Misunderstanding (4)
Kindness came into play when feet failed. He slapped both cheeks relentlessly, banishing all sleep.
Snap! He bolted upright with a half-asleep scream. His cheeks felt torn off and gone.
Tak Jung-il, springing from his seat, glanced around and fell back on his ass in shock.
“……Who are you?”
“Still not awake, I see.”
Gu Cheon-woo forcibly shoved aside Tak Jung-il's arms as he rubbed his cheeks.
Snap, snap! Another round left and right.
Lips split, blood sprayed the wall. Amid the agony, he didn't even notice the nosebleed streaming in twin rivers.
“……Is no one around?!”
“Forgot my voice already?”
That unforgettable bastard's voice! One he never wanted to hear again.
“You!!”
“Slower on the uptake than you look.”
Gu Cheon-woo sat in the master's chair without permission, crossing his legs. He glanced sidelong at Tak Jung-il, applying silent pressure. Sometimes, silence was the most terrifying threat.
Shudder! Tak Jung-il hadn't imagined the man who'd saved him would show up in the dead of night. It hit like shattering a window a hundred times over in his sleep.
But complaining about being hit while asleep? The guy's inaction and nature forbade it.
“Isn't there still time left on the date?”
“Someone was after my money.”
……?
What the hell did that mean all of a sudden?
Hesitating a moment, Tak Jung-il's face soured as understanding dawned. In an instant, he'd become money in the guy's pocket.
He valued money over people, but being reduced to cash himself boiled his blood. The world was like that—indifferent unless it was your problem.
Whoosh! Thud, roll!
Something dropped onto the bed. Candlelight revealed its form.
Gasp! Why toss severed heads on someone else's bed? The floor would've done!
Complaints about the expensive bedding died once he recognized them.
Dark Blood Three Guests.
“……Why these guys?”
“If you're asking out of ignorance, I'll bury you for real.”
“……I know!”
The racket should've drawn a crowd, but no one came. Rain masked it, but with guards posted around, silence meant a sound barrier—high-level stuff.
Hearing it anyway spelled trouble. This ruthless bastard would slaughter witnesses.
No need to die lumped in with him.
“Your inner energy's lacking.”
“……Suddenly?”
Sounded like weak self-reflection, but it was a threat: open the barrier or else.
Too calm for mere inadequacy. Better play along if he valued his life.
“These make it 200 nyang.”
“200 nyang? Even for you, that's too much!”
“Bargaining down the price of your life?”
“I barely scraped 100 nyang!”
“So you have 100 nyang.”
Hwajeong Merchant Group's finances were tight, but emergency funds existed. Seed money for fleeing and restarting if ruined. The leader wouldn't fall with the group.
'Damn it!!'
His life-debt doubled in a flash, and he'd stupidly revealed he had cash. Denying it now wouldn't fly.
Luckily, he'd stashed 100 nyang separately. The terror back then demanded it. No confidence bluffing poverty to that madman.
And now it was reality.
“Here it is.”
He could've skipped the 100 nyang, but Gu Cheon-woo took the offered money.
“You've got credit. These at half price.”
“I'll gather the rest as fast as I can!”
Even as the intruder played benefactor, Tak Jung-il showed maximum deference. Alive by force, but his life was no longer his to risk.
“Wise for your well-being.”
“What do you mean?”
“This won't end with one go.”
Gu Cheon-woo struck straight, no circling. Tak Jung-il's reaction didn't matter. His value was solely in being alive—nothing else counted.
“I know nothing about it!”
“If you say so.”
Tak Jung-il knew Bokho Merchant Group was behind it but played dumb for now. Admitting it turned him into the madman's personal ATM.
Mad, yes—but money-hungry. He'd keep Tak alive for the payouts.
'Fuck, how much more do I have to shell out?'
With Dark Blood Three Guests confirmed, denying the madman's suspicions was tough. Frustrating ignorance of how he knew. Rejecting outright risked his neck.
“I'm off.”
“Safe travels!”
Gone into the shadows as swiftly as he'd come. Tak Jung-il got chills. He'd inked a deal with the Grim Reaper.
Alive was good, but finances sucked. Bluff no money, and the Reaper collected in blood.
'Things are getting messy.'
Suspicious identity, but no guts to ask. Ignoring bred problems. Frustrating.
Assassinations continued after. Tak Jung-il survived each, but barely.
Not luck—forced survival.
'Du Won-gwang, you son of a bitch!'
The sender was obvious. Couldn't kill openly, so safe by day. Nights brought killers and ronin.
Guards blocked them, but Bokho's funds outmatched.
•Red Mad Dog (Jeokgwang-gyeon)
•Poison Flame Guest (Dok Yeom-gaek)
•Asura Ghost Buddha (Sura Gwi-bul)
All famed killers and ronin. Mid-tier sect elders at least.
Their pursuit made survival miraculous.
Matching their skill meant hefty fees. With Dark Blood Three Guests, over 1,000 nyang—half upfront, sure.
Tak Jung-il's finances were dire too. Couldn't deny the madman.
“300 nyang.”
“Have some mercy! Where would I get that much now?”
'Who asked you to save me?' he wanted to snap, but death held his tongue.
“No value left.”
“After all I've paid already?”
“I just want fair pay.”
“Give me a little more time—I'll scrape it together!”
“One month.”
“……Thank you!”
Mission done, Gu Cheon-woo vanished like wind. Tak Jung-il swallowed rage. Emergency funds drained dry.
This path led to bankruptcy despite survival.
'Pushing this far? Fine, all or nothing!'
Fleeing? Bokho would keep hiring killers. Too far to turn back. Only way: go all in.
Bam!
He slammed the table. Big spending, zero results—total silence.
Assassins and ronin weren't trustworthy, but vanishing after payment meant death in this trade. Silence screamed failure.
Du Won-gwang hadn't foreseen this. He'd sent recruited elites. Yet all went quiet.
Massive unexpected costs piled up. Coincidences too frequent to ignore. Mocking his foresight.
“How the hell is he doing it?”
This gnawed at Du Won-gwang. Hwajeong couldn't match his hired killers financially. Last one, Asura Ghost Buddha Jang Bul-san, was Peak Expert—stronger than rumored. Tak Jung-il hiring someone to off him quietly? Impossible.
“Someone else interfering?”
Cheongpung and Seongdo? Unlikely profit for the cost. No sense in their involvement.
Even if, intel via informants would've tipped him.
Then—
“It's me.”
“Come in.”
The intelligence chief arrived at night, frantic, explaining.
I want to live. I can't claim a righteous life, but I haven't sinned enough for daily death threats! I don't know why this is happening—it's maddening. Please, save me! I'll hand over all ledgers! Deep thanks to the nameless hero who's guarded my worthless life thus far. But the group's finances are desperate—repaying such grace is impossible.
A pathetic plea. Pride shed for survival. But the threats laced in couldn't be ignored.
“Proof no Seongdo or Cheongpung meddling so far, but ahead's the issue.”
“Meaning they might jump in for real?”
“He's exposed heads of our killers and ronin. Seongdo and Cheongpung will salivate.”
Public now, ripple effects undeniable. Not nobodies—weighty aliases.
Surviving them reframed Tak Jung-il. Plus, the sender was obvious without naming.
Bokho's rep cracked.
Grind! Du Won-gwang gnashed teeth. Events veered wildly off-course.
“That damned bastard's toying with me again!”
“Leader, ignore for now. Falling for provocation gains nothing!”
“Shut up with that nonsense! Letting it end like this—how'll Seongdo and Cheongpung see us?!”
“But it's needless war of attrition!”
Targeting Tak Jung-il was mistake. He'd fade naturally. Squeezing slow was better.
“I'll kill that fucker somehow!”
The chief rubbed his brow. No talking down a flipped leader. They were assets, not true independents. Losses hurt.
Quitting now? No. Ami Sect, Sacheon Tang, Cheongseong showing interest as it blew up.
'How is this possible?'
If Tak Jung-il were that caliber, fine—but it defied sense.