SW | Chapter 21

“They might seem obedient, but deep down, these guys are rough by nature.”

Baek Haegyeon muttered as if to himself, his gaze settling on Guk Jiho.

“If you let them loose, things could get out of hand.”

‘Out of hand.’

The warnings from his seniors flashed through his mind. ‘If you keep acting like that, you’ll get into big trouble someday.’ ‘Life is long, and if you live recklessly, you’ll pay for it eventually.’ And so on.

Most of the time, those warnings were directed at him, but this was the first time someone had warned him that the others might cause trouble.

“Don’t worry.”

At Guk Jiho’s firm response, Baek Haegyeon nodded a couple of times, seemingly satisfied. Then he stood up from his chair and walked over to Guk Jiho, who was standing with his hands behind his back. The faint scent of Baek Haegyeon’s cologne wafted through the air.

“You tied your tie nicely.”

“Ah, Yonggi did it for me.”

“Shin Yonggi?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, a thick finger hooked into the gap between Guk Jiho’s shirt and neck. Even though there was enough space, it felt like Baek Haegyeon was deliberately pressing down on his throat. Guk Jiho’s fingers, still behind his back, twitched.

“Ugh…”

He had no choice but to be pulled forward by the force gripping his collar. When they were close enough for their noses to almost touch, Baek Haegyeon removed his finger and undid the tie Yonggi had tied that morning.

“You held it in well this time.”

He didn’t hide his smile. Every time there was sudden physical contact, Guk Jiho instinctively reached for his holster as if he were caught in a trap. As he had warned, Baek Haegyeon would then take Guk Jiho’s hand and place it on the front of his pants.

The first time it happened, Guk Jiho couldn’t hide his disbelief. Thankfully, there were no other gangsters around. When he tried to pull his hand away, Baek Haegyeon said:

‘When a baby stops using a pacifier, you give them another toy to chew on.’

‘And?’

‘You’re not a baby, so you can talk. I’m curious if it helps.’

He was referring to the sense of loss Guk Jiho felt when his hand instinctively reached for an empty holster. Instead of a gun, he got a man’s crotch. It didn’t fill the void.

‘I’m not sure. And I’ll fix it soon.’

‘I’ll wait.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Patience is part of loving your subordinates.’

At any rate, Guk Jiho learned that his superior was well-endowed and that he was testing his patience. That bizarre punishment also quickly corrected a habit he thought would be hard to break. Now, before reaching for his holster, he’d first think of the sensation of that large thing.

“Yonggi is two years older than you.”

Baek Haegyeon stretched the tie he had just undone and spoke.

“I didn’t know.”

“Don’t make him do things like that. It might upset him.”

“Understood.”

Instead, Baek Haegyeon draped the tie around Guk Jiho’s neck. With a look, he then signaled him to take a few steps. Their eyes met in the full-length mirror. Baek Haegyeon, standing behind Guk Jiho, slowly began to tie the tie. His hands brushed Guk Jiho’s shoulders and neck a couple of times.

This time, he tied the tie in a Windsor knot, the same way Yonggi had done earlier. But Baek Haegyeon’s version was neater and more precise. The downside was that it felt tighter, making Guk Jiho want to undo it immediately.

“Learn it. I’ll teach you as many times as it takes.”

“Sigh… Understood.”

When Guk Jiho let out a low sigh, Baek Haegyeon laughed as if amused.

“Our Jiho sighs so well in front of his superior.”

Of course, he didn’t forget to tease him.

***

On the way back, Guk Jiho suddenly asked Yonggi, “Do you take good care of your skin?”

Yonggi, who was driving, seemed pleased by the question and answered while pointing to his cheek.

“Ah, skin like mine requires thorough daily care and regular dermatological treatments to maintain this level.”

“Yeah, you look young.”

“Not compared to you, hyungnim.”

“You’re two years older than me, right?”

“That’s correct, Executive.”

“Call me ‘hyung.'”

“Yes, hyungnim.”

Some of the guys in the back giggled. Guk Jiho figured he was making a lot of people laugh today. With that thought, he closed his eyes for a bit.

As the car passed through the forest of buildings, Guk Jiho still thought of the police headquarters in Seodaemun and the special operations building in Namtaeryeong. He had never really thought of himself as someone who became a cop out of a strong sense of justice. But after spending the morning hopping between clubs and bars, he felt drained.

The various supplements he’d swallowed seemed to have no effect.

I want to chase criminals, suspects, and fugitives… I want to rescue victims. Closing his eyes, he pictured the days when he moved seamlessly under the orders of his team leader and captain. Just reminiscing made him smile.

“Our hyungnim must be having a good dream. He’s smiling.”

One of the subordinates whispered. Yeah, compared to this gangster life, those days were like a dream.

***

The area in front of the Seoul Arts Center was always bustling with cars. During the evening rush hour, traffic backed up all the way from Yangjae. On days when a new performance premiered, the congestion was especially bad.

Baek Haegyeon fiddled with the smooth surface of the ticket.

It was a cello solo performance he had booked a month and a half ago. The performer wasn’t widely known yet but was considered a rising star among cello enthusiasts. The two-hour-and-forty-minute program was a challenge even for the performer. It featured new and difficult pieces that fans wouldn’t want to miss.

He had attended all of them, from domestic tours to performances in Japan, and even traveled to Europe when the timing worked out.

As a Korean performer active primarily in Europe, it was rare for her to have graduated from a domestic university. Some said that was why her performances were even more beautiful.

They say that when you’re thrown into the fierce competition of a foreign land during your vulnerable childhood, your playing gains a ghostly sharpness. This mechanical precision is often seen in Asian performers, but those who learned their craft in their homeland with good teachers and warm-hearted colleagues exude a comfortable maturity.

But those people clearly knew nothing about the grueling reality of classical training in East Asia. The cutthroat competition in Korean education, especially in the arts, was far from comfortable.

They probably didn’t know that when blisters formed and bled on the fingertips of those pressing the strings, they were scolded for not practicing enough to callous their hands.

In any case, Baek Haegyeon agreed that her performances were exceptionally beautiful.

He always booked the cheapest seats, far from the stage. Today was no different.

Before the performance began, the sound of tuning auxiliary instruments came from behind the curtain.

It sounded similar to the squeak of rubber-soled shoes sliding on the floor, but Baek Haegyeon liked the bustling noise of instruments being tuned. It was amusing to hear the preparation process, like tightening shoelaces before a game, even if you couldn’t see it.

The performance would begin soon.

At 7:40 PM, Baek Haegyeon turned off his phone and sank into the dark auditorium.

***

The residential-commercial complex in Gangnam boasted top-notch security. Another advantage of this apartment was that it was designed to minimize noise between floors. Once the front door was closed, whatever happened inside, even if someone died, no one would know.

In other words, it was the perfect place to be ambushed without a trace. Guk Jiho rubbed his tired eyes, realizing this too late.

“You really didn’t recognize me, huh?”

The guy with the fat build sneered. His ear caught Guk Jiho’s eye. It was what they called a “cauliflower ear”, swollen and misshapen from years of blows. He hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now he realized how distinctive it was.

Not everyone who briefly trained in combat sports ended up with ears like that, so he must have been a serious athlete. He should’ve asked if he’d done judo.

If that had been the case, he would have revealed his true colors sooner. At the very least, it would have been before Shin Yonggi was ready.

“I don’t remember anyone named Yonggi.”

“I changed it. From Shin Yonghyun to Yonggi.”

“You said it was your real name, you bastard.”

“Even if it’s changed, it’s still my real name, cop.”

Yonggi glared playfully, sticking out his tongue, which was coated in a whitish film.

“Oh, look how surprised he is. Our hyungnim’s eyes got so big.”

The reason he couldn’t respond right away was simple. He was genuinely shocked. Things had taken a sudden turn.