SW | Chapter 24

“I didn’t even bring up the really embarrassing stuff out of consideration for your feelings, Mr. Jiho.”

Guk Jiho lowered his head and took deep breaths. He was trying to swallow his anger and contain it with his breathing.

“We’re partners, aren’t we? I almost died this time.”

“But you didn’t. So, that’s a relief.”

“You knew something was off about Shin Yonggi. That’s why you warned me.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s it? Is that all it’s going to be from now on? If I’m unlucky one day, I’ll just die, won’t I?”

Guk Jiho’s trembling body now stood upright as if he had regained his strength.

“…That won’t happen.”

Even as partners, they had to be self-reliant. That way, at least one of them could survive. At least, that’s how it had been with his previous partners. He believed that trying to save one person shouldn’t result in the death of two.

Guk Jiho seemed to think he wasn’t innocent at all, but it was clear that this innocent guy didn’t understand the concept of ensuring at least one of them survived.

Shin Yonggi and the others involved in this incident needed to be buried. Only then could this be concluded as a failed rebellion.

The moment Shin Yonggi started spreading rumors like, “The Boss keeps recruiting strange people, and this time it’s even a cop,” it would be the beginning of the collapse of Baek Haegyeon’s Hwando. Baek Haegyeon himself had done the same to his superiors, and it was a long-standing tradition in the gangster world.

When his predecessors noticed Baek Haegyeon’s indifferent attitude, they trembled with betrayal and swallowed their anger. They never openly said childish things like, “You’re gay, why didn’t you save me?” like Guk Jiho did. To Guk Jiho, it might have been a serious and threatening argument, but to Baek Haegyeon, such a reaction was interesting, refreshing, and even a breath of fresh air.

You’re really just that simple, aren’t you?

“Or what?”

“Next time, I’ll come to save you.”

Guk Jiho scoffed. Baek Haegyeon followed suit and laughed.

“You know what?”

“What now?”

“In the special forces, people like you don’t make the cut. Trying to survive alone is considered trash.”

Baek Haegyeon let out a mocking laugh.

“Hmm… Jiho. We’re not a government agency.”

Guk Jiho swayed, his body now weakened from the lack of adrenaline. Baek Haegyeon wrapped his arms around him from behind and whispered softly into his ear. He hadn’t expected to have to teach him this, but…

“Behind us is a cliff. No one will remember us as cops.”

His relaxed voice fell like winter snowflakes onto Guk Jiho’s chest.

***

Daily life flowed on uneventfully. The guys who had staged the betrayal were hospitalized. Since the executive position couldn’t remain vacant, Guk Jiho was given a few new underlings.

Guk Jiho didn’t even ask their names. He just took them around as instructed and managed a few clubs as the executive of Hwando. Other than the change in the people following him, there wasn’t much difference.

‘Clubs are prone to incidents, so you have to keep a close eye on them, or they’ll turn into a mess.’

Following Baek Haegyeon’s advice, he checked in every day without fail and reported to him daily.

Waking up in the dark early morning, he braced for the cold wind. As he was making rounds to the clubs closing their operations for the day, he felt like he was suffocating in black smoke.

‘Ah, Executive Guk is here! Hey, you don’t seem to be in a good mood today, huh?’

Even when the club managers welcomed him with wide, almost exaggerated smiles, he couldn’t bring himself to smile back at them.

‘Let’s get to work.’

Every time he responded dryly, the managers looked awkward, and the underlings felt embarrassed too. Guk Jiho noticed their awkward expressions but didn’t care much.

Around 2 PM, he visited Baek Haegyeon’s office on the 17th floor of the Yeoksam-dong building. Baek Haegyeon was always reading something. He would quietly leave the materials down without disturbing him or answer questions briefly to conclude the daily report.

Today wasn’t much different.

Baek Haegyeon asked how he was getting along with the new guys and checked on his injured hand, but Guk Jiho stuck to short answers for non-work-related questions. Even when their eyes met, he didn’t look at him for more than a second.

The raw honesty from the night of the incident now felt like a distant memory.

“…Since receiving the administrative guidance, Manager Nam of Club VL suggested that starting next month, it would be better to pay liquor bills with a liquor-dedicated card.”

“Alright.”

“Yes. Then we’ll proceed accordingly.”

With no further instructions, he was about to leave the office when a voice stopped him.

“Mr. Jiho. Have you heard the news?”

Baek Haegyeon was still looking at his tablet.

“What news are you referring to?”

“Guess not yet. Go find out.”

It seemed like news he didn’t want to deliver directly. Since he didn’t even make eye contact, Guk Jiho didn’t press further.

After finishing the brief report, he stepped out. The new underlings bowed deeply at 90 degrees.

“Good work, hyungnim!”

As Guk Jiho took a cigarette from his jacket pocket, one of them automatically lit it for him.

‘What do you think they’re thinking while lighting your cigarette?’

The voice of the guy still hospitalized, with an uncertain chance of recovery, seemed to echo in his ears.

As he placed the cigarette between his lips, Guk Jiho slowly observed the guys following him as his underlings. One of them held the flame to his cigarette.

Inhale.

As he sucked on the filter, the sound of the cigarette burning filled the air, and the flame caught. Exhaling smoke into the building hallway, he led the way. The underlings follow at a set distance.

The cigarette quickly shortened as he smoked it down to the filter. The underlings held the elevator door open, but Guk Jiho didn’t step in. He instead continued to smoke until the cigarette was almost gone.

Only after tossing the stub in front of Baek Haegyeon’s office did he enter the elevator. It had become his recent way of venting.

That evening, while eating pasta alone, he received a call from the Director. It was unusual for her to call on a weekday, so Guk Jiho felt a strange premonition.

“I thought you should know. Min Jaegyu is dead.”

“…What?”

“I don’t know the details. It wasn’t a natural death. I just came back from his funeral.”

The Director’s usually sharp voice was subdued today.

“Director. Why…”

“He’s been talking about you lately. About infiltrating a gang, about Hwando…”

“Director. I’m sorry, but could you… tell me more? Why did Jaegyu-hyung… I mean, why…”

“He brought it on himself. I told you before, don’t go around talking to just anyone. It puts you in danger.”

“Did the police… eliminate him?”

“It could’ve been the police, or it could’ve been Baek Haegyeon’s Hwando.”

If Guk Jiho had heard this earlier, would it have sounded different? Withholding proper information and confusing people was a tactic both Baek Haegyeon and the Director shared.

So, was it the police or Baek Haegyeon? Who was it that treated human life so cheaply, killing people like flies?

There was a hierarchical wall between Baek Haegyeon and himself that prevented him from asking questions freely. It was the same with the Director. Moreover, it was clear that she had deliberately cut off information in advance, so asking further would be pointless.

His emotions were a mix of anger, frustration, and sadness. Guk Jiho asked in a choked voice.

“Just one more thing.”

It was cowardly, but he had to confirm.

“Did Min Jaegyu… know about the undercover operation and recommend me? So, he knew from the beginning…”

“Yes. Min Jaegyu knew. But why are you asking that now? Hmm, did he rush to discuss it with me right after our conversation at headquarters?”

“……”

“You don’t need to feel guilty about Min Jaegyu’s death. Just be careful with your words from now on. People dying in this line of work isn’t even news anymore.”

“……”

“Ah, just in case, don’t even think about attending the funeral. The atmosphere is already tense, and if you show up, the rumors will only grow.”

Guk Jiho stood there blankly, holding the abruptly ended call.

As a human, he should’ve felt something, but it seemed like he was desperately holding it back. It must’ve been a survival instinct. If he let himself feel human emotions now, it would put his survival at risk.Why… am I doing this? He tried to suppress the sudden question that popped into his head.