Three Eight-Chapter 44

"So. What happened when you got caught trying to run away?"

"They locked me in a room and beat me. If I passed out, they beat me awake. And if I passed out again, they beat me awake again. After that, I couldn’t really try running away anymore."

Hongju spoke of his painful past like it belonged to someone else. Instead, it was Doksu who grimaced.

"I knew he was a psycho, but damn. Guppping’s even more fucked up than I thought."

Hongju let out a faint smile, as if it was amusing to hear someone else curse on his behalf. “Fucked up psycho,” he murmured quietly under his breath. Watching him smile like he didn’t even know how to, Doksu swallowed his sympathy. His phone vibrated in his pocket, long and steady.

[Nearby.]

He shut the screen again and kept talking to Hongju.

Screeeech—! In the quiet dawn, the sound of tires scraping the pavement echoed down the empty road. Spotting the familiar car, Doksu slowly straightened from where he’d been leaning back. A tall, imposing figure stepped out from the driver’s seat.

"You got here quick."

Mu-gyeong turned his head at Doksu’s call, then ran his gaze up and down Hongju, who was blankly staring at the table.

"What’s wrong with him?"

Doksu mimed tipping a glass and extended his hand. He knocked on the table like it was a door, and only then did Hongju’s eyes slowly lift. "Fucked up psycho," he kept mouthing silently, over and over—his lips moving but making no sound. Doksu met his gaze and spoke in a teasing tone.

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"He’s kinda cute when he’s drunk, huh?"

With a look of pure annoyance, Mu-gyeong walked toward their table. Even at this hour, he was sharply dressed, as if he’d come straight from somewhere indoors.

"So what?"

"What do you mean ‘so what’? Just sayin’."

The exchange was flat and lacked any warmth. Only then did Hongju seem to recognize Mu-gyeong’s voice, and he slowly turned his head. Mu-gyeong narrowed his eyes, trying to make out whatever Hongju was muttering.

"......."

Red cheeks, red lips. Those deep black eyes locked right onto him. Looking at the face, still unbruised and flushed like a ripe peach, Mu-gyeong felt a strange thirst prick at him.

"You should’ve just dropped him off at that dump of a lodging, what’s the hassle?"

He looked down at Hongju with both hands shoved in his coat pockets. His long lashes blinked slowly, casting shadows that reached all the way down his cheeks. He said it was a hassle, but he studied Hongju’s face with ridiculous detail.

"We can’t let him be seen drunk in front of the house staff, right? What kind of asshole would just leave him on the street?"

Why can’t he be seen drunk? Then it clicked—something must’ve happened with Guppping when he was. Was that why? If that was the case, then Hongju wouldn’t want to be seen drunk by anyone. Mu-gyeong scratched at his furrowed brow.

"Where are you off to?"

"To the house. Gonna play a few games. Got a big one coming up, figured I’d practice."

Doksu mimed shuffling cards with empty hands. Mu-gyeong inhaled sharply through his teeth and stalled for a beat. Whether Gu Hongju got harassed by Gu Madam at the house or got roughed up by other guys at that dump didn’t really matter to him. He could’ve just walked away from it all. So why the hell had he even driven all the way to this back alley?

"What’s he mumbling?"

His eyes landed on the red lips moving softly with inaudible muttering. Red, flushed eyelids and cheeks. It reminded him of that night in the narrow room. It had been impulsive, but he hadn’t regretted it—he thought he’d returned it with a fitting price. He’d figured there wouldn’t be anything more after that.

"......."

He couldn’t look away from the white puffs of breath dissolving from Hongju’s mouth. They were going to vanish anyway—so why couldn’t he tear his eyes away?

Tsk. Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed.

"You take him."

"Yessir."

Doksu immediately stood and helped Hongju up. His thin body rose with no resistance, moving along easily in Doksu’s hold. For someone drunk, he was oddly compliant. After settling Hongju into the passenger seat, Doksu dusted off his hands and gave Mu-gyeong a subtle nod.

"Then I’m leaving him in your care."

"......."

Mu-gyeong stood with his hand on the driver’s side door, repeating Doksu’s words in his mind. Leaving him in your care? What, like he owned him or something? He was the one who’d paid off Gu Hongju’s debt. By that logic, didn’t he own at least 70% of him? Finishing his mental calculation, Mu-gyeong moved his lips.

"You should’ve said, ‘please handle him with care.’"

"Who talks about a person like that?"

Ignoring the reply, Mu-gyeong climbed into the driver’s seat. Just as he was about to pull out, he noticed Hongju blinking slowly, still without a seatbelt.

"Always so much trouble."

He grumbled, annoyed, but carefully pulled the belt across and clicked it into place. Then he slowly pulled the car onto the road.

Last time, ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) it had just been for show—that’s why he took him to a hotel. He hadn’t expected this to happen again. If that kid ever got the wrong idea, thinking he was someone special to him... that’d be a problem. Mu-gyeong’s sharp gaze dropped onto Hongju.

"...Then again, no. You’re not that dumb."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the warmth of the car. Either way, Hongju looked like sleep was dragging him under, eyes fighting to stay open. You couldn’t even drink water freely in the house. You couldn’t get drunk. You couldn’t even sleep without fear. How long had this kid been living such a hellish life?

Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue and shook his head.

Even as the blood vessels in his eyes burst red with exhaustion, Hongju forced himself to stay awake. When they arrived at the room, he just stood there blankly, so Mu-gyeong stripped off his padded coat and tossed him something to change into, then nudged him toward the bathroom. Like a sleepwalker, Hongju blinked dumbly and shuffled inside. A little while later, he came back out freshly washed.

"Don’t start whining. Just sleep quietly."

Mu-gyeong pushed him into bed and turned off all the lights. He was planning to stay up anyway, too much to do—giving up the bed wasn’t a big deal.

"Huh. Doesn’t even smell like alcohol."

As he closed the door and stepped into the sitting room, Mu-gyeong tilted his head. He thought back to the beers on the convenience store table. Maybe Hongju hadn’t drunk that much? With a shrug, Mu-gyeong pressed his knuckles against his brow and sat in front of his laptop. He read through some documents on-screen, but quickly lost focus and rubbed his forehead.

"You don’t have a conscience."

"What?"

The words from their car ride kept echoing in his head. But this time, it hadn’t been Hongju’s usual sharp or guarded tone.

"You take in a kid, make him hustle and beat the crap out of him, then give him a measly salary? That’s what he said—no conscience. He asked me if I paid fair. If I was like Guppping."

"Conscience? I don’t have that. But I’ve got money."

"Oh, right. Thanks for paying my debt. If my father asks, I’ll tell him you helped me."

After that, Hongju had rambled on about his father, even though Mu-gyeong hadn’t asked. He’d talked about resenting and cursing the man who made him into this, but also admitted that he still wondered how he was doing.

"...Perfect mark material."

Acting all soft like that—no wonder Gu Madam and Chief Yang kept their claws in him. Mu-gyeong shook his head. Just a disposable tool, no need to get too invested.

And yet, the way Hongju had used his drunken courage to finally bring up his father had been pitiful. Maybe the reason he didn’t want to be seen drunk around the other house staff wasn’t pride, but fear of exposing something fragile underneath.

"Who cares," Mu-gyeong muttered, shaking the thoughts off as he turned his attention back to the screen.

Hongju blinked his dry, scratchy eyes open and stared up at the ceiling. He blinked a few more times, slowly—then they flew wide open.

"Ugh."

Where was he? He remembered drinking with Doksu outside the convenience store, talking about Guppping. But everything after that... blank. Was this Doksu’s place? No—it looked way too expensive. Doksu said he was staying at a sauna or something...

Hongju threw back the blanket and scrambled off the bed. The clothes he was wearing weren’t his, and they were way too big. The scent rising from them was vaguely familiar, but his head felt too heavy to place it.

"Did Doksu leave me here?"

Maybe he couldn’t take him back to where he stayed, so he dropped him at some upscale motel instead. It didn’t really make sense, but it was the only theory that fit. Quietly opening the door, Hongju stepped out—and finally realized.

He recognized it from the last time he was here. This was Mu-gyeong’s place.

"......"

Why am I here? Did I call him? No way. He looked around quickly, but there was no one in sight. On the table sat a laptop and a coffee cup, like someone had just been there. The coffee had gone cold, drained almost to the bottom—whoever had been there had left a while ago.

He needed to get out of here, fast. But no matter how he looked, his own clothes and belongings were nowhere to be found. In a rush, he crossed the sitting room. That’s when—

"Well, look who’s awake. The drunk mess."

"......"

Had he just gotten back from a workout? His hair was damp, and sweat beaded on his neck and face. A towel hung over one shoulder as he gave Hongju a once-over.

"Thought this the first time I saw you too—your drinking manners are shit."

Hongju bit down on his lower lip. If only he could remember something... but there was nothing. Did he say something weird? Do something stupid? He never got drunk off one or two sips before. Was it because he let his guard down drinking with Doksu? Clutching his aching head, he cautiously opened his mouth.

"...Did I say anything weird?"

"Weird?"

Mu-gyeong passed him and went into the room, came back out with fresh clothes. On his way to the bathroom, he gave a lazy shrug.

"Who knows."

That was it. Hongju stayed in the living room the whole time Mu-gyeong showered, gripping his head and struggling to piece together the missing fragments.