Chapter 70: Want to Live?
Derek Coleman had received the order from Shin Jaewoo to "handle" them—words he'd heard as if time itself had rewound. First, he moved out of sight of the restaurant.
And then Derek Coleman sprang into action.
Thwack.
"Argh!"
"Ow, fuck!"
It was just one light tap each, right around their knees. But that alone buckled their legs, sending them crumpling to the ground.
Bae Ho-min and Jeong Ho-cheol collapsed. Bae Ho-min was skinny enough to take it, but Jeong Ho-cheol had some real bulk to him. Didn't matter. One flick, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.
"Ugh…"
Flat on the ground, the two of them glared up at Derek Coleman. It hurt like hell. They wanted to curse him out, but the words wouldn't come.
"Whoa, man, you didn't have to hit us or nothin'."
Jeong Ho-cheol spat out his complaint, trying to haul himself up. But Derek Coleman ignored them completely. Instead, he pulled out his smartphone and made a quick call.
"It's Derek. Come here—just the two of you."
Just the two of you?
Jeong Ho-cheol staggered to his feet, limping. Bae Ho-min couldn't even think about it. For a split second, the pain vanished from his mind. Something about the way Derek spoke felt off—chilling. Goosebumps prickled his skin, turning his head white with fear. Now he got it. Derek Coleman was a monster all by himself, and there were more like him.
Soon enough, two burly men in black suits arrived on the scene. It hadn't taken long.
They bowed their heads to Derek Coleman.
He acknowledged the greeting casually and passed on simple instructions.
"The chairman said to 'handle' them."
Handle them? What the hell did that mean?
Even the oblivious Jeong Ho-cheol's eyes widened in horror.
"W-wait… what do you mean 'handle'? You gonna bury us alive or some shit?"
He stumbled back, limping. But the newcomers were faster.
"Got it, Coleman."
One replied, while the other closed in on Jeong Ho-cheol in a flash.
"Fuck!"
Jeong Ho-cheol realized his mistake. He spun and bolted. The limp was forgotten in that instant. His mind had only one thought:
If they catch me, I'm dead.
Not figuratively—really dead. Terror fueled his sprint, but his pursuer was quicker. The distance shrank in seconds. Jeong Ho-cheol's bulky frame wasn't built for speed anyway.
"H-help… gack!"
He tried to scream for mercy, but his shirt collar snagged first. Yanked back hard, his throat clogged up, choking off the cry.
Almost simultaneously, a thick forearm locked around his neck.
"Guhk. Krk. Hk."
Only strangled gasps escaped as his throat compressed. The suited man dragged him back like a ragdoll to the spot.
By the time they arrived, Jeong Ho-cheol was limp, vision blurring from lack of air.
The other man had Bae Ho-min pinned down already.
"What now?"
Derek Coleman was gone. The one who'd chased Jeong Ho-cheol turned to his partner.
"…Load 'em up first."
They radioed in. A van pulled up moments later.
The two thugs were shoved into the back. One man took shotgun; the other hopped in behind.
The van rolled out.
In the jolting cargo hold, Bae Ho-min came to first.
"W-we're just low-level guys doin' what we're told. We got nothin' to do with this for real. Please believe us. We weren't plannin' nothin' bad against the chairman or anything."
Bae Ho-min was quick on the uptake. Trembling, he pleaded with the man in the seat ahead.
"Yeah. We know."
The man replied nonchalantly. If anything, it terrified Bae Ho-min more.
Why the fuck are we goin' through this? We're just small-time!
They were dime-a-dozen thugs—loan shark runners, not even full-on gangsters. Just street punks working for a collections outfit.
"Alright. Wanna live? Better talk smart."
The man eyeing them shrugged off his jacket. Unclasping his watch felt downright menacing.
We're dead. Dead. Dead.
To Bae Ho-min, "wanna live" wasn't just a threat—it was a promise of what came next. These guys looked ready to kill.
"You seem sharp enough, so I'll give you a shot. How many guys in your crew—or company, whatever?"
No time for backtalk. Bae Ho-min was sharp, like he said.
"T-ten… no, maybe twenty…"
"Yeah? Then why'd you get nabbed?"
"Huh?"
Even quick-witted Bae Ho-min blanked on that one, blurting a stupid response. He regretted it instantly.
Thud.
"Guhk!"
The van was still moving, but the man balanced perfectly and drove a kick into Bae Ho-min's gut. Breath-stealing agony exploded through him.
What the fuck did we do to deserve this shit?
Tears welled up. He wanted to bawl.
"Askin' again. Why'd you get nabbed? Why'd Coleman say to 'handle' you?"
"Ugh…"
That's when it hit him. This guy might not even know about the commotion at Park Halmae's Gukbap.
"S-see… we, uh, our company loaned money to this guy…"
Bae Ho-min spilled it step by step.
1. Some deadbeat borrowed cash.
2. Skipped town without paying.
3. He had a daughter, so they tracked her workplace—Park Halmae's Gukbap.
4. Tried to eat there, but got into it with the old lady.
5. Then this guy shows up claiming to be her grandson, and Derek Coleman hauls us off.
"Ah, got it. You dumbasses tried to run collections at the restaurant where the chairman's grandma works?"
"Hic!"
He thought he'd explained it well—spun it nicely. They had no choice. They didn't wanna beef with the granny or Shin Jaewoo.
But like Derek, these guys didn't listen. They twisted it their way.
"That's why the chairman said to 'handle' you."
That damn "handle" word again. Pure terror.
Bae Ho-min broke down sobbing like a kid.
"We won't go near the granny or the chairman—or that girl—ever again. We won't show our faces. Promise. Waaah."
The van ignored them, veering into a deserted area. It pulled up to an abandoned warehouse.
Shit got real scary now. But the man's words were worse.
"Obviously. You won't touch 'em. Do it again, and that's your last mistake. Right?"
"Yes! Please just let us live. I swear I won't fuck with the chairman. Just spare us."
"You makin' us out to be murderers?"
The man sounded annoyed.
"No, no! You're not killers, brothers. So please, let us go. I don't wanna die."
Jeong Ho-cheol woke up around then. He caught the vibe from Bae Ho-min's freakout.
Are we really gonna die?
They wanted to run. But the doors swung open.
Jeong Ho-cheol had half a mind to bolt again. No chance.
Twenty guys surrounded the van. All eyes locked on them, and their strength evaporated.
"P-p-ple…"
Couldn't even beg properly. Teeth chattering. Pure dread.
And their looks—ripped builds, mostly foreigners. Fewer Koreans. They started chatting in some foreign tongue—probably English. The foreigners' stares were nightmare fuel.
"Ugh, reeks of piss."
The guy who'd hauled them out pinched his nose. Jeong Ho-cheol had lost control in terror.
He was out of his mind. That level of fear.
"What now?"
Another stepped forward from the foreigners—a white guy, but speaking Korean.
"Chairman said 'handle' 'em."
"Handle? Kill 'em? Easy."
"Guhk."
It's real. Bae Ho-min collapsed, bawling for mercy.
The man who'd brought them clapped a shoulder on Bae Ho-min and whispered.
"You promised not to go near our chairman or his people, right? Yeah, that won't happen. We're shippin' you far away—someplace you can't come back from."
"P-please… spare us… waaah."
"Wanna live?"
"Yes! Just let us live! Please!"
"Well… there's a way."
Shin Jaewoo had said "handle" them. They'd checked the story.
Conclusion?
Dealing with these two won't solve shit. Gotta rip it out at the root.