Three Eight-Chapter 79

"How many shell companies were leeching off just one House?"

A season where winter had fully retreated. That was when Mu-gyeong learned of Guppping’s House.

"I thought it was just some no-name gambling den, but turns out the bastard’s got some brains. Isn’t it insane he’s still hanging on?"

"He’s acting up because they’ve been going easy on him. Try stuffing him with cash and see what happens."

After years of suffering through tearing down a mansion to build a hotel, Mu-gyeong had finally thought he might catch a break. And yet, here he was again, saddled with another headache. He lazily opened the file.

"Even if you’re being generous, that place’s worth maybe ₩1.5 billion. And this guy’s lying on the ground demanding ₩30 billion. That sound normal to you?"

"₩30 billion? Sounds more like someone’s dog’s name."

If it was being used as a House, the building’s facilities probably weren’t anything special either. The absurd figure made Mu-gyeong let out a dry laugh.

"Previous contractors tried forced demolition a few times, but looks like there were some accidents. We’ll need a clean approach to get them out."

He skimmed through the documents related to the House. A lot had gone down on such a tiny patch of land.

Three attempts at forced demolition with no compensation agreement in place. And in each of those attempts, a hired laborer had died. Seeing that they’d even appealed the eviction case, it looked like they’d hang on no matter what until they got their ₩30 billion.

"Looks like they’re hellbent on squeezing every last drop out of that House."

"Since it’s such a mess, that’s why it fell to Executive Director Mu-gyeong. We’re counting on you, alright?"

He scanned the past compensation offers. ₩500 million, ₩800 million, ₩1 billion. The amount had gone up slightly, but still far below even the assessed value.

"That was a stingy payout from the start. Even if it’s a gambling den, still. No wonder he took it personally."

The House itself was sizable, and judging by its age, it probably had a lot of regulars even if the facilities were crap. With that kind of clientele, if they seriously ran the place, they could easily rake in that amount.

"The problem was that they started too small. No wonder the guy’s so pissed off."

"Tsk."

If they’d buttered him up a bit in the beginning, maybe he wouldn’t have gone this far. Mu-gyeong clicked his tongue softly and flipped another page.

"But that guy’s a piece of work too. That neighborhood’s a damn mess—what kind of business is he trying to run there anyway? If it were me, I’d take the ₩1 billion and walk."

"Who needs a view to play Hwatu?"

A shady construction site view. Probably a better backdrop for Hwatu than some glitzy nightscape.

"Oh, and I heard something funny. Apparently the workers have been whispering that place might be haunted."

"Haunted?"

Mu-gyeong picked up on the word and burst out laughing.

"When you think about it, kind of makes sense, doesn’t it? The area’s got a creepy vibe, accidents keep happening, the previous manager got charged with something, work orders got suspended, lawsuits flying everywhere... A lot of bad juju tied up in that place. I heard Samun Construction even did a secret exorcism before approaching."

"An exorcism? Just to kick one House out?"

Mu-gyeong shook his head. He’d never heard anything like that in all his years on the job.

"Either way, since we’ve taken over the construction, we need to root that place out completely. Let me know if you want a shaman before heading in. I’ll find you a good one."

"Don’t screw with me."

With a lazy hand, he slowly reviewed the House's intel.

"Hard to believe a House can still operate these days."

"Right? Apparently there are a few more in that area."

Memories of visiting a House a few times when he’d just started the job surfaced faintly. Loud, chaotic, filthy—eyes that moved only for money.

"......"

The thought of having to step into a place like that again already gave him a headache. Mu-gyeong went through the personnel list for the House owner and staff.

"Every single one of them looks like..."

He was about to jokingly say they looked like total assholes when his eyes landed on the photo of a young man with jet-black eyes. Though he was turned slightly to the side, the face pulled his gaze more than any other. The blank expression was filled with scars.

It was clearly different from the hollowed-out look of other gamblers. Fragile enough to snap, yet dried-out and unyielding. But the eyes burned bright.

"Hmm."

He moved his lips as he read the writing beneath the photo. So the father couldn’t pay off his gambling debts and handed over his son instead. What the hell—₩1.3 billion owed by a twenty-two-year-old kid? No wonder those eyes looked ready to kill.

In debt relationships, the creditor always holds absolute power. And they’d been working him for fourteen years to pay off the interest? He didn’t need to see it to imagine how hard they must’ve ridden that kid. The anger, resentment, and twisted emotions built up over all that time were plain to see in his expression.

"Gu Hongju."

He read the name printed below the photo out loud. A kid like this—clear the debt, and he’d probably pull off anything you asked, flawlessly. Mu-gyeong tapped Hongju’s picture with his finger.

"He’ll do nicely."

He’d rolled through filth since childhood, learned every rotten way to handle people. The wrong way, sure—but for Mu-gyeong, that was perfect.

"Huh? What will?"

"The ghost that’s haunting the House. Don’t you have to know its story to send it off properly?"

This Gu Hongju kid—he seemed to know that story well. That was when Mu-gyeong decided he had to bring Hongju aboard.

The straightforward route had failed too many times. It was time to weave something crooked. The approach had to be slow, not rushed. A gambler who lived on the Hwatu floor would have sharp instincts.

Mu-gyeong slipped behind a neatly constructed identity. A thoughtless chaebol playing with dirty money. That was the role he’d keep until the House was fully in his hands.

"Oh, I heard rumors about that place. Did you invest, sir?"

He knew the man eyeing him suspiciously very well. The House owner, Kim Jang-won—better known as Guppping. Mu-gyeong already had all the intel: what booze he drank, what kind of car he drove, how much tax he paid. But he feigned ignorance and tossed out the bait.

"It was a joint investment with some acquaintances. We kept it light. But business is good, and the returns are solid."

"And how much did you invest, sir?"

Even as Guppping sipped his drink, his eyes kept flicking over Mu-gyeong. Those greedy pupils scanned the wristwatch, the designer shirt, the car keys. Finally, they settled on that cold but refined face.

"About ₩5 billion?"

Guppping’s jaw dropped at the figure. Then he began probing with questions, clearly intrigued. The bait reeking of cash dangled enticingly just before his lips.

"You said it was a group deal? Where the hell does all that money even go?"

"The place was originally zoned for a hotel, so the setup was expensive. We had to replace all the casino equipment and hire guards."

"All that?"

Guppping pretended to shift in his seat, leaning subtly forward. Now that he was showing interest, this was the moment. Mu-gyeong nudged the bait closer.

"These days, the tables are high-tech. Just place your cards and the monitors do the rest."

"Yeah. But... that stuff’s real pricey."

Guppping muttered, a greedy glint flickering in his tone.

The equipment Mu-gyeong mentioned was a money pit for local Houses. Even if you installed it, the neighborhood scene ran on pocket change—there’d be little left after expenses. That’s probably why Guppping never even dreamed of bringing it in.

"You won’t make money if you’re stingy with your investments."

Guppping’s eyes sparkled at the casually arrogant reply.

"But that ₩5 billion—did you make it all back?" freewebnσvel.cѳm

"More than back. I’m looking for another House to buy with the surplus."

Guppping took the bait.

"Well, yeah, I mean..."

Mu-gyeong leaned in, lowered his voice like he was about to share a secret.

"You think rich guys wanna play Hwatu in some ratty-ass back alley? They only play for kicks. And when it’s a game, they want style with it."

"...You’re not wrong."

Guppping nodded, drawn in.

"VIPs expect top-tier treatment everywhere. A flashy place draws in the big wallets. When there are eyes watching, the bet sizes shoot up too. Everything’s different from a neighborhood joint—the tips alone, even."

Guppping opened his mouth, forming a strange expression. Now was the time to confirm if he’d truly bitten the hook.

"Which brings me to this. Know of any House in the area that’s got the guts and experience to run big? I heard there’s a few still operating. Once redevelopment starts, the location’s gonna skyrocket. Could be a real gold mine."

He sipped his whiskey and glanced at Guppping. The dry gulp Guppping made was so loud it echoed across the table.

"Well, actually, I do run a little House. It’s marked for demolition right now, yeah? But I’m not selling! If the payout doesn’t match, I’m not leaving. I’ll stick it out..."

Catching a gambler blinded by greed wasn’t hard. That’s how Mu-gyeong and Guppping first established a formal connection—on a day when rain came pouring down in sheets.

From that summer on, Mu-gyeong kept in regular contact with Guppping, slowly building a rapport. Both dug into each other’s backgrounds, tiptoeing, testing boundaries. Even Yang Siljang, known for being good at digging into people, helped Mu-gyeong collect dirt hidden behind a blackout curtain.

From time to time, Guppping would brag about his reasons for holding out during the redevelopment frenzy.

"Am I right, President Mu-gyeong? Hwatu’s about trust. You know how long I’ve built up that street cred? They’re offering ₩1 billion and telling me to go set up shop somewhere else—am I supposed to take that? They should be backing up the truck with tens of billions!"

Maybe it was the booze, but Guppping’s voice was loud and raspy.

"₩1 billion? They must think a gambling den isn’t worth shit."

Mu-gyeong murmured, lifting his glass to his lips. The smirk curling at his mouth was hidden behind the wine.

"Exactly! Until they bring ₩30 billion, I say let me die here! They’re not gonna pay anyway, so why the hell are they blocking my business?"

"And the company? They’re just standing back, doing nothing? No way they’d let this slide—they bleed money ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ with every breath."

"You think they’re doing nothing?! They messed around and then—boom, got slapped with this!"

Guppping pressed his wrists together and shook them. Was he finally about to confess with his own mouth? Mu-gyeong’s eyes gleamed sharply.