KTSR | Chapter 2

“Damn these vulgar jerks.”

Despite having stirred up the atmosphere himself, Ppochi, the team leader, put on an act of propriety and scolded everyone. If it came to lewd jokes, he had his fair share of curiosity about men’s behinds too. However, he had never acted on it, finding the actual crowd too repulsive to consider. But for Seon Ijin, it seemed entirely possible.

The team leader, overwhelmed with excitement, scanned Ijin from head to toe.

“Did you get that, or did you not, you fucker?”

To miss the point when he was openly mocking him would mean being brainless. Ijin bit his lip hard.

The team leader, with his twisted eyes, clicked his tongue.

“Look at those eyes! You really have no manners. Pamper you a bit and you climb all over the place. Why don’t you behave like when you first arrived and get retrained?”

“…”

After slapping his own neck instead of his cheek, Ijin finally nodded. The idea of being remade like when he first arrived was more terrifying than the slapping hand on his neck.

“That’s enough, Seon Ijin, get out. I’ve been way too lenient with you.”

The team leader feigned a gesture, and Ijin tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. As he kept collapsing, he finally signaled the thugs outside to drag him away.

Ijin was dragged out, held by both arms like someone from the lower ranks of the group. The thug holding his left arm slowly rolled his eyes, following Ijin.

Ijin’s limbs, dangling limply and long for his build, captivated the gaze. His thighs were springy like a gazelle’s, and his high, firm buttocks were clearly visible beneath the white equestrian pants.

“…What are you staring at? Take your eyes off me.”

Ijin muttered, lifting his head to the unpleasant gaze scanning his body.

Blood trickled from one nostril, his lip was split, and his cheek was swollen, yet this somehow gave Ijin a strangely appealing aura. Despite engaging in outdoor sports, his skin was pale, contrasting starkly with his jet-black hair and lashes. His long eyelashes, like those of a horse, made his half-open eyes look melancholic.

Ijin would have been unreachable atop a stage under the spotlight, but being trampled on the ground, the thugs’ desires only grew more fervent. To them, Ijin was nothing more than a rag, tossed around in their minds.

And for the thug holding him, it was no different. If counted, he’d be second to none in making vile comments about Seon Ijin.

“Hope he finishes last next week, this fucker.”

No matter how furiously Ijin fought back, he was just a commodity attached to this place, the thug mumbled, one of the higher-ranking thugs rumored to soon be assigned a leadership role or moved to a posh establishment in Gangnam.

“What’s so great about a man’s behind?”

The other thug holding his arm replied indifferently. He acknowledged that Seon Ijin was pretty for a guy but firmly denied any salivation over such.

“Fuck, try being stuck in this shithole. With Seon Ijin’s face, regardless of what’s down there, you could screw around endlessly.”

Ijin, disgusted by the hands feeling up his inner arms, wanted to pull away but lacked the strength. As he heard the absurd babble, he thought better to just pass out.

“Been here for half a year, haven’t you? Fucking hell. That’s why you talk so big…. Seon Ijin, this bastard, let’s slash his horse’s leg, some said.”

Ijin snapped his eyes open at the mention of harming his horse. With surprising strength, he freed his arm and faced the thug.

“Look at this fucker….”

The thug, whose grip Ijin had escaped, muttered with interest. Despite his battered state, the fierceness in Ijin’s eyes was vivid. Opinions on whether Ijin could be ‘eaten’ differed, but everyone agreed, “That fucker’s crazy.”

The thug licked his lips and stepped closer.

“You son of a bitch… Where do you get off looking at people like that? How about I gouge out your horse’s eyes for you?”

At that moment, Ijin’s head spun. It felt like a boiling kettle screeching. If it boiled, steam must be released. Seon Ijin, eyes wild with frenzy, lunged at the thug.

“Hey, you son of a bitch!”

Dare you put my words in your mouth? Agile despite his size, Ijin bit the thug’s cheek hard.

“Ah, ah! Ah! This fucking, this crazy bastard, get him off me! Ahh!”

The taste of blood spread in Ijin’s mouth.

He’d tear off the cheek to reveal the teeth underneath. Not smiling, just like when a horse neighs, he’d make the teeth plainly visible. Ijin clung on like a leech, his eyes flowing with madness.

But sadly, there were two of them. Surprised, one thug pulled Ijin off. Pressing down hard on Ijin’s cheekbone made him open his mouth wide before they threw him to the ground and stepped on his shoulder.

“Let go! I’m gonna kill this fucker today! Let go!”

Even with his shoulder stepped on and having been severely beaten already, Ijin thrashed relentlessly.

True to his reputation for being tough, Seon Ijin was formidable. If let go, he’d surely charge again. The focus on the thug threatening to harm his horse said it all.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck! Hey. Look at my cheek. Is it torn off? Ah, that crazy fucker. Ah! It hurts like hell!”

“No, it’s not torn off.”

Though not torn, it was ragged. Blood streamed down, making even the thug queasy.

“Fuck, I thought I saw a rabid monkey.”

The bitten thug’s eyes rolled back in shock.

His pride was severely wounded. Seon Ijin, known among the jockeys for being particularly small, would be devastated if word got out that he was bitten by this guy. Determined to salvage his pride and teach this fucker a lesson, he lifted his foot despite the intense pain.

“You better brace yourself for a beating.”

Ijin, unblinking and shadowed by the thug’s foot, stared him down with chilling persistence. Just as the thug was about to stomp down, a small stone hit and rolled off the raised leg.

“The Boss said not to touch the goods’ faces. Forgot about the fucker who broke his leg last time?”

The interjector was the old-timer of the Colosseum racetrack, ‘Bbang’.

“Old man, mind your own business and fuck off.”

The thug, holding his bruised cheek, spat back. However, Bbang didn’t back down. His experience outweighed that of the usual punks around. Even those with higher positions admitted Bbang had been around before they arrived.

“Why are you covering for him? Did he suck up to you or something?”

Rude bastard. Ijin glared coldly at the thug.

“You really have no manners, do you? And do I look like I’m covering for him? Go to the hospital already. It’s hard enough to hold water in a cracked washbasin, let alone if it’s broken.”

Bbang chided the thug, but his words were effective. The thug’s eyes wavered. He was already enduring the numbness, bitten by a mad dog.

“…Crazy fucker and a moron really are a perfect match.”

The thug quickly turned away, his steps accelerating.

“Then take care of him, old man. I’ve got to take care of this cracked washbasin.”

Loyalty was the last thing on the mind of the thug’s associate as he followed suit.

Finally alone, Bbang turned to Ijin, who averted his gaze. His eyes settled on Bbang’s hands.

His fingers weren’t ten but seven. The nickname ‘Bbang’ came from this feature, as the missing ring and pinkie fingers left only three, just enough to form a gun shape with the hand—an uneducated punk’s idea of a joke. His real name was unknown. Estimated in his early fifties, he too had been in this pit for a very long time.

Bbang sighed deeply and then spoke to Ijin.

“Keep your temper in check. What, you got rabies? Why go biting people? Even if you’re crazy, do it gracefully.”

“They were gonna slash my horse.”

Ijin growled back, his spirit unbroken.

“If it wasn’t for you, I really would have torn them open enough to show their guts.”

“That would have ended up with the Boss really throwing you into some dog alley. You okay with that? Ending up in a dogfight or cockfight, acting like a tough guy during the day and then…”

“That’s enough.”

Ijin muttered.

“Just stop with the disgusting talk.”

“It’s not over yet. Why can’t you ignore these jerks like the other jockeys do? Or do you want to act like them?”

“Don’t even say that. How could I be anything like those fuckers?”

Ijin slowly got up, his body throbbing painfully. The only regret was not having torn off their cheeks earlier.

His fingers weren’t the only parts of him that weren’t whole; he’d been limping since the first time I saw him two years ago. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a tube of ointment. The flat, pale yellow container held a medication reportedly made from horse oil.

See, horses don’t betray. Ijin clutched the ointment, his speech muddled by the injury in his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“Used up the last one?”

Instead of answering, Ijin pushed himself up with his elbows and then nodded.

“Just give me a larger size from the start.”

“Can’t do that. It’s precious.”

“Not enough though.”

“Just use it sparingly.”

“Sparingly, right.”

It was the same old cycle.

Bbang, clearly remembering when Ijin first arrived, could only wear a troubled expression.

Was it better back then when he was empty, flapping about like a shell, or now, living as if there’s no tomorrow? He couldn’t quite decide.

So Bbang steered the topic away from Ijin’s struggles to something he excelled at, horse racing.

“You just need to win, that’s all.”

“How can I win every race?”

Finally, Ijin’s voice softened.

“Recently… Clover isn’t doing so well.”

A depressing reality.

Whether it’s horse racing or equestrianism, a jockey’s skill isn’t enough. The horse’s condition is crucial. Horses are incredibly sensitive, delicate, and emotional, making them quite tricky to handle. For the past few weeks, Ijin’s horse, Clover, had been in a foul mood. All one could hope for was that it was just a mood.

“That may work on you, but it doesn’t fly with everyone here. To make it work, you should have been at the top from the start. The amount of refunds due just to you is significant. If you keep this up, not only these thugs will be gunning for you.”

Bbang’s words couldn’t be taken lightly. He never spoke idly, especially about matters here.

But knowing in his head didn’t quell the rage in his heart.

Ijin pounded his chest as if to soothe his indigestion.

This place is suffocating. He just wanted to run. The stench here was so overwhelming that even blooming flowers smelled foul. He wanted to sweep this place clean. Even if it took a madman to do it, if someone could clear this place, he’d ride with them anywhere….