KTSR | Chapter 11

Ijin turned his body, and the man watched Ijin’s back intently while stroking his chin.

“Quite a few scars, huh? I didn’t notice when you were clothed, but there are some flaws.”

He swallowed the words, ‘These are the marks left by bastards like you below me.’

Ijin’s back wasn’t always this marred. However, after being expelled from the Horse Racing Association and dragged here, spending four days, Ijin was left with indelible scars all over his back. Those damn four days felt like an eternity of torment.

Footsteps sounded behind Ijin, standing still, and naturally, he tensed up. Soon, he felt the warmth of another’s body. His body, already chilled by the cool indoor air, shivered and jumped.

“Knife?”

“…Whip.”

“A paddle wouldn’t leave this kind of scar.”

Ijin didn’t know what kind of paddle the man was talking about, but the ones that scratched his back certainly left scars. The humiliation and pain from that time resurfaced. Ijin gritted his teeth as he answered.

“Used for horses.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

Among the bastards who had beaten Ijin to a pulp, there was one particularly sadistic pervert. He got hard while trampling Ijin and eventually brought out a horse whip to beat Ijin’s back. It was then that Ijin, who had been enduring until blood seeped from his gums, finally collapsed. It was unbearable pain. Not meant for humans, it left deep wounds on his back, and for a while, Ijin couldn’t lie down properly.

They said that the pervert was punished for damaging the merchandise. His entire punishment was getting transferred to a management position at Trevi C.C. Later, Ijin heard he actually enjoyed it, laughing that it was where he wanted to go.

“And there are a few cigarette burns too.”

They’re all your underlings’ doing, aren’t they?

Ijin found it hard to endure the man’s hand casually brushing over his back.

“You should’ve listened better.”

Finally, Ijin retorted.

“Is this all my fault?”

The man answered indifferently.

“Did I drag you here? Did you come because of me? No, right?”

Learning that they were dealing with people beyond common sense was always a shock, no matter how many times one experienced it.

The hand went down to just above his underwear band, where his spine curved inward, then fell away. Ijin was tense, worried the hand might go under his underwear. At that moment, he saw Hyeongdo Kwon’s thigh. Even through the tough jeans, the outline was visibly solid.

Are you getting hard because of me, you bastard?

Ijin felt a deep sense of disgust. His gaze was still emotionless, which made the humiliation even worse.

The tension grew as he didn’t know when the hand might enter. Ironically, because of the tension, Ijin was half-erect. He quickly covered himself in shock.

“……”

The corner of the man’s mouth slowly lifted.

“Fuck… He’s a man too. Cute, so cute.”

Hyeongdo Kwon let go of Ijin’s underwear band and patted the half-erect part.

“Ow!”

Ijin shuddered and stepped back, and Hyeongdo burst into laughter. Ijin’s guard was up like a beast with its fur standing on end. Now you’re excited too, huh? Touch mine too, he would surely come at him next.

But the man said something completely different.

“There are plenty of guys who like flawed merchandise like you. Alright, that’s enough. Put your clothes back on.”

Footsteps faded away. Had he lost interest? Probably, seeing Ijin’s body covered in bruises, black and blue, and scars wasn’t pleasant. Ijin felt grateful for his scars for the first time.

“Are you joking right now?”

Ijin’s tongue moved without deep thought again. He was often quick to anger and couldn’t hold back when he was.

“You joking with me must be the real jest here. Get out. I’m busy.”

The only saving grace was that his sharp tongue was matched by his quick thinking.

Ijin dressed faster than he’d undressed. Before he could button up, he was waved out. It was welcome news. Ijin left without even saying goodbye, his steps long and firm.

“Damn it!”

As he flung the door open, the team leader, who had been eavesdropping, cursed as usual.

Come to think of it, this was the first time he’d had any semblance of a conversation, even if it was just swearing, with the worst of the scumbags inside.

“Next!”

A cheerful voice calling for the next ones to come in came from behind Ijin. They were calling the jockeys like they were some kind of room service. Grinding his teeth, Ijin left the room without acknowledging the team leader or the boss. Eyes followed Ijin subtly, noting his shirt buttons were mismatched from hastily dressing.

“What’s with that guy?”

Leaning against the rake, Ijin asked Bbang.

“Who.”

If it were an official racetrack, it might be different, but here, cleaning was as much about making trash as disposing of it, so Bbang smoked while cleaning the track.

“The guy in the aloha shirt.”

“Is there someone dressed that foolishly?”

“That foolishly dressed guy is the executive director.”

Only then did Bbang straighten up. Fatigue was evident as he puffed on his cigarette.

“How would I know what the executive director looks like? Have you met him?”

“He looked at all the jockeys yesterday.”

“Really? How was he?”

“Seemed out of his mind.”

Ijin shot back curtly.

While you could guess what the team leader and manager might be up to, the executive director was a complete mystery. From his attire to his tattoos and tongue piercing. Above all, the aloha shirt looked out of place in this gloomy, foggy town and the Colosseum.

Yet, the atmosphere he exuded was far from relaxed, making Ijin feel exhausted even after a brief encounter.

Bbang looked at the seemingly irritated Ijin and murmured.

“Crazy people see others as crazy too.”

“What?”

Ijin, not hearing properly, asked again, and Bbang shook his head.

“That’s a big problem.”

“What?”

Bbang seemed to share the opinion.

“The bastards here are trash but at least they’re somewhat sane. There’s a certain logic to them. But calling someone insane…”

Seeing Bbang shake his head, Ijin felt his own frustration grow.

“Ijin, be really careful from now on.”

But he couldn’t agree with Bbang’s words.

The higher-ups were only interested in how much money they could make, not in the merchandise itself. The reason the bastard who scarred Ijin’s back was punished was because there was no spare jockey to replace Ijin, not because Ijin had any value.

Just like the boss, this executive director would probably leave the merchandise management to the team leader and just look at the books. Or do nothing and just take the money. Like a pig.

Ijin twitched his cheek. In his mind, Hyeongdo Kwon was already the worst man on earth.

“I saw him yesterday, so I won’t have to see him again.”

“Don’t take him lightly. He gathered all the failing houses in Gangwon-do and built his business. He’s not just anyone.”

It seemed he was obsessed with money and had an uncanny knack for sniffing it out. Now Ijin understood how someone so young could climb to that position. It must’ve been due to his cunning.

But would just being smart cut it here? This place was remote. Here, fists were closer than brains, so if anyone shouldn’t be underestimated, it was him, not the other guy.

Ijin shook his head while sifting through horse manure in the dirt, trying to clear his distracting thoughts.

Jockeys, who rarely gathered except for meals or races, were assembled in one place. They were even in riding gear despite there being no race.

The new clothes fit tightly around their elbows and knees, making everyone look uncomfortable.

“Is this… the right size?”

One of the jockeys, who was awkwardly adjusting his pants due to discomfort in the crotch area, hesitantly spoke.

It was almost like he wanted everyone to hear, even if it was meant as a mumble. And Ijin agreed with him.

They must have given out smaller sizes. Ijin approached the man who distributed the clothes, loosening his shirt buttons which were tight against his body. The man was nicknamed “Ssenjang” because he reeked of old age. The nicknames here were all terrible.

“This seems like the wrong size.”

Ssenjang scratched his greasy head and looked up at Ijin with half-closed eyes.

After scanning Ijin’s body, he grinned.

“That’s the right one.”

“……”

“It’s right. What, uncomfortable somewhere? Should I take a look?”

Ijin turned away without responding.

This is right? If he crouched on a horse to minimize air resistance, the fabric would surely rub everywhere. They should soak these cheap clothes in fabric softener to at least try to make them softer.

“But why are we gathered here?”

The youngest, who had only recently joined, asked, trembling.

The youngest was just an adult, a former equestrian scholarship student whose life had twisted, leading him here. No one shared or asked about each other’s personal circumstances in detail.

“Don’t know. Just keep your mouth shut.”

The veteran, Kim Jigwan, one of the few jockeys Ijin knew by name, answered.

“One at a time, come in!”

From inside, a man with sunglasses and a sports-style haircut shouted. It was a face Ijin had never seen before.

No one was eager to go first. After watching everyone hesitate, Ijin stepped forward. He believed it was better to take the hit first.

“I’ll go first.”

Raising his hand, Ijin entered the makeshift container, where a comically crude photo set was prepared.