Free Web NovelThe sound coming through the receiver abruptly cut off. Lee Kangjoo stared down at the phone screen, now gone black. He waited to see if it would ring again, but it stayed silent, not even a vibration.
“Uh, was that a call from that kid?”
Yang Seokho, who had been cleaning up the bodies sprawled at a distance, hurried over in short steps. Kangjoo glanced past his shoulder. Most of them were groaning on the ground or completely unconscious.
One of the bastards had somehow managed to stay conscious, slumped against the wall and wheezing. But the moment his eyes met Kangjoo’s, he started dragging his injured body across the floor, scrambling to get away. Yang Seokho spotted it and immediately rushed over, throwing punches like he meant to crush the man’s windpipe, then returned as if nothing had happened.
“Who makes this much noise doing a job these days? So tacky.”
The guy had been running wild like a dog let loose in fresh snow, yet now he grumbled primly, rolling his neck from side to side as if easing tension.
Maybe he hadn’t fully come down from the adrenaline — the whites of Yang Seokho’s eyes were faintly bloodshot. He loved to run his mouth about how office work was his true calling, but give him the right situation and he’d charge in like a born thug.
Kangjoo’s own reflection in the shattered glass didn’t look much different. His hair was a mess, his clothes wrinkled, blood splattered across his shirt and face. One of them had come at him with a knife — the lower half of his shirt was ripped diagonally, hanging in strips.
“Pretty grand welcome party, huh?”
Yang Seokho asked like he was seeking approval. Kangjoo shoved the phone he’d been holding onto for no reason into his pocket and pushed his disheveled hair back.
“Why do they keep coveting what’s mine.”
Lately it hadn’t been just one or two idiots. Not long ago some green little punk who still smelled like milk on his head had overstepped his place too...
Same thing this time. He’d intended to settle it quietly with a conversation, but the other side had dug a trap and waited. They’d come charging in with their arms full of ‘welcome gifts,’ so he’d rolled up his sleeves for the first time in a while.
The watch he’d wrapped around his fingers instead of brass knuckles was now spiderwebbed with cracks. Thick blood smeared over the numbers, and in the fissures of the glass were a few strands of hair — who they’d been ripped from, who knew. He couldn’t just toss it somewhere and leave evidence he’d been here, so he stuffed it into an empty pocket.
Come to think of it, there were plenty of shallow cuts along his forearms and the backs of his hands beneath his rolled sleeves. If he didn’t disinfect them, they’d fester fast — a voice seemed to brush past his ear on the wind.
“Maybe it’s because it looks good.”
Kangjoo, who had been walking ahead, stopped abruptly. That phrase — “looks good” — sounded strange. Of course. That was why people got greedy.
For a second, one face flickered through his mind. Almond-shaped eyes, a sharp nose, plump lips in perfect balance. Worn down like a rag dragged across the floor, yet when he shut his mouth and stared blankly, he could look oddly innocent, almost pitiful.
Young. Naive. Dumb. And yet sometimes unbelievably quick on the uptake, flattening himself on instinct. He tried his hardest not to be a nuisance, but those stolen glances — they were heavy with a starving kind of need, begging just once to be patted.
“Looks good?”
When he asked back, Yang Seokho shrugged. He scratched at his blood-splattered chin and tilted his head.
“Probably? It pulls in a lot of profit. Of course people outside would covet it.”
“......”
That wasn’t what he meant. Kangjoo turned away and put a cigarette between his lips. Yang Seokho hurried over to light it.
“The head?”
“Got word from the guys — they’ve got him tied up. You handling it tonight?”
“......”
He’d used his body, but he wasn’t tired. He could easily last the night if he had to. Still, he didn’t plan to linger here.
That chirping voice saying he wanted to show him the new clothes he’d bought flickered in his ears. What had he picked out again? There was a shirt too, right? That white, loose-fitting one had suited him especially well.
Maybe because his job was a swallow — when Cha Haejun opened his lips and chattered, it reminded him of a small bird perched under the eaves, puffing out its chest and singing. Not some ordinary black thing, but a white good-omen bird. The way he spread his beak wide. The way his voice carried far.
“Let’s wrap this up.”
Yang Seokho, who’d paused for a second, quickly fell in step. He backed up in front of Kangjoo, grinning unpleasantly.
“What’s the rush? The kid calling you over? I thought the boss’s face looked brighter lately. Guess it’s all thanks to that kid.”
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“But isn’t there quite an age gap between you two? I mean, people say that stuff doesn’t matter these days, but still....”
“You haven’t been hit enough lately, have you?”
He answered with a smile. Yang Seokho went pale and shook his head furiously.
“Hey, don’t say scary shit like that... You remember that guy whose rib cracked from one light tap from you? Every time it rains he grabs his side. You want me like that? I’ll pass.”
Chattering like a magpie, Yang Seokho mimed zipping his lips and turned away. Then, as if to prove something, he thumped his own lower back and whined about how his whole body had been aching lately. Kangjoo kicked him in the calf. Only then did he shut up and take the lead.
When Kangjoo slipped his hands into his pockets, the broken watch sat in one, the intact phone in the other. He felt like it vibrated and pulled it out.
Nothing. Not even the slightest movement. What the hell had he been expecting? He let his hand fall empty.
* * *
There was a reason Park Yohan had been so strict when teaching him how to ride a bike.
Haejun had nearly caused two serious accidents that morning. Once at an intersection, the second time in a narrow alley. A kid who’d been loitering in front of a studio building saw him and dashed across the road as if he’d been waiting for that exact moment.
He’d avoided disaster by a miracle, but his pounding heart refused to settle.
He calmed his nerves with a warm drink before heading toward the delivery address. It was a nearly collapsing detached house halfway up a hill. Judging by the white and red cloth flag stuck into the old roof, it looked like a fortune-teller’s place.
He knocked, and after a moment a plain-looking middle-aged woman peeked out. Her hair was twisted up and secured with a claw clip, and she wore a gaudy floral vest.
Her gaunt face was sharp, her eyes gleaming with a strange light. She looked at Haejun and smiled thinly.
“Delivery.”
It was pay-on-delivery. Haejun held out the bag and waited quietly. But the woman seemed more interested in him than the food. She kept peering at his face and over his shoulder, frowning, then clicked her tongue.
“Poor thing. So pitiful. No luck with parents at all.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sir, get down already! You’re riding on his back, making it hard ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ for him to breathe!”
She suddenly shouted past Haejun’s shoulder. Hard to dismiss her as crazy — her gaze was too lucid. Considering what his father had done, Haejun instinctively rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if that bastard had hung some kind of noose around it.
“Hey, you interested in getting a talisman?”
She glanced at him sideways, tone suddenly suggestive, like she’d spotted her chance.
“A talisman?”
“If I send you off like this, you’ll die on the streets. I’m not trying to make money. I just feel sorry for you. That’s all. I feel sorry.”
She emphasized it again. Only then did Haejun snap out of it.
Talisman my ass. She was obviously trying to weasel out of paying. It wasn’t like he’d never dealt with this before, and yet he’d wasted time almost believing she genuinely pitied him.
He straightened his back and thrust his palm out.
“No thanks. Just give me the money. If you don’t, I’m calling the police.”
No need to drag it out. At the word “police,” the woman grabbed her vest and glared at him.
“Who said I’m not paying? I was trying to help you out of pity, and you treat me like some beggar, you crazy bastard!”
She huffed, digging coins and crumpled bills from her pocket and slapping them onto his palm. The bills were all wrinkled, the coins mismatched. He sighed before even counting.
While he checked the amount, the woman disappeared inside and returned with a blue plastic basket. She scooped up a fistful of coarse salt and flung it straight at him.
“Ah! What the hell are you doing?”
“Get out! Don’t bring bad energy into my sacred shrine!”
“Stop throwing it!”
“You ghost-ridden bastard...! I’m sending misfortune your way today! Your luck’s going to rot!”
Her face was vicious as she spat curses. Haejun decided on a strategic retreat and quickly mounted his bike. In the side mirror, the woman was still screaming at the air and hurling salt until he turned the corner.
“Jesus, that lady’s temper is insane.”
He’d nearly gotten into accidents before coming here, and now this. Today had to be cursed. The venomous words felt stuck to his back, making him shudder.
The only answer was to get away as fast as possible. Haejun gripped the handlebars tight and picked up speed.
