Hired on the Spot
"Hey. Hey, Min Cheol-woo. Snap out of it."
"I'm good. Just leave me alone, Detective."
"I wanna go home too, you know. Fuck, how much did you shoot up that you're still out of it?"
Cheol-woo opened his eyes in the holding cell at the police station. He barely pulled himself together and took in the mess. They were shoving photos of bags filled with some transparent powder in his face, pointing at the bruises on the inside of his elbow, yelling something fierce—but with the booze still fogging his head, he couldn't process any of it.
"What the hell is this, I'm asking!"
"I... I don't know."
"Don't bullshit me, asshole. Then what's that needle mark on your elbow?"
"I don't remember that either."
"Oh, right. You don't remember? You think you've seen this somewhere? Fuck. Spit it out straight! You think the cops are a joke?"
"T-truth is... half-asleep..."
"Oh ho. Half-asleep?"
"Heh heh. That's as far as it goes. That's it."
"And who the hell are you?"
"I'm Min Cheol-woo's manager. The lawyer's on the way, so shut your mouth till he gets here, Cheol-woo. These guys just wanna throw you in a cell."
"What?!"
Just as a drunk Cheol-woo was about to blurt out something damning, his manager showed up. The lawyer assigned by his agency was a solid one from GeumMyeong Law Firm, handling Cheol-woo's case solo and never leaving the station, taking care of every little thing. The manager was right there yelling just as loud as the lawyer, and Cheol-woo was grateful to the point of tears.
"So your girlfriend did it? And you had no idea?"
"Detective, this woman's a known drug offender. She's been busted four times for possession and use."
"What're you waiting for? Get a warrant and put out an APB."
"Yes, sir."
"Min Cheol-woo. You gonna tell me you didn't even know the girl you'd been dating for half a year was a junkie?"
Cheol-woo just stared blankly in front of the sneering detective. The door lock code—he hadn't even given it to his family. Only he and his girlfriend knew it. Meth... meth... whoever put that unfamiliar drug there could only have been her. The only one who'd stick a needle in his arm while he slept was that bitch.
Fuck. Is this what they call a black widow?
His girlfriend had bolted long ago, contact cut off. Calling her old workplace got nothing but "never heard of her." The guy he'd talked to on the phone before, supposedly her dad? Just a day laborer she'd roped into playing daddy—a total stranger who knew zilch about her. So she'd planned to frame him from the first meeting? Why? What for? No money missing, so not a cash grab.
Cheol-woo felt a suffocating absurdity choke him.
"What the fuck is this? Negative result? You did do drugs, you fucker! Min Cheol-woo!"
The hair follicle test came back negative. His arm was riddled with needle marks, but no veins hit, no drugs in his muscles. Looked like he'd thrashed around half-asleep, snapped the needle, tore up his skin in the chaos. His mangled arm was a blessing in disguise.
Detective Lee blew up, insisting he'd tried to shoot up drunk and fucked it up himself.
"The defendant is found not guilty. But isn't this the kind of case that warrants a dismissal for insufficient evidence? Why the hell did the prosecution even bring charges?"
The cops kicked up a fuss sending it to the prosecutors, who apparently chased stats or got pressure from above and took it to trial anyway. But as expected, not guilty. No appeal, judgment final. Cheol-woo was cleared of all charges at last.
"Cheol-woo, the team fell apart because of you. Losing a whole team screwed the league schedule, cost us a fortune in penalties... I won't make you cover that, but we gotta claw back the signing bonus."
"No way. It wasn't even my fault, manager hyung. Some crazy bitch did this—if anyone's paying penalties, it's her."
"That's the contract, kid. If a player causes a public scandal..."
"Fuck..."
Cheol-woo was losing his mind. Not guilty? Means I did nothing wrong, right? And still, they yank the contract and take back the signing bonus. 100 million won. He had to cough up 100 million. He'd just paid off his debts and back rent days ago—where the hell was he gonna get that?
Sis's credit was shot to hell, and as an unemployed nobody with no income, no way he'd qualify for a loan that big.
"Cheol-woo. You check the date? Legally, you gotta return it by next Thursday."
"Yeah, boss..."
"What're you gonna do? High-interest loan?"
"No other way, I guess."
"Pay it back slow."
"Huh?"
"No interest. Take your time. In exchange, do some occasional jobs for us."
He'd nearly gone back to loan sharks. Thanks to the agency boss's mercy, it was like an interest-free loan.
Cheol-woo hit up every door for a pro comeback, but no dice. The video from his arrest—reporters snapping him flailing around, needle marks and bruises on his arm, looking every bit the junkie—had gone viral online.
By then, he was branded a druggie for life. By the not guilty verdict, "Min Cheol-woo" was yesterday's news. KM Games had no plans for a new team after theirs imploded. No other team would touch the liability.
He tried personal streams to clear his name, but got only crickets.
"Yeah, yeah. Even as a trainee... Build your image slow. It'll be fine. For real. We'll do interviews pushing the not guilty angle... Yeah. Yeah... Yup. Yeah... Come on in..."
"They said no again? Even without using SteelRain?"
"Too much risk, they say..."
Despite him and the agency pulling every string, no path opened. Slave-contract bonuses, trainee status—even that got rejected everywhere. Time to accept he was blacklisted from esports.
He was 21 then. Between trial and scrambling, nearly two years flew by. High school grad, pro dreams dead. No clue what to do next; the future blurred into haze.
"Yes, boss. You called?"
[Cheol-woo. Got you a job.]
"Yes, sir."
[Sending the address by text. Head there for interview tomorrow, 9 AM sharp. Nail it, it's full-time. Good pay—debts gone quick.]
No details on the gig; call ended. Cheol-woo dug out his stiff suit, feeling uneasy. Sounded like something you don't blab about. Address deep in the mountains—no map pin, just woods. What kinda job out here? Creepy as hell, but he went anyway. Trusted the boss, and with nothing left to lose, no fear.
"Uh, hello. I'm Min Cheol-woo."
"Follow."
"Yes, boss."
"It's manager."
"Yes, manager."
"Yu Sil-jang."
"Yes, Yu Sil-jang."
"..."
Trekking up in his suit pants caked in dirt, a stern woman in a suit greeted him. Map showed nothing, but up close: barrier arm, concrete lot. Nice setup.
Following Yu Sil-jang cautiously led to an outdoor shooting range. Midway, she spun around and snap-snap—flicked her fingers fast. Left, then right.
Tsk. "Recommended for killer reflexes, but you're average."
"Pardon?"
"Shoot this. Watch the targets pop."
"..."
"You never served?"
"No."
She stared at him frozen before the rifle, then chuckled dryly. Handed it over, explained basics. Brass rounds in the mag. Rack the bolt—crisp metallic clack. First time with a gun, but Cheol-woo knew it was live ammo.
"Go."
"Yes."
She hit a button; steel plates popped up afar. He snapped on target, pulled trigger.
Bang! Jerked hard, whole body shaking. She burst out laughing—kyahaha—as he caught his breath, settling into recoil-taming form.
But bang-bang-bang—missing at 100 meters, her face hardened. How's he this bad?
Oh, right. No sights training. Doesn't know how to aim...
Ting. Target flipped with a clear chime, next rose. Ting-ting-ting—muzzle whipped, dropping each on pop-up. Yu Sil-jang's eyes widened.
Empty mag: click-click-click. She snatched the rifle.
"Start tomorrow. Dress comfy."
"I got the job?"
"Yeah. You're in."
She drove off. Cheol-woo eyed the card she left.
GeumMyeong Security
Provides top-level security and protection solutions nationwide...
Rang a bell. Home search: endless articles.
"Whoa. Firearms Act violation? Prisoner massacre charges? Colorful..."
Mostly bad press.