Chapter 12
by GideonJuhyeon reached out with the hand that had been cupping his cheek, took the pen, and scanned the brief terms of the agreement. He didn’t have any specific demands, and the point he’d been most worried about was already covered in clause 4, which only prolonged his hesitation.
“Hmm…”
The pen’s tip lingered beside the number 5. As the black ink bled into the paper, Juhyeon shifted his grip several times before quickly scribbling something down.
5. Save me when I’m in danger.
“I’ve been stabbed in the back so many times in my life,” he said, scratching his forehead with the end of the pen and offering an awkward smile.
“…”
Taemo stared at Juhyeon’s crooked handwriting, remaining silent for a long moment. His expression as he read the final clause was impossible to decipher. Without even blinking, he suddenly snatched the pen away and wrote his name clearly at the very bottom.
And so, the agreement was finalized, with the three of them signing their names side by side. The moment Juhyeon, the last to sign, set down the pen, Kang-i handed over a small shopping bag. Juhyeon just stared blankly, sipping his juice, so Taemo nudged the bag forward with a smooth slide.
“You got your phone and signed the agreement. Now take the deposit.”
“The deposit? There’s something like that?”
“Did you forget what you just signed? Trust is built on money.”
Take it.
Juhyeon’s gaze lingered on Taemo’s lips, which silently formed the word. Though his overall impression was intimidating, the smooth curve of his lips as they pulled up was incredibly attractive. He looked like he would never utter a single harsh word, yet only the roughest, crudest language ever came out of his mouth.
Stifling the thought that had just crossed his mind, Taemo dragged the shopping bag toward him. Screech. It made a heavy, scraping sound.
“…”
The bag was stuffed with thick stacks of cash. It looked like a briefcase filled with payment for a hit. Maybe it’s because I drank something sweet, he thought, but I can’t stop feeling thirsty.
“Count it later. Start.”
At Taemo’s word, Kang-i immediately opened his laptop and began typing furiously. Juhyeon, sensing the mood, placed the shopping bag at his feet. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to disobey Taemo. He straightened his posture, which he had been leaning over while clutching his side. Just then, as if on cue, photos appeared on each of the monitors lined up against the opposite wall. Though the backgrounds and angles differed, the subject was the same.
“Our client’s name is Choi Gyeongsu. Age: forty-nine.”
Kang-i began his explanation, his eyes fixed on the small monitor. With each press of the Enter key, the image on the screen changed.
“Department Head at Z Securities.”
The man in the photos was always dressed in a sharp suit and was usually seen stepping out of a luxury car. He practically radiated wealth.
“Twice divorced. Both were mutual agreements, but the reason was his infidelity.”
Tap. He pressed Enter again. This time, a photo appeared of a place that looked like a bar. The man was trying to slide his hand down a female colleague’s pants, or leaning against her shoulder, pressing his cheek to her chest. A few more photos showed him looking at explicit images in a cafe and an elevator.
“You know those guys who are just dick-driven? This is exactly that kind of case. Nice on the outside, a total bastard on the inside.”
Taemo didn’t react, simply pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He offered one to Juhyeon, who shook his head slightly.
“The client was his girlfriend of two years. They were living together, preparing for marriage, before things fell apart.”
“Cheating again?”
“Cheating would have been better.”
Kang-i hit Enter again. A series of documents, looking like medical reports, scrolled down the screen. The monitor was too small to read the fine print clearly, but the general gist was obvious.
“He lived with his elementary school-aged daughter and his mother, who had mobility issues. Choi Gyeongsu would occasionally get violent when he drank, but he treated the daughter and mother well, so she moved in with him, thinking about remarrying.”
“But…”
“But that bastard started touching them. His daughter, his mother… and even the family dog.”
“What?”
Juhyeon nearly choked on her food. She’d seen plenty of scumbags while hanging around with thugs and gangsters, but she’d never encountered someone this vile. A child, an old woman, an animal—he’d targeted only the weakest.
“I’m gonna chop his dick off,” Taemo muttered, a haze of cigarette smoke swirling around him. His eyes gleamed through the mist.
“They moved out and reported him to the police right away, but of course, he got off scot-free. After all, he’s a department head at a securities firm. All he has is money and connections, right?”
“…Crazy bastard.”
Juhyeon set her drink down, completely absorbed in Kang-i’s story. Kang-i glanced at her briefly before returning to his laptop. This time, images of self-inflicted wounds appeared on the screen.
“They even sued the securities firm for defamation after the client went there. The threats have been constant ever since. This all started six months ago, and the client’s life is completely ruined. They even took out a loan shark loan just to hire us, saying they want to see that bastard die a miserable death.”
The rest of the explanation made my head throb. Even as a complete stranger, I was furious. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how the victim must feel—the sheer rage and despair. Unlike Juhyeon, who was fuming, Taemo and Kang-i remained calm, as if this sort of thing was a regular occurrence for them.
I listened to a long briefing on the target’s basic info and daily routine. In the meantime, Taemo smoked another cigarette. Only after Kang-i’s lengthy explanation finished did he crush the last butt into the ashtray.
“So, what do you think?”
“He’s a fucking piece of shit. He should’ve died a long time ago. Bastards like that always live the longest.”
Juhyeon’s voice was rough with emotion. Taemo let out a soft chuckle, seemingly pleased with the reaction.
“Tell me about it. The world’s full of scumbags who deserve to die.”
“…”
“But since they can’t just die on their own, people like me exist. And that’s why you’re in this mess.”
He draped an arm over Juhyeon’s shoulder. The casual familiarity was off-putting, but Juhyeon didn’t let it get to him. After all, they were truly in the same boat now.
“You’re gonna have a hell of a time cleaning up the mess at the start, huh?”
“…”
He’s going to deal with that trash brutally, Juhyeon interpreted. A chill ran down his spine, but then again, that bastard deserved to die that way.
The “meeting” consisted of Kang-i reciting the information he had and Taemo asking a few questions. Juhyeon wondered if it was okay for him to be present at such a meeting on the very first day of their partnership, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He had already signed the memorandum and accepted the down payment.
With no windows or clock in sight, he had no idea how much time had passed. The once-chilled drink had turned completely lukewarm. The uncomfortable sofa now felt familiar. And the stale, musty smell unique to karaoke rooms was starting to make him nauseous.
“I think this is enough. I’ll draft the story to send the client and pass it over. How about next Friday?”
“Yeah, that works.”
So they call the person they’re going to kill a ‘client.’ Juhyeon’s eyes darted between them as she listened to their conversation. After his brief reply, Kang-i shut his laptop. He then grabbed the first-aid kit sitting in front of Juhyeon and left the room. Juhyeon rubbed the area just below her sternum with her palm, trying to soothe her churning stomach.
“If you throw up here, you’re dead.”
“I haven’t eaten anything, so there’s nothing to come out.”
She quickly followed Taemo as he rose from his seat with a leisurely air. She also clutched the shopping bag containing the down payment, which she had set on the floor. Juhyeon took a deep breath and stood close to Taemo. Though they hadn’t even left the room yet, she already felt like she could breathe again. Perhaps it was the scent wafting from him.
Taemo tilted his head as he opened the door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The light from the hallway washed over his face, casting his features into sharp, cool shadows that drew my gaze. I couldn’t look away, staring up at him until he quirked an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Oh, um… do you usually… do you always get this much detail about your clients?”
The words stumbled out, my voice cracking as I blurted them out in a panic. It was a moment he could have easily mocked, but Taemo didn’t laugh.
“Why are you curious about that?”
“Well, because… inhale… if I were the one hiring you, I’d be too scared to even make the call.”
In the movies, they just pay the money and ask someone to be killed. Isn’t knowing the target’s name enough? The information Kang-i had shared about the client was like a wound I didn’t want to reopen.
“When you hate someone enough to want them dead, you can make up things that never happened.”
“…”
“And to avoid being fooled by that, I have an obligation to dig as deep as possible into their past.”
So there was a stricter procedure than I thought, Juhyeon mused. Is it because they don’t want to create innocent victims? Then again, the simplest solution would be to just not kill people in the first place.
“Ah, right.”
Still, his conviction that the man was a ruthless killer was starting to waver. Though that might change once he actually saw the body.
Taemo reached the counter, leaned his arm on it, and shifted his weight. Even standing unevenly, he still towered over Juhyeon.
“So, what’s it going to be?”
If Taemo hadn’t jerked his chin, Juhyeon might not have even realized the question was directed at him. He licked the inside of his split cheek, his response coming out slurred. “What?”
“What?”
“You need to get some sleep. You want to stay here, or come with me?”
He seemed to favor a conversational style that constantly handed the choice over to others. He’d asked how many hits I’d take, and he’d even let me pick the handkerchief he’d use to kill someone. I couldn’t tell if he was shifting the responsibility or actually being considerate.
“Umm…”
Lee Taemo, whom I knew, versus Kang-i, whom I’d met today for the first time. At a glance, Kang-i seemed less dangerous, but he had an air about him that made people uncomfortable. Juhyeon’s swollen eyes darted back and forth as he weighed his options.
Immediately, the corner of Taemo’s mouth twisted into a crooked smirk. His incredulous laugh seemed to carry a hint of betrayal.
“Why the hesitation?”
“You asked so suddenly. I’m just… a little flustered.”
Taemo tilted his head, clicking his tongue, and turned his gaze toward the end of the hallway. Kang, who had been bustling about, was just stepping into view.
“Hey, Kang. I’m just gonna leave him here, okay?”
It seemed Taemo had taken Juhyeon’s long silence as a choice to stay. He then draped an arm over Juhyeon’s shoulders, the heavy weight making him flinch. Kang, who had been tidying something on the counter, glanced up.
“…”
The tension was palpable. Juhyeon felt like a nuisance, an awkward third wheel just getting in the way.
“Fine by me,” Kang said.
Despite his reluctant expression, Taemo’s answer was surprisingly agreeable.
Ironically, Juhyeon was the one who felt disappointed by the positive response. Maybe I should have just said I’d go with him after all. While he wrestled with whether to change his answer, Taemo leaned down, bringing his face close. A pleasant scent wafted past Juhyeon’s nose. But this time, even that wonderful fragrance couldn’t soothe his churning stomach.
“Listen to me, okay? Don’t talk back.”
The whisper, delivered so close that Juhyeon could feel his breath, made his ears tingle. After Juhyeon gave an awkward nod, Taemo patted his shoulder.
Even then, the internal conflict raged on. I’m a little more comfortable with Taemo now that I’ve gotten used to him. Should I tell him I’ll go with him after all? Wouldn’t that be better than a karaoke room? No, anywhere I can just lie down is fine. While Juhyeon suppressed his doubts, Taemo turned away without a trace of hesitation.
“Hey, wait—!”
Juhyeon reached out before she knew it. It wasn’t as if this goodbye meant the end, yet she always found her body moving on its own whenever she saw someone’s back as they walked away.
Though her grip on his sleeve was weak, Taemo stopped.
“…”
His dark gaze dropped. His eyes, calm and unreadable, traced the hand holding him back. After staring at Juhyeon’s fingers clinging to the hem of his coat, he looked up.
A faint, inscrutable smile touched his lips. Then, he reached out with a large hand and ruthlessly pulled her wrist away. Her fingers, which had been clutching his sleeve, fell away limply.
“I’m leaving.”
He offered the farewell without sparing her another glance.
“Go.”
Kang-i stretched, then waved goodbye as he followed Taemo out. The moment Taemo left, Kang-i locked the door and wound a chain around the handle, just as he had before. He shot Juhyeon a quick glance before turning and heading past the counter.
Juhyeon scratched his eyebrow, watching the back of Kang-i’s head as he strode down the hallway. Am I supposed to follow him? Or just stay here? He lingered awkwardly in front of the counter, feeling like a misplaced piece of luggage.
Kang-i continued to move between rooms without a word of explanation. Finally, he reached the last room at the end of the hallway and peeked his head inside.
“Here. Room 9.”
“Ah…”
This place feels just like a prison. Juhyeon readjusted the bag in his arms and walked toward the room Kang-i had indicated.
“The restroom is across the hall,” Kang-i said. “The shower’s out of order right now. It’ll be fixed by tomorrow morning.”
Room 9 was a small space. A sleeping bag lay alone on a sofa tucked into the corner. Along one wall, a bank of monitors sat densely packed, all their screens dark. It was a stark, empty room, yet the disco ball casting light in every direction made the interior feel strangely chaotic.
“Ah…”
“Just unpack your stuff and use it. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve prepared something… Well, we can go buy it tomorrow.”
“But… are all the rooms like this? I feel like I’m gonna get sleep paralysis,” Juhyeon said, glancing at the ceiling. The disco ball left a colorful, kaleidoscopic stain across the walls and ceiling.
“Even a ghost would run away after seeing your face.”
“…”
“If you need anything, come to the counter.”
Kang-i turned on his heel and stormed off, having said his piece. He moved so fast that he was already out the door before Juhyeon could even mutter a brief “Okay.”
Sigh. I’ve messed up.
He should have just followed Kang-i. Now he was stuck in a room that felt like it was about to give him sleep paralysis. The place didn’t even seem to be in business, yet it still reeked of that distinct, musty odor. Juhyeon pressed a hand to his aching forehead. The space was cramped—barely a hundred square feet—and dark, yet unnecessarily gaudy. It felt like it was suffocating him.
Whatever. What am I doing, being picky about where I stay?
Juhyeon set his shopping bag and backpack on the table and settled into his sleeping bag. He’d been to karaoke rooms before, but never to lie down in one like this. The experience felt utterly alien.
“…”
The mirror ball, mounted in the center of the ceiling in place of a light fixture, continued to cast its dazzling patterns across the walls and ceiling. If I turned that off, it would be pitch black. Though Juhyeon wasn’t particularly afraid of the dark, the thought of the silence and shadows still unsettled him. He blinked blankly, counting the oval patches of light that seeped into every corner of the room.
His body was exhausted, yet sleep eluded him. How long had he been lying there, his mind sharp and alert, counting the shadows cast by the mirror ball?
The door burst open.
The sound was so sudden, without even a footstep to warn him, that Juhyeon jumped.
“Ack!”
Clutching his chest, he stared through the open doorway. Taemo stood there, bathed in the mirror ball’s brilliant, shifting light. Despite Juhyeon’s loud cry, Taemo didn’t even blink.
“What, were you jerking off or something? Why the hell are you so surprised?”
“W-What? I thought you left?”
Juhyeon had been lying on top of his sleeping bag rather than inside it, making it easy to swing his legs off the sofa. As he scrambled to his feet, Taemo flung the door to the private room wide open. The hallway wasn’t particularly bright, yet Taemo’s figure stood out with strange clarity.
His outfit had changed. He was in a more comfortable tracksuit, his hair neatly styled as if he’d just showered.
“I just felt like a total asshole, leaving some poor bastard clinging to me with a pitiful look on his face,” Taemo said. “It left a bad taste in my mouth.”
“…”
“Follow me.”
I wasn’t exactly clinging, Juhyeon wanted to retort, but he just grabbed his things without a word. Taemo looked down at him, scoffing as if Juhyeon had been waiting for this all along.
“You were just waiting for me to take you away, weren’t you?”
“I’m not picky about where I stay, but the room was just… too much.”
Taemo let out a laugh at that, the low rumble of it pleasantly scattering through the air.
“You should have just listened to me from the start.”
With a lingering smile on his lips, he took the lead. Hands shoved in his pockets, he strolled down the hallway. Juhyeon clutched his bag tightly to his chest and stuck close behind him.
Kang-i was still sitting at the counter. Propping his chin on his hand, he grumbled without even looking up from his laptop.
“What’s so wrong with this place? I’ve lived here and never even caught a cold.”
“That’s just because you’re stupidly healthy.”
Taemo’s low voice, which had once terrified him, now sounded different. Maybe he’s trying to look out for me since we’re acquainted now, Juhyeon thought, feeling a strange surge of gratitude.
As he was still processing this unexpected kindness, Taemo reached out. The sudden, powerful tug on his shoulder left Juhyeon unable to resist as he was pulled forward. In an instant, he found himself pressed firmly against Taemo’s solid body.
“This guy practically begged me to take him,” Taemo said, his voice flat. “How fucking awful was it here that he packed his bags the moment I asked?”
Juhyeon’s jaw dropped at the bluntness of the remark. Isn’t it a bit much to say that right in front of the person who lives here? he wondered. He couldn’t tell if Taemo was just socially inept or plain rude.
Forcing a strained smile, Juhyeon waved his hands in a frantic gesture of denial.
“No, no. It wasn’t that fucking bad.”
But the excuse fell flat. Juhyeon met Kang-i’s sharp gaze from behind his glasses. He shut his mouth tight and hugged the bag in his arms.
“I’m leaving.”
“Yeah, fuck both of you.”
Another cold farewell was exchanged. Juhyeon gave a stiff nod to Kang-i, but as expected, he didn’t even get a glance in return. He quickly ran to catch up with Taemo, who had already gotten far ahead.
By the time they reached the surface, the world was bathed in a dim, pre-dawn light. It seemed dawn was drawing near. Despite being beaten to a pulp and pulling an all-nighter, Juhyeon didn’t feel tired at all.
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