Three Eight-Chapter 60

"I was thinking of getting something to eat."

The words came as Mu-gyeong rounded the hood of the car, and Hongju’s steps halted mid-stride. So he meant for him to head back alone. Still, the cold wasn’t as harsh as yesterday—it wouldn’t be too bad a walk.

"Okay."

As Hongju took a small step back, Mu-gyeong’s gaze dropped to his worn sneakers. Then, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he added,

"Where do you think you’re going? Collateral has to come along too."

"Collateral? What do you mean?"

Mu-gyeong’s neatly combed hair didn’t fall out of place even when he tilted his head. Crimson lips parted, and a puff of white breath spilled into the air. His voice was as cold as the winter air itself.

"Your boss put you up as collateral."

"......."

The words stiffened the back of his neck instantly. Buried in debt again—what kind of money did Guppping borrow this time? And why would Mu-gyeong lend it to him again? Hongju shut his mouth tight, eyebrows furrowed. Mu-gyeong tapped the car’s body with a few casual knocks.

"Get in. I’m hungry."

With a sigh he tried not to make obvious, Hongju moved his feet. Heavy steps stamped through the snow. Being offered up as collateral and repaying someone else’s debt—it was as natural as breathing. But when would he ever get free of it? The heat that had just faded from the back of his neck flared up again.

Mu-gyeong’s car drove far out past the neighborhood. For just a meal, they were going a long way. As unfamiliar streets passed by outside the window, the car finally stopped in front of a building.

The entrance was far too refined to be an ordinary restaurant. For someone like Hongju, whose idea of restaurants was just cheap neighborhood joints, this place felt completely alien. Even as the staff escorted them inside, Mu-gyeong kept glancing back over his shoulder. Seeing how Hongju shrank in on himself as he followed, he smirked faintly.

"We’ll have your order out shortly."

Hongju sat where the staff had guided him, quietly scanning the surroundings. He wondered what kind of food a place like this served, and when he overheard Mu-gyeong’s order, he realized—it was a Chinese restaurant. He was used to greasy jjajangmyeon in narrow, run-down places. What would it be like here? He was oddly curious.

"You eat Chinese food, right?"

"...Yes."

He’d already ordered. Why ask now?

"There’s a game the day after tomorrow. They said they need the stake money. I was going to just lend it, but your boss insisted on putting you up as collateral."

"......."

So it was pride, huh? Maybe Guppping thought if he threw up Hongju as collateral, Mu-gyeong would go easier on him. The pathetic pride made Hongju scoff.

"What if Guppping loses again?"

"What do you think? I’ll keep the collateral."

Mu-gyeong tossed his black gloves onto the table without a second glance. Just like his answer—offhand and indifferent. Then he took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. The fit was sharp enough that every movement stretched the shirt tightly across his body. As Hongju's eyes briefly caught on the open collar, he quickly looked back at the table.

"No, I mean... What if he can’t repay the money from before either? There aren’t any customers. Even if we scrape all the collections, it’s still way short."

"Hmm."

He tapped the table with his fingertips. Maybe it was the way his nails were so clean and well-maintained, but Hongju couldn’t help glancing at his hands.

"There’s always a way."

The low voice made Hongju glance up. Their eyes met—Mu-gyeong still resting his chin on his hand, gaze unreadable like before. Hongju found himself unable to look away.

"You don’t think Gu Hongju is reliable enough?"

Mu-gyeong tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, muttering almost to himself.

"If we’re in the same boat, you should trust me."

"I do. I’m just... worried, that’s all."

Saying the word worried himself made him feel strange. His voice faded into a mutter, and Mu-gyeong gave a small shrug.

"Sheesh. Only one in the House who worries about me is you, Gu Hongju. Just goes to show—money really can buy anything."

It sounded like a joke, but there was a bitter edge in it. Hongju glanced sideways at his immaculate nails.

Soon, the food began arriving one dish after another. Even after the server left and shut the door behind them, Mu-gyeong didn’t reach for his chopsticks. He just stared at Hongju in silence.

"What, not eating again?"

If it had been Guppping sitting across from him, he would’ve just pretended to eat and waited it out. But this was Mu-gyeong. The one person who might have managed to cast a shadow on the high walls around his heart.

"No, I’ll eat."

As he lifted his chopsticks and mixed the jjajangmyeon, Mu-gyeong’s gaze stuck to him like glue. He was probably going to get indigestion eating like this. Mu-gyeong propped his chin in his hand and just watched him. It was like surveillance disguised as company. Under that pressure, Hongju began eating without a sound. Just as he was chewing, Mu-gyeong slid a large dish toward him.

"Eat this too."

Mouth full, Hongju nodded instead of replying. Mu-gyeong’s eyes didn’t move away until he saw him pick up a piece of cream shrimp.

"You know how to eat, huh."

His chewing slowed. He realized there was no clink of chopsticks across the table. That’s why it felt so quiet.

"I thought you didn’t even know how to use chopsticks—last time all you did was pick at the soup."

"Aren’t you eating, sir?"

"I don’t like this stuff."

After saying that, Mu-gyeong leaned back and crossed his arms. He looked like he had no intention of eating at all. Hadn’t he said he was hungry? They drove all the way here—Hongju had assumed it was his favorite place or something.

"I’m not getting up until you finish. Just so you know."

He shrugged as he said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It shouldn’t be, but it felt like he’d come all the way here just to feed Hongju.

Every time Hongju slowed down, the cream shrimp plate crept closer, until it was nearly touching the jjajangmyeon bowl.

For him, meals were just a way to fill his stomach. But finishing everything Mu-gyeong ordered by himself was too much. Still, the food looked expensive—it felt like a waste to leave any. So Hongju forced himself to chew, slowly, steadily.

"Why don’t you eat anything at the House?"

He swallowed with some effort and exhaled before answering.

"It just... feels uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable how?"

Normally, Mu-gyeong might’ve let a question like that slide—but this time, he clung to the end of it like a dog with a bone. Hongju offered ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) a passable excuse.

"It’s cramped in there. Eating face to face feels awkward... and I’d rather eat in peace at home."

"No. Not that. The real reason."

"...What?"

His tone made it sound like he already knew there was more to it. As Hongju stirred the jjajangmyeon around for no reason, he slowly looked up. Mu-gyeong, still sitting with arms crossed, looked perfectly relaxed—but his smirk tugged high.

"I told you—you’re no good at lying."

"......."

Did he say he could tell just by looking in someone’s eyes? Hongju remembered him saying something like that before and quickly dropped his gaze, staring into the nearly empty bowl.

"So what’s the real reason? What—someone beats you if you eat?"

It looked a lot like the jjajangmyeon he’d had at Taegyeongru in the neighborhood, but it tasted different. The julienned cucumber garnish was fresh, the meat was plentiful, and the bowl wasn’t some chipped ceramic but a heavy, elegant one. Maybe this was what people meant when they said your standards rise once you’ve tasted better. And maybe that’s why his expectations had started rising too—why he wanted to tell Mu-gyeong his story, to be pitied, maybe even saved from this sewage heap of a place.

"I... saw Guppping put something in the water once."

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Some kind of medicine? Believing Mu-gyeong might actually pull him out of that hell faster if he looked pathetic enough?

"Medicine?"

It was something he’d never even told Choi or the gangsters he’d known for over ten years. But strangely, with President Mu-gyeong, it felt okay to say it.

"Yeah. I don’t know what it was, but the player who drank it started acting strange."

"How?"

Mu-gyeong uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. That subtle shift—he was interested now. Hongju drew out a memory that had only flickered at the edge of his thoughts until now, one that had dug deep into him all along.

"His eyes went dull. He kept smiling to himself. Seemed like he was staying with Guppping for a while, then disappeared. I don’t know if he’s even alive now."

Mu-gyeong’s cold gaze stayed fixed on one corner of the table, as if in thought.

"I don’t know if Guppping was just messing with him or... if he sold him off. I’m not sure."

"So that perverted bastard was into guys even back then."

He muttered as he nodded, like something had finally clicked. Hongju scraped the last remnants from his bowl with his chopsticks. Mu-gyeong gave a small jerk of the chin, as if telling him to finish it. Patting his full stomach through his jacket, Hongju spoke up.

"I really finished everything."

Mu-gyeong let out a soft exhale that sounded like a deflating balloon and glanced over the plates.

"You tried. Let’s go."

Finally, the meal was over. Mu-gyeong slung his coat over his arm and walked ahead. Hongju rose with effort and followed him out.

Even on the drive, the questions didn’t stop. Maybe because it had been a while since they saw each other—or maybe because he wanted to confirm a few things now.

"What’d you tell the staff about where you’ve been staying?"

"They didn’t really ask. They probably just assume I’m following you around. Guppping and Yang Siljang probably... know enough."

The phone Yang Siljang had given him was also a tracker. If he didn’t answer a call or had his phone off during a collection, it turned into a full-blown crisis. These days, though, he didn’t get calls as often—maybe they’d found new ways to check in. Still, whenever he was near the hotel, he made a habit of turning his phone off. It was just easier.

"Then just say you’re staying at a hotel. Let ’em see you throwing money around."

He didn’t really understand why flaunting money was necessary—but he didn’t ask.

"Okay."

Mu-gyeong steered the car down a dark road with one hand on the wheel. They were far from any bustling area. It was quiet. Utterly dark. They passed what seemed like a mountain road before finally entering a stretch lined with blinking streetlights again.

Without realizing it, Hongju tensed. He’d been slouched back against the seat, but now he sat upright, gripping the seatbelt tightly. Just in case, he subtly angled himself toward the driver’s side.

"You always say you’re not scared, and yet here you are again."

"......."

"What, you think I’m gonna dump you in the woods after feeding you?"

The car continued deeper into the darkness.