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SW | Chapter 5
by cami“No, we can’t. This is just a test batch, so the quantity is small, but if they catch us using it for transshipment, it’s only a matter of time before they find the real shipment…”
“You’re running your mouth off with that soft tongue of yours. Who are you trying to get killed?”
“If this goes wrong, the first one to lose their head would be me.”
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He wasn’t wrong. The two brothers stared at their unpredictable younger brother.
“Among the confiscated items with monetary value, dr*gs are the only ones that are 100% destroyed.”
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Normally, valuable confiscated items are seized and transferred to the national treasury. But no matter how much dr*gs were worth, they could never be converted into state profits.
Baek Haegyeon stretched his legs and leaned back against the wall. He looked tired, tilting his head back and closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
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“It seems like you two don’t understand how the world works. Especially you, hyung.”
They weren’t close enough to care for each other, and the image of a police officer giving advice to gangsters was quite amusing.
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As they waited to hear what he had to say, something dangerous slipped out of Baek Haegyeon’s mouth.
“Make money. Let’s take over Hwando.”
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“What? This bastard…”
Curses erupted, but the voices were hushed and quiet. The brothers instinctively blocked Baek Haegyeon’s path, as if shielding him.
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“Hey, watch your mouth!”
The two brothers instinctively glanced outside the funeral hall to check the surroundings. Whether taking over Hwando was even possible was beside the point, the chairman of Hwando might have been at this funeral.
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Fortunately, they had people stationed near the funeral hall. If they hadn’t, some rat might have overheard and spread the word, things could’ve gotten really ugly.
Regardless of what his brothers thought, Baek Haegyeon dropped a bombshell and then casually said something else.
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“The floor’s warm. Ah, I’m sleepy… Can I take a nap?”
With the two large figures blocking his way, the shadow they cast made him feel oddly comfortable. He slumped his head like a drained battery.
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“Is this lunatic… really sleeping?”
“Sigh…”
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***
Bzzz—bzzz—
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It was already September, but the heat hadn’t subsided, and the cicadas were still noisy. At least it wasn’t unbearably hot anymore.
The peak of summer was short and intense, leaving behind vivid memories. Like the full moon that eventually wanes, it’s the law of nature.
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Maybe Guk Jiho’s athletic career was nearing its end, too. The intense never lasted long.
As he tossed and turned in the stifling heat, Guk Jiho suddenly thought:
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Is it weird if I don’t hate being sick?
He used to enjoy lying still in bed, groaning in pain. Well, he used to.
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Sprawled out under a clean, soft blanket, basking in the warm sunlight filtering through the window.It made even being sick feel like a luxury.
Back in school, he would doze off alone in the infirmary, feeling the breeze from the open window, while the sounds of his classmates playing soccer during gym class echoed in his ears.
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Injuries, big and small, are routine for athletes. Six months ago, Six months ago, he’d been carried off the field after getting hurt in a match. His young, healthy body recovered quickly, and his performance returned smoothly.
But after tearing his knee ligament during a practice match with the school judo team, things didn’t seem to be going well.
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The coach and trainers personally visited him at the university hospital. They hadn’t said a word about a recovery program.
The doctor had explained his condition very clearly. His voice, full of quiet sympathy yet brutally realistic, lingered in Guk Jiho’s memory like fragments of a fading dream.
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“I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll have to treat judo as a hobby from now on. You need to move carefully, and that’s not possible for an athlete.”
“…How am I supposed to do martial arts ‘carefully’?”
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His knee joint wasn’t in great shape to begin with, and without proper rehabilitation, he could end up with a permanent disability. Even with rehab, there was a 95% chance of recurrence. At best, he could last three more years, but after that, his knee would be completely wrecked, making even daily activities difficult.
That was the gist of it.
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But world-famous athletes recover from injuries all the time. Did they just brute-force their way through and somehow pull off a miracle? Or did they meet some legendary doctor who managed their recovery systematically?
Guk Jiho let out a heavy sigh.
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“Guk Jiho! You’ve won the Olympic gold medal! How do you feel?”
Was he dreaming?
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In the dream, a sweaty young athlete, standing in the 73kg weight class, grinned at the reporter holding the mic.
“Feels better than I even imagined. I guess this is why people keep doing sports. Thought I was gonna die, but I survived. Shit.”
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The dream version of Guk Jiho grinned. Following suit, the real Guk Jiho let out a faint smile.
If it had really happened, he wouldn’t have spoken so freely. He’d have said something more appropriate, like ‘I trained tirelessly for this moment.’
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He’d have plenty of interviews in the future, but he’d been scolded by the coach more than once for his loose tongue.
The vivid hope, the future that could have been, was now slipping away. In his dream, the 73kg Olympic judo athlete collapsed unconscious.
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***
Every time he curled up from the pain in his thigh, sweat dripped down his back. The summer blanket rustled as it wrapped around his twitching body. His body was screaming in protest as it struggled to recover.
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It’s okay, Once I get through this pain, I’ll be fine.
The mantra he repeated to himself no longer had any effect.
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In the four-bed hospital room, where everyone seemed to exist in their own world, the TV flickered with vivid colors, filling the silence.
“A high-ranking police officer was found to have swapped confiscated drugs with chemical substitutes over the past six months, taking advantage of lax supervision in local precincts. Normally, drugs from cases that don’t reach prosecution are transferred to municipalities for disposal, but poor oversight allowed the theft to go unnoticed…”
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The news was crystal clear, yet all his mind could focus on was the hollow ache of shattered dreams.
“If you keep acting like this, one day you’ll regret it big time.”
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He’d heard that kind of talk growing up. It always ended with some kind of variation of that.
He didn’t feel much about it, just tired of hearing it.
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Even if he did have a bad temper, it’s not like he’s ever done anything truly regrettable, just spoken a little rudely or messed up the atmosphere a bit. He figured they were saying those things just because they didn’t like seeing him act up.
“Regret what? What kind of big deal? So just because you’re my senior, you get to jinx my future?”
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He could still remember the way he’d laughed in their faces.
He never expected that “big deal” to hit him personally.
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Never thought the curse would actually work.
The senior who’d said that was Choi Kyungsoo, his opponent in the last practice match. During the match, Choi Kyungsoo had suddenly struck the leg Guk Jiho was using to brace himself, causing him to collapse. He was disqualified for the foul, and Guk Jiho was injured.
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It was unfair. His life was turned upside down, while Choi Kyungsoo only got a disqualification in a practice match.
Life… wasn’t much, really. He could just do something else. He was only eighteen. Hell, he was good-looking. He could practically make a living off his face.
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Guk Jiho placed his hand on the blanket. His sharp eyebrows drew even sharper angles. Lying straight and staring at the plain ceiling, the boy bit his lip.
He was tired of being treated like a slave anyway. Even if it wasn’t weigh-in day, one word from the coach meant starving half the time. Under the guise of “mental training,” they’d get called up for punishment or beaten… He wanted to smash everything more than once.
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“Ring! A call is coming in for Olympic gold medalist and national judo team member Guk Jiho!”
The sound of his own voice, recorded as his phone ringtone, echoed. After listening to it all the way through, he decided to change it back to the default tone.
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Guk Jiho reached out without opening his eyes and answered the phone.
“Hello?….”
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“Jiho! Your sister’s back. I’m at the airport now.”
His sister’s voice was always half a tone higher and full of energy. Her clear voice was accompanied by the sound of wind in the background. He could almost picture the bustling airport scene.
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“You didn’t have to come.”
His voice, as if dragged up from the depths of the ocean, was met with his sister’s warm concern.
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“I had to see the professor too. Are you… okay? Why did you get hurt again? Are you feeling down? Even if it’s bad, try rehab, and if, by some one-in-a-million chance, it doesn’t work…”
“It’s a 95% chance.”
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“Really?”
“Yeah.”
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“…Hey, there are plenty of paths in life. You can do anything. You’re only eighteen. You’re not really worried about your future, are you?”
Guk Seyoung’s tone shifted immediately. She was the most practical person he knew.
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“Yeah.”
“Even if you’ve only done sports, you’ve got the same genes as me, so you’ve got a brain for studying too.”
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“…Hmm.”
Kook Seyoung wasn’t one for long phone calls. One minute, maybe three at most. That’s how it usually went with her.
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A few short answers, and the call could end. But, at just the wrong moment, something welled up inside him.
“Jiho?”
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“…..”
“Are you… crying?”
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“…Yeah.”
“Cry for five minutes. If you cry any longer, you’ll just feel weaker, okay?”
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“Yeah, sob….”
“Just wait. I’m coming.”
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“Noona.”
“Yeah?”
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“Bring some cigarettes when you come. Marlboro Lights.”
“You’re an athlete, you little… Are you kidding me?”
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The call ended abruptly.
“Damn it….”
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Guk Jiho covered his eyes with the back of his hand and cried.
For more than five minutes.
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More than ten.
His breath came in rough, ragged bursts, scraping his throat raw. The blood vessels in his head throbbed violently.
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