Chapter 11
by GideonAnd so, they put a period to their farewell, one without a promised date for their next meeting.
Then, he wrapped the bundles of cash in paper. After tucking them into a deep pink dresser, he dusted off his hands and stood up.
“It’s done now.”
He grabbed the two duffel bags of money Taemo had set out. Before leaving, he took one last look at the darkened apartment. This was the first place he’d ever lived after escaping the shantytown. He’d rarely invited friends over, and he’d never shared the passcode, always fearing his brother might show up at any moment. It was old and cramped, but the memories he’d built here were richer and purer than any other home.
“…”
When I make a lot of money, I’ll come back to this place. And he swallowed the wish that by then, Dongwoo would be here too.
The two of them left the run-down villa behind. They found an ATM and deposited as much cash as they could, passing by their darkened hideout on the way. Perhaps it was because they’d lived in this neighborhood since childhood, but memories lingered in every corner they looked at.
He must have been happy when those memories were being made. Now, he was moving forward to become even happier. He didn’t know where he was headed, but he could only trust that it would be better than here.
“Superman Karaoke?”
Juhyeon narrowed his eyes and looked at the building entrance again. No matter how many times he looked, the large sign was definitely for a karaoke bar. It was ridiculously big, even though it was so old that several of its lights were burnt out. The light spilling from the sign cast a shadow over Taemo’s face.
“…You suddenly feel like singing?”
“Yeah, I’m just itching to.”
Taemo’s chuckle sent a wave of disbelief through me. Whether he was serious or joking, the man was just plain weird. I’d already pegged him as dangerous, but he kept exceeding my expectations in the strangest ways.
“Are we doing some kind of rookie initiation rite? I’m a mess right now, so they might just kick me out…”
“Why the hell would we do that? You’re not a rookie anymore.”
Taemo’s response was pointedly off-topic. He was definitely doing that on purpose. My bruised cheekbone was swelling so badly I could barely close my eye, yet here he was, taking me to a karaoke bar in this condition. I had no idea what was going on anymore.
I followed Taemo down the stairs. Despite the lit sign outside, the karaoke bar’s entrance was shut tight. The interior was pitch black, and a heavy chain was wrapped around the inner door handle.
“It looks closed,” I said, tugging lightly on Taemo’s sleeve, hoping he’d just turn back.
But he ignored me, raising his hand and pounding on the glass door.
“What are you doing? I told you, it looks like no one’s inside…!”
“They are,” Taemo replied firmly, before slamming his fist against the door again.
He kept up the relentless knocking. After the tenth blow, a sound came from inside.
“…Huh?”
Juhyeon shaded his eyes with his hand, peering through the glass door. His eyes widened as a faint sliver of light flickered in the dim interior. Did the owner just wake up? he wondered. What if they start a fight for waking them? Well, Taemo can handle it. He knows how to throw a punch.
The moment Juhyeon sensed a definite presence approaching in the gloom, he scrambled back.
“Shit. I think the owner’s awake.”
“They don’t sleep at this hour,” Taemo replied.
“Do you even know the owner?”
Taemo just shrugged in response to Juhyeon’s question. The figure inside drew closer to the glass door. From what Juhyeon could see, the person seemed to be about his own build. With practiced ease, the man unlatched the chain hanging from the inner handle and threw open the deadbolt above the door. Every movement was strikingly swift.
“You showed up without calling.”
A youthful face peeked through the gap in the wide-open door. Despite the apparent age difference, he spoke casually to Taemo. This clearly wasn’t a typical, close-knit relationship.
“Yeah.”
“But who’s this?”
Contrary to his youthful appearance, the man’s gaze and tone were sharp. Behind his oval glasses, his eyes flashed as they scrutinized Juhyeon with unsettling intensity. He radiated a different kind of murderous intent than Lee Taemo’s.
“A new family member.”
“Huh? A new family member?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted a younger brother?”
Taemo waved his hand, gesturing for the man to step back. He then stepped into the dimly lit karaoke room, and Juhyeon hesitantly followed behind him.
“…”
Taemo habitually flipped the switch, flooding the room with light. The interior was a typical karaoke bar—a counter, several drink refrigerators that were now dark, and that same cloying, distinctive smell. A long hallway stretched out, lined with numbered private rooms.
“I’m working with him on this one.”
They’re not friends, just business partners. It made sense. After all, it was suicidal to take on a contract killing alone.
“Ah?”
The man’s voice trailed off as he stared at Juhyeon with a sour expression. The hostility in his gaze made Juhyeon feel awkward, and he forced his lips into a stiff smile. He worried that with his face all torn up, the smile would look grotesque.
“…Hello. I’m Woo Juhyeon.”
“…”
Despite Juhyeon’s polite greeting, the man stared back without a flicker of emotion. He didn’t even respond. He just blinked slowly, his gaze fixed on Juhyeon.
The silence stretched, suffocatingly awkward.
If I look away now, I’ll lose face, Juhyeon thought. He silently met the man’s blatant stare, refusing to back down.
As the tension between them tightened into a silent staring contest, Taemo suddenly intervened, throwing an arm over the man’s shoulder.
“This is Kang-i. How old are you again?”
Kang-i replied shortly, his eyes still locked on Juhyeon.
“Twenty-three.”
“He says he’s twenty-three.”
It wasn’t a warm introduction, but at least the thick tension had broken. Taemo swung his arm around Kang-i’s shoulders and turned on his heel, his gesture a silent command to follow.
They entered a room halfway down the hall. Though the lights were on, the space felt dim and gloomy. It was large enough to hold a dozen or so people, with nine monitors embedded in one wall and a spacious table in the center—just like any ordinary karaoke room. However, the “New Song Chart” on the wall was dated several years back, suggesting the place had been out of business for quite some time.
“But today wasn’t the day.”
Kang-i spoke casually, showing no fear of Taemo. There was no sense of distance between them.
“Just do it today. Aren’t you ready?”
Taemo had apparently broken some kind of plan. Even when faced with Taemo’s usual stubbornness that always left him speechless, Kang-i just shrugged.
“I did.”
“Then why are you talking back?”
Despite the harsh reprimand, Kang-i didn’t seem intimidated at all, and Taemo treated him with a casual familiarity. As soon as their brief exchange ended, Taemo sat Juhyeon down on the long sofa. Being in an unfamiliar space, Juhyeon felt a sudden wave of tension.
“What is this, anyway?”
“A meeting. Give me your phone.”
He’d packed his bags without telling anyone, and this place was in a basement. A place where no one would even notice if something happened to him. Being asked to hand over his phone in a situation like this naturally put him on edge—even though he’d followed them here of his own free will.
“…My phone? Why?”
“So you thought you could just pack your bags, run away, and go back to flirting with those thugs?”
“…”
I’m not that reckless, Juhyeon thought. I’d never do something like that. Of course, he had planned to play along for a while before making his escape, but this was different.
Juhyeon hesitated, gripping his phone tightly. Taemo stood before him, legs crossed, his shadow looming over Juhyeon like a suffocating shroud. A heavy silence descended, thick and oppressive. Is it too late to be cautious now?
Breaking the silence that pressed against his eardrums, Juhyeon finally held out his phone. Taemo snatched it from his hand as if he’d been waiting for the exact moment.
“Kang, get one ready.”
“On it.”
Taemo gave the order with a bored drawl and walked toward the wall covered in monitors. He reached out and unlocked the cabinet beneath the largest screen in the center.
Juhyeon gingerly touched his aching jaw, his eyes following Kang-i’s back as the other man turned to leave.
Sensing his gaze, Kang-i stopped abruptly. He whipped his head around, and Juhyeon found himself staring directly into his unusually round eyes.
“So, how old are you?”
The voice sounded like it was looking for a fight, or perhaps just annoyed, but strangely, Juhyeon didn’t mind.
“Twenty-one this year.”
“I thought you were a minor.”
The nerve, Juhyeon thought. Looking at my face all beaten up like this, he still thinks I look like a minor? His face was swollen and bloody—had the guy even looked at him properly? Juhyeon ignored the comment and went back to massaging his jaw.
Kang-i asked another question. “Coke? Fanta? Yogurt drink?”
“…”
“We have Capri Sun, too.”
“…Then Capri Sun, please.”
Kang-i turned his back without a word. Do people here not know how to have a conversation? Why is it so choppy? Juhyeon smaked his lips awkwardly and scratched his eyebrow.
In the meantime, Taemo arrived, holding something in his hand. He sat down next to Juhyeon and let out a smirk.
“He’s a freak.”
“…”
You look way weirder than him, Juhyeon thought, but he had to bite his tongue. Unless he had multiple lives to spare.
As Juhyeon kept his mouth shut, Taemo placed what he was carrying on the table. It was a first-aid kit. Bandages, antiseptic, gauze, various ointments, cotton swabs, wound patches, alcohol wipes, pain relief patches… It was as if someone who got injured all the time had packed it; the kit had everything.
“It looks terrible. Clean yourself up.”
Apparently, the option of kindly treating his wounds wasn’t in Taemo’s vocabulary. Well, even if he had offered, Juhyeon would have been creeped out.
Juhyeon rummaged through the first-aid kit and pulled out an ointment. Since he’d been rolling around in the dirt, the area around the cut was bound to be filthy. He figured he should at least apply some medicine there first. He squeezed some ointment onto a cotton swab and dabbed it onto the back of his hand and forearm.
His cheek and eyebrow were easy enough to reach, but anything below his neck was a struggle. He tilted his head, feeling around his nape to gauge the position before bringing the cotton swab down. But his aim was off—no blood stained the cotton.
“Ah, damn it.”
Only then did Taemo finally look over. I didn’t dare turn my head to check, certain he was watching me with a look of pure exasperation.
“Lower. To the right.”
Taemo set down the phone he’d been staring at. Propping his chin on his hand, he began to offer a running commentary. I tried to adjust my hand, moving it lower as he’d instructed, only to realize the ointment on the cotton swab had already been smeared all over the wrong spot. I pulled the swab away and squeezed out more ointment.
Watching this, Taemo clicked his tongue.
“You’re so hopeless.”
“It’s because I don’t have a mirror.”
Juhyeon pulled the collar of his sweatshirt down with one hand and brought the cotton swab, now coated in a generous amount of ointment, back to the nape of his neck.
Just then, Taemo’s hand clamped down firmly on the back of Juhyeon’s hand.
Startled, Juhyeon tensed his entire body.
“Relax. You want to poke the wound?”
“…”
Taemo replied with a dismissive tone, then slowly guided Juhyeon’s hand. Juhyeon’s hand moved in sync with his.
“Ah…!”
A sharp sting spread as the ointment finally made proper contact with the wound. Taemo moved his hand up and down several times, as if applying a fresh layer of ointment. Contrary to Juhyeon’s expectations, the touch was surprisingly gentle, yet he felt sweat beading inside his tightly gripped hand. Despite the distance between them, he couldn’t help but feel tense.
“…”
Juhyeon kept his guard up, staring fixedly at Taemo’s shoulder. He knew how dangerous the man could be. He needed to be ready to react the moment Taemo made a move.
The silence hung heavy in the air. Suddenly, the black monitor flickered to life, its screen flashing. Though no sound came from it, Juhyeon flinched. A soft, scoffing laugh followed.
“You were just a lackey, weren’t you? You’re way too scared for a thug.”
“The guys there… they’re all just lackeys,” Juhyeon retorted, his pride getting the better of him. It wasn’t a complete lie—there were plenty of others like him who had no talent for fighting.
Taemo chuckled mockingly. At that exact moment, the closed door burst open, and Juhyeon flinched again.
“What kind of trick is this now?”
Kang-i’s eyes narrowed as he spoke in a disgusted tone. He glared at the two of them, their closeness clearly bothering him. Unlike the flustered Juhyeon, Taemo simply shrugged and let go of Juhyeon’s hand.
“What do you mean, ‘scheme’?” Taemo asked. “I’m just taking advantage of my employee benefits.”
The cotton swab, now heavily coated in ointment, was a messy mix of blood and sand. Only now did the pain near Juhyeon’s collarbone finally seem to subside.
“Then why were you holding his hand?”
“He’s more high-maintenance than I thought,” Taemo replied with a chuckle.
I could have done this myself if you’d just let me, Juhyeon thought bitterly. But no, you had to make a scene and embarrass me.
With a sour expression, Juhyeon began tidying up. He closed the ointment, put the remaining cotton swabs back in their place, and tucked away the bandage he’d brought from Taemo’s house earlier. Just as he was about to close the first-aid kit, Taemo’s hand shot out, blocking the lid.
Juhyeon looked up, his gaze questioning. Taemo rummaged through the box and pulled out a bandage. Then, as if his task was complete, he pressed the lid of the first-aid kit shut with a firm click.
As Juhyeon finished tidying up and wiped his hands with a disinfectant wipe, Taemo tore open the bandage and slapped it onto Juhyeon’s cheek. Juhyeon’s head was pushed back by the force, eventually turning to face Taemo.
Taemo’s lips quirked into a half-smile.
“…”
Strangely, Juhyeon couldn’t look away from his steady gaze. It was Kang-i’s sharp voice that finally broke the tension of that lingering, amused stare.
“Hey, Newbie.”
“Huh? N-Newbie?”
The term, though unwanted, instilled a sudden sense of belonging. Kang-i set a drink pouch and a new phone down in front of the flustered Juhyeon, his eyes narrowing sharply.
“If you don’t get your shit together, you’re going to ruin your life.”
Was that a warning or a piece of advice? Juhyeon couldn’t find the words to respond to the sudden attack. He could say anything else, but he was always on high alert whenever he was with Lee Taemo. After all, he’d chased him all the way here just to keep his life from falling apart even further. Juhyeon shifted his posture, fiddling with the bandage on his cheek.
“Use this phone from now on. We need to share our locations.”
“…”
Instead of answering, Juhyeon turned on the screen of the unfamiliar phone. The only apps installed were a few he’d never seen before.
“Only contact the numbers saved in there.”
Following Kang-i’s instructions, Juhyeon opened the contacts list. There were only two names saved, both completely cryptic: Cola and 2%.
“You can tell who is who now, right?”
“Ah.”
Only then did Juhyeon realize that the drink Taemo always bought at the convenience store was called 2%. So he saved my number as his favorite drink. Does that mean he saved me as Capri? He set his phone down, lost in these trivial thoughts, then peeled the straw from the juice box and poked it in.
“Should we write it out before we start?”
As Juhyeon took a sip of the sweet juice, Taemo spoke up as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment. Juhyeon blinked, confused about what he meant by “write it out.”
Kang-i pulled a piece of paper from under the laptop and wrote two large characters at the top.
“A… memorandum?”
It wasn’t a contract—it was a written pledge. The ominous word made Juhyeon’s mouth go dry, and he took another sip from his straw.
Kang-i wrote carefully, pausing to think between each line. Taemo simply watched, chin resting on his hand, as the neat handwriting filled the page. Juhyeon stole glances at the white paper.
1. Do not disclose anything that happens here. 2. Do not talk back when given an order. 3. Do not cause any trouble.
For all the careful deliberation, the terms were surprisingly unremarkable. Juhyeon tilted his head, puzzled by their simplicity.
“Is this enough?”
Kang-i tapped his cheek with the ballpoint pen before sliding the paper toward Taemo. Instead of objecting to the simplistic terms, Taemo merely gestured with his large hand. The thin pen he held looked exceptionally small in his grasp.
4. Trust is to be demonstrated with money.
“…Trust?”
“Let’s not waste each other’s energy until I get paid,” Taemo said.
“…”
“You won’t touch my wallet, and I won’t kill you. How peaceful.”
He grinned, punctuating the sentence with a light tap of the pen. If I don’t get paid, I won’t kill you. It meant he knew exactly what Juhyeon feared most, what he’d been on guard against until the very end.
“I told you there were circumstances with the wallet…” Juhyeon trailed off, cupping his throbbing cheek with his palm.
Since the agreement applied to him too, it meant he wouldn’t have to steal or clean anything until Taemo got paid. He also figured he wouldn’t be summoned at a moment’s notice like he was when he hung out with delinquents.
Taemo, who had written a mere single line for a formal agreement, now handed the pen to Juhyeon.
“Your turn. Write one.”
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