A Small Event
"Member Ko Ki-yoon humiliated Member Ma Kyeong-il," the lawyer said. "He treated his friend's wife like a personal sub — bringing in guest males, cycling them through her over and over — and then he turned around and invited that same husband into our cafe as a member. Did Member Ko Ki-yoon ever talk about Member Ma Kyeong-il's wife here at the cafe?"
One of the operators answered in a calm, even voice: Dr. Jeong Soon-tak, the cardiovascular specialist.
"He did speak to me about it privately. He said he was seeing a married woman, and that he wanted to train her as a cafe Public Sub. But I had no idea that woman was Member Ma Kyeong-il's wife."
"At the time I didn't think anything of it. I never dreamed Ko Ki-yoon had that kind of big picture in his head."
Dr. Jeong Soon-tak's words settled over the room, and the atmosphere turned solemn once more.
Another operator spoke up.
"This is... a real mess. How does something like this even happen? Did both of them die instantly?"
"Yes. He fired six rounds from a homemade shotgun. Member Ko Ki-yoon bled out on the spot — dead instantly. Member Ma Kyeong-il's wife died of massive blood loss as well, on the way to the emergency room."
"He called the police himself. Called an ambulance himself. All of it. Right now he's refusing to give any statement at all. He's asking them to kill him."
At the lawyer's explanation, every operator in the room fell silent.
They were men who took their pleasure in stealing other men's wives. This did not feel like someone else's problem. Not to these members. Not to these operators.
"See, I told you — just grinding it out the honest way is still the best. There were some nasty problem cases on the books, but by the end of this week I should have a pretty clear picture of all of them. All I need is enough evidence to take to court. The criminal trial's a later problem anyway — as long as I can put together enough for a civil suit, I'm good. Man... work's actually been tasting pretty decent lately."
Yoo Kang-soo was on the phone with his closest friend, Oh Han-joong. In the studio apartment he was using as lodgings, he had cooked a pot of rice himself, mixed it with the side dishes and a drizzle of sesame oil, and eaten a heaping bowl. Now, for the first time in a while, he was catching up with Han-joong.
"I didn't call you at this hour — this important dinner hour — to hear about your job. If you've got money, just give me two million won. Fast. Don't lend it. Give it."
"Oh, for Christ's sake. You're not even asking to borrow it? You just want me to hand it over? You didn't bring a knife, but this is a stickup."
Kang-soo was laughing as he said it.
"Hey. They say you're not supposed to lend money to friends. You lose the friend and you lose the money. But if you just give it? Clean. Nobody's feelings get hurt."
Han-joong's voice was shameless down to the bone.
"Why? What's going on?"
"Ah, fuck. A month ago a jiu-jitsu gym opened in the commercial building right next door. No business ethics, those bastards. They set up shop right next to me. And half my students packed up and went over there. Grand opening promo — new gis, this event, that event, whatever the kids want to hear. So I need about two million, and I need it now. My cash-advance limit is maxed out. I'm not going to a loan shark over a lousy two million. Fuck. This is actually pissing me off. No-ethics sons of bitches."
"Alright. I'll send it as soon as we hang up."
Kang-soo answered without a second's hesitation. Two million, three million — he could just give it to Oh Han-joong. A thousand-unit sum might have been a stretch, but a few hundred was well within what he could float.
"Hey, Han-joong. You see the news the other day? The guy who took a shotgun and blew away his wife and the bastard she was sleeping with."
"Every channel's been screaming about it. So what? They'll yell for a few days and then it'll go quiet. That's us for you — hot as a kettle, cold just as fast. Right now I'm so pissed about that jiu-jitsu gym I can't see straight. Other guys cheating, other guys stabbing each other — none of it even registers."
"Han-joong. I'm not trying to lecture you, but you're not trying to teach martial arts the way the old master did, are you? Because that'll sink you. It sank him. Just give the kids what they like. What they actually enjoy. Do the exact opposite of what the master did. Back in our day there were at least a few lunatics like us who had a real fire for martial arts. Kids these days don't have that. Make it fun."
"I know. I snuck a look at the jiu-jitsu place next door. I couldn't tell if it was a gym or an arcade. Everybody laughing, everybody talking. They even brought in a pretty female instructor. Every high school kid in the neighborhood went over there. Word got out that the woman instructor is good-looking. Damn it. I should hire a girl from a sports college as a part-timer myself. Ah, my head's a mess."
The two of them talked for a long time before they hung up.
Kang-soo looked at his phone. Two missed calls. Both from his wife, Ji Hye-in.
He drank a glass of water, then opened the banking app on his smartphone and transferred three million won to Oh Han-joong. Han-joong had asked for two. Kang-soo threw in an extra million and sent it anyway.
About ten seconds after the transfer went through, a message arrived from Han-joong.
Kang-soo grinned.
They had spent a lifetime at each other's side — more than friends. When Kang-soo's mother died, Han-joong had sat as chief mourner with him. Weddings, the big family messes and the small ones — Han-joong had always rolled up his sleeves and stepped in. Having a friend like that, a friend who had trained in the same martial art, felt to Kang-soo like genuine luck.
Then it hit him. He called his wife.
"You must have been busy."
"No. I was on the phone with Han-joong."
"Should I call you back on video?"
"No. Let's just talk like this."
That one sentence from Ji Hye-in put a sharp, aching catch in Kang-soo's chest.
"Ah — Hye-in. You see the news the other day? The man who shot his wife with a homemade gun."
"I saw it. The second that story came on, I knew you'd bring it up. One hundred percent. And here you are, actually doing it. Are you going to shoot me too? You're the one who can actually shoot. You brought home dozens of marksmanship citations from the military."
"Hahaha. If I was really going to shoot, I'd have done it a long time ago. I'm just glad you seem to have come to your senses. Let's keep our heads on straight and live. The world's too chaotic. People killing people at the drop of a hat... Aigoo. I don't know. Han-joong seems to be having a hard time of it too."
Kang-soo told her about the jiu-jitsu gym that had opened in the building right next to Han-joong's, and how badly it was squeezing him.
"Just now I cooked a pot of rice in the rice cooker, mixed it with the side dishes you mailed me and some sesame oil, and put away a whole bowl. Those side dishes were really good."
He was smiling as he said it. They talked for a long time after that, and then they hung up.
Kang-soo wanted to go home. He wanted to live with his wife again — with Ji Hye-in. She had done wrong, and the wrong was not a small one. It was far too much. But watching her repent, watching her live quietly and carefully, eased something in him all the same.
"Vice President Jo. What are you saying? Are you joking right now?"
"No. Why would I joke after a meal that expensive? Honestly, when I heard you'd been humiliated by that fellow — Yoo Kang-soo, was it? That young one — I couldn't even lift my head. You'd rolled up your sleeves and stepped in on your own to help with my junior's matter, and then that happened. On our end, we've been so sorry that the feeling is still sitting with us. So we've prepared a small event."
At Vice President Jo Bong-young's words, Executive Director Park Young-ho's eyes lit up.
"No — I mean — I still don't quite follow. Who exactly are you setting me up with? I've got a fairly glittering resume in the pleasure industry myself, you know. My standards are high."