Master Plan – Poker
"Hiiik!"
Park Kang-woo trembled like a leaf at the sight of the red lumberjack's axe gripped in the massive foreigner's hand beside him. One wrong move and it would have been his own limbs, not the wooden crate, that got cleaved clean through.
"Dobbiamo festeggiare, allora."
The voice belonged to the man lounging cross-legged in the seat of honor, looking down on Park Kang-woo. That was the same man whose collar Park had seized and dragged outside only moments earlier.
Eyes darting as he pieced the situation together, Park Kang-woo thrashed against his bonds with frantic speed until he managed to drop to his knees. This was a man who had clawed his way to the top of his organization less through raw courage than through shrewd self-preservation, less through force than through reading the room. With his arms and legs still bound, kneeling naturally drove his forehead straight into the floor.
The floor suddenly pitched and rolled; Park toppled sideways and hurriedly planted his head again. The constant motion of the cabin told him they were inside a ship.
"Oh-ho. Interesting. You're quick on the uptake. Treat our guest properly."
At Pierre Choi's words, the underlings untied the ropes coiled around Park Kang-woo's body and sat him in a chair.
"Listen here, old friend. I did a little digging. Turns out you're just a small-time guppy running petty jobs out in Gyeonggi Province."
Pierre Choi let his body sway with the rolling ship, speaking to Park with the exaggerated gestures and expressions of a clown performing on stage. Facing those madman's eyes, Park Kang-woo's neck seemed to shrink into his shoulders.
"Spit it out. You're supposed to answer, aren't you?"
Park rolled his eyes, then spat out the wad of cotton stuffed deep in his mouth.
"P-please spare me."
"You're already alive, aren't you?"
Pierre Choi grinned and stroked his chin. He beckoned to the foreigner standing behind him; the man approached and knelt respectfully. Pierre issued further instructions in a foreign language.
"Hey. Park Kang-woo."
"Y-yes, sir!"
"People in my position—do you know what matters most to us? Money? That barely registers. What really matters is something to soothe this unbearably dull life of ours… fun."
This was no act meant to deceive Park Kang-woo. It was Pierre Choi's genuine heart.
"I heard some cute little friends had been messing with the sugar supply from our Sicilian brothers, so I came back to this land after a long while…"
Park Kang-woo was spinning his brain at the absolute maximum capacity of his life while listening.
…Sicilian brothers means Italian mafia. Sugar means drugs.
Pierre Choi's voice continued.
"Before I even got to the main feature, I ran into this adorable little trailer. That's why I'm having so much fun right now."
Finished speaking, Pierre Choi tapped the table twice. The elderly gentleman who had been standing at attention behind him walked forward and took a seat between Pierre and Park.
"We're going to play a game. If you win, I'll put you in charge of drug distribution for all of Korea. I like dogs that listen well."
Park Kang-woo's eyes went wide at the unexpected offer.
"Th-that… sir. Wh-what happens if I lose?"
The ship rolled again. Pierre Choi said nothing; he simply looked at the rope lying discarded on the floor and the spit-out cotton. Then he turned that same grin on Park Kang-woo.
He never received a verbal answer, but Park trembled as he imagined what waited beyond the rolling hull.
"Shall we begin? Dealer."
At Pierre's word the elderly gentleman bowed respectfully and began shuffling the cards. He dealt one card face-up in front of each man.
"W-wait a second, sir. Is this poker? Why are they face-up…"
Park Kang-woo, who lived for poker, stared at the familiar cards and asked the question. If this was poker, why leave the hands exposed?
"You've got nothing left to bet, have you? The cards that come out are your fate."
Pierre Choi grinned at the poker cards on the table. Both men had a six lying in front of them—spades for Pierre, clubs for Park.
No psychological warfare, no bluffing, nothing he could do. Park Kang-woo simply shook as each new card was placed before him.
In a seven-card game, once six cards lay face-up, despair flooded him. Pierre's cards ran in perfect sequence from six through ten—already a straight, even missing one. Park's side held three sixes and a scatter of unmatched cards. A triple.
His chances of winning were vanishingly thin.
"This is too much fun, isn't it? Hahaha. Dealer, give us the last cards."
Now Park's arms and legs were both trembling violently. Even terrified out of his mind, the veteran of countless poker tables still ran the card count in his head.
Both had drawn sixes on the first card, so four-of-a-kind was impossible. The only path to victory was turning his six triple into a full house by pairing one of the unmatched cards he already held. Rough odds: about twenty percent. In other words, an eighty-percent chance he was about to die.
The elderly gentleman's hands moved; the final cards flipped over in front of them. A three for Pierre. A seven for Park.
Six triple plus a seven pair—full house complete.
"Uuugh!"
Park Kang-woo had completed the full house and beaten the straight.
"Khahahahat!"
Pierre Choi threw his head back and laughed like a madman. Park shrank into himself, too tense to celebrate, never knowing when this capricious man might change his mind.
"Diamond seven, is it? Looks like Lady Luck is on your side. I'll give you a location in two weeks. Bring three jang. If you want to run every drug in this country, you'd better be able to scrape that much together."
"Th-three jang meaning three billion won…?"
Before the sentence finished, Pierre Choi's face went ice-cold and he shook his head.
"Ah—thirty billion…"
"What? Can't even float that much, you little guppy?"
Pierre Choi flicked a glance at the rope. Park looked back and forth between that smile and the foreigners standing with rifles slung over their shoulders, then forced his shaking mouth open.
"N-no, sir. With construction companies and gambling dens as collateral, I can scrape it together somehow."
"See? We understand each other just fine."
Pierre Choi lifted one corner of his mouth in a devil's smile as he looked at Park Kang-woo.
"Okay! Cut! That was excellent."
With Director Park Chan-hong's crisp "Okay," Ryu Yeon-woo rose inside the special set and strode quickly toward Jeong Ha-gyun, taking both of the older man's hands in his own.
"Sunbaenim. You worked so hard."
Jeong Ha-gyun had been punched countless times, forced to his knees, and sent tumbling and rolling throughout today's shoot.
"Not at all. I think the scene came out beautifully. I'm very satisfied."
Feeling sorry for the veteran who had suffered so much, Yeon-woo still would not let go of his hands. Looking for all the world like father and son, the two of them walked out of the special set designed to rock like a ship, hands still tightly clasped.
There was no more filming scheduled, but because this was a pivotal scene, Maseok Do and Han So-hyun—who had been monitoring from a corner of the set—came over.
"Sunbaenim, Yeon-woo. The footage looks fantastic."
"Right? It was incredible!"
Maseok Do gave a thumbs-up; Han So-hyun chimed in agreement.
"Haha. Yeon-woo carried us."
"What are you talking about, sunbaenim? I just sat there comfortably the whole time."
Yeon-woo had controlled the entire atmosphere with nothing but expression and dialogue while remaining seated, yet he insisted on giving every bit of credit to Jeong Ha-gyun, who had been bound and tossed around inside the moving set.
"We're into the final stretch of filming now. I can't wait for our movie's ending."
"I know, noona. When I first got the completed script it was a pretty fresh shock."
Before shooting the latter half, they were given several days of vacation. Props and locations still needed preparation, and the second half contained action sequences that required the stunt team to lock down movement and timing. After months of nonstop work, the actors were finally allowed a brief rest.
Suddenly his schedule had a gaping hole in it.
Hmm, what should I do?
Lying around the officetel, scrolling through fan-café posts and YouTube comments, Yeon-woo eventually called Son Jin-uk.
"Oh, Yeon-woo."
"Hyung, are you busy?"
"Nah, I'm completely done with filming. Aren't you the busy one?"
"I got a few days off. Got bored, so I called."
Jin-uk snorted a quiet laugh at that.
"Hey, call your friends. Why are you calling a hyung who's a full twelve years older?"
"Come on, hyung's more comfortable. Besides, the kids are probably in exam season."
The words secretly pleased Son Jin-uk. The older you got, the more you appreciated younger juniors and little brothers reaching out first.
"Then want to come over to my place today? Don't bother calling Manager Min-su. I'll come pick you up."
"Really? I'd love that! Not having a car is a little inconvenient at times like this."
"Hmm, that so? Still no plans to buy one?"
Yeon-woo fell into thought at Jin-uk's question. He had gotten his license the moment he graduated, and successive projects had left his bank account flush. In some ways he already had more wealth than in his previous life.
"…Maybe I should just buy a car while I'm at it?"
Jin-uk said he would be there soon, so Yeon-woo got ready for a simple outing. Having already lived through the truth that you come into this world empty-handed and leave the same way, he had no intention of living extravagantly—but he also refused to live stingily this time around.
Not long after, Jin-uk texted that he had arrived. Yeon-woo went down to the parking garage and found Jin-uk's car waiting. Having always ridden company vans, this was the first time he had seen Jin-uk's personal vehicle.
"Thanks for coming, hyung."
"I was bored anyway."
Yeon-woo opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.
"This is that B-company model, right?"
An SUV famous among celebrities.
"Yeah. Got anything in mind for your first car? Price range or whatever."
Since things had turned out this way, Son Jin-uk planned to take him car shopping today. Yeon-woo listened and fell into brief thought. In truth, his first car in the previous life had been a '96 model so ancient you could barely find one even in scrapyards—something only classic-car clubs still drove.
"First car… hmm. Maybe a sports car? Budget-wise, as long as it's not several hundred million, I'm fine."
"Oh, for real? That's unexpected."
Still half-immersed in the role of Pierre Choi, Yeon-woo's usual temperament was running a little higher-tempo than normal. And the memory of driving sports cars throughout entire operations while undercover as a businessman entering the Czech Republic and Dubai remained a fond one from his previous life.
"In that case… even a sports car shouldn't be too flashy for you, so hmm…"
Jin-uk stroked his chin, thinking.
"How about P-company?"
"Uh, I've never taken delivery of a nice car before, but doesn't P-company have insane wait times?"
Jin-uk grinned at that.
"There are ways around everything. Let's at least go look."
And with that, Jin-uk's car headed for Seocho-gu.