Three Eight-Chapter 14

As soon as Mu-gyeong let go of his grip on Hongju’s shirt, Hongju lost his balance and fell hard onto the floor. His disheveled state, sprawled across the ground, looked utterly pitiful.

"I thought maybe the two of you had a fight, since you took so long."

Mu-gyeong smirked as he raised his cigarette to the air. A flick— the ash dropped onto Hongju’s sneakers, crumbling into gray dust. Then, Mu-gyeong bent down, lowering himself to Hongju’s eye level. Hongju didn’t blink, staring at him in silence. Mu-gyeong didn’t avert his gaze either.

"......"

His pitch-black, icy eyes were unsettling. Mu-gyeong pressed the burning tip of his cigarette into the ground just in front of Hongju’s shoes. Ssshhh. A dark gray streak burned into the cement floor.

"The deal..."

He can’t be canceling it now, can he?

Hongju swallowed dryly at the vague ending of Mu-gyeong’s sentence. The rope that had descended before him— the only lifeline he had— suddenly seemed like it was swaying in the wind, just out of reach.

"Whether I’m in the gambling house or not, your job is to keep watching. Whatever happens to you, that has nothing to do with me."

It wasn’t wrong. Whether his secrets were exposed, whether he was beaten to the point he couldn't lift a finger, his job was to watch. That’s why Mu-gyeong had given him the phone in the first place.

"Yes. I’ll watch carefully."

Hongju nodded quickly.

"This is your last chance."

Mu-gyeong straightened up, brushing the dust off his pants. Without sparing a glance at the fallen Hongju, he turned toward the hallway. His coat fluttered as he walked, carrying a faint but refined scent.

"......"

Mu-gyeong, who had suddenly appeared in their lives, was slowly tightening his grip on the gambling house. He was nothing like what Guppping and Yang Siljang assumed— not just a rich fool, easy to exploit. No, he was the kind of man who could easily devour a place like this, filled with seasoned gamblers and men who thought they had money.

Hongju realized it in his gut.

Maybe— just maybe— leaving a sinking ship and climbing aboard with him had been the best decision he had made since entering this place.

In just a single day, Mu-gyeong had already reduced his debt by a thousand.

Meanwhile, Guppping had made him suck dick and barely knocked off a hundred.

"Last chance..."

Hongju, who had grown up reading people’s moods, knew exactly where to plant his feet.

***

After Guppping scraped together the overdue payments, begging and pleading, the workers finally agreed to resume construction. The gambling house renovations were finally underway. The frozen, tense atmosphere inside the temporary house began to thaw.

After depositing cash into the ATM, Hongju was on his way back when a familiar voice sounded above his head.

"Finished your errand?"

By now, he could recognize the voice instantly.

"Yes."

His response was short, but his breath stretched out in the cold air like the tail of his words.

Mu-gyeong gestured toward his car.

"Get in."

"If I disappear, I’ll get chewed out for slacking off."

It didn’t matter if there was nothing to do— Gu Hongju was always expected to be around when called.

Mu-gyeong pulled out his car keys. Beep. The sleeping car blinked awake in the darkness.

"You have someone to cover for you. What’s the problem?"

Well, if Mu-gyeong said something, people would listen. Even if he made up a half-assed excuse, there wouldn’t be any blowback on him.

"Where are we going?"

"Just get in."

Mu-gyeong’s voice was casual, almost playful, as he slid into the driver’s seat. Hongju cast a glance up at the noisy, rundown building before finally opening the passenger door.

"What if Guppping runs off while I’m gone?"

"Why worry about that?"

Did he assign someone else to keep watch? Unlike before, Mu-gyeong didn’t seem remotely interested in Guppping today. Hard man to read.

As Hongju mulled over that thought, the car turned down a familiar road.

"This is the way to the gambling house..."

"Yeah. That’s where we’re going."

Maybe he was checking in since the construction had started. Hongju quietly shrank into his seat, simply ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) observing the streets outside.

The entire area was in chaos. Word had it that the redevelopment plan had changed— sure enough, a department store was going up just beyond where Guppping’s gambling house stood. The place was now surrounded by towering fences, carving up the neighborhood. Massive freight trucks, forklifts, and excavators were stationed everywhere, making it feel like a battlefield.

"Get out."

Hongju hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the car.

The gambling house was on the brink of demolition. The walls, windows, and doors had all been stripped away, leaving behind a skeletal frame— just like the temporary house they were using now.

It had always been a place packed with gamblers, full of noise and movement. Now, the eerie silence sent chills down his spine.

"Where would be a good spot?"

Mu-gyeong glanced around as if looking for something. After trailing his gaze for a moment, he suddenly strode toward a corner on the first floor. The streetlight outside cast a long glow into the empty space.

There, in the corner, a makeshift table made of stacked boxes and a few plastic chairs had been left behind.

"Come teach me how to play hwatu."

"Huh?"

Mu-gyeong nudged one of the chairs with his shoe, dragging it closer. Then, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and casually tossed his coat back, settling into the seat.

"You know Seotda, right?"

The way he lounged, one leg crossed over the other, his easy, drawling voice— everything about him screamed mob boss.

"I know how to play, but I’m not great at it."

"You don’t need to be great. Sit down."

Mu-gyeong flicked his fingers toward the chair across from him.

"But we don’t have a hwatu deck. Should I just explain it?"

As if he’d been waiting for that, Mu-gyeong reached into his coat pocket. When he pulled his hand out, he was holding a deck of hwatu cards— the same ones sold in the gambling house.

"When did you grab those..."

"I brought the house’s own cards."

"Oh, okay."

Hongju settled into the seat, his fingers moving naturally to unseal the pack and spread the cards out.

"Just enough to get the hang of it, right?"

Mu-gyeong gave a slight nod. Hongju sorted through the deck, pairing the cards from January to October.

"Seotda is played with twenty cards. Some games use two cards per player, others use three, but most places here play with two. The rounds need to move quickly."

He arranged the twenty cards in order on the makeshift table.

"When you get two identical cards, it's called ttang. Two January cards make 1-ttang, two February cards make 2-ttang, and so on."

Mu-gyeong, resting his elbow on his thigh and his chin on his palm, listened with surprising seriousness.

"If the cards are from different months, you add their values together and only count the last digit. For example, if you have a March card and an August card, the sum is 11, so you only take the last digit—1. That’s called one-kkut. Ttang ranks higher than kkut."

His neatly styled hair bobbed slightly as he nodded in understanding. Hongju placed a January and a May card side by side.

"If you get cards like this..."

"Six-kkut."

"Yes. That’s how you calculate it."

Mu-gyeong grasped the rules quickly. Even when Hongju introduced higher-ranking hands like Ali, Jangbbing, and Saemnyuk, he memorized them with ease—almost as if he had played Seotda before.

"That’s how you score. The actual play is simple."

Hongju gathered the scattered hwatu cards back into a neat pile and slowly shuffled them with one hand.

"The dealer shuffles, and the players place their bets. The minimum is usually 10,000 won, but here, it’s around 100,000 won per round. Betting is sometimes called going to school."

The vacant building, stripped of wallpaper, flooring, and furniture, echoed only with Hongju’s quiet voice. Occasionally, Mu-gyeong responded with a light tap of his shoe against the ground.

Hongju finished shuffling and held out the deck to Mu-gyeong.

"Cut the deck like in regular hwatu."

"Hmm."

Mu-gyeong let out a slow breath before reaching out.

The leather-clad fingers of his gloved hand completely covered Hongju’s palm. The cold edge of the glove scraped heavily against his skin, as if he were taking a large portion of the deck.

"That’s too much..."

Hongju started to protest, but in the end, Mu-gyeong only took a few cards.

"What’s next?"

Maybe it was the silence of the space, but Mu-gyeong’s voice felt deeper, heavier. Hongju’s gaze quietly roamed over him—the man seated in this damp, dimly lit building, where only a faint orange glow from a distant streetlamp seeped in. Sharp and predatory, yet eerily composed. He suited the bleak hour perfectly.

"Next... Do I just stare at my opponent like this?"

Mu-gyeong lifted his eyes, his sharp gaze suddenly locking onto Hongju’s. The uneven double eyelid on one side of his eye deepened into a dark crease.

Caught staring, Hongju flinched, his shoulders jerking up.

"N-no. You, uh, take turns drawing a card like this..."

Hurriedly, he placed a card in front of Mu-gyeong. His empty hand trembled so visibly that it was impossible to ignore. He quickly grabbed another card and set it down for himself.

"You would've paid off your debt faster if you played instead of collecting. Why are you just running errands when you’re this weak?"

His fingers, resting on the edge of his hwatu card, froze.

"...I just don’t want to."

Trying to sound indifferent, he pressed his thumb down fully and checked his card.

When he got older, he had considered learning hwatu from Guppping. The professional players who passed through the house always drove expensive cars and wore designer clothes. If he became a player, he could pay off his debt faster and spend money freely.

"But you have that much debt, and you still get to decide what you want?"

Most professional players traveled nationwide, joining any game they could. Maybe he’d even run into his father somewhere. The thought had crossed his mind, and he had studied the patterns on the cards from a distance with that hope.

"Guppping said I don’t have the talent for it."

In the end, Hongju never picked up hwatu.

He didn’t want to end up like his father.

His once-affectionate father had started to change the moment he got into hwatu. His eyes grew hollow, his mind drifted away, and his hands trembled like a man who had lost everything. Hongju didn’t want to live like that. And if, someday, his father ever came back to his senses—how despairing would it be to find his son in the same miserable state?

"You check your hand and place your bet. If your hand is weak, you can fold. Then, the turn goes around, and everyone gets another card."

Hongju smoothly shifted the conversation back to the game. He slid another card toward Mu-gyeong and took one for himself.

"You score your hand based on the rules we talked about. One last round of betting, and that’s it. Let’s reveal. I have two-kkut. What about you?"

"One-kkut."

Mu-gyeong placed his cards—May and June. If this were a real game, Hongju would’ve won.

"Want to try playing a real round?"

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

Hongju gathered the scattered cards and placed them in front of Mu-gyeong.

Mu-gyeong pulled them in, still wearing his gloves, and began to shuffle. He was slow and deliberate, drawing cards from the middle and shifting them to the top repeatedly. The gloves made his movements awkward.

"Here."

He cut the deck and set it down. Then, he placed a card in front of Hongju.

Hongju picked it up—August Gwang. Half of the card was inked black. He stared down at it for a moment before Mu-gyeong’s voice cut in.

"What are you betting?"

"I don’t have any money."

He had been running errands all day and had nothing on him.

"If you’re broke, you can bet your hand."

Hongju frowned, feeling for something in his pocket.

"Who says that?"

"Guppping."

"Ah."

It was a common joke Guppping made when broke gamblers were desperate. When had Mu-gyeong even picked that up?

His fingers brushed against something hard inside his pocket.

"This is all I’ve got."

A cheap ballpoint pen rolled onto his open palm. He always kept one on him to get signatures on IOUs.

"It’s either this or my phone..."

"Bet that."

Mu-gyeong exhaled a slow breath, rubbing his chin as if in thought.

Just then, a loud honk blared from outside.

Hongju instinctively turned toward the gaping hole where a window used to be.

And in that brief moment, Mu-gyeong’s voice rang out.

"I’ll bet something too."

When Hongju turned back, their gazes met—dark eyes, entirely unreadable.

There wasn’t a single trace of amusement in them.