Three Eight-Chapter 65

"If you turn off your phone, Gu Madam’s gonna throw a fit."

He had just done it a few hours ago, and that was exactly what happened. Now that Guppping had started to seriously question Mu-gyeong’s existence, sticking a recorder under a table wouldn’t cut it anymore. He’d probably try to track Hongju’s location even more frequently from now on.

"He probably will. But if this place gets found out... that’s bad, right?"

Mu-gyeong had one hand shoved in his pocket, the car key looped around his index finger, spinning it idly. The action looked oddly out of place against his neat, tidy appearance.

"Sharp instincts and a quick brain. Makes you fun to keep around."

He gave Hongju a slow once-over and tilted his head slightly. It seemed to mean come here, so Hongju quickly stepped closer. As he drew near, Mu-gyeong slung an arm over his shoulders. Their bodies pressed together, and that pleasant scent washed over him. Hongju had seen him smoke before, but there wasn’t even a hint of that foul smell on him.

"If Gu Madam throws a fit, come tell me. I’ll scold him for you."

"......."

The large hand resting on his shoulder gently tapped his cheek. It wasn’t a slap—just a light, brushing touch that tickled more than it hurt. Hongju ran the tip of his tongue along his upper palate, trying to suppress the odd feeling rising in his chest.

***

There was still time before the next gambling night. During the lull, Hongju trailed behind Mu-gyeong on his occasional outings. All he ever really did was sit in the passenger seat. Every now and then, he’d switch his phone on.

"Gu Madam’s too excited to even care about you right now. Not worth checking."

And just like Mu-gyeong said, Guppping wasn’t even nagging him to collect debts anymore. Who knew how he’d buttered him up, but it worked.

"Still. Just in case."

He gave a brief reply and slipped the phone back into his pocket. As he looked out the window, he realized they had long since left the city behind. No tall buildings. Far fewer cars. A sign came into view in the distance.

[Welcome to Dowang Port.]

A salty, fishy stench crept through the unopened window. What kind of business had brought them all the way out here? He was curious—but not enough to ask. Knowing the destination wouldn’t help him anyway.

The car rolled slowly past the fish market. Maybe it was the cold, but there weren’t many customers around, and the parking lot was nearly empty.

"Where is he..."

Mu-gyeong tapped the steering wheel as he scanned the area. Maybe he was looking for a specific shop? Hongju also glanced around at the storefronts, though he had no idea what he was supposed to be looking for. After a while, Mu-gyeong accelerated slightly and muttered,

"There he is."

At those words, Hongju looked straight ahead. A few boats were docked at the pier, crates were stacked up like mountains, and between the trucks loaded with cargo stood a scruffy-looking man. Unlike the locals in aprons and boots, he stuck out with his ill-fitting clothes.

"That’s his idea of hiding?"

Mu-gyeong’s voice dropped into a cold murmur. He stepped hard on the accelerator, the tires screeching as they surged forward. Sensing something was wrong, Hongju grabbed onto his seatbelt tightly, casting a glance toward Mu-gyeong.

The man ahead turned slowly at the sound of screeching tires. His dirt-streaked face paled as he saw the car speeding toward him.

"S-Sir...!"

If he didn’t slow down, they’d run the guy over. Hongju stammered Mu-gyeong’s title, but he only pressed the gas harder. The man looked around, desperate for an escape route, but before he could move, the distance had already closed.

SCREECH—!

The tires screamed as Mu-gyeong slammed the brakes. The sound was so sharp it felt like it tore straight through Hongju’s eardrum. His body jolted forward from the momentum, and he caught himself with a hand against the dashboard.

"......."

The man had collapsed, clutching at his chest. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the car had hit him. Hongju’s collarbone ached from the seatbelt’s sudden tension. He peeked sideways—Mu-gyeong was staring straight ahead, expressionless.

Should he get out and check if the man was okay? As Hongju reached for his seatbelt clip, a firm hand clamped down over his.

"Stay put."

Leaving only that curt order, Mu-gyeong stepped out of the car. He strode straight toward the man crumpled on the ground and knelt beside him. From Hongju’s vantage point, he could only see Mu-gyeong’s crooked smile # Nоvеlight # and fierce gaze. After saying something for a while, he grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him to his feet. Then he dragged him toward the trucks.

The man, stumbling as he was pulled along, wore an expression of pure terror.

Hongju, tense and dry-mouthed, couldn’t look away. The two disappeared behind the stacked cargo.

"That was who he was after?"

He’d thought Mu-gyeong only ever went to skyscrapers and fancy lounges. But the more he got to know him, the more unpredictable the man became. Mu-gyeong didn’t reappear for quite some time. When he finally slid back into the driver’s seat, a pungent smell filled the car—not the briny scent of the sea, but something more metallic and sharp. Blood.

As Hongju’s eyes followed him, they landed on his hand—covered in blood.

"Your hand..."

Startled, Hongju scrambled for the dashboard compartment and pulled out some tissues.

"Thanks."

Mu-gyeong accepted them and wiped his hands half-heartedly. Fortunately, there were no visible cuts or open wounds. A bit of torn tissue clung to his skin, and he clicked his tongue, reaching for his coat pocket.

"You’re not hurt, are you?"

"No, just forgot my gloves."

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Maybe because he’d realized it too late, but the bloody scent now filled the car. It was a smell Hongju had grown used to over time, but that didn’t stop the nausea from crawling up his throat.

"That bastard was hiding what he owed. Here—you take it."

What he pulled out was a thick white envelope. It landed on Hongju’s knees. Near where Mu-gyeong’s finger had touched, a red fingerprint—like a seal—had been left behind. Bills poked messily from the mouth of the envelope, enough to clearly see they were ten-thousand-won notes. Hongju didn’t even try to gather them—he just stared at the envelope.

"Want more? Can’t do that."

This time, Mu-gyeong pulled out a handkerchief from his coat pocket. The way he wiped his broad fingers was practiced and unbothered.

"You’re gonna bolt once you pay off your debt anyway. Phone’s always off and everything."

The laughter-tinged words trickled faintly into Hongju’s right ear. If he ran after getting everything he wanted, wouldn’t that make him no different from his father? That thought made him shake his head quickly.

"I’m staying until the House renovations are finished."

The motion of Mu-gyeong wiping his hands clean came to a sudden stop. His lowered, dark eyes slowly lifted—and then locked with Hongju’s gaze.

"Yeah?"

"You’ve already helped pay off a lot, and you said you’d let me out once the construction’s done. So until then, I’ll do whatever I’m told. I have to."

Mu-gyeong let out a short, dry chuckle and cracked the window open just a bit before tossing out the bloodied handkerchief.

"Should’ve thrown a fit like, ‘If you’re gonna let me go anyway, why’d you fuck me in the first place?’ Dumbass."

He rolled the window up again without hesitation and pressed the accelerator. Walking away from the House and walking away with no debt were two completely different things. And for someone like Hongju, who had nothing he could do, that difference was everything. The person who had lightened that load for him was Mu-gyeong. Even if it came at the price of sex.

Hongju’s mouth tasted bitter. He licked his dry lips a few times.

"Anyway... you don’t have to give me this."

As he tried to straighten the envelope stained with blood, Mu-gyeong snapped irritably.

"When an adult gives you something, just take it."

He always said things like that. But how old was he, really, to be calling himself an "adult" like that? As Hongju held the edge of the envelope and hesitated, Mu-gyeong added another line.

"You don’t know what allowance is?"

To Hongju, the word allowance felt more foreign than tip. From when he was just a snot-nosed kid doing street begging, he’d gotten coins from diner ladies who felt sorry for him. Some guy he didn’t even remember had stuffed money into his hand, telling him to buy snacks. Guppping would just flash his yellowed teeth and laugh, saying, “The brat’s good at collecting tips.”

"That’s the face of someone who’s never had one before."

"I’ve had tips, but not allowance."

The envelope crinkled under Hongju’s thin fingers. As Mu-gyeong crossed the parking lot in front of the fish market, he glanced over toward the passenger side.

"You’re not supposed to hand that to Gu Madam to pay off your debt. It’s for doing what you want. Buying what you want. That’s what allowance is."

Do what you want. Buy what you want. Hongju mouthed the words silently after him. Back in the suffocating confines of the House, the only things he’d ever really wished for were to see his father again, and to own a warm padded coat. And even that coat he was wearing now had been bought by Mu-gyeong. So that meant there was only one thing left...

"It’s not for buying bottled water. You’re supposed to actually eat something—fill your belly, get something tasty. Got it?"

"I got it."

But if it wasn’t to pay off debt, Hongju really didn’t know where else the money could go. He nodded anyway, his gaze fixed on the thick white envelope.

"Sure you got it."

Leaving the ocean scent behind, the car merged onto a four-lane road. The things Mu-gyeong said sounded like stuff you’d hear from a middle-aged man. Occasionally, drunk customers would say similar things, but for some reason, it didn’t annoy him this time.

"You just don’t know the taste of money yet. When you’ve got it, there’s nothing you can’t do. You can buy happiness, joy, trust, stability—everything."

Strangely, the things Mu-gyeong listed off weren’t expensive items or material luxuries. They were abstract, formless emotions—things with clear meaning but no physical form.

"You can buy that?"

"Yeah. I bought all of it."

Their eyes met briefly, then parted. Mu-gyeong turned his focus back to the road, but Hongju couldn’t stop staring at the side of his face.

"I bought trust with a collapsing House. I bought amusement with Gu Hongju. I’m having a great time, lately."

The corners of his lips were lifted, but there was no joy in his expression. Something about the mood felt different than usual—but maybe that was just Hongju’s imagination. He didn’t even dare move unnecessarily, afraid the rustling of the envelope might break the silence. The car drove on for a long while, with only quiet stretched between them.