Three Eight-Chapter 55

Hongju shoved the mop handle that had rolled across the floor into a place where it couldn’t be seen. He scrubbed at the blood spattered on the floor with tissues. Every time he bent over, the padded jacket rustled loudly. Underneath, zipped up to his chin, he was wearing the pink sweatshirt Mu-gyeong had bought him. Worried the bright color might show, Hongju instinctively pulled the zipper all the way up.

“Hey. You guys, just step outside for a bit.”

Guppping suddenly stuck his head out and shouted. He seemed less angry than before—maybe Gwangpal had said he’d lend a decent amount of money.

“Should’ve just borrowed it from Boss Mu-gyeong. Why’s he ordering us to go out and get it?”

Holding a towel to his torn forehead, Choi grumbled all the way down the stairs. Everyone probably felt the same, but no one dared agree—getting your head bashed in wasn’t worth it. The entrance to the House was unusually empty. Maybe that’s why the wind felt sharper, colder than usual.

“Hey, why don’t you borrow it? You and Boss Mu-gyeong got that kind of thing going on, right?”

Yang Siljang, pulling out a cigarette, tapped the worn toe of Hongju’s sneaker. Hongju immediately stepped back. Meeting one of the gazes turned his way, he furrowed his brow.

“Why should Mr. Hongju be the one to borrow it?”

The retort came from the side. Doksu snapped, leaning lazily on one leg. As Yang Siljang bit down on the filter, he slammed the cigarette against the ground.

“You little shit, barely old enough to shave and already—!”

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“Stop, stop. Geez.”

One of the goons stepped in front of Yang Siljang with his large body. Doksu didn’t back down at all, glaring and flipping him the middle finger.

“Who was it that handed the boss that gwang-ddaeng back then, huh? That’s when the debt really started, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck...!”

With nothing proper to say in return, Yang Siljang ground his teeth. Doksu snorted and turned his body.

“Mr. Hongju, want to come to the convenience store with me? Should we grab something to drink for the hyungs?”

Doksu scratched at his tattooed neck as he asked. Normally, Hongju would’ve turned down the offer, but this time, he followed without hesitation. All the way there, he let Yang Siljang’s useless cursing pass through one ear and out the other.

“Go ahead. I’ll wait out here.”

Hongju gestured toward the table in front of the convenience store. Doksu just asked, “Water for you, Mr. Hongju?” without a hint of suspicion.

While Doksu went inside alone, Hongju glanced around through the glass and quickly pulled out his phone. He began typing a text to Mu-gyeong. His heart thumped like he was stealing something.

Maybe the guys in the hallway had already reported it. Still, he had to show that he wasn’t slacking on his duties. He couldn’t give up the hope that if he proved himself useful enough, Mu-gyeong might one day grant his request.

[Looks likeㅜGwangpal’s gonna lend him the money.]

His fingers were shaking and his thoughts rushed, so the message was full of typos, but he didn’t have time to fix them. After hitting send, he immediately turned the phone off. Even as he slipped it back into his pocket, he kept glancing toward the store. Once he zipped up his pocket, the convenience store bell finally jingled.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe it was the tension, but the moment he grabbed the water bottle, he felt parched. Hongju emptied it on the spot. After catching their breath for a moment, the two of them started heading back to the House.

“They said to go home.”

It was one of the men Mu-gyeong had stationed there. Standing right in front of the House entrance, he blocked Hongju and Doksu. Whatever had gone on inside, it seemed like things were progressing smoothly.

“Should we come tomorrow?”

“They didn’t say otherwise, so you should show up.”

“Damn. That’s too bad.”

Doksu turned around with a disappointed shrug. He said he’d be sleeping at the jjimjilbang again tonight. When Hongju asked why he wasn’t going back to his place, Doksu just giggled, saying it was easy to pickpocket guests there. Everyone had their own way of keeping money flowing. Hongju, too, had his own method. Touching his face where the scabs were finally starting to peel off, he headed back to the hotel.

Once the hot midday sun passed, the air cooled again. After missing the warmest part of the day, Hongju finally opened his eyes and moved his body. Maybe the expensive bed and linens really were good—he didn’t wake up feeling stiff at all. After making the bed, he moved quietly toward the ensuite bathroom.

Even though he’d been using it alone ever since Mu-gyeong left, for some reason, he still found himself moving cautiously. After changing clothes as quietly as possible, Hongju stepped out into the sitting room.

“...Huh?”

He saw the back of someone’s head on the couch. A soft navy coat was draped over the armrest, and a brown scarf was neatly folded on top of it. When had Boss Mu-gyeong arrived? There hadn’t been a single sound.

“You’re alone and still creeping around like a damn rat? Make some noise.”

“...”

“Oh, right. You only make noise when you’re touched, huh?”

Mu-gyeong had one arm slung over the back of the couch, body turned halfway toward him. He gave Hongju a slow once-over. His gaze lingered on the banana-colored hoodie that Hongju had hesitantly decided to wear after much deliberation.

“Now you actually look like a kid.”

Even as he looked away, his voice was sharp and clear. Hongju instinctively tugged at the hem of the hoodie. The space that already felt awkward became even more uncomfortable with Mu-gyeong in it. Even sitting down felt strange now.

“That Gwangpal guy or whatever... looks like he wasn’t much help. Gu Madam finally reached out.”

If Gwangpal showed up at the House, it wasn’t just for fun. Then why had Guppping sent all the employees home early yesterday? It didn’t add up.

“Really?”

As Hongju tilted his head, Mu-gyeong gathered his papers and coat and stood up.

“He held out longer than I expected. Let’s go.”

The date the mark said he’d come was just around the corner. Guppping must’ve run out of options and finally contacted Mu-gyeong. If Mu-gyeong lent him the money, maybe the hysteria would die down. Maybe he’d stop yelling at the employees to bring in cash. Maybe he wouldn’t say shit like telling Hongju to sell himself to Mu-gyeong. Even though there’d been no physical violence, the past few days had still been painful enough that Mu-gyeong’s words came as a relief. Hongju quickly grabbed his outerwear.

“Gu Madam must’ve thrown a hell of a fit, huh?”

“He’s been breathing down everyone’s neck, probably ‘cause there’s nowhere left to borrow from.”

Inside the elevator, they exchanged hushed words like they were conspiring together. It felt like they were on the same side. Mu-gyeong perched on the elevator railing and stretched out his legs. With his arms crossed and head tilted, he let out a word that clashed oddly with his elegant appearance.

“So, what, he told you all to go out and beg on the street?”

The fierce glint in his eyes was quite intimidating. From head to toe, there wasn’t a single thing out of place—everything about him was elegant—but Mu-gyeong always exuded an oppressive air. If they’d crossed paths in the back alley where the House was, Hongju probably would’ve been tense the entire time just passing by.

Hongju shifted his gaze to the sharp crease in Mu-gyeong’s trousers. His long, stretched-out legs reached all the way to the center of the elevator, polished shoes gleaming.

“What, he beats you if you don’t do what he says?”

“He didn’t hit me. Ah, but Choi did get hit yesterday. Got whacked with a mop, right on the forehead...”

Startled by the sudden tug on his hood, Hongju widened his eyes and stepped back. Mu-gyeong grabbed his dry jaw with his bare hand—he wasn’t wearing gloves—and tilted it from side to side, studying his face persistently.

“Who’s Choi?”

He knew, and he was asking on purpose. Uncomfortable under that scorching gaze, Hongju kept his eyes locked on Mu-gyeong’s tie.

“I told you it’s worth watching.”

“...”

“Stay here longer.”

He lightly tapped Hongju’s cheek, then stood up. A shadow fell across Hongju’s face. Right on cue, the elevator dinged its arrival. The tension that had been pulled taut for no reason suddenly snapped. Mu-gyeong stepped out first, and Hongju followed.

Hongju sat in the car, angled slightly toward the driver’s seat. His gaze rested on Mu-gyeong’s hand, no longer showing a trace of the old scabbing wounds, and he spoke again.

“Are you really lending Guppping all that money?”

“What, worried I don’t have it?”

It wasn’t a few hundred grand—it was over 4 billion won. Even if he was rich, that wasn’t the kind of money you could just lend on a whim. He hadn’t even recovered the 2 billion he’d invested in the House’s construction and equipment, and on top of that, he’d been paying off Hongju’s debt here and there.

“It’s just... the amount’s too big. And it’s not like Guppping will start behaving just because you bail him out...”

If it was Guppping, he definitely wouldn’t pay it back quietly. The moment Mu-gyeong was out of the picture, he’d probably drag ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) in gangsters again, like last time. Even though it wasn’t his own money, Hongju was already brimming with anxiety. Mu-gyeong, on the other hand, looked utterly unbothered.

“You just make sure to keep an eye on him.”

As always, the reply was relaxed and composed. The tension in Hongju’s grip on the seatbelt eased. Well, even if Guppping did try to run, Boss Mu-gyeong would probably track him down in no time. Strangely, he started to feel reassured.

The House was deserted again today. The entrance, which was usually packed with cars leaving barely an inch of space, now had only Yang Siljang and Guppping’s cars parked there, sitting lonely. Mu-gyeong turned off the engine and got out first, followed by Hongju. The ground was slick where melted snow had refrozen. It must’ve been even more slippery in those dress shoes. Hongju kept his eyes down, glancing at Mu-gyeong’s footsteps leading the way. When the shoes reached the entrance, they turned to face him. Seeing the toes pointed toward him, Hongju looked up.

“Hold this.”

He took the envelope Mu-gyeong handed him. It was just a light stack of paper, but while Hongju held it, Mu-gyeong reached up and yanked off the scarf that had been loosely draped around his neck. Then, he reached out toward Hongju. The hand came so suddenly, he didn’t have time to flinch.

“You’re not flinching?”

“...Do you think I flinch all the time?”

Instead of reacting angrily to the cheeky response, Mu-gyeong smiled.

“Don’t you?”

Then he wrapped the scarf around Hongju’s neck, looping it loosely. It was so thick, it covered half his cheeks.

“Keep it on. Even if you get hit, at least your face won’t split open.”

He tied off the ends snugly and gave the exposed cheek a light tap. Just a short brush.

“...”

Mu-gyeong then pulled out the gloves he’d stuffed in his pocket and slipped them on. Like his business was done, he turned and strode up the stairs without looking back. Hongju buried his face into the soft scarf and swallowed dryly.