SW | Chapter 22

“Cop hyungnim…” Guk Jiho had memorized that damn genealogy for nothing, huh? Well, maybe mixing a bit of truth and lies could still work.

What if he spun a story about being a corrupt cop who got kicked out and ended up as a gangster?

But the complicating factor was that Shin Yonggi knew Guk Jiho. How much did he actually know?

If only someone had told him that athletes who failed often ended up as gangsters, especially those who did combat sports, it might’ve been easier.

Shin Yonghyun. Two years older than Guk Jiho… He thought he remembered him. Back then, Yonghyun had been leaner. He was shorter, so he must’ve been in the 60kg weight class? Two weight classes below Guk Jiho, so they had never sparred. Even if they had been in the same class, the gap in skill was too wide to even consider it.

Shin Yonghyun and Shin Yonggi. Guk Jiho scrutinized his face as he realized they were the same person. Traces of his old self were still there.

“You’ve gained a lot of weight, huh?”

“You’re still calling me ‘you¹,’ huh, senior?”

“You were a nobody. Your skills were so forgettable.”

“I might’ve been a nobody, but you, the flying judo star, are now our boss’s bitch.”

Yonggi stuck his index finger in and out of a hand gesture, making an obscene motion. These gangsters really had no class. The others giggled like it was the funniest thing.

“Is that how it looked?”

“What do you think everyone thought when you lit his cigarette?”

“Must’ve been a pain babysitting a kid like you. Hey, tell me.”

“I thought, ‘I wanna suck those lips.’ Not into guys, but since the boss had a taste, why not?”

“…Disgusting.”

It wasn’t just disgusting; it was nauseating. Listening to these guys, whose brains were filled with nothing but sex, made Guk Jiho want to tear their mouths apart.

“But how did you even think of stabbing him in the back? Weren’t you part of the terrifying police special forces until recently?”

Shin Yonggi capped it off with that remark.

So, he knew quite a bit, huh…

Guk Jiho laughed hollowly. Just moments ago, he had been racking his brain on how to cleverly mix truth and lies, but it seemed that plan was already doomed.

Five guys. No weapons. How was he supposed to handle them? They were armed with knives and bats.

They had barged in while he was dozing off in the dorm. It was his own fault for letting his guard down and taking a nap in a gangster den.

***

Kodály’s unaccompanied cello sonata, third movement. This infamous piece was said to challenge the limits of cellists. It was initially thought impossible to perform perfectly. Decades later, it was said no female cellist could master it.

This solo piece was over 30 minutes long. It required not only exceptional skill but also incredible stamina.

To express its delicate and unique tones, the cello had to be tuned unconventionally. The third movement was dominated by rapid passages requiring techniques like pizzicato, saltato, ricochet, sul ponticello, and sul tasto.

Cellists were said to sigh and offer a brief prayer before attempting this piece. That was how utterly insane it was.

Which is why, when performed on stage, the audience and performer became one, immersed in the music. The audience’s gaze was one of encouragement, and the performer repaid them with sublime dedication. Whether the performer was an innate genius or honed skill, it was overwhelming.

The cellist’s forehead glistened with sweat as the bow delicately scraped the taut strings. When the lively, unique melody of “The Flight of the Bumblebee” filled the space, the audience’s hearts swelled with joy. Each passing moment felt precious, and they focused intently, not wanting to miss a second.

The Kodály, performed by a perfectionist cellist after long practice, was magnificent.

She proved her dedication, stepping away from the allure of comfort or self-satisfaction to train alone. Baek Haegyeon’s admiration stemmed from empathy. The plight of walking endlessly through fog wasn’t so different from a cellist honing their fingertip sensitivity for a lifetime.

Around that time, he thought of someone. Specifically, he wondered how they were doing.

Is he doing well?

There was one naive fool who didn’t care about revealing his true feelings. His childish clumsiness made you watch with a kind of base curiosity. His fourth partner, Guk Jiho. Why did he come to mind at this moment…

Baek Haegyeon interlaced his fingers and adjusted his seat.

***

Even experienced special forces members never forget the first time a blade rushed toward their flesh. Their bodies remember the strange numbness that froze their nerves. Whether it was a box cutter or a kitchen knife, something we use daily, it felt as if an evil spirit had possessed the blade when it was wielded with murderous intent.

Maybe it was similar to the magical talk in martial arts novels where the protagonist senses sword energy.

Shin Yonggi caressed the knife as if petting a cat. Under the fluorescent lights, the blade gleamed menacingly.

“You cop bastard. Let’s have a good soak today. The fifth executive will be here soon. Or maybe, this time, Sangcheol will get promoted?”

At Yonggi’s words, Boseong giggled and replied, “Our chairman has a peculiar taste for recruiting executives from outside. That’s why little rats like you keep slipping in.”

As they bantered back and forth, Guk Jiho asked, “Did you guys do this to the last one too?”

Guk Jiho had always been curious about how the previous managers died. How did three of them end up dead? Since Yonggi and his gang were here to kill him, they might as well tell the truth now.

But those words seemed to trigger something. Yonggi’s face turned red, and he shouted, “That fucking bastard beat the shit out of me, and he still doesn’t trust me? Fuck, there’s no cure for that itch to swing fists, huh? Thought my ribs were gonna pop. My hands were rubbing together like a damn fly’s, all on their own.”

“And? Your hands didn’t blister?”

“Nah, they’re used to it. I rub them together all the time.”

When had he started wanting to kill Guk Jiho? Thinking about it, Guk Jiho still had no eye for people. He had trusted Yonggi, but where had the polite Yonggi who always tied his tie gone?

There was no escape. Falling from the 14th floor would mean instant death, and even before that, he’d likely get stabbed in the back. He reached for his holster out of habit, but of course, there was nothing there.

He should’ve just carried a gun. Only two of them had knives, but if the other three rushed in with bats, it’d be over.

Cornered, he let out a hollow laugh. The opponents were still relaxed. They were enjoying this, like a cat playing with a mouse before killing it.

‘You might get into big trouble someday.’

‘The guys are naturally rough.’

What did Baek Haegyeon know? Anyway, that wasn’t important now. It looked like this was the end.

‘Look for the emergency exit and run. I’ll create an opening.’

Thinking of Baek Haegyeon, those words suddenly came to mind. Even now, there might still be a way out.

Two fat guys, two skinny guys, one average. Guk Jiho categorized who to take down first and who to avoid due to size. Luckily, the knife-wielder wasn’t the agile one. A knife in the hands of a quick opponent was terrifying, but that tattooed pig… he could handle him.

How should he move? He simulated the order in which they’d rush at him. It was a habit from his judo days, and it helped in combat situations too.

“Look at him rolling his eyes. Pretty boy, you scared now?”

“Let’s get to the main event. How long are we gonna keep talking?”

With that, Guk Jiho slammed his fist on the table. The tempered glass cracked, forming concentric circles. His hand hurt, but now he had a weapon. That was a relief. Guk Jiho picked up a sharp shard and gripped it tightly.

Yonggi’s cowardly eyes wavered. So, his name wasn’t even real. Guk Jiho sneered internally as he tightened his grip on the glass. He wasn’t going to die easily here.

“What? Did you think I’d kneel and beg? I’m part of the Korean special forces.”