Three Eight-Chapter 59

Mu-gyeong’s lips curled up on their own as he looked down at Hongju’s flushed cheeks.

"Why? Curious, are you?"

"Just... wondered, that’s all."

There was a small laugh, but the answer Hongju wanted never came. All that followed was the slow, featherlight sweep of Mu-gyeong’s fingers through his bangs.

"You’re curious about the weirdest things."

He reached over to the bedside shelf. Hongju’s eyes followed the movement to his fingertips. Mu-gyeong opened a bottle of water without effort and set it down again.

I didn’t take that out. Where did that water—and those pills—come from? As Hongju furrowed his brows and tried to focus on the pills, Mu-gyeong slowly turned away.

"Sleep."

He watched that silhouette for a long time as Mu-gyeong walked out, his back turned against the darkness. Dream or reality—it all started to blur.

Slowly, Hongju sat up and swallowed the pills down with a few gulps of water. The feeling of fullness in his stomach was uncomfortable, but he soon lay back down. As his eyelids grew heavy, a realization flickered through his mind—this was the first time he’d ever taken something handed to him by someone else without a second thought.

Maybe it was the pills, or maybe the deep sleep that followed, but his body felt much lighter when he woke. His throat was still scratchy, but it was far better than the fever that had wracked him through the night before.

Mu-gyeong had stayed seated in the lounge until Hongju woke. He’d been rubbing his forehead, staring intently at his phone, and shut off the screen the moment Hongju stirred. Then, saying he’d head to the House for the first time in a while, he rushed to get ready. The two of them arrived at the House together.

"Go on up."

As soon as they parked, Mu-gyeong pulled a cigarette from his pack. Hongju glanced briefly at the bare fingers that hadn’t yet slipped into gloves before heading inside first. Lately, he’d been wearing a scarf again, which made the back of his exposed neck feel even colder than usual.

"Hey!"

The moment he reached the third floor, a bellow rang out. The empty House echoed with the force of it. Hongju raised a hand to cover his right ear and approached Guppping. As soon as he saw Guppping’s chapped lips move, he dropped his hand from his ear.

"You didn’t finish collections yesterday?"

"I got part of it. I’m going again tomorrow—"

Before he could finish, Guppping’s hand shot out and yanked him forward. Hongju glanced around the hallway as he was dragged—no thugs in sight. So that’s why he was yelling so loud.

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"Then fucker, you should’ve brought the money in right away!"

He slammed Hongju down on the desk and began choking him. Maybe it was because he was missing a finger—there was just enough room to breathe, and somehow that made it all the more ridiculous. One eye clenched shut, a crooked grin tugged at Hongju’s lips.

"You smiling, you crazy little shit?"

Guppping’s grip tightened. His throat already ached, but now it burned like he’d swallowed fire. His clenched vision turned white, then started bleeding into blue. Hongju didn’t even have the strength to struggle—he just hung limp, letting Guppping’s fury rain down on him.

"Urgh..."

A hoarse whimper escaped as the air ran out. At the sound, Guppping’s eyes widened and his lips stretched into a sneer.

"What, you getting off on being choked? That it? Got a taste for it now, huh?"

His sick, snickering voice mingled with Hongju’s ragged breaths. The reply came from the stairs.

"That’s kind of my thing, actually."

Guppping whipped his head around. The hand gripping Hongju’s throat loosened, but Hongju didn’t even try to break free. He knew better—it wouldn’t work anyway.

"Looks like we’ve got the same taste."

Step by step, Mu-gyeong strode into the room, his scent trailing in subtly with him. The hand at Hongju’s neck fell away completely. Hongju turned to the left, gasping sharply, chest rising and falling with frantic breaths. His heart pounded so loudly, he could hear the echo pulsing in his ears.

"Still, I’m a better option than an old geezer, right?"

Mu-gyeong casually held out a gloved hand within Hongju’s line of sight as he lay on his side. Even though Hongju’s unfocused eyes barely registered it, he didn’t rush him.

"No?"

Mu-gyeong’s broad shoulders shrugged beneath his coat. Hongju exhaled a trembling breath and placed his hand into the one in front of him. With a light tug, Mu-gyeong pulled his frail body upright and sat him on the edge of the desk. As he unwrapped a pack of Hwatu cards nearby, he kept speaking.

"See? Leave the kids unsupervised, and they start acting stupid. Keep him leashed, Gu Madam."

"......"

Guppping said nothing. His trembling hands just clenched into fists.

"Oh, right. I came with good news."

"...Good news?"

"You’re looking for a mark, right? I brought you one. Set the game."

"A mark? A setup?"

Guppping’s downcast eyes lit up. Lately, no one trusted him to lead a table—rumors had driven everyone away. No one wanted to play at his table, either. For someone like Guppping, always hungry for that next big score, this was a rare blessing.

"There’s this smug bastard I can’t stand. I want you to shut him up a bit—empty his pockets while you’re at it."

Mu-gyeong shuffled the Hwatu deck with gloved hands. Tap, tap. Each card he pulled from the middle landed neatly atop the last. After a few more shuffles, he gathered the stack into one hand and held it out to Guppping.

"All the winnings are yours. And if you shake him down completely, I’ll make sure you’re well rewarded."

Guppping looked down at the cards offered to him. Mu-gyeong didn’t add any more explanation—but he had to know. This was his last chance.

"Why’d you bring a mark all of a sudden?"

As he took the cards carefully into his big hands, Guppping asked quietly.

"Because with how dead this place is, if I leave it alone, it’s fucked."

Mu-gyeong jerked his chin toward the hallway. The House, once bustling, was now so empty every voice echoed. The man responsible for reducing it to this state—Guppping—flared his shirt collar and glared at Hongju. There was no real reason for the anger, but Hongju was used to ignoring it.

"Snagging one big mark ought to save face. Kill the rumors a little too."

"Exactly. Fuck, what kind of bullshit rumors are even going around..."

Guppping grumbled, hands on his hips, visibly annoyed.

"You should rake it in while it’s being spoon-fed to you. That’s how you pay off your debts."

Mu-gyeong’s lips curved into an elegant arc. His face held not a trace of malice. Guppping hesitated for a moment, # Nоvеlight # torn between pride and desperation. Hongju knew that hesitation well—it was nothing but his useless pride getting in the way.

"Used to be some guy I invested in a casino hotel with. Heard he got booted from his in-laws' place with a fat load of cash."

That was all it took. Guppping’s expression changed instantly.

"Alright, gimme the details. Usually Yang Siljang handles the digging and baiting, you know."

Mu-gyeong agreed without hesitation. It wasn’t long before Guppping swallowed the bait whole.

"Let me call in Yang Siljang. We’ll go over it together."

As Guppping slowly walked toward the stairs, phone to his ear, a large hand suddenly blocked Hongju’s field of vision.

"Yeah, get over to the House now."

Mu-gyeong twisted in his seat, stretching an arm out. His gloved fingers slid smoothly down the zipper of Hongju’s padded jacket. Then they moved up to the back of his neck, brushing over the raw skin where red handprints must’ve bloomed. The chilling cold of it made Hongju’s shoulders twitch. His lips parted without meaning to, but Mu-gyeong’s thumb pressed down on them first.

"......"

A voiceless breath of heat escaped. Mu-gyeong’s eyes remained fixed on the bruised skin at Hongju’s nape. Guppping’s yelling into the phone made Hongju’s lashes tremble. Then Mu-gyeong’s index finger joined in, gently resting on his lips. Shh. The shape of the word formed clearly. He meant not to make a sound in front of Guppping. Hongju gave a faint nod and dropped his gaze to the desk.

"Fucking Yang Siljang must’ve just rolled out of bed from his booze bender last night."

"We’ll wait, whatever."

Mu-gyeong rose to his feet. He led the way toward the room with the safe, muttering about how too many ears were bad. Not that there were many around—just Hongju. That fact made him suddenly feel self-conscious, and he rubbed his throat with a sheepish cough.

"Yeah. Can’t let just anyone hear important stuff."

Guppping chuckled and trailed after him. Once the two disappeared into the room, a cold silence settled back over the hallway.

"......"

A man hard to figure out. He monitored Guppping, looked for weaknesses, treated him like trash—and yet, when it counted, he stepped in like this. Why? Was he really worried he wouldn’t get his money back? But from what Hongju had seen, Mu-gyeong didn’t seem like the type who clung to money.

He considered a few reasons before shaking his head and brushing the thoughts away. Someone like Mu-gyeong was cut from an entirely different cloth—there was no understanding him.

Eventually, Yang Siljang showed up and joined them. The three of them talked in that room for a long while. It was nearly dusk when the door finally opened again.

"Sure, we stepped in shit last time—but this is what we do best."

Guppping’s face, tense with anxiety just days ago, now looked bright and confident. Mu-gyeong gave a dry smile as he glanced at his phone.

"The meet’s set for the day after tomorrow. I’ll call you then—be ready."

"Ay, don’t worry!"

"The stake is..."

His words trailed off. In the brief silence that followed, Hongju, who’d been staring down the hallway, turned his head. Their eyes met—Mu-gyeong had clearly been waiting for it. The look he gave was unreadable, layered with something opaque. Just as Hongju began to wonder what it meant, Mu-gyeong looked away.

"You can prepare it that morning."

"Mm-hmm. Got it. Big-shot from a rich family—bet he plays big."

The gambler’s giddy voice stabbed at Hongju’s ear. He raked a hand through his hair, pretending to fix it while really covering his right ear. Mu-gyeong, who had been watching him silently, tapped the desk. When Hongju looked up, he saw Mu-gyeong slowly part his lips.

Come out.

Reading the word, Hongju dropped his hand from his ear. Laughter, rough and grating, rushed back into his head. Mu-gyeong adjusted the coat draped over his arm and turned to leave.

"See you the day after tomorrow."

"Yeah, take care, President Mu-gyeong."

Neither of them paid the slightest attention to whether Hongju followed or not. The fact that no one was mad about today’s collection not being completed meant one thing—whatever Mu-gyeong had reeled in was a monster of a catch.