Chapter 19
by Gideon“Yeah. How do you know? Real estate in that neighborhood is pretty expensive.”
The man’s sharp gaze, his expression sour, fixed on Juhyeon. His words were tossed out with an open disdain. Juhyeon flinched at the hostility, unconsciously trying to gauge the man’s mood.
Taemo stepped in, patting Juhyeon’s back as he snapped, “It was just a question. Why the hell are you trying to crush his spirit? It’s a neighborhood full of thugs anyway. Keep talking.”
Still glaring fiercely at the man across from them, Taemo jerked his chin toward Juhyeon.
“…I, uh, I live nearby, so I’ve heard things. I also had a friend who was close with the college student who died.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. They said the shop owner lost a ton of business because of the rumors, so they demanded he pay for all the damages. If he tried to post about it online or go to the police, a swarm of lawyers would show up at his door.”
The investigation eventually fizzled out. They said they couldn’t find any CCTV footage that could serve as evidence, and they couldn’t even perform an autopsy—even though similar incidents had happened several more times. Everyone living in that neighborhood knew the truth: the police were in on it.
“You know a lot,” the man interrupted Juhyeon, tapping the photo with his index finger. He was pointing to a person sitting in the middle of the bar, bathed in cozy lighting. Even at a glance, the person’s attire screamed wealth. Just like the man standing before them now.
Taemo tugged the photo from under the man’s fingertips. He brought it closer to his face, as if to examine it more thoroughly, then suddenly tilted his head. His gaze shifted from the photo to the man himself.
“What’s your connection to those dead people?”
“What’s there to ask? We’re complete strangers.”
“Then why are you making the request on their behalf? Another case of your pathetic sympathy?”
“Something like that. They looked wronged. But they don’t have the means to fight back, so I figured I’d step in. I have the money and the time, right? And I know someone who’s good at killing people cleanly.”
He’s talking as if he’s handing out charity, Taemo thought. If there were absolutely no connection, the bereaved families wouldn’t have asked him for help. Why would he spend his own money to get involved in such a dangerous matter? Especially when it means making a perilous request to have an acquaintance killed.
Taemo set the knife down and leaned back against the chair. He fixed the man with a strange, unreadable gaze—one that seemed to both interrogate and dissect him. Even watching from the side, Juhyeon felt his breath hitch, yet the man simply rested his chin on his hand, grinning as he met Taemo’s stare.
“You said you wouldn’t take anything I gave you,” the man said. “No car, no house, no clothes. But you’ll still take a hit request.”
The man’s grin sent a chill down Juhyeon’s spine. Didn’t he say they were alumni? Is he really asking to have his own friend killed over something like this? Juhyeon had known the man was interested in Taemo from the start, but to go this far?
Juhyeon finally set down the knife he had been gripping and looked back and forth between the two.
“Thanks to you, we’re going to wipe out every last scumbag in South Korea.”
“Will you accept me without a word then?”
“I’ll review this case and get back to you.”
The strange tension that had been crackling between the two men was abruptly severed by Taemo. Even Juhyeon, who was a complete outsider to their dynamic, felt awkward. What the hell is the relationship between these two? No matter how she looked at them, they didn’t seem like a hitman and his client.
“Minsu, you should be the one to contact me.”
The man winked. With his tall, soft features, the gesture made him look like a celebrity. Juhyeon, who had been blinking blankly, froze.
Kim Minsu.
Just like Juhyeon, this man seemed convinced that Taemo’s real name was Minsu. Of course, it was strange to reveal one’s real name when meeting a client, but…
How much of this is real, and how much is fake? Could the name Lee Taemo be a lie too?
I was stealing glances at him when Taemo suddenly whipped his head around. Before I could look away, our eyes locked. He raised an eyebrow once, then immediately averted his gaze.
“By the way, did you ever go to the hospital?”
“What hospital…? Oh, a psychiatric hospital?”
The man laughed, tapping the table for emphasis, his voice casual as he asked the question. I’d noticed it before when he was being prickly, but with a face like that, anyone would be tempted to stare at least once.
“You’re not normal. There’s definitely something wrong with your brain.”
His tone was far from concerned, yet the man’s face lit up as if he’d just received the best news of his life.
Taemo seemed completely oblivious to the other man’s turbulent emotions. He simply turned off the recorder with a blunt flick of his wrist and shoved it into his jacket pocket.
“I know. But I’ve always been like this since I was a kid.”
“Yeah, I can tell. Still, you should go while you’re still young. The younger you are, the easier it is to fix.”
“Why are you trying so hard to fix me? Planning to keep me after you’ve ‘repaired’ me?”
Even at the bold provocation, Taemo didn’t so much as blink. He just took out his phone, tapped a few keys, and set it face-down on the table again. Then, with complete composure, he picked up his knife.
Juhyeon’s eyes followed the movement of Taemo’s hand as he sliced the meat. Even as they ate, their conversation continued—a relentless volley of spear and shield.
“I hate how you’re surrounded by so much trash. They say birds of a feather flock together, you know.”
“Hey, I’m different. Besides, can’t we just clean it up together? I can even pay you several times the usual fee.”
Wait, Lee Taemo is using his right hand.
At home, he’d always used his left for everything—eating, cutting, even using the mouse. But here in this room, he was using his right.
Is this another one of his tricks to keep me off balance? Or was using his left hand in front of me just an act?
Even though he was right here, Juhyeon felt like he couldn’t truly see him. After a moment of silent observation, the client spoke, a strange smile playing on his lips.
“But I guess you’re not acting this time? Your couple act with the chihuahua was pretty clumsy before.”
“What?”
“Him.”
The man pointed his knife at Juhyeon. Suddenly the center of attention, Juhyeon blinked rapidly. He felt he couldn’t afford to misread the room and mess this up.
“He keeps glancing at you.”
“…”
I can’t even explain that I wasn’t trying to do anything else, Juhyeon thought. The sheer injustice of it all will be written all over my face. Yet, Taemo continued his act with unnerving composure, his tone chillingly affectionate.
“Is that so? Did you stare at me so much that someone else noticed?”
“…I wasn’t staring.”
Juhyeon emphasized each word, and Taemo finally let out a laugh. Juhyeon shot an annoyed glare at the man sitting opposite him before gripping his knife again.
But strangely, the steak didn’t look appetizing anymore. The blood seeping between the thick slices felt nauseating for some reason. Maybe it was because their entire conversation so far had been about murder. Her appetite had completely vanished.
“Hmm. I don’t like him.”
“…”
“I’ll only do one thing with him. Either the job or this.”
He raised his pinky finger and waved it back and forth. That guy really must have a screw loose. Even the most clueless delinquents wouldn’t say something like that to someone’s face. Especially not to a complete stranger. Yet this client had no hesitation. He wore all his emotions on his sleeve and seemed like the type to do whatever he wanted, no matter what. Like a psychopath or something.
“So, what are you going to do if you like him so much?”
Taemo seemed to be taking a side, but not Juhyeon’s. Meanwhile, the uncomfortable glares directed at Juhyeon continued.
“Do it without him. I’ll double the commission.”
What kind of conversation is this, with a person sitting right here?
Yet, Juhyeon’s ears perked up at the mention of double the pay. Wasn’t that a pretty good deal? After all, his role was just to clean up. If they could manage without drawing blood… then he probably wasn’t needed anyway. It might be a little awkward, sure, but they were offering double the commission.
Juhyeon cautiously reached his hand under the table and lightly tapped Taemo’s knee.
Taemo turned his head and met Juhyeon’s gaze.
Just say you’ll do it.
Juhyeon winked, trying to convey the message. Taemo closed his eyes slowly, as if acknowledging her, before finally speaking.
“No.”
“Ah.”
Taemo’s hand closed around Juhyeon’s wrist, which was still tapping his knee. The faint warmth seeping through his grip made her flinch. I thought his hands were only meant for holding a knife, she thought, but they’re surprisingly warm.
“It’s still early. If we break up now, the job’s ruined.”
He spoke as if they were in a deeply tragic relationship. I guess you have to be a good actor to be a hitman, she mused. Fearing she might slip up if she said anything, Juhyeon kept her mouth shut.
“Funny,” Taemo said. “Since we both know you’re not actually into this.”
“If you’ve got a problem with it, just cancel the request.”
The conversation was a stalemate, neither side willing to budge an inch. Juhyeon’s eyes darted around awkwardly as the two men locked horns, the guest and host completely reversing roles. I’m fine with bowing out, he thought, but how rich is this guy to pass up a chance to double his money?
“What’s it gonna be? You staying or leaving?”
As always, Taemo left the choice to the other person. It wasn’t out of consideration, but rather a tactic to apply psychological pressure.
“I’m not the type to grovel, but I guess I don’t have a choice. You’re the one who’ll be reaching out, though.”
The man, however, was no pushover. Even in this position, he managed to secure a promise that Taemo would be the one to initiate contact.
The meal, a thinly veiled excuse for a business meeting, wrapped up haphazardly. The man seemed reluctant to leave, but Taemo had no such lingering feelings. He simply grabbed Juhyeon and pulled him out of the room, not even offering a proper goodbye.
“What is this? Are we supposed to pretend to be a gay couple? Why? Why me?”
“Playing hard to get makes them want you more,” Taemo explained. “And I’ve been pretending to fuck Kang-i for too long.”
“Ah, so the Chihuahua…”
Juhyeon nearly burst out laughing when he finally understood the “Chihuahua” mentioned throughout their conversation. So, he’d been pretending to date Kang-i all this time. Now that he was the one being dragged around, Taemo was acting like he’d started a new relationship.
But isn’t this a bit weird? Juhyeon wondered. Why do we have to act this out for a simple client?
Juhyeon slowed his pace and glanced back, his eyes lingering on the still-closed door of the private room.
“Is he really just a client?”
“Yeah. A regular.”
“…”
A regular for contract killings? The thought sent a chill down Juhyeon’s spine. As he shivered, Taemo’s arm draped over his shoulders. The sudden contact snapped Juhyeon’s attention away from the door and back to Taemo, whose face was now inches from his own. Juhyeon’s breath hitched.
“Don’t you dare back out in front of him.”
“But honestly, double the pay is a bit much, isn’t it? I don’t know how much you’re getting, but…”
“Whether it’s double or five times, you’re staying with me.”
Taemo’s answer was more than just firm—it was baffling. They’d only been working together for a little over a month. Why did he insist on keeping him glued to his side?
“…”
But Taemo’s steadfast attitude stirred a strange feeling in Juhyeon. Was it because he had spent his whole life around people who stabbed each other in the back, betrayed one another, and only preached unity when it served them? Taemo’s gesture—treating him like a real teammate—felt completely foreign. It had felt reassuring, perhaps even a little touching. He wasn’t sure.
Even after some time had passed, he still couldn’t put a name to the emotion he’d felt that day.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
“Ten, one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand, one million, ten million…”
Juhyeon was already counting the numbers for the umpteenth time. The balance in his bank account now exceeded 62 million won. It was several times the amount he’d scraped together while scraping by as a low-level thug. In this short period, his savings had grown rapidly.
That morning, Taemo had handed Juhyeon a thick stack of cash, calling it a down payment. Juhyeon had been depositing it into his account in small batches, but he still had a mountain of cash left. Lately, he found himself opening his banking app whenever he was bored, just to count his balance. His prepaid phone had no contacts, no games—nothing. It meant the only joy Juhyeon had left in life was the money piling up in his account.
He chuckled to himself as he counted the money again. The total was the same down to the last cent, but it was still thrilling. Maybe it was because he’d never had this much money in his life.
“You’re practically kissing your phone,” Taemo remarked.
“It’s amazing,” Juhyeon replied. “I’ve never had this much money before.”
It might not have been much to Taemo, but to Juhyeon, it was everything. Of course, he knew the money hadn’t been earned honestly. He’d paid for it with stress, anxiety, insomnia, and a gnawing sense of guilt—but all of that vanished the moment he looked at the cash.
“Are you just going to worship it? Money’s meant to be spent.”
Ever since he’d started following Lee Taemo around, Juhyeon had rarely spent any of his own money. He always ate his meals with Taemo, and whenever they went to karaoke, he could snack to his heart’s content. The pocket money Taemo slipped him whenever he ran errands was a nice bonus, too.
It was getting warmer, and he knew he’d need summer clothes soon, but he could still make do with what he had. His lifelong habit of scrimping and saving meant his bank balance only ever grew, never shrinking.
“I’m going to keep saving it,” Juhyeon said.
“What’s the point if you never spend it?”
Juhyeon’s gaze, which had been fixed on the numbers on his phone screen, finally drifted to Taemo. Even after asking the question, Taemo didn’t seem to be paying much attention to him. Instead, it was Juhyeon who slowly took in Taemo’s face. Since they were around the same age, he couldn’t help but think of Dongwoo whenever he looked at Taemo. Though, of course, their features and builds were completely different.
“I want to repay the person who raised me.”
A smile tugged at his lips as he spoke. With the way his money was growing, he’d soon be able to afford something much better for his hyung.
“Who raised you?”
“Just… an older brother I knew.”
Taemo seemed intrigued by the vague answer. He reached out and hit the mute button, instantly silencing the gunfire blaring from the TV.
“…Where is he now?”
“Um, I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know?”
Juhyeon struggled to answer the relentless questions. Finding Dongwoo, who had vanished overnight, was no easy task. He’d reported it to the police, but after hearing his story, the officer was convinced it was just a simple case of running away from home.
Since they couldn’t rely on the police, Juhyeon would have to find Dongwoo on his own. But he knew absolutely nothing about where Dongwoo worked. They had lived together like family, yet absurdly, the only link between them had been his phone. And even that had been cut off long ago.
“Maybe… he just wanted to live on his own.”
“Maybe not.”
Taemo’s gaze felt a little sharp. But Juhyeon only tilted his head foolishly. If he didn’t choose to leave on his own, what other options were there? No matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t think of anything.
Maybe it was because she didn’t understand the bond between Dongwoo and me—the kind of bond that would leave Dongwoo with no choice but to run.
Juhyeon finally set down the phone she’d been clutching the entire time. Then, she said the words she always rambled about in front of her close friends whenever she was dead drunk. This time, she said them completely sober.
“He’s an older brother I grew up with at the orphanage. Even after we left, he kept taking care of me. Feeding me, clothing me, giving me a place to sleep. He worked his ass off at part-time jobs… He wasn’t even that much older than me. How hard must it have been for him at such a young age?”
“…”
“That’s why I understand why he ran away.”
I understood Dongwoo’s choice, but that didn’t mean I could completely erase him from my life. For the young Juhyeon, Dongwoo had been too immense a presence to simply shut out and forget.
So he focused on saving money. After all, he needed it to find his brother. People around him tried to talk him out of it, telling him not to waste his time.
“Hey, hyung. You probably know people from errand centers, right? Doing this kind of work?”
“…”
Taemo answered with a blank stare. His expression clearly asked, Why the hell are you asking me that?
“Errand centers can find people quickly. I’ve been to a couple, but they turned me away because I’m a minor. Another place quoted me over seven million won. At the time, my entire life savings were only ten million… After that, I couldn’t even bring myself to try again.”
“And?”
“Uh, so… I was wondering if you could introduce me to someone you know. Maybe they’d give me a discount? A friend-of-a-friend discount, something like that.”
As Juhyeon turned fully toward him, the two of them drew closer. He didn’t even realize they were now within arm’s reach. Though he still found Taemo terrifying, he seemed to be growing accustomed to him, little by little.
Taemo tilted his head, looking down at Juhyeon. His blatant gaze made Juhyeon feel suffocated for some reason. Did I act too friendly? He scratched his forehead and looked away.
“I don’t know. I’ve never asked anyone for a favor like that before.”
Taemo’s voice was unusually cold. It made Juhyeon regret even asking.
“Oh.”
Right, he wouldn’t need to go to an agency. If he asked Kang-i, he’d probably find the information faster than any professional firm. Swallowing his disappointment, Juhyeon leaned back. Just as he reached out to pick up his phone again, a low voice cut in.
“By the way.”
“Yes?”
“When things aren’t clear even after you’ve clung to them for years, giving up is also an option.”
His words sounded like he was telling Juhyeon to stop looking for his brother. Did he think Juhyeon was foolish, just like everyone else? For clinging to a severed connection, trying to find a trace of it at all costs?
Contrary to his assumptions, Taemo’s expression remained unchanged. His gaze held no pity or judgment.
“…What does that mean?”
His impossibly deep, black eyes held Juhyeon’s for a long moment. Just as Juhyeon felt he might forget how to breathe, Taemo shook his head slightly—a gesture indicating he wouldn’t explain.
Taemo stood up lightly and reached out.
“Kang-i says we should go.”
With a touch that held no real strength, he lightly ruffled my hair before turning away. I stared at his back as he walked straight into his room, then sank into the sofa.
Hmm.
He must have someone he wants back, too. A precious connection—a family member he’d drifted from, a friend, or a former lover. He didn’t seem like the type to cling to such delicate ties, though. Suddenly, I found myself wondering what kind of people his family were. A trivial curiosity followed: how did he get along with his friends? What was he like in a relationship?
“…Never mind. Let’s just go eat some snacks.”
We weren’t close enough to have those kinds of conversations yet, after all.
Juhyeon shot to his feet. He’d been staring at his banking app all day, and his body was starting to ache. He’d always been the type to follow his friends around outside, so he was already itching to move. Besides, he couldn’t even contact his friends, so he had plenty of time on his hands. And since Superman Karaoke always gave him something to do, he figured he might as well go. Plus, he could eat as many of the mountains of snacks as he wanted, as long as he just wrote it down in the ledger.
Just as Taemo had told him to treat Superman Karaoke like his new hangout, Juhyeon had been visiting almost every day. What he did there changed every time. Sometimes he ran errands for Kang-i. Other times, he memorized the long, difficult names of medications one by one, or watched videos of how the other cleaners handled their clean-ups.
Today, he spent his time sorting through the mountain of documents Kang-i had handed him. He didn’t know what they were for, nor did he want to know. The important thing was that they were all written in English, so he couldn’t understand them anyway.
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