong reached out and took the bottle without even looking. Guppping started scrolling through his phone. Seeing they weren’t going to send him on another errand, Hongju quickly turned and left the room. Guppping didn’t come out for quite a while.

After 2 a.m.—the hour when gamblers, usually glassy-eyed and reeking, started to light up with energy.

Hongju was busy. He followed behind a guy who said he’d pay in cash instead of borrowing chips and completed the transaction on the spot. He even made a trip to a 24-hour café because one customer was picky with his order.

After a few runs like that, his hands were frozen stiff, never given a chance to thaw. At least the expensive padded jacket helped. As long as his hands were in his pockets, it was pretty warm. But with coffee carriers in both hands, the backs of his hands had turned red from the cold. As Hongju climbed the stairs of the house with the smell of coffee trailing behind him, Mu-gyeong came into view.

"Collection?"

That dark, sticky gaze was fixed only on Hongju’s face. He didn’t seem to care about the coffee smell or the carrier. Maybe because it was early morning, his low, gravelly voice reminded Hongju of the one he heard back in that narrow semi-basement room.

"No. Just came back from an errand."

Avoiding eye contact, Hongju quickly turned into the hallway and entered the room where the Seotda game was ongoing. Guppping, Doksu, two of the players they brought in for setups, and a woman he’d seen once before were there. The same gutsy woman who rigged the cards and made him deliver the winnings.

After setting down the carrier, he handed the change to Guppping. The woman, who had been watching, suddenly grabbed Hongju’s frozen hand.

"Oh my. Look at this poor thing’s hands! Only half-finished men send someone like you out at this hour."

"Who else here is low-ranking enough to run errands?"

Guppping snapped, but the woman rolled her eyes.

"Who cares about rank these days? It’s all about the face. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?"

Hongju didn’t respond, only kept his stiff expression as he pulled out the coffee. The woman paid him no mind and tilted her head.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you’ve got a bruise on your face?"

"Hey now. That’s trade secret, top secret."

Guppping joked after gulping down his coffee. One cup remained. No one claimed it, so it sat quietly on the corner of the table.

"We’re all in the same boat now. What’s there to hide?"

The woman laughed cheerfully as she rummaged through her bag. It looked like they’d gathered for the big game Guppping was preparing. Hongju figured she was some kind of broker.

Just as he turned to leave, the woman shoved a bunch of ten-thousand won bills into his padded pocket and pressed the last cup of coffee into his hand.

"This one’s for you, pretty boy."

"...Thank you."

Hongju usually rejected anything that wasn’t a tip, especially drinks or alcohol he didn’t want. But this time, he accepted it. If he refused, she’d probably feel awkward.

His frozen hand began to thaw. Clenching the cup in his tingling fingers, Hongju gave a small bow and exited the room. He walked away, deliberately ignoring the intense stare tracking him from the end of the hall.

"You take tips too?"

Mu-gyeong’s gaze was locked onto the bills sticking out of his pocket.

"Some customers give tips when I run errands."

Just then, a gambler came up asking to borrow chips. Hongju started to guide him, but another employee nearby ran over and said he’d take over. As he watched them go into the inner room, Hongju awkwardly sat down on the edge of a chair.

"You haven’t texted me."

"I’ve been stuck at the house the whole time."

"Sure, Gu Madam was at the house."

"...Exactly."

Hongju swallowed his response. Wasn’t the original deal that he would only send a message if Guppping was acting suspicious or leaving the house? If not, then there was no reason to reach out at all. Tilting his head, Hongju recalled something he’d heard earlier in the day. Before opening his mouth, he scanned the area and lowered his voice as much as he could.

"Those guys you mentioned before. They said they can’t get in touch with them."

"Who? The gangsters?"

The house was noisy enough that no one would hear them, but Hongju still flinched and looked around. He glanced toward the inner room with the safe, then nodded at Mu-gyeong.

"Maybe they went out to shake someone down or something."

So the gangsters who had been targeting him were gone. But Mu-gyeong didn’t seem relieved—didn’t even show a hint of feeling glad.

"......"

Even now, it was the same. Hongju couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, while Mu-gyeong nonchalantly adjusted his padded collar, checking his neck. How could someone be this indifferent about everything? Was it just his nature? Or was it because he had that much space in his heart? Is that why, even after that kind of sex, he could be so unaffected?

"Here, have this."

He slid the coffee in front of him toward Mu-gyeong and even popped the lid open. A gentle steam carried the fragrant aroma into the air.

"What about yours?"

Even though he’d bought it himself, being in the house made him feel no urge to drink anything.

"I’m not drinking."

"Feels like I’m robbing a kid’s allowance, this."

"It’s not like I bought it with my own money anyway."

The word "money" made something click in Hongju’s mind. Ah, so that’s why Mu-gyeong was acting like this. Since he’d already paid for the sex, he must think everything was settled cleanly. That’s why he was so unbothered. Hongju gave a small nod.

"Thanks."

Mu-gyeong slowly pulled off the gloves he was wearing. His broad fingers didn’t reach for the cup right away. Instead, he cupped Hongju’s cheek, gently pulling his pale face closer and running his hand down from his forehead.

"Money really is a beautiful thing. Just handing it over and you don’t even try to resist."

His murmuring voice sounded just like the groans he’d shoved into Hongju’s ear. That obscene scene kept playing on a loop in his head—bodies slamming wet and frenzied, rutting like beasts. Hongju, biting the inside of his cheek, carefully opened his mouth.

"...I heard you paid off five hundred million won. Thank you."

"I don’t do losing deals."

Before Hongju could make sense of that, Mu-gyeong added,

"But why are you thanking me for that?"

His eyes were still thoroughly scanning Hongju’s face. The way he asked it like it was the most obvious question left Hongju speechless. Unable to meet his gaze, he stubbornly focused on the man’s lips.

"Because I took your virginity?"

Those bold red lips moved, whispering. Even in all the commotion, Hongju recognized the low voice instantly and flicked his eyes away.

"You paid off my debt. Of course I’m... thankful."

This time, he focused on the hand that was cupping his cheek. On the back of Mu-gyeong’s hand, a small bruise had formed, and the skin was scraped. Hongju stared at the injury until the hand pulled away from his face.

"That so? But to me, it just sounds like ‘please come again.’"

It was half-laughing, so it was hard to tell if he was joking or being serious. When Mu-gyeong finally reached for the cup, the injury became more visible. The scraped back of his hand, and a reddish bruise pooled along his knuckles.

"......"

Silently, Hongju bent down and opened a drawer. It felt like nosy, presumptuous behavior. Still, he pulled out the ointment and bandages Doksu had bought him before.

"Hold on a second."

He brought the ointment close to the second knuckle where the skin was scraped. Mu-gyeong quietly watched what he was doing. Hongju squeezed the tube gently, careful not to touch the skin, and then opened a bandage. It probably didn’t need covering, but since Mu-gyeong always wore gloves, there was no choice.

"You said this kind of thing heals on its own anyway, right?"

That thought hadn’t changed, at least not for himself. The wounds always came back before the old ones could even heal. But lately, after applying medicine, taking pills, and replacing gauze, he’d come to realize something.

"It still heals faster that way."

Which meant the pain didn’t last as long. The bandage stuck clumsily across the back of his hand and middle finger.