Three Eight-Chapter 6

"Something else."

"......."

"You should answer something else."

"What."

There was nothing to answer since nothing had been asked. Hongju quietly lowered his hands to undo his seatbelt, but Mu-gyeong was faster. His large palm covered the buckle, holding it in place as he spoke again.

"You didn’t answer my question before."

"...Before."

What had he asked? Hongju tried to recall. With Guppping nagging him not to piss Mu-gyeong off, he had probably answered even the most trivial questions earnestly. But no matter how hard he racked his brain, nothing came to mind. Watching Hongju’s furrowed brow, Mu-gyeong finally spoke.

"I asked if you wanted to kill Gu Madam. You never [N O V E L I G H T] answered."

As Hongju turned his head, their eyes met instantly. Mu-gyeong’s red lips curved smoothly into a smile. The moment he saw that smile, a chill ran down the back of his neck. He had felt this before.

"...Yeah."

This time, he didn’t lie. There was no particular reason. Maybe because this could be the last thing he ever said alive. There was no need to hide the truth.

"Should’ve answered sooner."

Mu-gyeong’s voice was more relaxed, but Hongju remained wary. Since he couldn’t rely on sound, he focused on every tiny movement Mu-gyeong made, not missing even the slightest twitch of his fingers.

"I didn’t hit you, didn’t do anything. What’re you so scared for?"

He straightened from where he had been leaning against the steering wheel, pulling his coat open and slipping a hand inside his suit jacket. Hongju’s gaze locked onto the movement, watching his fingertips intently. What was he about to pull out? A knife? A syringe? A length of rope? Hongju steadied his breathing, recalling all the times he had been ambushed while collecting debt. Finally, Mu-gyeong’s hand began to withdraw from inside his jacket. Hongju narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what he was holding.

With a casual flick, Mu-gyeong tossed the object onto Hongju’s thigh.

"If Gu Madam pulls any shit, call me. I’ll make sure you get your cut."

"......."

It was a phone. A different model and color from the one Mu-gyeong usually carried.

"You’re telling me... to spy on him?"

Mu-gyeong nodded, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Is there a problem?

"Why me...?"

"I can’t trust those useless thugs pissing themselves in front of Gu Madam. But you? You’ve got enough guts to pull some shit behind his back. And even if you get caught and beaten, you won’t die from it, right?"

His voice was laced with amusement, making it hard to tell whether he was serious or just messing with him. But then, Mu-gyeong added an explanation.

"Everyone else bows and scrapes in front of Gu Madam. You don’t."

"......."

"You don’t even realize how you look at him, do you?"

Hongju could guess. That fucking bastard. Just die already. Every time he saw Guppping, those curses ran through his head. Even though he had resigned himself more than before, his emotions couldn’t be completely buried. Hongju pressed his lips together tightly, and Mu-gyeong let out a small chuckle.

"Don’t overthink it. They say you should never trust the guy holding the cards, right? I lent out a huge sum of money—shouldn’t I at least do this much?"

"...If I get caught, I’m the only one who dies. It’s not like you’re going to help me."

Did he even realize how much Hongju had been beaten because of him last time? Even if he was used to violence, that didn’t mean he wanted to take a beating for no reason. Hongju refused to touch the phone resting on his thigh, afraid that even picking it up would mean he was agreeing to this.

"Hmm."

Mu-gyeong leaned back against the seat, letting go of the belt clip. He crossed his arms and exhaled slowly.

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"You’re stuck here because of your debt, right?"

Hongju hesitated for a moment before nodding. His fine hair brushed against the wounds on his forehead as he moved.

"If you do as I say, I’ll help you. I can get you out before the new house opens."

Just like you shouldn’t trust the man holding the cards, you shouldn’t blindly trust someone who felt off. But to Hongju, this felt like an opportunity. Compared to Guppping, who watched him like a vulture, or Yang Siljang, who never tired of tormenting him, wasn’t this man the better option? Wouldn’t it be easier to work under him instead of getting beaten up day after day while collecting debt? If Mu-gyeong really had money, then maybe he wouldn’t even care how quickly Hongju paid him back. If he had to choose between con artists, wasn’t this man better than Guppping?

For the first time in fifteen years, Hongju hesitated.

"How... how would you do it?"

"How, huh?"

Mu-gyeong mimicked Hongju’s shaky tone, laughing under his breath. Hongju scowled, annoyed by his playful attitude.

"You still think I’m a conman, huh? Don’t worry. I’ll get you out for sure. I don’t have anything except money."

"......."

"I’ll help you leave the house. I’ll make sure you don’t die from a beating. So? What do you think?"

Mu-gyeong flashed a grin and shrugged. But there was no trace of a smile on Hongju’s pale face. His scabbed lips barely moved as he murmured.

"What if I say no?"

"Then..."

Mu-gyeong’s fingers tapped the steering wheel rhythmically. Just as the silence grew unbearably heavy, he finally jerked his chin forward.

He was pointing at the lake in front of the car.

"I step on the gas. You know how to swim?"

Hongju's gaze flickered between the pitch-black lake and the phone. If he kept paying off his debt under Guppping, it would take him decades. He had no regrets about dying now, but still, just once, he wanted to live like a human being. A trickle of blood seeped through his chapped lips. Eventually, he wrapped his fingers around the phone resting on his thigh. It was warm, probably from being in Mu-gyeong's pocket the whole time. He tucked it into the chest pocket of his rarely-used padded jacket and zipped it up. Who knew—there might come a time when he needed to flash this phone at Guppping and tell him, That guy told me to spy on you.

"I'm not saying I'll do it. I'll see how you plan to help me first, and then I’ll decide whether to call or not."

One thing Hongju had learned while getting beaten up in the gambling house was that you had to watch where you lay down before stretching your legs. He had never once been able to lie down comfortably, so now, he was going to be cautious.

"Suit yourself."

Mu-gyeong started the engine. The wheels spun noisily over the snow, and the frozen lake faded into the distance. Just for holding onto a single phone, his chest felt unbearably heavy.

The entire ride back, Mu-gyeong explained what Hongju had to do—watch Guppping, see if he left the house, if he started dealing with other rich marks, or if he showed any signs of cutting loose and running. If anything seemed off, he was to call immediately. And finally, Mu-gyeong added,

"Or, if you ever just get tired of waiting for that bastard to drop dead, you can call me for that too."

If that were the case, Hongju could call dozens of times a day. He was tempted to ask right now if Mu-gyeong could take care of it. After that, Mu-gyeong laid out a few more rules. Hongju didn’t respond but engraved each one into his mind.

"Get out."

He had assumed they would be returning to the gambling house, but the car had stopped somewhere else. Parked in front of a building, Mu-gyeong undid his seatbelt. Hongju glanced around, unsure what was happening, and before he could move, Mu-gyeong reached over and unbuckled his belt for him.

"What are you doing? Time to do what you’re good at."

"Oh."

So there was debt to collect. Hongju awkwardly grabbed the door handle and stepped out of the car. Everything—the building, the people passing by—looked refined and expensive. He was the only one in a tattered, worn-out jacket. He had never noticed how pathetic he looked when he was collecting money in the neighborhood, but now, out here, it hit him like a slap in the face. Keeping his head down, he followed the sound of Mu-gyeong’s leather shoes.

The inside was warm and smelled nice. Laughter colored the conversations of the people they passed. Hongju avoided looking at them. He rode the elevator with Mu-gyeong for a long while before they finally arrived at a quiet office.

"Is Minho in?"

"Yes, just a moment."

The woman who answered had a calm voice and made a call somewhere. Meanwhile, Mu-gyeong wandered down the hallway with his hands in his pockets, leisurely examining the framed pictures on the wall. Hongju stood there, completely still, as if he didn’t belong.

"He said you can go in."

"Thanks."

Mu-gyeong snapped his fingers, making a crisp click with his thumb and middle finger. Hongju looked up at the sound, only to see Mu-gyeong beckoning him. With practiced ease, he pushed open the office door and stepped halfway inside.

"Came to collect what’s owed."

"Owed?"

A voice answered from inside, confused. Mu-gyeong grabbed Hongju by the back of the neck and yanked him forward. Stumbling, Hongju's vision caught sight of the spacious, pristine office interior. Leaning down close to Hongju's ear, Mu-gyeong murmured,

"Go get the cigarettes."

"Huh? Cigarettes?"

Mu-gyeong gave a small nod, then jerked his chin forward like he was telling him to hurry up. Debt collection sometimes involved taking things other than cash—jewelry, documents—but cigarettes? That was a first. When Hongju hesitated, Mu-gyeong shoved his bony back hard. His staggered steps carried him toward the man sitting at the desk. The man adjusted his glasses, narrowing his eyes.

"...I'm here to collect the cigarettes you owe Mu-gyeong."

"The hell? What happened to you? Did you get beat up or something?"

The man openly stared at Hongju’s battered face, visibly thrown off. Hongju was just as confused by the situation. He glanced back, but Mu-gyeong was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. Looking away again, Hongju faced the man.

"Hand them over."

The man didn’t move to give him anything. Instead, he tossed his glasses onto the desk and leaned in, lowering his voice.

"Did he hit you?"

Hongju silently shook his head. Not that it was a very convincing answer—his face was too much of a mess. Annoyed, he reached out a hand. The man leaned sideways, glaring at Mu-gyeong before yelling,

"Who the fuck is this? What the hell are you up to?"

"Just hurry up and hand it over. Your creditor’s waiting."

Mu-gyeong checked his watch, his tone impatient. Judging by the way they spoke, they were close. No way this was an actual debt collection. Whatever was going on, it was definitely bullshit.

"Fucking lunatic. What kind of nonsense is this?"

The man muttered as he got up from his seat. He rifled through the coat and suit jacket hanging on the rack before finally pulling out a pack of cigarettes, dropping it into Hongju’s palm. It was half-empty, but still, it was what Mu-gyeong had asked for. Hongju walked back toward the door and handed it over. Mu-gyeong grinned and shook the pack lightly in the air.

"If you borrow something, return it on time. No interest that way."

"Jesus Christ, you’re insane."

The man grumbled something behind them, but Mu-gyeong ignored it completely. Without another word, he pulled Hongju along and shut the office door. They headed straight for the elevator. Mu-gyeong didn’t even glance at the cigarette pack—he just checked his watch.

"When we get back, just say we went to some office building to collect money. Say the pack had cash inside."

So that was the cover story for when they returned to the gambling house. If they had gone straight back earlier, Guppping would have definitely pestered them with questions, forcing Hongju to make up some excuse on the spot. Now, he wouldn’t have to.

"Okay."

Just as they reached the elevator, the doors slid open. The two of them stepped inside together.