BBK Ch 5

“Whew.”

Letting out a quiet breath, I put my glasses back on and focused on my laptop. The two of them, who had been bickering for a while about the incident that had suddenly occurred last night, seemed to have finally found a compromise. After a rather serious discussion, they finally showed some interest in their work.

“Did you get the files? Those guys from Seongtak are involved.”

Seongtak was where the three of them had first started this line of work. Outwardly, it was a fairly large construction company, but it was far worse than where they were currently employed. It was a place that excelled in illegal methods rather than proper business.

After the chairman died, some of the employees, led by his son, founded a new company, and Minho and Mugyeong put in a lot of effort at that time. Gyuoh, who followed the two, was no exception.

Now they had established themselves under the name “Wuwon” and were fully operational. The thought of facing their former colleagues, who had parted on bad terms, somehow left a bad taste in my mouth. In response to Mugyeong’s question, Minho grabbed the documents and moved to the sofa.

“…Yeah, I saw the list.”

To be honest, it wasn’t so much because of some great old friendship… but rather because he had slept with a few of them.

Usually, my rule was to erase names and faces from my memory after sleeping with someone. I’d block the contact in my phone and change the name as well. If I kept seeing the same person, I would unknowingly become dependent. Even though I was lonely, I didn’t want to become that weak.

But sometimes, there were these unintended reunions. I figured there wouldn’t be much chance of actually facing them directly. Shaking off my unnecessary apprehension, I shuffled through the documents.

“Seongtak alumni? Can’t we just bulldoze through them?”

“It’s tricky because those bastards aren’t coming at us directly. They’re using a cult as a front.”

As soon as he heard the word “cult,” Gyuoh’s face crumpled. His posture slumped and his demeanor turned hostile.

“…Don’t cults ever die?”

His muttered words were unusually cynical. I stared at his face, devoid of any trace of a smile, for a moment before looking away.

“Getting tangled up with a cult won’t do any good.”

The guys were hiding behind an illegally occupied cult church, demanding higher compensation for the redevelopment. It seemed that if anyone tried to contact or threaten the church members, those guys would swarm in and use force to suppress them.

Since they were experienced in that area and had powerful backing, initiating the redevelopment wouldn’t have been easy. Ultimately, the troublesome issue had made its way to them.

“We need to proceed with minimal risk. We’re preparing for a big project soon, and we can’t have any interference.”

Everyone knew that it would be much better to target the backers behind the cult church than the church itself. However, since they were dealing with people they had once worked with, they needed the most certain method possible.

While Minho and Mugyeong searched for the quietest solution, Gyuoh, seemingly uninterested in the conversation, took out his phone. While playing a game, he occasionally chimed in with the same opinion as before.

“Let’s just bulldoze through them. What kind of gangster cares about formalities? And what, are cultists ordinary people? They’re worse, you know that.”

Beep boop, cute sound effects, incongruous with the serious conversation, continued incessantly. Minho, watching Gyuoh practically melt into the sofa, holding only his phone aloft, slapped his sturdy thigh with a file folder.

“That’s the absolute last resort.”

Gyuoh then threw his phone aside and abruptly sat up. He leaned towards me, placing his hand on the table between us, as if about to pounce. His face was so close it felt like it would touch mine any second.

“Then what are we going to do?”

With his fierce expression and the tattoo on his neck, he exuded a rather gangster-like aura. The guy who used to just goof around when he was younger. He had grown older, his features sharper, his voice deeper.

Instead of finding this intimidating, as others might, Minho just thought, ‘He’s grown up well.’

“What do you mean, ‘what are we going to do?'”

“Are you hinting that I should infiltrate them as a believer again? I swear, I’d rather die.”

His voice rose sharply. A childish complaint followed, ill-suited to his fierce expression.

A few years ago, there was a need to infiltrate a gambling house undercover. Gyuoh had spent six months cooped up in a back room learning sleight of hand from a cardsharp, and the memory of it made him shudder. Mugyeong smirked.

“And if you dare set foot in my house again, I’ll throw you out.”

Despite the harsh words, Mugyeong wouldn’t force Gyuoh, who had bad memories associated with cults.

“Excuse me, but judging by your ominous glare, I think you’re possessed by an evil spirit.”

Gyuoh, sitting back down, put his hands together and bowed his head toward Mugyeong. Mugyeong then grabbed Gyuoh’s tattooed neck and kneaded it forcefully a few times. “You’re good,” he complimented, not forgetting to praise him.

“You’re the one possessed by an evil spirit. You heartless bastard.”

Gyuoh’s eyebrows twitched at the short remark.

“What’s with the talk about heart? Cults and gangsters are all the same to me.”

Gyuoh buried himself in the sofa cushions and rubbed his eyes. He yawned widely, clasping his hands behind his head.

“I don’t know. Then I’ll follow whatever method you heartless hyungs decide on.”

“Anything?”

“…I don’t want to go undercover in a cult. I’m making that clear.”

With a firm warning, he fell silent. His eyes were closed and still, seemingly asleep. I glanced at him and my eyes met Mugyeong’s. I shrugged, and a small chuckle came in response.

Instead of kicking the guy out of the office for sleeping so peacefully, the two of them continued their conversation in lowered voices. Occasionally, when a pen dropped or a phone vibrated, Minho would glance at the sleeping figure.

The conclusion they reached after much deliberation was to attempt something that “resembled negotiation.” It was called a conversation, but the atmosphere could become hostile, and the situation could worsen. Normally, they would have planted Gyuoh as a low-ranking member of the opposing organization, but since everyone knew his face, that wouldn’t work. At this point, it was the best solution.

After Mugyeong left, silence filled the office. Only the occasional rustle of paper being organized could be heard. Minho, who had gathered the scattered items on the table and held them in one hand, paused. His gaze fell upon the sleeping Gyuoh.

“…Sleeping soundly, aren’t you?”

The position looked uncomfortable, the lights were bright, and the conversation must have been loud, yet Gyuoh seemed to be in a deep sleep. It made Minho envious, as he hadn’t slept well for quite some time.

After staring at Gyuoh for a while, Minho quietly moved. He placed the documents on his desk and returned to the sofa with his jacket. He carefully draped it over the sleeping Gyuoh.

At that moment, a hand quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Ah.”

While he hesitated, Gyuoh pulled him with a strong grip, causing his upper body to tilt. He felt like he would fall onto Gyuoh, so he stretched out his arm to support himself, but the distance between them had closed considerably. If he moved too quickly, their lips would brush.

“Alcohol.”

Gyuoh muttered softly, his eyes still closed. His hot breath tickled Minho’s lips as it dispersed. He felt that if Gyuoh looked up and their eyes met, the atmosphere would become strange. Even swallowing felt awkward, so he pretended to be nonchalant.

“…What?”

“You smell like alcohol. I guess you didn’t go to your appointment after all.”

He mumbled in a sleepy voice, then released his grip on Minho’s wrist. His hand fell limply onto the sofa. As if he had said all he wanted to say, he pulled the jacket Minho had draped over him up to his shoulders. And soon, he fell back asleep. Not even a single eyelash twitched.

“…Huh.”

Letting out a hollow laugh, Minho slowly straightened up. Gyuoh seemed to assume that since he had been drinking, they hadn’t had sex… There was no need to mention that he had suffered from nightmares despite having done both last night. It had nothing to do with Won Gyuoh anyway.

Brushing his rapidly beating heart, perhaps from surprise, Minho returned to his desk. He pressed his tired eyelids with his hands for a long time before putting his glasses on. He scanned the densely packed letters with tired eyes, keeping watch over the sleeping Gyuoh.