BAI Ch 5
by mimi“You think I can’t do it?”
He moved behind Ryujin. He stroked the nape of his neck, where the fine hairs stood on end.
“Think about what I’ve done to you. Just how far this crazy bastard can go… think about it carefully. Then you’ll get a sense of it. Realistically, what you can do right now.”
Shin Haebeom lowered his gaze. He saw the two hands bound by handcuffs trembling faintly.
“How’s that?”
“Shut up.”
“I hope you don’t ruin your life by running your mouth wrong.”
“Shut up. Shut your mouth! Are you telling me to betray them right now?!”
“How about calling it cooperation? That might ease your mind a bit.”
“Cut the bullshit! How many times do I have to say just kill me before you get it?!”
“I like you, that’s why.”
“…….”
“Jung Ryujin. Can you hear me?”
Ryujin opened his mouth. He was so dumbfounded that even a hollow laugh wouldn’t come out. What kind of lunatic in this world tortures and beats someone they like half to death, then goads them into betraying their family-like comrades?
Ryujin clenched his fists tightly.
“Should I suck you off? Or let you fuck me?”
“What?”
“Whatever gets you off. In exchange, kill me quick. You’ve got a gun, right? Put it to my head and shoot. Cleanly, one shot to end it.”
“You’d rather take a bullet than accept my courtship?”
“Yeah. That’s better.”
From behind Ryujin’s shoulder, Shin Haebeom’s long arm reached out.
“Then how about this?”
Shin Haebeom pulled the laptop toward Ryujin.
An image file popped up in front of Ryujin’s eyes. It was a scan of an old newspaper. Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s hair as he tried to turn away, firmly fixing his head to face forward. In a gentle voice, he read the headline.
“18-year-old high schooler A, gang-raped by peers. Confirmed as retaliation for a celebrity scandal. This is you, right?”
“No, it’s not.”
“You can’t even hide your expression and you’re lying.”
“Fuck you, you shitty bastard!”
“Jung Ryujin.”
“You knew! You knew everything from the start and you’re toying with me?! You fucking piece of trash!”
Ryujin’s head jerked violently. Shin Haebeom’s fist landed square on his temple. The wound that had stopped bleeding burst open again. Ryujin let out a sound—whether a sob or a groan, it was unclear—while flailing his handcuffed hands.
“You bastard! Die! A bastard like you deserves to die!”
“Jung Ryujin.”
Shin Haebeom shook his fist.
“One more curse at me.”
He jabbed Ryujin’s bruised cheek with his fingers, poking it sharply.
“And you’ll go through the same thing as last time.”
Gi Woohee took off her headphones and tapped the shoulder of the NCO beside her.
“Sung Jaekyung.”
“Yes, yes?”
“Any personnel on standby right now?”
“There’s the suppression team’s reserve unit… but why do you ask?”
“You—would you be shocked watching a gang rape live sex show?”
“What?!”
Gi Woohee let out a short laugh. The NCO’s horrified expression was worth seeing.
Sung Jaekyung was the same age as the late Gwak Hyeonwoo. Still young, brimming with military discipline, and above all, he’d walked an elite path without major failures in life. Would a guy like this gleefully enjoy violence committed in the military’s name, or would he react with ordinary shock?
Gi Woohee stared at Sung Jaekyung’s flustered face before putting her headphones back on. Shin Haebeom’s voice came through.
“They say changing your hair color really alters your impression.”
Shin Haebeom stroked Ryujin’s head. That striking red hair stood out even from a distance. Black roots had grown out about a fingernail’s length from the crown.
Ryujin couldn’t look straight at the laptop screen. He trembled in his seat. His breathing grew ragged. Cold sweat coated Shin Haebeom’s fingers as they traced Ryujin’s nape.
“Scared?”
“Get it away…”
“I haven’t shown you everything yet.”
Shin Haebeom moved the mouse, switching the screen.
“Even after Ryu Yeonbi died, there was someone who took care of you.”
A photo appeared of a couple smiling shoulder-to-shoulder against a dazzling blue sky. Ryujin’s gaze fixed on the woman in a lavender dress.
“Recognize her? Park Jinah.”
“If you did anything to my aunt… I’ll kill you.”
“Just answer.”
Terrified eyes turned to him.
“Promise you won’t do anything to them.”
“That depends on what you do.”
“It’s been ages since we last talked! They’ve got nothing to do with me anymore!”
“Why not? They’re family by blood.”
“After I ran away…”
Ryujin’s voice shrank.
“I contacted them maybe once a week… in case they reported me missing.”
“What’d you say?”
“I didn’t tell them I was working for the organization.”
“…….”
“It’s true. My aunt doesn’t know anything! Don’t drag innocent people into this and make a mess—just kill me and be done with it. It’s simple! Why take the hard route when there’s an easy one?!”
Shin Haebeom’s fist slammed the table. Ryujin’s shoulders jolted.
“Ever thought Ha Sungrok was odd?”
“What?”
“Use your imagination, Jung Ryujin. What if the boss you follow deliberately put you in a tough spot? To get his hands on you, Ryu Yeonbi’s brother. Makes sense, right? He couldn’t just go to your aunt and say, ‘We’re an anti-government group trying to smash the regime, and we need you to boost our status. I’ll feed, clothe, and house him, so hand over custody.’ That wouldn’t fly, would it?”
Ryujin’s face twisted.
“Are you insane? On drugs? What kind of fantasy is that?”
Shin Haebeom grinned. It seemed Jung Ryujin didn’t know much about the Ha family.
Snagging Sung Jaekyung, then a cadet, into the NCO ranks was part of Gi Woohee and Shin Haebeom’s grand plan. Back then, Shin Haebeom was so desperate to cherry-pick usable talent within the Disciplinary Task Force that his eyes were bloodshot. Gi Woohee knew from the start he wouldn’t get what he wanted. To an avenger fueled by ambition, a fresh enlistee straight out of school was nothing but a chirping chick.
Newbies apparently made his blood boil just by existing. During the days when Shin Haebeom and Jin Chiwoo hammered recruits like dogs on a summer day to break their spirits, Gi Woohee was frustrated in a different way.
They couldn’t judge young dreamers who’d enlisted with lofty ambitions by the standards of those who’d survived Paohuai. The era you live through as your identity forms shapes your values.
After two “purges,” the Red Forest adopted Yu Mihyun’s “inclusion policy” to polish President Kwon Ilhyuk’s image. The terror politics of Iron Blood Unity, which once made the nation tremble, were shifting tracks.
In Gi Woohee’s view, today’s youth craved stability and belonging. Beneath that lay a resignation: things were livable enough to conform. Those who couldn’t conform either broke free of the state’s rigid systems early on or, lacking that courage, holed up in their rooms, lamenting this miserable era while sucking their thumbs.
But Shin Haebeom didn’t give up. His conviction, unshaken since forming <Red Tiger>, was firm. No matter how much you pounded from the outside, the Iron Blood Unity of the Kwon dynasty wouldn’t crack. Only an internal explosion could create a fissure.
And Shin Haebeom thought Gi Woohee underestimated “today’s kids.”
“Does living in a relatively peaceful era mean they lack ambition?”
Shin Haebeom knew. Comparison was natural. Everyone compares themselves to others, yearning for a better lot. And it wasn’t always grand causes that moved people. Sometimes, they acted for reasons others deemed utterly pointless.
The key was the trigger. Shin Haebeom told Gi Woohee to look for the faint flutter of a butterfly’s wings, unnoticed by most. A skilled architect would handle the rest.
Though the result was a bit disappointing.
“Major? Why are you… looking at me like that?”
“Wanna smoke?”
Sung Jaekyung’s face brightened. A mountain-sized guy with a bear-like presence, his eyes sparkling like that—it was a sight. Gi Woohee pulled a cigarette pack from her uniform pocket and handed it over. Watching Sung Jaekyung light up with a touched expression, she thought to herself: Maybe he really was picked as a meat shield.
Shin Haebeom saw a clear distinction between Gwak Hyeonwoo and Jung Ryujin’s positions. Gwak Jaeheon was a key political figure, a power player in Shinryonggwan, nicknamed its Big Daddy. Ryu Yeonbi, though publicly famous, was just a girl from a common family with no backing.
Anger historically flows downward, not up. Executing Ryu Yeonbi, who’d face national scorn, on a state level meant the public’s displaced rage being inherited by Ryu Yeonwoo was all but inevitable.
“What’re you thinking about so hard?”
“What, you worried ‘cause I’m not talking?”
Ryujin lowered his eyes.
“No.”
Shin Haebeom placed his interlocked hands on the table. He didn’t smoke anymore. But he was fiddling with the baton’s tip. Ryujin knew it could come flying at him any moment.
“You and Ha Shinsung didn’t get along?”
“It just happened. Not everyone in the same group is buddies. You’ve got superiors or subordinates you don’t like too, right?”
“Yeah. I don’t like Ha Sungrok or Ha Shinsung either. So I get where you’re coming from.”
Shin Haebeom’s voice was soft.
“You and I are alike. Definitely.”
“…….”
“It’s a shame we met like this, Jung Ryujin. I mean it. With a face like that and your stubborn grit, you could’ve done anything. You know I propped up Jin Chiwoo, right? Couldn’t shake his aristocratic whining from the gutter—I dragged him up here by the scruff. No reason I couldn’t do the same for you.”
“No matter what you say, I won’t betray them.”
“In July, Kwon Sehyuk’s joining the Disciplinary Task Force as a public service worker.”
The third son among President Kwon Ilhyuk’s seven sons and four daughters. His mother, Jang Seunghee, eldest daughter of the Pyongyang Jang clan—a family long tied to the royal lineage—had impeccable legitimacy and the overwhelming support of Presidential Aide Kwon Joohyuk, making him a top presidential contender.
“That Kwon Sehyuk, the prince himself.”
“Why tell me that?”
“Revenge battle, round two.”
“What?”
“Even games get three tries. Failing once shouldn’t end your life—that’d be unfair. You’re not some character who can respawn next round either.”
The chair scraped. Shin Haebeom stood and approached Ryujin’s side. Ryujin instinctively leaned back. The chair lost balance and toppled entirely. His bare feet flailed in the air.
“…….”
No pain slammed his skull. No blinding white fluorescent light hit his eyes. Shin Haebeom’s hand gripped Ryujin’s collar.
“Jung Ryujin.”
He was pulled close. The harsh stench of cigarettes stung his nose.
“I’ll design it for you.”
The cigarette slipped from Gi Woohee’s fingers with a thud. Sung Jaekyung coughed, having inhaled smoke wrong. They locked eyes, realizing neither had been tipped off by Shin Haebeom.
Gi Woohee shot up. What the hell was this mess?
“Water.”
“Yes, yes!”
Downing a bottle of cold water cleared her head. She glared through the one-way mirror. She hadn’t misheard. This was Shin Haebeom going off-script.
She knew he was an unpredictable wild driver, but this wasn’t just veering off course. It was a car speeding down a straight road, suddenly crashing into a tree, smashing through a guardrail, and plunging into a reservoir below a cliff. The driver’s name: Shin Haebeom.
“…….”
Ryujin was confused. And terrified. He couldn’t tell if Shin Haebeom was serious or setting a trap.
Shin Haebeom was an actor crafted by Kwon Joohyuk’s image-making. Behind that radiant smile hid a devil. Lying was effortless for him.
“Bullshit.”
Ryujin sneered.
“What’s this perverted psycho bastard plotting with more nonsense?”
“Then you’ll die over Gwak Hyeonwoo?”
Shin Haebeom’s voice continued.
“Ryu Yeonbi’d be thrilled. Tied to the Gwak family and dead—that’s bad enough—but now her little brother’s stepping into the afterlife alongside their son.”
Shin Haebeom spread his hands, grinning like a show host owning the stage.
“Widen your view. The ones you should kill in this world aren’t Jin Chiwoo or me. It’s that bastard coiled up in the dragon’s lair, the president.”
“What you did to me…!”
“That’s why I’m giving you a chance.”
“I can’t trust you. Anything you say.”
“You’re kicking away the best opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
Ha Sungrok said the same. A chance to restore Ryu Yeonbi’s unjustly tarnished honor.
He’d believed it. Now he regretted it. He’d bet everything, only to get Gwak Hyeonwoo’s death and a meeting with Shin Haebeom, a living demon.
Reality wasn’t a drama. Not just anyone could be the hero. Glaring at Shin Haebeom, Ryujin suddenly realized.
“…….”
He got it. Who the protagonist of this world was. Under Iron Blood Unity’s terror politics, who’d overturn the world and reign as a hero.
Ryujin studied Shin Haebeom anew. Soldiers are often likened to hunting dogs. Plugging Shin Haebeom into that formula produced a greyhound—tall, broad-shouldered, solid chest, sturdy yet limber legs.
“Feeling guilty over Gwak Hyeonwoo? Think you’re partly to blame?”
“What’s it to you!”
“I told you, we’re alike.”
“But your friend’s alive.”
That was what mattered. Gwak Hyeonwoo was dead, but Jin Chiwoo lived. Ryujin resented that.
Shin Haebeom sighed.
“Hanging with losers drilled a defeatist mindset into your skull.”
“We’re not losers!”
“Sorry, but you are. Your boss failed. <White Lion> isn’t a revolutionary army anymore. They’ve ditched their founding purpose, scrambling to dodge crackdowns while lost in liquor and drug trades—a bunch of criminals.”
“Don’t talk shit! What do you know!”
“You can’t smell rot inside a trash bin. Stick your head out, breathe fresh air, and then you realize—oh, this was a dumpster.”
Shin Haebeom said.
“I’ll give you breathing room.”
“…….”
“Think hard. Ryu Yeonbi, Gwak Hyeonwoo, even me—we don’t want you biting your tongue and dying.”
It sounded like he still had use value.
Ryujin blinked his gritty eyelids. Crushing fatigue hit.
“I’ll come back tonight. Make up your mind by then.”
Words like that meant nothing. In an interrogation room with no windows or clock, gauging time was impossible.
As Shin Haebeom turned to leave, he paused.
“Anything you want to eat?”
“…….”
“Chicken, pizza, burgers—any favorites?”
Quick-witted Gi Woohee yanked off her headphones. A shout—“Stop flirting and get lost!”—blasted through the speakers.
Shin Haebeom faced his subordinates squarely. Despite Gi Woohee’s poker face and Sung Jaekyung’s forced calm, Jin Chiwoo’s expression screamed he’d bitten shit.
“Jung Ryujin’s got use value to us.”
“Does that ‘us’ include me?”
“Can’t do it without you.”
Gi Woohee raised her hand.
“Will Kwon Joohyuk tolerate Jung Ryujin?”
“He may look like that, but he was an intel agent for <White Lion>. Right under Ha Shinsung. If he agrees to cooperate, there’s plenty reason to keep him alive for now.”
“No chance <White Lion> makes a move?”
“They haven’t stepped in yet, which I think means something. We’ll need to figure out what that is.”
Unexpectedly, Sung Jaekyung raised his hand for a turn.
“Sergeant.”
“If Jung Ryujin refuses, how do you plan to convince him?”
Shin Haebeom smirked.
“Major Gi. Am I in a position to convince Jung Ryujin?”
“No, sir.”
Realizing his blunder, Sung Jaekyung’s face paled.
In front of the hallway’s full-length mirror, Shin Haebeom smiled at his reflection. He liked it. People who could solve problems without getting their hands dirty smiled like this.
After Shin Haebeom left, Gi Woohee said.
“Down.”
“Yes, sir!”
Sung Jaekyung slammed his forehead to the floor. His hands clasped tightly behind his back. Gi Woohee unbuckled her belt, wrapping it around her hand. Jin Chiwoo, half-sprawled on the sofa like a fever patient, pressed his hand to his forehead, groaning “Aigo, aigo.”
“Eating from the same pot as the bastard who sent my Valkyrie to the underworld… Aigo, the world’s gone mad.”
Gi Woohee’s icy voice stabbed into Sung Jaekyung’s back.
“People can make mistakes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“But a soldier shouldn’t slip up in front of a superior.”
“Yes, sir!”
The dark brown leather belt sliced the air, cracking against Sung Jaekyung’s prone lower back.
The first thing Sung Jaekyung noticed after joining <Red Tiger> was that all three superiors smoked different cigarette brands. And if he had to pick the best smoking buddy, it’d be Jin Chiwoo. He couldn’t stand the smell of cheap smokes and happily shared his pricey cigarettes when stuck smoking with subordinates.
The Disciplinary Task Force parking lot had been temporarily closed since the terror incident. The underground lot, reserved for officers, was opened for now, but members used to the spacious surface lot couldn’t hide their grumbling.
Jin Chiwoo and Sung Jaekyung stared at the yellow tape fluttering in the wind.
“Shoulders back, punk. Why so down over something like that?”
“Yes, sir…”
“Gi Woohee’s mellowed out a lot. She’s not the type to let harm come her way. Guess she’s fond of you?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
Jin Chiwoo, eyeing Sung Jaekyung, spat out.
“You know where the Disciplinary Task Force came from?”
“The Central Military Police, right?”
“Five out of ten points. Nah, no need to make that face. It’s natural you wouldn’t know.”
No records of Paohuai remained. When the Disciplinary Task Force was established, Shin Haebeom insisted all related files be destroyed. It was a mix of government secrecy clauses and the members’ desire to scrub their identities clean.
Paohuai (炮灰). Cannon fodder. As the derogatory nickname suggested, they were an unofficial dumping ground under the military police.
As Jin Chiwoo recalled, Paohuai never once hit its thirty-man quota. Every mission left dead and injured, with vacancies piling up. No clear guidelines—just dragged into every kind of job, handling the unit’s dirty work and odd tasks.
Back then, Paohuai’s platoon leader was Captain Choi Geumho, rumored to have been sidelined for backing the wrong horse. It was a time when soldiers tied to Gwak Jaeheon’s faction were executed, discharged, or demoted en masse. Choi Geumho openly griped he wasn’t meant to play platoon leader in a meat shield squad. Obsessed with clawing back into the elite ranks, he rubbed palms up the chain, ignoring how his platoon ran.
With the top that rotten, the bottom couldn’t stay clean. That it even resembled a unit was thanks entirely to Shin Haebeom. He wrangled and coaxed problem soldiers—troublemakers bounced between units before landing in the trash heap, or those from backgrounds with no shot at promotion—doing his damnedest to lead them.
Even then, Jin Chiwoo couldn’t grasp Shin Haebeom’s intent in recommending enlistment. His friend’s vow to “make you live like your father” sounded as hollow as an alcoholic bum’s glory-day ramblings.
That’s when Gi Woohee transferred in. A former death row inmate, no less. She’d killed her biological mother and an acquaintance, staging it as a gas explosion—front-page news. Jin Chiwoo prayed the psychopath wouldn’t treat the platoon like lab rats.
On her first day, Shin Haebeom shut up Gi Woohee’s sarcasm—about treatment worse than death row—with a rifle butt to the head.
“Thinking about it still cracks me up. All that over a damn blanket.”
“A blanket?”
“Yeah. Said it stank or something. She came in with some backing, so she had attitude from the start.”
Muttering, Jin Chiwoo clammed up. He seemed to think he’d spilled too much. Luckily, Sung Jaekyung knew how to read the room.
“That Captain Choi Geumho—what was he like specifically?”
“Total nuclear waste trash. I’ll beat him dead in hell.”
Jin Chiwoo insisted he wasn’t defending Shin Haebeom out of personal bias. But he’d learned something for sure through it, he said, gazing skyward.
“That politics is a villain’s game.”
Back when Choi Geumho was kissing up daily, the driver he always dragged along was Shin Haebeom.
Choi Geumho doted on him. Among unreliable platoon members, Shin Haebeom was the only one meeting expectations, bending like a tongue in his mouth—why push him away? He solidified their bond by ratting out platoon mates who mocked Shin Haebeom’s background to their superiors.
Jin Chiwoo remembered them clinking glasses in private, calling each other brother. But their end was a disaster.
“What do you think?”
Sung Jaekyung hesitated. Shin Haebeom’s flawless profile flashed in his mind. His answer was predetermined.
“I… whatever happened, whatever the reason, I think the commander’s choice was right.”
To Sung Jaekyung, Shin Haebeom was near-perfect. Sleek jawline exposed by short-cropped hair, firm long neck, impeccable even from below. And that aristocratic air in his demeanor.
“Yeah?”
A smile—mockery or self-deprecation—curled Jin Chiwoo’s lips.
“Well, what does it matter now?”
“Exactly. What matters is the present.”
Emboldened, Sung Jaekyung asked.
“Deputy Commander, has our commander changed a lot from before?”
“What, his personality? Yeah, a ton.”
Jin Chiwoo snickered.
“He’s gotten weirder, chasing odd tangents. Back then, he didn’t have hobbies like collecting chipped plates… Hey, what’s that?”
Sung Jaekyung turned where Jin Chiwoo pointed. A black Cadillac rolled into the parking lot, marked with a “No Entry” sign.
“What the…”
Sung Jaekyung half-stood awkwardly. A guard approached. Jin Chiwoo, cigarette dangling, muttered.
“Looks familiar. That shitbox.”
Among countless crimes, some especially ignite public fury. Crimes blatantly targeting the vulnerable—like men against women, youth against the elderly, seniors against juniors, the rich against the poor—draw clear, stark lines between good and evil.
In that sense, Ha Sungrok was clever. <White Lion> held the honorable underdog position of a revolutionary army against a dictatorship.
Once an impression sets, it’s hard to shift. The public didn’t believe <White Lion> funded itself through clubs, drug sales, and illegal gambling. They saw it as the regime’s smear campaign. A vibe of “So what?” lingered—some injustice was inevitable for a grand cause.
Shin Haebeom didn’t think the public was foolish. They were exhausted and desperate for someone to cling to.
After ousting the Republic Party, Kwon Ilhyuk squeezed citizens with regulations and hurdles. The middle class here collapsed long ago. The divide between upper and lower sharpened, with no ladder for upward mobility.
Kwon Ilhyuk’s Iron Blood Unity didn’t permit self-made success. It stripped opportunities from the talented citing their origins and buried the diligent in debt, leaving them gasping day-to-day, unable to think beyond immediate woes.
Amid that storm, Ha Sungrok forgot his original purpose… or so Shin Haebeom concluded today.
“Jung Ryujin is the best tool to win public support when <Red Tiger> surfaces.”
Gi Woohee countered.
“The risk’s too high. Kwon Joohyuk’s visiting the Disciplinary Task Force soon. Officially a morale boost, but likely to scope things out before July’s induction.”
“Let’s turn crisis into opportunity.”
Shin Haebeom smiled brightly.
“Why’d Ha Sungrok seek out Jung Ryujin? Ryu Yeonbi’s halo. For the cause of reform. Bringing in Jung Ryujin meant Gwak Hyeonwoo came as a buy-one-get-one bonus. I can guess why Ha Sungrok approached Jung Ryujin first.”
Gi Woohee nodded.
“Probably seemed easier to handle. Way more desperate than Gwak Hyeonwoo too…”
Young, nowhere to turn, saddled with debt he couldn’t repay in a lifetime of toil. Plus, assaulted by peers—case closed.
Just then, promised data from the National Bank arrived. Shin Haebeom turned the monitor to Gi Woohee. Jung Ryujin’s credit history was clean.
“Who do you think paid it off?”
“That old man’s got skills.”
“Was Yusung Foods’ son-in-law. Must’ve raked in cash in China.”
“Poured plenty into rebel funds… found a gold mine or something?”
“Early settlement grants were hefty. Not his money, though.”
Shin Haebeom ground his teeth. Gi Woohee, arms crossed, looked worried.
“Will Kwon Sehyuk take a liking to Jung Ryujin?”
“We’ll make him.”
“What role you planning to stick Jung Ryujin in?”
As Shin Haebeom opened his mouth, the phone rang. Gi Woohee’s face hardened as she picked up.
“Commander, a visitor.”
Her voice was heavy.
“Ha Shinsung requested to see Jung Ryujin.”
Tall stature with sturdy shoulders, clad in a Hugo Boss suit, his hair slicked back with wax so not a single strand fell out of place. The sun-tanned, healthy brown skin of Ha Shinsung stood prominently in the lobby of the Disciplinary Task Force’s first floor.
The trained personnel didn’t flinch, but they couldn’t completely hide a subtle murmur of excitement. Two reception staff stared blatantly at Ha Shinsung’s face, forgetting all manners. Gi Woohee was seized by an urge to smack the backs of their heads. Go get his autograph already.
Gi Woohee asked Sung Jaekyung.
“The visitor?”
“He’s waiting. His visitation request has been submitted, and the body search is complete.”
“Major, stay here. I’ll handle this myself.”
“But, Commander—”
“Stay here.”
The soles of her combat boots clacked loudly against the marble floor. Shin Haebeom strode purposefully toward Ha Shinsung, who was seated in a chair in the central lobby.
The moment Ha Shinsung saw Shin Haebeom, he shot to his feet. As if he wouldn’t allow even a second of being looked down upon.
Ha Shinsung spoke first.
“It’s been a while.”
“Guess we meet again like this.”
They were close enough to grab each other if they reached out. Close enough that it wouldn’t be surprising if they pulled guns and aimed at each other’s foreheads right then and there. Gi Woohee marveled inwardly. The clash of the next-generation bosses following Kwon Joohyuk and Ha Sungrok. To witness this live.
“You came to see Jung Ryujin?”
“And yet here you are.”
“Sorry to say, I’m in charge of him.”
Ha Shinsung’s thick eyebrows twitched. Shin Haebeom extended his right hand, but Ha Shinsung didn’t budge.
Shin Haebeom withdrew his hand and gave a faint smile.
“Don’t look at me like that. Jung Ryujin and I are pretty close.”
“Didn’t peg you for such a shallow guy.”
“Jung Ryujin’s pretty. I like pretty kids.”
“Jin Chiwoo’d love to hear that.”
Shin Haebeom’s cheek spasmed.
“He doesn’t know bastards like you.”
Ha Shinsung stood firm, hands tucked into the wrinkle-free pockets of his suit, unshaken.
“Just read Kwon Joohyuk’s script and strut around.”
“Let’s mind our manners with so many eyes around. This isn’t some neighborhood police box.”
The atmosphere between them wasn’t bad. At least, not from a step back. Shin Haebeom’s face held a constant smile, and Ha Shinsung’s voice remained calm. But get a little closer, and you’d see it. They were both itching to tear into each other’s throats. The only reason they didn’t lunge was the iron chains still around their necks, each held by their respective bosses.
Sung Jaekyung was thrown off by how Shin Haebeom and Ha Shinsung looked like brothers. Gi Woohee jabbed his side.
“Eyes down.”
“Sorry, sir. It’s just unexpected.”
“What, thought they’d start shooting the second they saw each other?”
Shin Haebeom headed to the reception desk. He snatched the visitation form Ha Shinsung had just filled out and stuffed it into his pants pocket.
“To the 12th floor.”
He brought out the cherished Royal Copenhagen set. Ha Shinsung, recognizing the fine teacup with its white body and blue floral embroidery, remarked.
“Nice set. A collector’s item?”
“Been picking them up one by one. Brings back old memories.”
“Did you come all the way up here just to show that off?”
Ha Shinsung glanced around. The top floor of the Disciplinary Task Force’s 12-story building had never been exposed to the public. Even insiders claimed ignorance, as access varied by the cards staff carried.
Ha Shinsung recalled his last encounter with Shin Haebeom. While he’d single-handedly retrieved Gwak Hyeonwoo’s body, Shin Haebeom had enforced strict security. Watching him with a blank face, smoking cigarette after cigarette, he’d been a gatekeeper incarnate. And now that same guy was grinning, pulling out fancy teacups to play host? Suspicious. So suspicious it almost didn’t feel worth doubting.
“We’re not exactly the type to sip tea and chat, are we?”
“Uncomfortable relationships are there to be improved.”
“Then let me ask something I’ve always wondered. Shin Haebeom, how’s it feel living as Kwon Joohyuk’s lapdog?”
The smile vanished from Shin Haebeom’s face.
“That’s not a question—it’s bullshit meant to rile me up.”
A teacup was placed before Ha Shinsung. His face stiffened as he looked down at the table. What came in the Royal Copenhagen Half Lace wasn’t coffee or tea, but lukewarm plain water.
“You start hosting and then drop it halfway.”
“Were you planning to drink it?”
Ha Shinsung gazed at Shin Haebeom’s smiling face. There was no newfound disappointment. He knew well what happened when adults failed to protect a child—how poverty and loneliness shaped a person. And that his father felt guilt toward both men here.
Nearly twenty years. Enough time for a child who’d lost everything to tyranny to become a fervent worshipper of power.
Ha Shinsung pulled out a cigarette and put it to his lips. He patted his pockets but found no lighter—forgotten, confiscated during the body search. Clicking his tongue inwardly, as he held the cigarette, a gold Dupont lighter appeared before his nose.
The two men exhaled smoke into each other’s faces.
“Why not…”
Ha Shinsung said.
“Why not just become an actor for real? Living your whole life performing someone else’s story would’ve suited you better.”
“Then I’d have taken Ryu Yeonbi’s place. Tangled up with Gwak Jaeheon.”
“Don’t overinterpret.”
“Why not? It’s a plausible story.”
Ha Shinsung leaned back into the black leather sofa. The way it enveloped his body was exquisite. Rubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray without hesitation, Shin Haebeom spoke.
“What’s the point of a visit?”
“Just wanted to see his face once.”
“How romantic of you.”
He wasn’t so naive as to miss the sarcasm. Still, now was the time to play along. Ha Shinsung responded calmly.
“I came knowing visits are allowed.”
“Who told you that?”
“From what I know of Disciplinary Task Force rules…”
“Rules? Did you just say rules?”
Sparks flickered in Shin Haebeom’s mouth as his tongue lashed out. He’d been itching to say this.
“Here, I am the rules.”
The table rattled as his combat boot slammed down. Water spilled from the teacup, soaking Ha Shinsung’s Hugo Boss suit.
“My thoughts, my words—they’re the law.”
Shin Haebeom leaned forward, hands clasped, looking up at the rigid Ha Shinsung. Like a cobra emerging from its den after a long winter’s sleep.
“If I say it’s fine, it’s fine. If I say no, it’s not.”
“I’m looking for a lawyer. There’s something to discuss about that.”
“Oh, really? What lunatic would defend Jung Ryujin? Guess they want to vanish without a trace but can’t find a good way?”
Ha Shinsung’s ring finger twitched on his knee. Shin Haebeom snapped coldly.
“Caught red-handed, clear motive, no accomplices. I guarantee the death penalty at the first trial. Tell them appealing against the Disciplinary Task Force is pointless.”
“…….”
“Wasn’t it a waste? Using him as a throwaway card?”
“He was close with Gwak Hyeonwoo. That’s why… he couldn’t stand it.”
“You call that an excuse?”
Shin Haebeom’s icy gaze pressed him.
“<White Lion> couldn’t convince a twenty-one-year-old kid?”
“Things beyond common sense happen more often than you’d think.”
With that, Ha Shinsung’s lips sealed shut. Shin Haebeom couldn’t shake the feeling he was hiding something. The problem was, he’d never spill it. Goddamn thug. If you’re out of moves, just die already…
“Look. Jung Ryujin’s a terrorist. Tried to assassinate the Disciplinary Task Force deputy commander—a big fish. You think you can just waltz in with a scrap of paper and see him?”
Shin Haebeom pulled the crumpled form from his pocket and tossed it at Ha Shinsung’s chest.
“I’ll give you credit for coming this far. Get lost before I throw you in an interrogation cell.”
“You know there’s no grounds to arrest me.”
“Grounds? I can lock you up first and make some later. Got a decent torturer among my men.”
“You sure you can handle the fallout? Not worried about Yu Mihyun?”
Shin Haebeom burst out laughing.
“The enemy of my enemy isn’t an ally—just another enemy, you idiot.”
Ha Shinsung’s face openly crumpled. Victory loomed. Shin Haebeom prepared a knockout blow, picturing Jung Ryujin’s pale back, but his opponent struck first.
“Why’d you stay here?”
“What?”
“You should’ve left the country. You and Jin Chiwoo both. Why the hell did you stay and live here? I don’t get it. You weren’t young enough to not know a shitty background means nothing works out, no matter what you do.”
“Who the fuck are you saying that to?!”
Jin Chiwoo’s hand froze mid-knock. Instead of turning the knob, he waved off the suppression team members stationed at regular intervals from the elevator.
Shin Haebeom raising his voice was rare. Ha Shinsung was one of the few weak spots that could drag him back to being a helpless, powerless teenage boy.
Shin Haebeom’s roar echoed.
“Why didn’t I leave?!”
He’d tried. He’d gone to the airport with a plane ticket and passport his aunt had secured. The late Chairman Ha Jinju had a classmate working as an airline manager. He’d risked his life to get Samryong’s kids out.
In case of trouble, they’d split into two groups. Ha Sungrok and Ha Shinsung left first. Shin Haebeom vividly recalled the five-pace gap between him and the Yusung Foods family.
The one caught was Jin Chiwoo’s mother. Shin Haebeom could only stare blankly as his friend charged at the soldiers. He truly couldn’t do a thing. Not when a soldier in riot gear demanded his passport, not when they said he couldn’t leave with it and told him to come along, not when he watched Ha Sungrok and Ha Shinsung’s plane slice through the sky.
“I’m not Shin Haejun.”
That pathetic kid was dead. And he’d never come back. Jung Ryujin, rotting in the basement cell, would end up the same—by his hand.
Shin Haebeom’s lips twisted upward.
“Want to see Jung Ryujin?”
Ha Shinsung nodded.
“Wait downstairs.”
Jin Chiwoo examined Shin Haebeom’s face as he emerged. It was stiff, mask-like. Cold eyes, but a smiling mouth.
“Chiwoo.”
Shin Haebeom said.
“Clear the shower room. I’m taking Jung Ryujin there.”
The iron door clanged open and shut. A mocking voice shot through the air.
“Told you to think it over, and you’re sprawled out sleeping. Is this your living room?”
Ryujin lifted his head. He glared at Shin Haebeom, standing with arms crossed.
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Wipe your drool first.”
“It’s the meds…”
“Stinks in here. You haven’t gone to the bathroom once?”
“I-I called for someone! But no one came!”
Ryujin clamped his mouth shut. On second thought, there was no need to explain. If it weren’t for Shin Haebeom, he wouldn’t be in this state. Sticking an IV in a half-dead body—what’s that worth? Who was it that left him here without a bite of food or a sip of water, ignoring his shouts for the bathroom?
“Filthy as hell, seriously.”
Ryujin yelled.
“Then get out!”
“Did you think it over?”
“Think what over?”
He asked reflexively and regretted it. Ryujin squeezed his eyes shut. Shin Haebeom’s baton seemed poised to smash his temple any second.
He’d met violent people in his life, but Shin Haebeom was among the worst. He wielded violence without hesitation, fueled by confidence in his own righteousness.
“Say you don’t know, and I’ll rip your mouth open.”
“Don’t say shit like that!”
“You forgot all the times you cussed me out?”
“You deserve it.”
Shin Haebeom clenched the fist stuffed in his pants pocket. Jung Ryujin, you wouldn’t know how much patience I’m exercising right now even if you died and came back.
“Aren’t you being too prickly? Between us.”
Ryujin snorted.
“What ‘us’ are you and I?”
“Co-stars in a masterpiece of the century.”
Shin Haebeom’s finger pointed at the ceiling. Ryujin’s eyes shook as he spotted the CCTV.
“D-Don’t joke.”
“It’s real. And starting now, we’re filming the sequel.”
Shin Haebeom didn’t give Ryujin a chance to respond. He kicked the desk and lunged, yanking the IV from Ryujin’s frail arm. A scream burst out at the rough handling.
“Ahh!”
Ryujin was shoved back, wheelchair and all, crashing into the wall. The room shook with a thud.
When he opened his eyes, swallowing a groan, Shin Haebeom’s grinning face loomed right before him. Ghostly.
“You crazy bastard! What are you doing?!”
“Audiences these days have refined tastes.”
Ryujin frowned.
“What?”
“Mindless rape, prison play—they’re sick of it. They want something new.”
“What bullshit! Get your creepy face away!”
A stranger’s voice cut in.
“Living long enough to hear Shin Haebeom’s face called ugly.”
Ryujin raised his head, enduring the pain at the back of his skull. His head spun. Over Shin Haebeom’s shoulder, he saw the silhouette of a man in the same uniform. He couldn’t make out the face—his vision blurred, and the man’s cap was pulled low over his nose.
“Scared me.”
“Why act surprised, punk?”
“Would it kill you to announce yourself?”
“Figured you wouldn’t let me in.”
Ryujin squinted. His shaky vision slowly cleared. Finally, he was sure. It was Jin Chiwoo. That voice, that tone, the dimple on one cheek when he grinned…
“Jin Chiwoo!”
Forgetting he was bound, he lunged. Predictably, he lost balance and toppled. Jin Chiwoo looked down at Ryujin rolling on the floor with the wheelchair and let out a booming laugh.
“What’s he doing?!”
Shin Haebeom snickered too.
“Cut him some slack. Kid’s full of fire.”
“Look at those eyes glaring. Did he toss his manners to some stray mutt?”
“He’s in his rebellious phase. Old guys like us gotta understand.”
Shin Haebeom shrugged. He genuinely got Ryujin. Just twenty-one. An age where, despite seeing countless extras die for revenge in movies, dramas, and books, you still believe you’ll be the hero who succeeds.
“Shower room ready?”
“It’s ready. You doing it yourself?”
“Gotta. Got a VIP waiting.”
VIP?
Ryujin couldn’t follow their conversation.
“Who’s that?”
Jin Chiwoo glanced between Shin Haebeom, arms crossed, and Ryujin, growling on the floor.
“You haven’t told him?”
“Was gonna surprise him, but you ruined it.”
“Speak clearly! Why’re you muttering to yourselves?!”
“…….”
“Why’d you shut up?! Tell me! Who came to see me…!”
Shin Haebeom’s boot arced through the air.
“Shut up.”
Jin Chiwoo sighed deeply. Jung Ryujin was the type to earn a beating with full dedication.
Shin Haebeom righted the toppled wheelchair and said.
“Even a chicken’s got better learning skills than you.”
He gagged Ryujin’s mouth as he thrashed like a rabid dog. With all the struggling, it took tying his limbs and torso tightly to the chair’s backrest before they could finally leave the cell.
Shin Haebeom was in high spirits. He hummed a tune while pushing the wheelchair. Everyone they passed in the hall saluted him loudly. Each time, Ryujin’s shoulders flinched.
When Shin Haebeom finally stopped, Ryujin felt his heart drop to his feet.
“We’re here.”
Shin Haebeom pointed at the shower room sign.
“Chiwoo set up this stage just for us.”
Ryujin shook his bound hands. Naturally, they didn’t budge. Shin Haebeom’s laughter sent chills down his spine. A million thoughts raced through his head. Killers use bathrooms to dispose of bodies because blood drains well and it’s easy to clean.
Though called a shower room, it was the size of a decent public bathhouse. There were lockers for clothes and belongings. One entire wall was a mirror. Shin Haebeom turned Ryujin’s wheelchair to face it.
“Wait a sec.”
Ryujin glared at Shin Haebeom’s reflection. He was undressing. The heavy badges dangling from his uniform jacket glinted under the fluorescent lights, dazzling. The crisp white shirt hugging his toned, flexible frame was spotless, like it’d just come from the dry cleaner.
Untying the black tie engraved with the Kwon dynasty’s yellow dragon symbol, Shin Haebeom said.
“You’re staring at me right now, aren’t you?”
Ryujin dropped his gaze. He’d never thought he’d be grateful for the gag.
“It’s fine, look.”
“…….”
“No shame here. I’ve stripped for a calendar—what’s the big deal?”
Ryujin knew that one. A limited-edition sale for the Disciplinary Task Force’s founding anniversary. People had camped out the day before and still couldn’t snag one, flooding complaints. He remembered scoffing at news of that calendar, with officers’ signed photos, trading on the black market for ten times its price.
“You’re not asleep, are you?”
Shin Haebeom, half-naked, approached. He untied Ryujin’s restraints one by one. When one ankle was free, Ryujin tried to kick his jaw but was stopped by a claw-like hand.
Grabbing Ryujin’s ankle, Shin Haebeom said.
“Want your tendons cut?”
“…….”
“Stand up.”
After removing the gag, Shin Haebeom ordered him to strip.
“No way.”
A slap landed hard. Ryujin stumbled, unable to steady himself. Shin Haebeom smacked both cheeks alternately, grabbed his hair, and shoved him against the mirror. Blood gushed from his nose instantly.
“Strip.”
His trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons. Dark red drops splattered onto his prison garb. Ryujin sobbed as he undressed. Watching him, Shin Haebeom let out a heavy sigh.
“Listen to me.”
Shin Haebeom returned with a wad of tissues and wiped Ryujin’s nosebleed. His touch was surprisingly gentle. Not that it softened anything.
“Let go!”
“You freak out even when I help.”
“Who asked you?!”
“Your body’s got nice lines.”
“What?!”
Shin Haebeom grinned shamelessly.
“…You!”
Ryujin’s face flushed red. Shin Haebeom’s gaze stung. He wore no underwear beneath the prison clothes.
“Turn around.”
Ryujin bowed his head. He couldn’t meet Shin Haebeom’s eyes. He stared at his own feet. Bluish veins pulsed closer, then farther. Shin Haebeom’s shadow loomed over him.
“…….”
Ryujin alternated between staring at his own bare feet and Shin Haebeom’s. Big feet. Big enough to crush him like an empty can.
A hand, just as large, grabbed his arm.
“Ah!”
“What’re you spacing out for? Come on.”
Thick white steam rose from a massive tub. Shin Haebeom rummaged through bath products on the shelf. Ryujin dipped a hand in the tub absentmindedly, yelped, and yanked it back.
“Too hot!”
Shin Haebeom didn’t even pretend to hear. He was too busy digging through the shelf. Ryujin picked up a plastic scoop. What were the odds of knocking Shin Haebeom out by hitting his head? Of escaping from here?
He gave up. The saying about surviving a tiger’s den with a clear mind only worked with one tiger. And in this condition…
Holding the scoop, Ryujin stared at Shin Haebeom’s back by the shelf.
Taut muscles flexed smoothly with his movements. Broad shoulders, narrow waist—a classic swimmer’s build.
Ryujin hesitated toward the wall. He pulled a towel to cover himself as Shin Haebeom approached with a red container. He looked down at the awkwardly standing Ryujin.
“What’re you doing?”
“The water’s too hot.”
“Quit whining.”
Shin Haebeom opened the red container and dumped its contents into the tub. A sharp ethanol stench spread.
“What are you doing?!”
“Get in.”
“What?”
Shin Haebeom snatched the towel and yanked Ryujin’s arm as he resisted entering the tub.
“L-Let go! Let go! No! Stop! Don’t!”
“One more ‘no,’ and I’ll rip your mouth to your ears.”
Ryujin’s eyes locked on the boiling tub. It looked like hell’s cauldron. How could he get in there?
“It’s too hot!”
“It’s not.”
“I’ll get burned!”
“It’s gotta be this hot to get clean. Stop being a pain and get in!”
“I said it’s hot!”
Ryujin clung to the tub’s edge. In the scuffle, hot water splashed onto Shin Haebeom’s uniform pants.
He raised a fist.
“This little shit!”
Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin from behind and plunged him upside-down into the tub.
“Pwah!”
He pressed the small head back down with his palm as it tried to surface.
“It’s disinfecting. Disinfecting. You won’t die, so don’t worry.”
“S-Save me! Save me…!”
“I said you won’t die.”
Shin Haebeom propped his chin and chuckled.
He was a pro. Waterboarding was as routine as three meals a day. He gripped Ryujin’s hair, dunking him deep, pulling him out just before he passed out. Over and over until Ryujin’s limbs went limp.
Red hair tangled thickly around Shin Haebeom’s fingers.
“Such a baby.”
Shin Haebeom squirted shampoo into his palm.
“What’s so hot about this? Stop whining…”
A scoop flew at his face. An unexpected counterattack.
It smashed his forehead, clattering across the tiles with a thunk thunk. Ryujin, beet-red, screamed.
“You bastard! Die!”
“No respect in those eyes.”
Shin Haebeom wrapped a wet towel around his hand. He kicked Ryujin’s chest as he tried to crawl out, toppling him back. Water splashed.
“Ahh!”
“Get up.”
“You bastard!”
“Yeah, I’m a bastard.”
Shin Haebeom grabbed Ryujin’s flailing arm and hauled him from the tub. He forced the buckling body upright.
“Get beat like a dog by a bastard.”
The wet towel whipped through the air. Ryujin collapsed without a scream. The blows didn’t stop at one. Reddish welts streaked his neck, shoulders, and back.
Shin Haebeom flung the towel to the floor.
“Hnng…”
“Stay still.”
Trapping the sobbing body between his legs, Shin Haebeom squeezed shampoo onto Ryujin’s head. Ryujin resisted the rough hands.
“Ow! Stop!”
“Shut up.”
“It hurts!”
“All you can say is ‘no,’ ‘ow,’ huh?”
“Bastard… fucking asshole. Evil prick. You son of a bitch!”
Shin Haebeom burst out laughing.
“No dad for you or me—same boat.”
Ryujin sobbed uncontrollably. No part of him didn’t hurt. His shoulder, back, knees from crashing in the tub… the scalded skin from the hot water.
Ethanol soaked his eyes, nose, ears, trickling into private crevices. He couldn’t even open his eyes properly. Ryujin surrendered limply to Shin Haebeom’s hands.
“I’m tired too. But you’re so filthy, what can I do?”
Shin Haebeom splashed cold water from his hands to rinse Ryujin’s eyes.
“Feeling alive?”
“Bastard…”
“Crying your eyes out but still talking big.”
Cold water poured from the showerhead. As the suds washed away, Shin Haebeom scrubbed Ryujin’s flushed skin with a rough towel.
“Ahh! Ow!”
“Stay still.”
“It hurts! Stop!”
“A seven-year-old’s got more grit than you, twig.”
Shin Haebeom clenched his jaw and kept at it, ignoring Ryujin’s screams and struggles. He wanted to strip every trace of poverty and loneliness from this body.
“Hey. Lie face down there.”
He jerked his chin at a waterproof mat. When Ryujin shook his head, sobbing, Shin Haebeom slapped him.
“Ah!”
“Lie down.”
“No…! Stop tormenting me! Why do you keep making my life hell?!”
Shin Haebeom sighed deeply and grabbed Ryujin’s arm. He dragged along pathetically easily. Why resist if it’s gonna end like this?
Shin Haebeom straddled Ryujin’s waist as he lay prone.
“What?!”
“Stay still.”
Shin Haebeom’s knees pressed firmly between Ryujin’s hips.
“Don’t!”
“You’re the one arching your back.”
Ryujin swallowed hard. Terror surged. He could guess what was coming.
“Don’t.”
“…….”
“Don’t, you lunatic!”
Shin Haebeom chuckled behind him. Both wrists were pinned to the mat.
“Ah!”
Ryujin glared at Shin Haebeom’s hands binding his wrists. Long and straight. Elegant pianist fingers. But knobby, nails worn down.
A wet tongue licked his ear.
“Jung Ryujin.”
Shin Haebeom’s bare chest pressed against his back—hard, damp with steam.
“They say beauties are most stunning fresh from a shower. I never got that. But seeing you now, I do.”
Ryujin swallowed dryly. This was Shin Haebeom. He knew if the man wanted, he could turn him to mush in ten seconds flat.