TYS Ch 14

As Seungwan stared at the buttons, wondering if the man truly intended to reduce his debt just by having him help with this, the man carelessly pulled out the cases and set them down with a thud.

“From now on, you’re going to memorize these.”

At first, Seungwan didn’t understand what he meant. Memorize the buttons? What was that supposed to mean? But the man, his expression blank as if detailed explanations would come later, simply stated that from this moment on, Seungwan wasn’t allowed to record videos or take notes on his phone.

He said he would explain as many times as necessary until Seungwan had memorized everything, and that, for the time being, every evening after work and dinner should be dedicated to committing this information to memory. It was strange. What exactly was he supposed to memorize about these slightly odd-looking buttons?

“Do you know how to play with Hwatu¹ cards?”

“No.”

Out of nowhere, the man asked the odd question. Hwatu was something Seungwan despised because of his father. Wasn’t it common for the children of gamblers to either loathe gambling or be drawn to it? Seungwan belonged to the former group.

The man gave him a glance as he answered obediently, then nodded.

“Then this might be a little difficult for you.”

And with that, he began his explanation.

“What you’ll be doing, to put it simply, is handling the counter finances. You’ll be exchanging chips for money and money for chips, but that’s not your main job.”

“…What?”

Seungwan blinked, wondering if he had misheard. Exchanging money for chips? That sounded like something straight out of a gambling house. Seeing his puzzled expression, the man spoke as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

“Looks like you didn’t get the full story at Forget-Me-Not. I figured they’d blab about what I do.”

“Ah…”

Now that he thought about it, they hadn’t referred to him by name but called him “Vinyl.” But what did that have to do with Hwatu?

The man cleared his throat before continuing.

“Starting next week, you’ll be working at the house. You know those long rows of vinyl greenhouses in Chikhan-ri? That’s the place.”

“What do you mean…”

Only then did the man meet Seungwan’s eyes. After quietly observing him for a moment, he let out a soft “hmm” and stared intently. Seungwan instinctively froze, as if he had just come face-to-face with a tiger in the mountains. Despite the intensity of his gaze, the man’s voice remained utterly composed.

“I manage seotda² gambling tables.”

“…….”

Seungwan could only open and close his mouth wordlessly. It wasn’t out of disgust for gambling—it was because the job was completely at odds with the man’s image. He hadn’t seemed like someone who would live a straight-laced, conventional life, but Seungwan had at least assumed he was morally upright. Maybe his ability to judge people wasn’t all that great after all.

The man casually took some buttons from the case as he spoke.

“Feeling bad because of your old man? Sorry about that. But this line of work is kind of a family business for me.”

That was even more unexpected. To be honest, his father hadn’t even crossed his mind when he heard that—he had just been caught off guard. Seungwan stammered as he replied.

“It’s not that… It’s just surprising…”

“Yeah? Guess I don’t look like a thug, huh?”

The man smiled. It was a bright smile that seemed even more mismatched with his profession. If he had claimed to own a vast ten-thousand-pyeong³ orchard, Seungwan would have believed him without question. In fact, being a schoolteacher would have suited him even better. The other day, Seungwan had been reminded of a trainee PE teacher from high school who had occasionally caught students’ attention. Though their appearances were entirely different, something about the way this man approached him felt oddly similar.

Lost in thought, Seungwan pressed his lips together. He wasn’t even comfortable around this man, so why was he spacing out in front of him? It was strange.

Ignoring Seungwan’s distraction, the man began explaining the buttons. Each color represented a different monetary value, and each size had a different purpose. The smaller ones were for Hwatu players, while the larger ones were given to poker players. Among them, the man picked out a button with a slightly unique design. There were fewer of these compared to the others, and its surface was coated with gold foil.

“Since there’s no dedicated dealer, we use buttons. The person holding this button acts as the dealer. The problem is the ones who come to gamble against the house. If I’m there, I’ll be the dealer, but if I’m not, you don’t have to deal with them. Just say the boss is out, and they’ll get the message.”

However, the method of using buttons as chip substitutes was a bit complicated. While they were used like cash according to their assigned value, sometimes they also carried an interest-adjusted rate. Not every guest followed this rule. Then, the man started listing names one by one.

“Jo Gwangcheol, Lee Inguk, Oh Hyeonwook, Kim Hyunwoo, Kim Seongchil, Lee Seongjae, Ahn Jiseong, Park Hyeonju….”

The list of names, recited without any written record, went on for quite some time. Seungwan had to memorize them all as if he were learning the names of Joseon dynasty kings. After what felt like an eternity of reciting names, the man told him that these were classified under the brown tier.

With a slightly drained look, Seungwan glanced at the case filled with buttons. There were countless other colors inside, each seemingly corresponding to a different tier.

There certainly was a lot to memorize, and this seemed to be the reason why. Each color had a different exchange rate—some buttons had a high rate, while others had a lower one. Different colors were used each time.

Some colors also had a royalty applied to them. From a certain tier onward, players were given buttons with a higher value than they were originally supposed to receive. However, when exchanging those buttons back, a larger fee was deducted. At first, it seemed like a better deal because of the added value, but over time, the accumulated fees ensured the house always came out on top.

Seungwan muttered to himself for quite a while, matching the names the man had listed to their respective colors and committing them to memory. If new members joined, he would have to memorize their details as well. The man never clearly explained why they didn’t write these things down in a ledger. Was it to avoid getting caught in a crackdown?

However, Seungwan noticed that among the names the man had called out, a few belonged to officers from the local police station. He recognized some of them because they were the sons or grandsons of cooperative members. If they were providing inside information, avoiding crackdowns would be easy enough.

Still, he didn’t dwell on that thought for long. It had nothing to do with him. Instead, he went over the names once more. The best way to handle this was to memorize everything quickly and then review it repeatedly so he wouldn’t forget.

“You’re pretty good at this.”

At some point, the man, who had been idly watching him while occasionally sipping from another can of beer, made the remark in a casual tone. It wasn’t much, yet somehow, it felt like praise, and Seungwan’s face flushed red. Whether the man failed to notice or simply didn’t care, he began gathering up the buttons scattered on the floor.

“That should be enough for today—”

The man turned to Seungwan as if about to say something but suddenly stopped. Seungwan’s eyes widened in curiosity, but the man only furrowed his brows. Then, without warning, his large hand shot forward. Seungwan had no time to recoil in surprise.

“Wan-ah, you…”

He called Seungwan’s name as if he couldn’t understand something. The hand that touched his forehead was cold. Seungwan parted his lips, but the question “what” never came out. Instead, the only thought filling his mind was that the man’s hand was so large it seemed to cover his entire face.

A sharp, almost chilling scent mixed with a stronger vanilla fragrance than what he had noticed in the truck. The faint trace of cologne lingering on the man’s wrist blended with it…

“You have a fever.”

“…Huh?”

Seungwan asked blankly. He must have been too zoned out by the overwhelming closeness of the man’s scent. With the tips of his ears slightly red, he replayed the statement in his head.

A fever? That couldn’t be right. He didn’t feel sluggish, nor did his body ache—what fever could he possibly have?

He knew his body well, having dealt with frequent bouts of indigestion and colds. If he were actually running a fever, there was no way he’d be sitting here like this, feeling fine. But still, the coolness of the man’s hand was pleasant. Just as he was about to lean his forehead a little closer to it—

The man’s brow furrowed sharply as his hand remained on Seungwan’s forehead. He muttered a short curse under his breath. His pronunciation was unclear, making it hard to tell exactly what he said, but his expression made it obvious. Even if he had said something else, his face alone made it clear that he probably wanted to swear.

“I completely forgot about this possibility.”

Soon after, he murmured again, sounding troubled. Then, in an uncharacteristically flustered manner, he stood up. Turning his back to Seungwan, he placed both hands on his waist and lowered his head.