Three Eight-Chapter 77

"Nothing’s going to go the way Gu Madam wants anyway."

He would've liked to continue the conversation, but there were guests to receive. With some regret, Mu-gyeong turned his focus to preparations.

He flung the room door wide open and turned off the lights inside. Since the sitting room was still brightly lit, Hongju was swallowed in half-shadowed darkness.

"Should I just stay quiet?"

"Yeah. They think you ran away. Looks like you used to be good at that. They said, ‘knew he’d bolt.’"

A faint sound came from the doorway. Mu-gyeong half-turned and brought his index finger to his lips. At the signal, Hongju hastily dropped the blanket and slipped down under the bed.

"......Honestly."

He really is good at reading the room. Mu-gyeong strolled forward at a leisurely pace.

"You got here quick."

"Doksa said he’d stop by the House to grab the money, so we just came straight here."

Yang Siljang entered first. Behind him came Guppping, with a bruised, blue cheek.

Tch. Looks like they got hit on the same damn side, like they matched with Gu Hongju or something. Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue, staring at Guppping’s bruised mug, as if the man didn’t even remember being the one who dished out the beatings.

"What about Choi?"

"That guy’s gonna be a bit late. Said the executive meeting’s dragging on."

"Mm, no big deal."

Yang Siljang adjusted his eyepatch awkwardly as he replied. Normally, Guppping would be flapping his mouth nonstop by now. But after a few slaps to the face, he’d gone all sulky and kept his mouth shut. Mu-gyeong rolled his shoulder and threw Guppping a look.

"Dressed up a little today, huh?"

"Big day, you know... figured I should put in a bit of effort. Can’t be looking like a joke."

His busted lip twitched into an awkward smile. Guppping must’ve been chewing on a lot these past few days heading into D-Day. Sure, he probably wanted to wash his hands of the whole thing out of sheer disgust, but no way he could give up on the newly hooked mark or Seong Mu-gyeong’s money.

His blotchy face practically screamed: Just hold my nose and suck it up.

"You should’ve put something on your face at least. Looks disgusting."

Mu-gyeong muttered just loud enough for them to hear as he stepped into the sitting room. The shuffling of slippers followed only after a long pause.

"Come to think of it, changed rooms, huh. Thought you were still staying in the old one. When... did you move?"

Yang Siljang glanced around the room as if checking casually, then subtly examined the table. He must’ve found it odd that the recorder installed there only picked up TV noise.

"You think I’m supposed to report that kind of shit to you?"

"Nah, nah. Just asking, don’t get all worked up."

Yang Siljang waved his hand dismissively and dropped onto the sofa. Mu-gyeong grabbed a water bottle from the mini bar and downed it, casually checking both their hands.

"Doksa bringing the cards too?"

"Yeah. Should be here any minute now."

Yang Siljang pulled out his phone and started making a call. Meanwhile, Guppping stared at the wall, not sparing Mu-gyeong so much as a glance. Putting up a front, huh. Mu-gyeong scoffed to himself and began poking at him—subtly.

"Gu Madam, how much’ve you burned through in betting so far?"

"Khmm... let’s see. We started with 200 million at first..."

Guppping began calculating slowly.

Today marked the third round of Hwatu games, with Minho sacrificed as bait. The first round started with a few hundred million, the second with more, and today—being the most critical—had the biggest pot yet.

"Counting today, it’s about 1.17 billion lost. But it’s just temporary spending, you know? We’ll get it back, so it doesn’t really count, kkhm."

"According to your plan, we should make fifty times that, right?"

"Of course. You gotta play it right. You keep hyping up how it’s all for fun, right? Keep nudging him, making him feel like he needs to cash out more. Once he’s mentally cornered, he’ll start borrowing whatever’s within arm’s reach. As long as we let it flow naturally, it’s fine."

"Ah?"

The short response carried a mocking chuckle. Guppping glanced over, confused by the sudden laugh.

"Felt just like when you and I played Seotda. Like you were dead set on fleecing me."

Guppping's hand, which had been scratching his shiny forehead, froze for a moment. But then a casual voice slipped from ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) his slightly parted lips.

"Why would I fleece a business partner? Maybe if I’d lost on purpose to butter you up, sure."

He let out a hearty laugh. Mu-gyeong’s eyes sparkled—calm and sharp.

"Just saying."

He shrugged and bent over to pull a bag from under the island counter. It was thick—bulging with cash.

"Think this much cash is enough?"

"Sheesh, more than enough."

Guppping’s greedy gaze lingered on the bag.

"Tsk... what, is he still driving?"

Yang Siljang tilted his head and started dialing again. Mu-gyeong stayed back, watching everything unfold.

"Hey, President Mu-gyeong. About that IOU we used last time... you still carrying that around?"

The implication was obvious. He was planning to sic his thugs on him and snatch the IOU in the chaos. Gotta erase the evidence of debt completely. Mu-gyeong shrugged casually and replied.

"I don’t carry important stuff on me. Why?"

"Well, if we win today, I was thinking we could settle the debt you covered for me. Then we can tear up the IOU, right?"

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Ha. That sleazy grin and wrinkled mug made nausea bubble in his gut. But he swallowed it down, thinking of Hongju, listening in the dark.

"If you pay me back, I’ll tear it up in front of you. I’m not the kind of scumbag who keeps that shit hidden to trap people."

"......Hmm."

Guppping clicked his tongue and shifted uncomfortably. Mu-gyeong, acting indifferent, tossed out a question.

"You found Gu Hongju?"

"Hid like a fucking rat. Can’t have gone far though. Little shit’s got nowhere to crash, so where the hell did he run off to, huh."

Guppping’s muddy gaze swept around the room, like he suspected traces of Hongju might still linger.

"But with all the crumbs you’ve dropped, maybe he’ll come crawling back to you. No signs of that?"

Even under the thick suspicion in Guppping’s stare, Mu-gyeong kept a bored expression.

"If he wanted to use me, he wouldn’t have run in the first place, would he? I got him hospitalized after all that shit, and then he just vanished overnight."

"Hmm."

Guppping dragged out a breath and nodded. Even he had to admit Mu-gyeong made a good point. If Gu Hongju had ditched his only ally, then he must’ve really made up his mind.

"Still, don’t forget how sly that kid is. He knows he can pay off debt with his body. Who knows how he might be scheming."

"Goddamn it, everyone sees me as a fucking piggy bank."

Mu-gyeong muttered under his breath. Pretending not to hear, Guppping raised his voice in anger.

"If you get any hint of that fucker’s whereabouts, call me right away! I’ll make sure that fucking mutt regrets every second—for both our sakes. Shit, still got four billion left..."

Mu-gyeong, more aware than anyone how intangible debt can be, simply swallowed a dry laugh. He let out a long breath and glanced toward the darkened room.

"......"

Huddled under the bed, Hongju pulled his knees in tighter. His hearing never worked properly on normal days, but now—every single harsh syllable from that rough voice reached him with crystal clarity.

"Shouldn’t’ve messed up Guppping’s face like that, if I knew this was how it’d go. What’s the point of cooling his temper, when Gu Hongju’s just an ungrateful little rat, huh?"

"Exactly! The old man and the brat—both ungrateful bastards. I always knew that fucker would stab me in the back one day, fuck."

Hongju shut his eyes tight. More than anything, the word gratitude drilled into his ears. The one who forced him to pay off debt with his body—who did the same to his father—had the gall to talk about gratitude. Even claimed there was still four billion left.

His stomach churned at the disgusting words. He wanted to rush out and strangle him, but he clenched his fists and held it in.

Just then, Yang Siljang’s voice rang out, frustrated.

"Shit, why the hell isn’t he picking up?"

"Maybe he blocked you 'cause you kept spamming his phone. Let me try."

The air grew slightly tense. Sensing it instantly, Hongju peeked out past the bed. He could see Mu-gyeong perched on the island chair. Just as he was about to look away, Mu-gyeong turned and looked straight into the room.

"......"

"......"

Even though he was hidden in shadow, it somehow felt like their eyes met exactly. Mu-gyeong, who had locked eyes with him, rose from the chair with a light motion.

"If that idiot screws up today, it’s game over. He’s way too lax for someone in his position."

Mu-gyeong slowly walked toward Guppping, who was still trying to make the call. As the distance closed, his long shadow stretched over both Guppping and Yang Siljang.

"Game over? Don’t be ridiculous—"

"If today’s game goes to shit, you can’t pay the debt, can’t hook the mark, and you lose the pot too. A couple seconds and a few billion gone. That’s game over for you, Gu Madam. Am I wrong?"

Instead of taking a seat, Mu-gyeong leaned on the table in front of the sofa. Resting his elbow on his thigh, he leaned forward until he was eye-level with Guppping.

"Stop jinxing it, fuck! We’ve come this far. We’re already halfway to success, halfway!"

He barked, coughing between words. Maybe because the call wasn’t going through—Guppping’s dirty complexion was growing pale. His posture, previously relaxed, tensed up.

"Why the hell won’t he pick up. Did he go to the old room? That makes no sense..."

Guppping clicked redial again, frustrated. So much for putting effort in on an important day—his sweat-slick forehead glistened under the waxed hair.

"Maybe he’s dragging his feet ‘cause Guppping was babying him too much."

Mu-gyeong deliberately stretched his arm and rolled up his shirt sleeve, checking his watch slowly and obviously.

"What are you talking about? Hey, who’s at the House today?"

"Choi. I’ll try calling Choi."

Now the two of them began dialing separate numbers.

"Hey! Did Doksa leave the House yet? Why the hell’s he not picking up?"

Sounded like they’d reached Choi. Yang Siljang snapped irritably into the phone.

"Did he leave? Did he head out?"

Pressed by Guppping, Yang Siljang scowled and nodded. Even though the important info had been confirmed, the call didn’t end. Yang Siljang’s expression turned dark.

"What do you mean? Why the hell would I tell him to do that?"

With a deep frown, Yang Siljang pulled the phone from his ear.

"Guppping. Did you tell Doksa to empty the safe? And bring the books with him?"