Three Eight-Chapter 8

Hongju calmed his nerves for a long while before finally stepping out of the restroom. Choi was sitting at the desk. Guppping and Chief Yang were nowhere in sight.

"This from Guppping?"

Choi held out a takeout cup of coffee. Hongju didn’t even glance at it as he walked past the desk.

"I don’t drink that. I’ll be right back."

"Jeez, suit yourself."

Choi nodded without taking his eyes off his phone. Hongju left out of habit, heading for the convenience store. He just wanted some water.

Choi and the thugs would sometimes nag him about it—why waste money on bottled water when there was plenty to drink at the house? But the truth was, there wasn’t a single drop he could drink in peace here. Especially anything Guppping handed him. He never knew ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) what could be in it.

There was a gambler who used to stay at the house—a guy who never hesitated to drink whatever coffee Guppping offered. A few times, Hongju had seen him stumbling around, eyes glazed and unfocused. Not long after, he packed up and left. Where? Who knew. But since Hongju had seen him coming and going in Guppping’s car, it wasn’t hard to guess. And then, not much later, the guy disappeared completely. The official story was that he lost big and ran away. But Hongju didn’t buy it. He knew Guppping too well. He remembered the man’s vacant stare. And he would never forget the smell of that coffee.

Better dead than drugged and raped.

"Thank you, come again."

Hongju drained the water bottle like a man dying of thirst. The cold liquid burned down his throat, numbing his insides. He drank until his gut ached, then wiped his lips. His lips and hands were ice-cold. But at least there was no longer the stench of cum clinging to his breath.

Late at night, the house was as packed as ever. Choi and the thugs were keeping an eye on things. Hongju busied himself running orders, clearing tables, pulling his weight. Even in the chaos, Guppping didn’t lift a finger to help. He just kept his feet up on the desk, glued to his phone.

Bleep bloop. Bloop bloop.

Some kind of game, probably. The sound effects kept playing over and over. After a while, he started talking on the phone instead, his voice loud and grating.

"Looked decent last time. Not heading out yet? Oh, still not here?"

Hongju warmed his frozen hands in front of the heater. They tingled as the feeling returned.

"Okay, I’ll be there soon."

Guppping swung his legs off the desk and pulled out a wad of cash from the drawer. Then he grabbed a discarded shopping bag off the floor and started stacking the bills inside.

"Hey. Tell Chief Yang I took a thousand, yeah?"

"...Where are you going?"

Guppping glanced around first, making sure no one was listening. Then he leaned in and whispered.

"Curious? Wanna suck my dick again for the answer?"

He grabbed his crotch, shaking it up and down. Hongju swallowed down the insult bubbling up his throat.

"Fucking psycho."

"Pfft, I’m heading to Gwangpal’s house, dumbass. Gonna rake it in tonight. I’ll bring back the big bucks, yeah?"

As he passed, Guppping squeezed Hongju’s ass hard. He had done this so many times that Hongju no longer reacted beyond a slight grimace.

Hongju watched his back disappear down the stairs, deep in thought. After a moment of hesitation, he flagged down a thug coming out of one of the rooms.

"Cover for me while I hit the restroom."

"Where’s Guppping?"

"Gwangpal’s house."

"Alright, go ahead."

The thug plopped into an empty chair, settling in.

Guppping was gone. Chief Yang was busy running games inside. Choi was stationed at the end of the hall. The thug was minding the floor.

No security cameras in this rundown shithole—no one watching.

His heart pounded.

Inside the restroom, he locked the door. Then he checked it. Again. And again.

Finally, he pulled the phone from his inner pocket.

Turning it on felt like it took forever.

He pressed his ear against the door, checking for any sounds outside. Nothing.

There was only one number in the call history.

Hongju typed out a message.

[Guppping went to the Jeongeondong house. He’ll be gone for about six hours.]

He hit send. Then immediately turned the phone off. Maybe this was the right choice. Maybe rotting in this house is worse than dying under Mu-gyeong. It wasn’t that he trusted Mu-gyeong. It was that he knew Guppping too well. That alone made the choice easy.

The next day, Mu-gyeong stopped coming to the gambling house. Instead, he sent two young men, saying they were extra hands to help with the work. They had worked there before, back when the house was expanding, so they would be useful. Even if they weren’t professional gamblers, they knew their way around Seotda, and with their solid builds, they could easily handle a fight if one broke out. Guppping and Yang Siljang welcomed them enthusiastically. The games moved faster, and with their help, the service improved compared to when Hongju had to do everything alone. After a few days of extra breathing room, Guppping sent Hongju back to debt collection.

“Eight hundred.”

Hongju checked the name, number, and address written on the paper. It was someone who often delayed payments, so he recognized the name immediately. A man who did nothing but gamble, whose hands were so sticky that the moment he saw Hongju, he’d raise his fists. Hongju could already feel the dull ache in his wrist where a previous encounter with him had left a fracture.

“Yes. I’ll head out.”

“Mm. That bastard was at Gwang-pal’s house last time. Looked like he had some extra cash, grinning like a fool. Make sure you get the money, yeah?”

“I can only take it if he gives it.”

“Fuck, you never let me have the last word.”

Hongju ran his fingers over the scab forming at the corner of his mouth. His wounds had healed quite a bit while he had been working inside the house, serving customers. Normally, he didn’t get enough time to recover like this. The thought that he’d probably get injured again soon left him with a faint sense of regret.

“I’m going now.”

The man’s house wasn’t too far away—he could get there in under fifteen minutes on foot. Hongju pulled his padded jacket’s zipper all the way up and headed down the stairs. As he reached the building entrance, a thin scent drifted toward him, carried on a wave of cigarette smoke.

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“Where are you going?”

“...Hello.”

It was the first time he had seen him since sending that message about Gwang-pal’s gambling house trip. Mu-gyeong still had his neatly styled hair combed back, and he was wearing a long coat that reached down to his calves. A white cigarette filter was tucked between the fingers of his leather-gloved hand.

“I asked where you’re going.”

“Debt collection.”

“Hmm.”

Mu-gyeong took a deep drag, his chest expanding as he inhaled the smoke. As he exhaled, a long breath of gray mist clouded Hongju’s vision, but this time, he didn’t cough. Mu-gyeong blew a few more puffs toward Hongju’s face before flicking the cigarette to the ground. His polished shoes crushed the butt into the pavement.

“Get in.”

“It’s close. I can go alone.”

Mu-gyeong ignored his words. He yanked open the driver’s side door and tapped the car frame twice.

“Get in. We have things to talk about, don’t we?”

Without realizing it, Hongju glanced around. There was no one on the first floor, no one who could overhear this conversation. Even so, he found himself checking his surroundings.

“Should we talk here instead? I don’t mind.”

“...I’ll get in.”

Hongju opened the passenger door. Just like last time, he stomped the snow off his shoes before climbing in. After fastening his seatbelt, Mu-gyeong asked for the address.

“You can just put in Gweoleum Hospital. It’s right behind there.”

By car, it wouldn’t take even five minutes. The vehicle started moving at a slow pace, and Mu-gyeong got straight to the point.

“Do you go on those trips often?”

“Sometimes. I usually just set things up, but work hasn’t been coming in lately. When there’s a big game, I play the decoy and lose money on purpose.”

“And they give you a cut?”

“Yes. A small percentage of the pot.”

Guppping only cared about money. No matter how close someone was to him, if they could be used as bait in a rigged game, he wouldn’t hesitate to exploit them. He wasn’t skilled enough to manipulate the cards himself, but he was good at setting up an atmosphere, keeping the game rolling, and making sure the victims stayed in the game. Even after losing his pinky finger, he still hadn’t learned his lesson.

“You haven’t gone anywhere else since then?”

“No. Boss... the boss seems to really like the guys you sent. He keeps playing with them, so I doubt he’ll be leaving here for a while.”

“That so?”

Mu-gyeong tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. His tone was casual, and the conversation ended quickly. At a red light, the car came to a stop, and he turned his head slightly toward Hongju.

“When you collect debts, do you get anything out of it?”

“Yes. About five percent.”

“That math doesn’t add up. Your hospital bills probably cost more.”

Going to the hospital was rare. Unless the bleeding was uncontrollable or he lost consciousness from a broken bone, he had to endure it. If he had gone to the hospital in time, his left ear might have been saved. At first, it had only been a bit muffled, a little painful—his hearing wasn’t this bad back then. But he hadn’t had the luxury. No money, no freedom. So he had to keep working, keep collecting debts. He could feel Mu-gyeong’s gaze sweeping over his injuries. Keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, Hongju parted his lips.

“I don’t go to the hospital. If I leave it alone, it’ll heal.”

“Do you even get a chance to heal?”

“...Someday, it will.”

Or it would rot away like his left ear. Swallowing the rest of his thoughts, Hongju turned to the window. He saw people on their phones, sipping coffee, sitting at bus stops—just ordinary people going about their lives. Would he ever be able to live like that? He knew that hoping for anything in a gambling house was foolish, something only suckers did. But even so, the ember of expectation still flickered, however faintly.

“There.”

Mu-gyeong slowed down at his indication. Instead of stopping in front of the hospital, he turned into a narrow alleyway.

“You can drop me off here.”

Why was he following him around when he wasn’t even coming in? The unnecessary attention made Hongju tense. He straightened his back and quickly unfastened his seatbelt. As they entered the alley, a large detached house came into view. It was as if Mu-gyeong had known exactly where to go—the car came to a smooth stop in front of it.

“...How did you know where this was?”

“You said it was a detached house behind the hospital. Was I wrong?”

Had he said that? Hongju’s gaze turned wary as he stared at Mu-gyeong. He shut off the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, then leaned back with his arms crossed, tilting his head slightly toward Hongju.

“Go on. I was getting tired of the stuffy air in the gambling house anyway. This works out.”

“...”

“What are you waiting for? Go do your job.”

The slight crease in his single eyelid made it look like he was smiling, but oddly, it didn’t feel like a smile at all. Hongju couldn’t hold his gaze for long. He got out of the car and, having been here a few times before, walked straight toward the house. The man inside had quit working and thrown himself into gambling. At this hour, he’d either be sleeping or just getting ready to head out.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

By the time he had pressed the doorbell over twenty times, he finally heard the sound of the front door unlocking. Along with it came a string of curses and the heavy sound of approaching footsteps. Hongju stepped back, waiting for the gate to open.

“The fuck—who the hell is this?”

The gate swung open roughly. A man in a short-sleeved shirt stood there, his face red and blotchy. His eyes landed on Hongju, and in an instant, a spark of fury ignited in them.