Macau (3)
The man in the floral shirt led Ha Seok-jun into downtown Macau.
They passed through a street lined with restaurants where the stench of medicinal herbs hung thick in the air, then turned into a grim alley where a two-story building stood that looked as if it could collapse at any moment.
The man took the exposed staircase up to the second floor, then stopped at a door and knocked.
Knock, knock.
A moment later, the door opened, and another man peeked out.
The instant he saw the man in the floral shirt, he swung the door wide.
The man went in first, and Ha Seok-jun followed behind him.
The moment Ha Seok-jun stepped inside, he frowned.
The place was thick with cigarette smoke. It stung his eyes, and a cough rose in his throat.
“Cough.”
Coughing, Ha Seok-jun looked around.
A few slot machines were set up there, just like in one of those illegal adult gaming rooms back in Korea, and from old men to boys whose faces still hadn’t even lost their baby fat, people were gambling.
The man in the floral shirt ignored them and headed straight for an office at the back.
There was an iron desk, a large safe behind it, and a leather sofa so cheap-looking it was obvious at a glance.
And on that sofa, two men with greasy mops of hair were wolfing down a meal.
The smell of spicy seasoning drifted through the room.
Ha Seok-jun met the eyes of the two men as they chewed with their mouths open.
He quickly dropped his gaze.
That was when he saw the huge Chinese cleavers tucked into their waistbands.
Swallowing hard, Ha Seok-jun gulped without meaning to.
“So, boss. How much do you need?” the man in the floral shirt asked as he sat down at the desk.
“I asked how much you can lend me.”
“Whatever amount you need, we can make it happen.”
“Then can you lend me a billion?”
“If you need it, we’ll prepare it.”
“……”
He didn’t seem to be boasting.
If anything, it was Ha Seok-jun who felt himself shrinking.
“Then for now, just… maybe…”
“……?”
“About five hundred…?”
“Hong Kong dollars, U.S. dollars, yuan, yen, won. Anything’s fine. What currency would you like?”
“Hong Kong dollars.”
The man in the floral shirt stood, opened the safe behind him, and inside it were piles of bills in all different currencies, along with gold bars visible among them.
He took out Hong Kong dollars, then used the counting machine on the desk to tally them.
Tatata-tatadadak—
A moment later, he held the money out to Ha Seok-jun.
“Twenty-nine thousand five hundred Hong Kong dollars.”
The moment Ha Seok-jun reached out like a man under a spell, the man pulled the bills back and said, “Before that, you should sign the contract first.”
He took a contract from the drawer and handed it over.
It was written in Cantonese, and the only things Ha Seok-jun could make out were the numbers.
“The interest rate for one month is fifteen percent. Whether you pay it back tomorrow or thirty days from now, the amount is the same.”
In other words, the instant he signed that contract, fifteen percent interest would begin to accrue.
“After that, the rate goes up by one percent per day.”
It was outright banditry, but Ha Seok-jun didn’t care.
His goal was simply to get on friendly terms with them, then go back to the hotel and tell Kang-hae about all this.
The man in the floral shirt asked for Ha Seok-jun’s passport and ID.
Ha Seok-jun showed him the passport and identification he had prepared in advance, then pressed his thumbprint onto the contract.
“We’ve got plenty of fun games in our gaming room too. Why not play a round before you go, boss?” the man in the floral shirt said, holding out an envelope stuffed with money.
Who the hell do they think they’re fooling? Ha Seok-jun thought as he took the envelope.
He had no intention of wasting his money on slot machines that were obviously rigged.
He left the gaming room immediately.
No one saw him out.
Outside, the sun had already gone down, and darkness had settled in; the route he’d come by felt even more sinister now.
Ha Seok-jun started walking that same path again so he could catch a taxi back to the hotel.
Then, in an alley reeking of spices, he ran into five men.
Every one of them was covered in tattoos.
The moment they spotted Ha Seok-jun, they shouted at him.
“@#$%^&*&%^$”
“#$%^&@#$%”
“@#####$%$”
But it was Cantonese, so Ha Seok-jun couldn’t understand a word.
What was clear was that none of it sounded especially friendly.
His legs started backing away on instinct.
Thud—
Then Ha Seok-jun backed into something behind him.
He turned around to find a bald man who looked at least two meters tall blocking the way.
With the new arrival included, six men now surrounded him.
“P-Please spare me…”
The words slipped out of Ha Seok-jun’s mouth before he could stop them.
As if they understood him, the men burst out laughing.
Then one of them drew a knife from his waist.
The man with the knife held it to Ha Seok-jun’s throat.
“Uuuuh…”
A groan-like cry escaped Ha Seok-jun’s lips.
The man slowly dragged the blade downward from top to bottom.
The knife tip slid along the fabric.
Ssshhhhhk—
And then it stopped at the pocket of his pants.
Inside that pocket was twenty-nine thousand five hundred Hong Kong dollars.
The man immediately took the twenty-nine thousand five hundred dollars out of his pocket.
He spat out something in Cantonese again, but Ha Seok-jun still couldn’t understand it.
After they disappeared, Ha Seok-jun’s knees gave out and he sank to the ground.
And then he replayed what had just happened.
As soon as I borrowed the money, local thugs showed up and robbed me…?
It made no sense.
Ha Seok-jun turned his head and looked toward the gaming room where he had borrowed the money.
“Those bastard sons of bitches…”
They had to be in on it with the people who’d loaned him the money.
There was no other explanation for something like this.
Ha Seok-jun got up and went back to where he had borrowed the money.
Bang, bang, bang.
Clenching his fist, Ha Seok-jun pounded on the door of the illegal gaming room.
A moment later, the door opened.
Ha Seok-jun walked straight in.
The man who had opened the door shouted something behind him, but he didn’t care.
Then Ha Seok-jun spotted the man in the floral shirt, sitting in front of a slot machine and eating sunflower seeds.
“Oh? Boss? You’re back already to pay me?”
Ha Seok-jun rushed at him at once and grabbed him by the collar.
“You bastard. This was all your doing, wasn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” the man in the floral shirt asked, his expression not changing in the slightest.
“So it was you, huh? And the guys who took my money outside were all part of the same crew?”
“Now, now. Let go of me first if you want to talk.”
“Who do you think you’re fooling, you fucking sea-cucumber bastard? Do you even know who I am?!”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a fucking major in the Republic of Korea Army, you bastard!”
After hearing that, the man gave a meaningful smile.
“Ah, so let me get this straight—you’re a major in the Republic of Korea Army, and you were gambling in a casino, and on top of that you even took out a loan from us?”
“You bastard…”
Ha Seok-jun swung a fist at him.
Whoosh—
The man easily slipped away from the punch.
Ha Seok-jun lost his balance and crashed into the slot machine the floral-shirted man had just been sitting at.
The man immediately began fiddling with the machine Ha Seok-jun had slammed into.
“Hey, hey, hey. Wait a second. This thing isn’t broken, is it?”
“……?”
“This is busted. This one cost fifty million won.”
Fifty million won…?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Lying on the floor, Ha Seok-jun looked up at the man in the floral shirt.
“What are you gonna do about it? You’re gonna have to pay for this.”
The floral-shirted man looked down at him and said it with an unreadable smile.
* * *
A little earlier, Kang-hae had arrived at the illegal gambling den and, through Ha Seok-jun’s account, pieced together everything that had happened.
Just as Ha Seok-jun said, there were too many suspicious details to ignore.
“Now, now. I’m telling you, that’s just a story your side cooked up,” the man in the floral shirt said with a smile.
Kang-hae silently looked around.
After he arrived, the man in the floral shirt had driven everyone else out of the shop.
Inside now were only Kang-hae and Ha Seok-jun, along with the man in the floral shirt and the two men standing at his side like bodyguards.
The two men at his side had Chinese cleavers tucked into their waistbands.
“So how much exactly does he owe?” Kang-hae asked.
“Five million won in principal, plus five million for the machine. I won’t even charge you the seven hundred and fifty thousand won in interest.”
He sneered as he spoke.
Kang-hae patted Ha Seok-jun on the shoulder.
“Work hard and pay it back.”
“What…?”
“If you borrow money, you have to pay it back.”
“No, right now—”
“The worst people in the world are the ones who stiff their creditors.”
Flustered, Ha Seok-jun couldn’t get another word out.
The men in the floral shirt’s crew were just as taken aback.
“Hey, hold on a minute.”
“……?”
“Didn’t you come here to pay this back for him?”
“Nope.”
“Your brother’s in serious trouble.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”
“Meaning a knife could be flying toward your brother’s neck at any moment.”
“That would hurt.”
At Kang-hae’s answer, the man in the floral shirt could no longer hold back and raised his voice.
“Hey! Do I look like I’m joking right now?!”
“No? Isn’t that how it works? If you can’t pay back money, they take a kidney, a cornea, a heart—something like that?”
“……”
“I don’t know anything about it, so you guys sort it out yourselves.”
Kang-hae gave Ha Seok-jun’s shoulder one more pat, then turned away.
He walked toward the door as if he meant to leave.
One of the men standing beside the floral-shirted boss followed after him.
And the instant his hand grabbed Kang-hae’s shoulder—
Kang-hae spun around, snapped the man’s wrist with one hand, and seized the back of his neck with the other.
Then, without hesitation, he drove the man’s face into the slot machine beside him.
Crash—
The man collapsed to the floor after smashing his face into the machine, and the other one immediately drew the Chinese cleaver from his waistband and charged.
Kang-hae quickly stepped back.
Whoosh, whoosh—
The cleaver sliced through empty air.
And in that brief instant when the man, flailing wildly with the blade, stumbled against a chair, Kang-hae burst forward like a bolt of lightning and drove a knee upward.
Kang-hae’s knee slammed into his jaw, and he lost consciousness and pitched face-first to the floor.
Thud—
Kang-hae immediately moved toward the man in the floral shirt.
But there was no fear in the man’s face.
Only irritation, as if an annoying problem had just appeared.
Without hesitation, Kang-hae kicked at his shin.
The man lifted his leg quickly to block the kick.
He was different from the two who had already gone down.
Without a trace of hesitation, Kang-hae unleashed kicks and punches aimed at the places the human body was least meant to endure.
The man shifted with him, blocking each strike.
He, too, targeted Kang-hae’s vulnerable points.
The two of them exchanged attack and defense several times.
And as Kang-hae fought him hand to hand, a memory surfaced in his mind.
Someone’s voice drifted into his ears.
The key to the Republic’s special striking techniques is understanding your opponent’s tempo. The fastest way to break a Republic fighter is to disrupt that tempo.
Kang-hae remembered the advice someone from his past had given him.
And he decided to follow it.
Every sport had its own rhythm.
Combat sports were no exception.
Even a feint was a kind of disruption.
Kang-hae began throwing kicks and punches in a broken, irregular rhythm.
Tap—
Tap-tat-tap, tap—
Tap-tap-tap, tap-tap, tap—
Tap, tap, tap-tap—
Little by little, the floral-shirted man’s motions began to collapse under Kang-hae’s irregular attacks.
At last, he let several of Kang-hae’s strikes get through.
And when Kang-hae’s heavy kick slammed into his spleen, a groan escaped him.
“Hngh…”
Kang-hae didn’t hesitate.
He spread his fingers and shot his hand toward the man’s face.
His fingertips struck the man’s eye.
The man’s vision vanished, and he staggered back, reaching out blindly.
Kang-hae picked up the Chinese cleaver that had been dropped to the floor.
Then, without hesitation, he brought it down into the man’s left shoulder blade.
“Aaaagh!”
With a single scream, the man dropped to his knees.
Kang-hae pulled the cleaver free from the shoulder blade and leveled it at the man’s throat.
The bloodied blade pressed into the skin of his neck.
If he applied just a little more force, the cleaver would sink into his throat.
The man in the floral shirt remained kneeling and looked up at Kang-hae.
“Go on, cut me already.”
There was no fear in his voice.
Kang-hae looked down at him and asked, “Did you come from Bureau 35?”
Bureau 35 was the name used for the Reconnaissance General Bureau’s overseas intelligence bureau in North Korea.
The man’s eyes trembled at Kang-hae’s words.