KTSR | Chapter 39

“They’re all just hooking up with their lovers over there.”

I wasn’t even curious.

“That’s why all those motels have names like Chinese restaurants.”

Names like Geumhwajang and Manseokgung indeed looked like names you’d find at any Chinese restaurant. Ijin turned his head away, uninterested. Across from the tacky motels stood white statues lining the road, looking out of place. They were Roman-style statues that screamed fake.

“Why are they named Colosseum and Trevi? It’s so tacky.”

“It’s the chairmen’s taste.”

“What kind of culture are these gangsters trying to show off? Have they even been there?”

“I’m not curious about that stuff. Are you interested in how the chairmen live and what they think?”

Kwon Hyeongdo sneered at Ijin.

“You’re overthinking, that’s why your brain circuits are tangled. Live simply. Simply.”

“How do you live simply? Like you, with nothing but fists or a dick?”

Ijin’s voice lacked energy, probably because he was still in pain. It sounded like a child’s innocent question, making Kwon Hyeongdo chuckle.

Meanwhile, the car passed through the massive iron gates of Trevi C.C. The name and the statues along the way were Roman-style, yet the iron gates seemed to be inspired by the Palace of Versailles. It was a mishmash of everything.

Kwon Hyeongdo said something to the parking attendant blocking the car and headed to the VVIP parking lot.

“Get out.”

“Do I really have to get out too?”

“Then stay here and freeze to death.”

As soon as they got out of the car, Kwon Hyeongdo lit a cigarette. Ijin sluggishly got out and stared blankly at the bright blue sky and the picturesque field.

“Let’s go inside and have some coffee and ssanghwacha.”

Kwon Hyeongdo didn’t wait for that brief moment of peace and wrapped his iron-like arm around Ijin’s shoulder, dragging him along. The smell of cigarettes and cologne irritated Ijin’s swollen nasal passages.

I expected the place to be brightly lit, but the lighting was softer than I thought. The chairs with long backs were arranged in a way that made it hard to eavesdrop or peek at conversations.

Kwon Hyeongdo’s attire didn’t match the sleek interior at all. But you couldn’t blame him. Ijin’s outfit was even worse. People dressed in polo shirts and high-quality fabrics that seemed to cling to their bodies were quietly sipping coffee. Ijin was taken aback by the cups in their hands. Even someone as clueless as Ijin could tell they were expensive, given their ornate and delicate design.

“They probably don’t sell ssanghwacha here, do they?”

Ijin whispered to Kwon Hyeongdo. Kwon Hyeongdo twitched his cheek at Ijin’s timid demeanor. It was funny and cute how he was all bark and no bite, now shrinking in an unfamiliar place. Like a mangy country mouse. Any resentment he felt for not receiving a word of thanks for taking him to the hospital vanished.

Kwon Hyeongdo chuckled at the thought of himself as the king of beggars among city mice who just threw on anything.

“They do sell it. Why wouldn’t they? If you ask, they’ll give it to you.”

Kwon Hyeongdo took a seat anywhere. The young waitress, who seemed barely over twenty, was flustered as she tried to ask how many people there were and for their membership number.

“Put an egg in the ssanghwacha, and I’ll have coffee. Two creamers, two sugars.”

Kwon Hyeongdo pushed aside the fancy menu and held up two fingers.

“Uh, um, excuse me, sir, but do you have a membership card…?”

“We don’t have one. We don’t play golf.”

The embarrassment and awkwardness were all on Ijin. Kwon Hyeongdo had pushed Ijin into a chair and sat next to him, leaving Ijin trapped and unsure of what to do. He tugged on Kwon Hyeongdo’s sleeve, whispering to leave, to go, in a small voice. The ridiculousness of it all made Kwon Hyeongdo’s lips twitch upwards. He shook his head at the waitress who was looking for guidance.

“Just bring it. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”

Kwon Hyeongdo took out his phone and fiddled with it. Not only that, he took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. While Ijin was looking around nervously, the young waitress hurriedly disappeared as if fleeing.

“I think she’s going to call the staff.”

“Let her.”

Seon Ijin watched Kwon Hyeongdo as he made a phone call somewhere, deeply inhaling his cigarette, and alternated his gaze between him and this place that didn’t suit his appearance at all.

And after some time had passed, a waitress appeared. She wasn’t alone. Next to her was a middle-aged man wearing golf wear and a cap pulled down low.

Though dressed in sleek fabric, it was clear to anyone that he wasn’t an ordinary person. Ijin felt both nervous and secretly excited. While Hyeongdo was also quite large, this man was like a bear. The thought of seeing Hyeongdo getting thoroughly beaten by this bear-like, rough-looking man thrilled him.

‘This bastard, does he even know where he is!’

The bear-like man shouted robustly, imagining Kwon Hyeongdo flying away like a paper airplane after being punched. Even though it was an absurd imagination like a scene from a comic, Ijin chuckled softly.

Kwon Hyeongdo was staring at Ijin silently. He covered his lips with his large hand holding the cigarette. He too was smiling slyly.

Soon, the bear-like man approached them with large strides. He didn’t care about boundaries, so it would be nice if he got hit a bit. Ijin silently pleaded.

“Hey. You fucking bastard.”

As expected, the bear-like man called out to Kwon Hyeongdo with a voice as big and heavy as his build. Even though it was just a curse, it was laced with a thick Gyeongsangdo dialect.

“Where do you think you are, showing your face here?”

He shouted robustly and raised his hand. Ijin’s eyes sparkled, anticipating that Hyeongdo’s head would be smacked, but Hyeongdo didn’t even flinch.

“You’re still alive, huh?”

However, the man laughed heartily and then used his raised hand to give Hyeongdo a hearty slap on the shoulder before pulling him in for a hug.

Kwon Hyeongdo reached behind the man’s back to ensure his cigarette didn’t stain the white golf outfit.

“You’re still the same. Hug a bit softer, will you? I’m suffocating here.”

“Still as cheeky as ever. I just wanted to check if you’re still alive despite being so rude, and you’re getting all prickly. Judging by your mouth, you’re hopeless, but do you at least act humble with your dickhead?”

With a hearty laugh, Kwon Hyeongdo turned his head to give Ijin a meaningful look.

“I don’t go around spilling my seed everywhere like you, boss.”

“You fucking bastard.”

The man was quick to laugh. Ijin was greatly disappointed. It was clear at a glance that the two were very close and got along well, so the scene Ijin hoped for, where Hyeongdo got beaten up, wasn’t going to happen.

Filled with disappointment, Ijin lowered his head, unaware that Hyeongdo was looking at him with interest.

Until the waitress came over and served the Ssanghwa tea that Hyeongdo ordered, Ijin’s gaze was fixed on the spotless table.

“The Ssanghwa tea is here.”

Now that he noticed, the waitress also had a subtle dialect.

Ijin glared at the dark brown liquid with an egg yolk floating on top. The pine nuts drifted around, gathering together as if mocking him.

Kwon Hyeongdo reached out and pushed the teacup closer to Ijin. It was a prompt to drink. Caught off guard, Ijin picked up the cup and took a sip, the egg yolk bursting and mixing a savory yet slightly fishy taste into the spicy-sweet drink.

“I’m busy as hell these days. Before winter comes, we’re getting a lot of rude customers like you, so I don’t even have time to take a piss.”

The man grumbled, slamming his cigarette onto the table. Kwon Hyeongdo, as the man lit his cigarette, twirled the lighter around and asked.

“You smoke some strong stuff.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Where did you get this? Isn’t it quite expensive? It’s not officially imported, right? American stuff.”

“I stole it. I begged for just one carton from a container that only brings in one at a time. Those Incheon bastards, they’re so stingy.”

“Incheon, huh.”

Kwon Hyeongdo muttered, then asked nonchalantly.

“I heard they deal drugs too. You’re not dealing weed here, are you?”

“Deal, my ass. We use the drugs on the grass.”

As Ijin drank the Ssanghwa tea, warmth slowly spread through his body. Half-listening, he sipped the tea while letting the conversation between the two men flow in one ear and out the other.

Kwon Hyeongdo held the elegant and antique teacup with the hand that held his cigarette. It didn’t suit his large, rough hand, full of scars and calluses.

“The punks coming here are druggies, aren’t they?”

At Kwon Hyeongdo’s probing words, Jang Munyong, who managed Trevi, exhaled smoke deeply under his nose and shook his head.

“Whether they bring drugs in, chew them, or shit them out, that’s none of my business. I just provide the place.”

“So there are people doing it? You don’t know where they get it from?”

Jang Munyong slammed his fist on the table. The sound echoed in the space covered by the round ceiling. The gazes of the women at the surrounding tables and the gigolos who seemed to be there to serve them briefly turned towards them before quickly disappearing.

“Hyeongdo, are you testing me now?”