KTSR | Chapter 10

At that moment, the team leader tapped the heads of the third-place, then Seon Ijin, and finally the first-place jockey with the yellow folder in order.

“Let’s keep doing this from now on, okay? Especially when the others are catching up, if you, who were doing well, start having ups and downs, what will happen?”

“Why are you trying to kill his spirit? It’s when they do well and then fail that we get people losing money and going crazy.”

The boss, whom Ijin had only seen once since being dragged here the first time, chimed in.

The man hadn’t said a word until then. It was strange that the man occupied the sofa while the boss sat in the office chair usually used by the team leader.

‘Maybe…’

Then, something struck Ijin’s mind like a hammer. The information Bbang had brought. That an executive director was coming down…

However, one would typically imagine a gangster executive to be a seasoned, 40-50-year-old, like a massive rock of a man.

This man didn’t look like a gangster executive, let alone an executive director. Rather, he seemed more like a gigolo or a gigolo-like money-grubber who persistently targeted rich women’s wallets. His tanned skin, hair long enough to cover his neck, sharp and deep dimples, and a face that matched his flamboyant shirt…

“Are you the ace here?”

As he lit his cigarette and exhaled smoke, something glinted in the man’s mouth.

Ijin wasn’t mistaken. The man was a crazy bastard with a tongue piercing.

“You seem like you can ride something other than horses. You did well. From the back of the pack to nearly the front. Isn’t that what they call a late charger?”

The man, resting his head on his hand, chuckled.

“You do well, but you’re not first. So, boss, no matter how I look at it, there seems to be an easier way to cut his debt. Am I wrong?”

He called the boss, whom Ijin had seen only once in two years, the most vile of villains, like calling a neighborhood dog. Ijin’s suspicion solidified into certainty. This guy is the executive director.

“The tickets this guy sells are quite lucrative, Executive Director.”

The worst among the bad, the king of scoundrels.

It was clear they had already discussed him and were deliberately talking in front of him.

The man would have been better off if he were just a crazy gambler. Already with a rock-bottom first impression, the man entered Ijin’s ‘irredeemably detestable human’ category.

The man seemed to find Ijin’s eyes, now full of hostility, interesting.

He thought he had a disgustingly sexy body.

While watching the race, he didn’t look at the horses or the race itself but only at one person. It was as if he had neglected his duties by forgetting his priorities.

To that extent, Hyungdo Kwon had been intently watching one man’s neck, waist, thighs, and buttocks through the binoculars.

He had a sexy body, but his face was even more serious. Both should have had some flaw, but both were meant to twist one’s fate in a cruel way.

Hyungdo had seen all sorts of people in his life. Especially human bodies, from the streets where he lived after leaving facilities with nowhere to go, to now, both dead and alive, he had seen enough to be sick of it. Yet, he approached the jockey with a body that caught his eye for its sexiness.

“Seon Ijin?”

With a mischievous smile at Ijin’s defiant look, the man approached and lightly slapped his cheek. Even though it was a light hit, Ijin’s head turned. It wasn’t his skin that stung but his insides. How strong is this guy? Ijin blinked, more from shock than pain.

“Seems like the boss’s heart is softer than I thought.”

Softer heart? Ijin even doubted his ears.

“Even with eyes glaring like that, he’s still in one piece.”

Ijin was far from fine. Only his clothes covered the bruises that never faded, and even with medical treatment, he might have scars that would never disappear.

What does he know? It was infuriating for such a gangster to say such things.

“Leave him here and go out.”

The first and third-place jockeys quickly left the room without hesitation. Staying longer wouldn’t benefit them.

Only the team leader and the boss remained, looking clueless, until the man leaning on the desk frowned, “What are you doing? Not leaving?”

Even though the team leader was younger than the boss but clearly older than the man, they left without a peep.

Suddenly, alone with the newly arrived executive director, the most trashy among human trash, Ijin felt incredibly uncomfortable.

The man, arms crossed, looked him over as if appraising merchandise. Ijin felt like he had become a product, or more like a horse.

“With that expression…”

The man moved his hand up and down his face.

“How are you still alive showing all that?”

He seemed genuinely curious. He tapped Ijin’s chin with a lighter.

“Seon Ijin. Twenty-four years old. Even at your age, you still can’t control your expressions.”

Ijin flinched. The man turned and grabbed the folder, rifling through what was clearly Ijin’s paperwork. It would all be there—how much debt was left, what had happened to his team. Ijin hid his hands behind his back, clenching them tightly.

“You debuted right after turning adult, and your recent record is clean and good. No missed races. If your life hadn’t been ruined, you would have built a good record for an easy retirement.”

With a thud, Ijin’s file was closed. The man, still with his arms crossed, looked at Ijin with interest. Indoors, he had taken off his leather jacket, revealing his arms. His right arm was covered with tattoos from the forearm to the wrist.

Unlike the tattoos that any low-level thug might have, these looked different. From geometric patterns to mysterious tool tattoos, they were playfully mixed, yet they didn’t look funny or light, likely due to the man’s threatening physique.

Ijin thought about how his cheek still stung from just a light swing of that arm.

This man is different. He could really kill me. He’s probably killed before. Such a sense pricked Ijin, who had been in this world for two years. But at the same time, a thick disgust spread like red clouds in Ijin’s mind.

“Well, if the gangsters hadn’t messed with my stable and my life, I might have become a legend.”

But here he goes again, shooting his mouth off. Ijin felt like his own lips were another part of someone else’s body.

However, there was no regret in Ijin’s expression as he bit his lips. Just a slight ‘oops.’

Hyungdo, who had been observing his face with interest, asked.

“Do you suck up to the boss?”

His voice was oddly cheerful for the content.

“…What?”

Ijin doubted his ears for a moment. Had he been hit so much he’d become dumb? Looking up at him, the man with a cigarette in his mouth seemed unfazed after dropping a bomb.

“Or is it the team leader? Was it Ppochi?”

“No, no. What are you talking about? Do you see me as a prostitute?”

Despite trying to hold back, Ijin snapped back in anger.

Ijin always felt like he was walking on a knife’s edge due to years of accumulated stress, violence, and pressure. To him, this man was like a cruel child throwing stones without malice.

“Neither?”

“No. I’m a jockey, not some pimp’s kid.”

Ijin answered with clenched teeth. The man then turned to flick ash into an ashtray, the crystal one that had broken many skulls, including Ijin’s, making him instinctively tense up.

“Really? Then strip for now.”

And the man pushed Ijin again.

“…”

“What are you doing? Strip. Let me see your body.”

Ijin’s lips moved.

“What do you mean by ‘for now’?”

Ijin asked in a stiff voice.

“Are you checking if I’m a prostitute or not?”

“Why make it complicated? Just think you’re at a sauna and strip. Or are you wrapped up like a present?”

“What?”

Ijin genuinely couldn’t understand this man’s words.

“It’s not like you’re taped up, and whether your ass is virgin or not, or if your rear has been stretched, you can’t tell with just taking off clothes. Unless you’ve been turned so black it’s obvious.”

Ijin bit down hard. The man’s words felt like they were rotting his ears.

“Then do as you’re told. Just. There’s a reason for everything.”

“…”

A reason…

Ijin clenched his fists tightly before slowly unbuttoning. The man seemed uninterested despite telling him to strip, just flipping through the folder.

And when Ijin finally stood naked, he then threw the folder on the desk and looked at him.

“Hmm.”

He slowly looked Ijin over from head to toe and then twirled his finger.

He was telling him to turn around. Ijin was still wearing his underwear, and there was no further demand to undress. It felt like a body check, just like at a sauna, as the man had suggested, perhaps due to his emotionless, unreadable gaze. Yet, Ijin’s sense of shame remained, if anything, it was even more humiliating.