Three Eight-Chapter 16

The only one who read between the lines wasn’t just Hongju. Guppping, who had hesitated for a moment, turned his body away as if to ignore the situation and sat facing Doksu.

"The guy you brought in, never seen his face before. Have you?"

"No. That’s why I told you to stay put, Guppping. Why the hell didn’t he just die there?"

"If you had folded earlier, we could’ve swept it clean, no? You’re too damn slow, that’s why!"

"Then why don’t you do it yourself? What’s the point of setting up a plan if you’re not gonna stick to it?"

The two kept snapping at each other, blaming one another.

Mu-gyeong’s hand, which had been resting on Hongju’s shoulder, slowly slid away. He dusted off the worn-out armrest of the old sofa and casually perched himself on it. Then, this time, he wrapped an arm around Guppping’s shoulders, who was still fuming.

"A big man like you making such a fuss over two grand?"

"It’s the principle! The fucking principle! It was my turn to get a Gabo hand. But I got three points! Three! And those bastards had four! It’s so fucking obvious they used a burn card!"

"Even monkeys fall from trees. Sometimes the cards just don’t go your way."

Mu-gyeong lightly patted Guppping’s shoulder, as if offering comfort.

Hongju remained standing near the entrance, silently observing the scene. Mu-gyeong or Doksu might be in a position to challenge or add their two cents. But he wasn’t. It was best to stay quiet.

"Ah, fuck. What the hell?"

But Hongju’s effort to stay unnoticed was wasted.

Just as Yang Siljang was walking in, he collided with Hongju. On any other day, Hongju might have snapped at him to watch where he was going. But this time, he kept his mouth shut. Not that it would save him from getting lashed out at.

"You were there when he pulled the money out. What the hell were you doing instead of stopping him?"

"He doesn’t listen even if I try."

With a new recruit brought in and Mu-gyeong acting as a walking wallet, Guppping had been interfering in games more than usual. It wasn’t like he was someone who could be stopped with just words, and Hongju was lucky if he didn’t get cursed at ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) for even trying.

"Then what the hell were you doing sitting at that desk? Because of you, people are about to start calling this place a rigged gambling den! You gonna take responsibility if we lose customers?"

Yang Siljang’s sharp glare bore into him as he shouted. Hongju instinctively averted his gaze and tuned him out. A stream of curses followed, the kind that weren’t even worth remembering. Still, it seemed like, thanks to Mu-gyeong being there, Yang Siljang wasn’t going to hit him today.

"What, you’re going off on an employee over a bit of lost cash?"

The spit-flying rage from Yang Siljang’s mouth stopped midair.

The man who had been brimming with fury slowly turned his gaze. He hardened slightly when he saw Mu-gyeong, who was smiling leisurely.

Yang Siljang’s pride was clearly bruised by the implication that he was overreacting over “a small sum.”

"Mu-gyeong, boss. No one knows the house employees better than me. You have to ride them like this, or they don’t work properly. We give them food, a place to sleep, even a damn paycheck. The least they can do is use their fucking heads—"

"Ah, no. That’s not it."

Mu-gyeong cut Yang Siljang off without hesitation.

Then, pulling Guppping closer, he laughed.

"If they’re not thinking straight, you should be cutting off their fingers."

A chilling silence filled the room.

Guppping’s eyelid twitched rapidly.

Hongju’s gaze drifted to Guppping’s hands. A tightly clenched fist trembled on his thigh. His severed pinky joint sat stiff, unable to curl.

"Oh, wait. You already lost one, huh? And you’re still at it? Guess that’s why it’s so hard for people to quit gambling."

Mu-gyeong chuckled softly.

He was the only one laughing in the room.

Not Hongju, not Yang Siljang, not the thugs, not even Doksu, who had just recently arrived. They all subtly gauged Guppping’s reaction.

Guppping couldn’t even hide the way his lips quivered.

"So why the hell is a manager like you still playing, huh? Acting like some hotshot pro."

"......."

"You planning to sit at the table after the house reopens, too? No pride at all?"

"......Ha."

Guppping let out an awkward, stiff laugh, his face stone cold.

If Hongju had said anything even remotely close to that, he would’ve been beaten within an inch of his life.

At that moment, Mu-gyeong lowered his head and whispered something into Guppping’s ear.

"Where do I even begin teaching you? You’ve got a long way to go."

His whisper was loud enough that even Hongju—deaf in one ear—could hear it.

Guppping’s face froze. The fake grin he had been forcing instantly vanished.

"Do you have a license?"

Mu-gyeong suddenly straightened his back and threw the question at Hongju.

The unexpected inquiry made Hongju hesitate for a moment before responding.

"No."

"Then call a driver. I had a bit of day drinking."

"Wait a minute."

Hongju had occasionally called a proxy driver for Guppping before, so he should have a number saved. As he fished his phone out of his pocket to search, Mu-gyeong lifted a finger and pointed outside.

"Take the call outside."

"......Okay."

"Yang Siljang, what the hell have you been teaching the staff? Do I have to hold their hands through every little thing?"

Yang Siljang ground his teeth.

Hongju made sure to step out before the sparks flew his way.

As he walked past the threshold, he heard Mu-gyeong’s voice trailing after him.

"Nine Hotel."

Hongju turned a corner, walking a few steps away before pressing the call button.

It didn’t take long for the driver to arrive, and Mu-gyeong waved as he exited the house.

Even after he was gone, the freezing atmosphere remained.

"That little punk talks like a fucking asshole."

"Guppping. You just gonna let him keep running his mouth? Why not just borrow money from Madam Won, pay off his investment, and cut ties?"

"Like it’s that fucking easy. You know what kind of rip-off interest that hag charges? Ah, fuck. It’s always the rich bastards that cause problems."

Guppping grabbed his head in frustration, muttering curses under his breath.

Doksu and Yang Siljang whispered to each other, their expressions grave.

After what felt like an eternity of sulking, Guppping suddenly lifted his head, his disheveled hair hanging over his forehead.

His eyes locked onto Hongju, glinting with a sleazy gleam as he licked his lips.

"Hey. No bullshit. Why don’t you fuck Mu-gyeong once? Huh? He looks like he’s into you."

"......Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Hongju’s face twisted in pure disgust.

Did they all think he was as sex-crazed as them?

But Guppping kept pushing, throwing out more absurdities.

"He’s sniffing around you for a reason, huh? Just get it over with. What, it’s not like your hole’s gonna wear out or anything."

Hongju let out a dry, mirthless chuckle as he read Guppping’s disgusting lips.

"......."

Would it be better to just let them keep suspecting things?

Listening to their nonsense was getting on his nerves.

He remained silent, standing there with an expressionless face, until Guppping stomped his foot.

"Fuck’s sake, then do something! Go make some damn money! Should I just sell your ass to a bar?"

Unable to contain his anger, Guppping violently swept everything off the table. An ashtray rolled across the floor and came to a stop against the tip of Hongju’s sneaker.

"Doksu’s out there hustling left and right, and what the fuck are you doing? Do you even plan on paying off your debt?"

He jabbed a finger at Hongju, his voice rising in fury. There were plenty of other people in the room, but the blame always fell on him. No matter how accustomed he was to it, it didn’t make it any less infuriating.

"Go to the Philippines and sell your organs or something. Like your old man! Huh? Try fucking harder, will you?"

Hongju, who had been staring at the floor, slowly lifted his gaze.

It wasn’t the first time Guppping spewed incomprehensible bullshit, but this time, he actually wondered if he had misheard.

"...What did you just say?"

Guppping, still seething, abruptly shot to his feet, placing a hand on his waist as he caught his breath.

"Sell my organs?"

As Hongju’s expression hardened, Yang Siljang, who had been quiet up until now, cut in.

"Your old man begged to settle his debt by selling his own damn organs. Didn’t get it the first time?"

"Yeah, fuck. We can’t even sell this one off to a bar!"

The sheer volume of Guppping’s voice made Hongju’s ears ring.

Even so, he didn’t lower the sharp glare he directed at Guppping. He couldn’t help but be sensitive whenever his father was brought up.

"The fuck are you staring at, huh? You wanna get smacked?"

Guppping raised a hand threateningly.

Hongju didn’t so much as flinch.

Just hearing the word "father" was enough to send the emotions he had buried deep down into a frenzy.

Today, it was anger.

The man who had dragged him into this filth.

According to Guppping, there were records of his father making it as far as the Philippines, but whether he was alive or dead now was anyone’s guess.

If he had actually paid off the debt, it wouldn’t have ballooned into this monstrosity.

Why the fuck did he run?

Hongju wanted to scream at him to come back and pay what he owed. But even after fifteen years, there wasn’t a single sign of him.

He bit down so hard that his lip split open.

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When he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the taste of blood had already spread across his tongue.

"Yeah, sure. Sell me off. Sell my organs, ship me to the Philippines. Maybe I’ll just bite my tongue and fucking die instead. Works out for you, huh? No more debt to pay back."

"D-Die? The fuck are you saying? You don’t get to just die! You better fucking work off every penny before you even think about it! Let’s see if you can still talk shit after I beat your ass, you little fucker!"

What followed was a beating so brutal that even Yang Siljang, who would have usually stepped in to stop it, joined in instead.

Hongju, knocked to the ground, clenched his teeth and endured the pain.

Doksu, startled, jumped to his feet to intervene, but a thug quietly pressed a firm hand on his shoulder, forcing him to sit back down.

"......."

Even the thug knew.

No matter how violently they beat him, they wouldn’t actually kill him.

If Gu Hongju died, there’d be no one left to pay back the remaining 1.4 billion won.

—

Hongju spent the rest of the night sitting at his desk, his face swollen beyond recognition.

Would things have turned out differently if Mu-gyeong had stayed at the house a little longer?

The thought was pathetic.

Just because he had stepped in a few times didn’t mean he should start expecting things.

As he blinked sluggishly at the desk, Guppping suddenly made a small exclamation, as if he had just remembered something.

"Ah, right."

Smack!

He clapped his hands together, drawing attention.

Even Doksu, who had been lounging on the stairs playing a mobile game, glanced up.

"Doksu, get over here."

"What for?"

"Just come."

Doksu stretched as he got up.

His eyes were still glued to his phone screen, the game clearly unfinished.

"I was thinking, even though we’re in business together, we’re not really a team, are we?"

"Who...? You mean with Mu-gyeong, boss?"

"Yeah. Let’s bring him in on a game."

"Huh? Mu-gyeong, boss?"

Doksu finally pried his eyes off his phone, blinking in surprise.

"That’s right, you little shit. They say all he’s got is money. So let’s take it off his hands."

Hongju pressed his fingers against his swollen cheek.

Even after beating him half to death, Guppping still wasn’t satisfied.

Now he was about to try and swindle Mu-gyeong.