Million Dollar Hide-and-Seek

As I stepped out of the exclusive Bard's Square in Hongdae, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clock had already ticked past 1 a.m. Tired, starving, and having blown my precious time and instant noodles on something that wasn't even fun. I'd figured this was rock bottom, but no—like some goddamn hyper-addictive game—the floor of the bottom cracked open and shoved me straight into the abyss. Even more bizarre, the streets of Hongdae, which should've been buzzing like crazy even at this hour, were dead quiet. Chuseok holidays were long over; the place should be crawling with horny moths to the flame, bodies overheating like ripe autumn blueback herring. But nope, an eerie silence blanketed everything.

"Oh yeah, come to think of it, there was that million-dollar hide-and-seek going on, right?"

Suddenly, a pretty memorable AV popped into my head. This cute actress had to dodge a hundred guys in a hardcore game of tag—if she got caught, she had to chug virgin sake till ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her belly bloated. Hell, for them, getting tagged meant a guaranteed million bucks, so I must look like a legendary Pokémon they all wanna catch.

Bottom line: Hongdae's silence was because every bastard gunning for that million had collectively called a day off.

"Can't I just grab some food first?"

"Hell no, you fucker."

Out of the pitch-black alley stepped a lanky guy who screamed lowlife thug at first glance, hocking a loogie as he came. Slicked-back hair waxed to perfection, oversized earrings glinting even in the dark, rocking a Hawaiian shirt over dress slacks like some '88 gangster. Nothing special about keeping the bland fucker in my sights, except he wasn't packing a jackknife or hatchet like a proper hood—nah, he clutched a weird orb, bigger than a chicken egg but smaller than a goose egg.

"The boss wants you. Come quietly and it'll be nice and easy. Resist, and you'll end up wanting to come anyway."

Thud. He tossed the orb in the air, caught it tight, then hurled it right at my feet. Thought it was a baseball at first, but nah—it was an egg. 'Cause it went splat! right in front of my toes. Inside the shell: sticky, tar-like crimson sludge.

I'd been debating a coin laundry stop anyway, but this asshole just made it mandatory.

As I yanked up my slime-splattered pants with a scowl, he cackled, chomping gum like a prick.

"Know what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that is?"

"Gut-feeling magic crystal? Your conjoined twin?"

"It's a Law Egg, dipshit."

Law Egg. Weird-ass name, so I whipped out Google Books on the spot. Pages flipped for ages—shra-la-la-la—then bam, photo and description.

Yeah, I got the gist.

"Heh heh, alright. Now for my first law! Thou shalt follow me."

"Gah! What the—why won't my body listen?!"

"Told ya, retard. Even if you hate it, you'll end up wanting to come."

"That's some inhumane bullshit!"

"Keep yapping like that, heh heh. I pawned my emergency fund just for that egg. Hand you over to the boss, and it'll more than cover the loss. Now shut your trap and follow."

I meekly trailed behind, and he grinned ear-to-ear, leading the way. The prick knew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every rat hole and shortcut in Hongdae's maze like the back of his hand, dragging me through paths I'd never seen. Before I knew it, the biggest booze joint on Hongdae streets loomed ahead—the building with that underground bar where I'd first downloaded the occult app.

"Took the scenic route to dodge the others, but we made it. Boss is waiting downstairs. I guaranteed it'd happen."

"Guh! What're you dragging me here for?!"

"What else, fucker? Sell you for a million bucks, duh! Big bro's strapped for cash thanks to those Jangchungdong pricks, so nailing you gets me an executive spot for sure. Kinda grateful now? Should've bought you a drink. Sorry."

"Buy one now! Hell, grub too while you're at it!"

"We're not that tight yet, are we? Buying booze versus food means a lot in this game. Better watch that mouth more than your carcass."

He smacked the back of my head and barked at the guards blocking the bar entrance.

"Millennium Faction's Eom Geun-jin hyung's downstairs, right? Got a big fish on his orders. Open up."

The guards hit the intercom without batting an eye at his bluster. Positive reply came quick—they swung the door silently.

"Heh heh! That's the stuff! Feels like VIP treatment—this thrill of being the star today!"

"Thrill bought with my sacrifice. Shouldn't that prick your conscience a bit?"

"This mouthy puppet's been yapping too much. By law, shut your fucking hole."

So I clamped it.

Stepping into the underground bar—where I'd once laid out the guards—unlike last time, a crowd buzzed in the vast space. One spotted me, pointed, and yelled "Million bucks!" The prick ahead flipped a massive middle finger and spat curses.

"This is a special gift for Millennium Faction's Eom Geun-jin hyung, you scum! Don't point at another man's prize, or you wanna die?!"

"Th-that anchovy fucker!"

"Millennium? Those eternal runners-up getting squeezed by Jangchungdong lately?"

"How'd they snag him? Dude looks like a total nobody."

"Can't judge a mystic by looks, idiot."

Whispers everywhere—he took 'em as compliments, flapping his arms to egg 'em on. Then, from the back, out waddled a potbellied neighborhood-uncle type with his crew in tow.

"Whoa! When this retard swore on that lame egg, I had zero hopes! You actually bagged the bastard?!"

"Told ya, hyung! Said I'd deliver him gift-wrapped!"

"Good job! You... fuck, what a surprise gift. Everyone, pay up, you shits! One guy's bringing in a million for the faction while you lazy fucks booze it up! Great work!"

Talking big after drinking with 'em. Whatever—Millennium Faction boss Eom Geun-jin strutted out in front of rival crews like he owned the joint, planting himself before me. Word was, this was strict neutral ground—even bitter enemies couldn't throw punches here. Hence the death glares from foes, but no moves.

"Nice, covered in weird blood or whatever, but no breaks showing. Your handiwork?"

"He resisted, so I roughed him up a bit. Heh."

"Where've you been hiding talent like yours? World's full of wonders. Soon as we settle, you're getting an exec spot."

"Thanks, hyung!"

Eom Geun-jin fed his moron minion some lip service, then yanked my collar and dragged me like trash.

"Master! Millennium Faction captured this fucker alive, so the million's ours, right?!"

The bartender I'd met before scanned me with dead eyes, then started mixing a cocktail. Out came an Aperol Spritz—more orange than gold, classic Italian vibe.

"Bard's Square shut down, huh. How'd he go out?"

"Doesn't matter how. What matters is he ascended to heaven."

"Huh? Master? What're you on about...?"

"Still don't get it, Millennium Faction boss? He wasn't captured—he walked in on his own two feet. Those bloodstains all over? From the bards who crossed over from Italy."

"!"

Eom Geun-jin flinched, dropping my collar.

"Capture needs one of two conditions: mental submission or physical. He met neither."

"N-no way! What psycho walks into a den full of guys hunting him?!"

"Curious, y'know? What the hell am I that you assholes start your own league with a million-dollar ladder game? If there's good shit, share it, right? You Hongdae locals, me not?"

"What the fuck are you doing?! Take him down now...!"

"Enough."

A thick voice from the back froze every thug like time stopped.

"Master, I acknowledge their commission fulfilled. Capture needs two conditions? Whatever—key is delivering the target to the client, yeah?"

"You cool with that?"

"Damn right. Pay the man his million. But too crowded here for business. Mind clearing the room?"

"Official Vatican request?"

"For 'this sort of thing,' we always speak for His Holiness. That answer your question?"

"No issue. We're closing early—everyone else, out."

Bartender slid a heavy bag to Eom Geun-jin; with no business left, the sour crowd shuffled out. Left were five hooded figures at the deepest table, the bartender, and me.

Stomach rumbling, I grabbed the offered cocktail—

Bang! A supersonic bullet shattered the glass, spraying contents everywhere. How many virgins do I gotta NTR? This time, spite flared—I yelled my order through the acrylic barrier at the bartender.

"Mix as many cocktails as you can from the stock here. I'll monopolize 'em all."

"Gonna keep us both busy, then."

As he started another, I felt the bullet's spin drilling through my temple into my skull.

"Fatherless faith-freaks with filthy hands, huh? Figures."

"Shut your mouth."

"Pissed? Make me."

I crunched the incoming slug between my teeth. No movie-hero bite—just molars crumbling like corn, piercing my throat. Whatever—fresh cocktail ready.

"Drinks on me for round two."

Bang!