Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: Those Emerging from the Shadows (2)
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-[Subjects of Caution]
At the top of the police station's criminal record inquiry form, stamped with a red seal bearing six characters, was a man's name.
Joo Gwae-yul, age 50, the boss of an organized crime group known as the <Iljeongpa>.
"Heh heh, these young punks these days really show they haven't swung a blade much."
His thick, gravelly voice carried a familiar ease as he drew a hoe blade from the corner of his desk and gripped it in his hand.
Thirty-some years ago, stabbing a passerby in a rural marketplace corner to scrape together his seed money.
Killing a local thug in a rundown brothel district on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province and taking over the whole operation.
And now, the illegal private gambling site he had single-handedly pioneered. Crippling every member of the rival group that had been his biggest competition.
"You cut like this—avoid the arteries, go for the tendons only. That way they don't drop dead right away."
"Yes, got it, Big Brother!"
All of it achieved with this single battered hoe blade.
Joo Gwae-yul savored the feel of the wooden handle, now shiny with the patina of age, much like his own graying hair.
"J-Joo Chairman! Please, just once, forgive me! Arghhh!"
"Heh heh, hold still, you punk. A man's gotta take more than that."
He relished the rival's agonized screams, like savoring a hidden melody in calm music.
And then, as if adding harmony to the scene, a cheerful bell rang with an incoming call.
It was news that the biggest business deal of his life—managing the servers for the illegal gambling site in Thailand—had been fully wrapped up.
"Yeah, yeah, everything's taken care of?"
The report came from his action squad leader stationed in Thailand.
Once the hunt is over, boiling the dogs in the pot is only natural. The programmers lured there with the bait of overseas work couldn't escape that fate either.
Joo Gwae-yul raised his voice in satisfaction as he heard about their gruesome end.
"Mm, mm. Good, good. Well done. For their finale, send 'em to Dragon Palace for a tour. Feed 'em to the fish as chum—no traces left, no loose ends."
After a few words instructing his underling on the follow-up measures, Joo Gwae-yul ended the call with a smile, clearly pleased with how things had gone.
"Yeah, just keep managing it well. If any issues pop up on-site, contact me right away."
His eyes returned to the blood-soaked scene.
His men with the hoe blades awaited only his command, like an orchestra focused on the conductor's baton.
In place of the heavy brass melodies and pounding percussion rhythms, nothing but human screams would soon fill the room.
"Big Brother, I'm here to pay my respects."
"Yeah, Nakgu? Hold on, who's this? Huni, you're back?"
The iron door creaked open after a knock.
Joo Gwae-yul stopped stroking his patchy beard and raised one arm heartily.
Huni, his face etched with menace, immediately dropped into a deep bow.
"Been a while since I came to greet you, Big Bro."
"Heh heh heh, yeah. Six years, right? Time flies. Come on, then."
Casually extending his palm, Joo Gwae-yul handed over one of the gang member's blades.
He passed the blade to Huni and rasped a proposal in his gravelly voice.
A demand to prove his loyalty to Joo Gwae-yul once more.
"It's been ages since I saw that six-year-rusted knife work of yours—time for a refresher? Before the big jobs ahead, let's cleanse some bad luck today."
Six years. The long stretch inside prison.
The slash that had frozen time for him.
That was the loyalty Joo Gwae-yul demanded from Huni. Whether he'd follow him into prison again, trusting without question.
"…Yes, Big Bro. Let's get started right away."
Huni pondered briefly before speaking up, his actions following without hesitation.
"H-Hold on. Don't want him thrashing around and dying on us unlucky-like."
"O-Oh god, stay back…! Stop, stop, please stop! Arghhh!"
The screams marked the curtain fall on the stage.
In the dim light, the Iljeongpa members tidied up the end of the brutal ritual.
As the lower ranks bustled about, Joo Gwae-yul turned to Nakgu and Huni—his lieutenant-level men—and spoke.
"Wipe that blood off your clothes, and let's get moving."
"Brother? Where to?"
He lit a half-burned, dark brown cigar and blew acrid smoke toward the ceiling before answering Nakgu.
He stood there like a businessman firmly planted in the light, not someone who'd just been lurking in the shadows.
"You talk big business in a slaughterhouse where pigs get butchered? I've got a spot that fits the occasion—let's go."
* * * *
It took longer than expected for President Seong Won-sik to submit his report on these people.
Hidden in the shadows, the black money they wielded was like jellyfish beneath the ocean surface—invisible from afar unless you peered closely.
"Interesting bunch."
In recent years, they'd raked in billions through illegal private gambling sites.
The Iljeongpa, who crushed their competitors and survived alone. And at the center… their boss, Joo Gwae-yul.
Their wriggling ascent through the cracks in society's gears toward the light was almost awe-inspiring.
-Developers with unidentified funding sources increasingly snapping up officetels and commercial spaces in bulk.
-Abnormal cases prioritizing maximum cash turnover over normal profits.
-In particular, a new construction firm called [Heukryong Construction] consistently appears at the center—caution advised.
"Classic money laundering. Legitimizing illicit funds. The issue is their methods…"
Their operations read clearly between the lines. The Iljeongpa had burrowed into the Ammunition Group's giant belly like a pathogen.
The symptoms and diagnosis were both crystal clear.
But.
'The cancer cells… have penetrated quite deeply, Chairman.'
President Seong Won-sik of Ammunition Infrastructure's voice echoed in his mind.
He'd come with the report wearing an expression of clear discomfort and reluctance.
As if it could be resolved somehow, but the side effects of the treatment would be a headache.
'The previous Ammunition Construction president, Na Deok-sul, seems to have turned a blind eye. Might've even tacitly approved it as kickback payback.'
Good lord.
Na Deok-sul and Heavy Industries' President Park Han-i really pulled off some jaw-dropping blunders as a duo. Sure, ending up in prison was satisfying enough.
'…Would've been better if we'd caught it sooner.'
'To make excuses… it's hard to spot gangsters disguised as legit company reps on-site. My apologies, Chairman.'
'For now, hold off on formally requesting a prosecution investigation. Wait a bit. I'll think of a suitable approach.'
My fountain pen spun like a top on my thumb, tracing circles.
Near the end of my talk with President Seong Won-sik, I'd mentioned a suitable approach. Truth be told, it wasn't complicated. Just pick one—left hand or right hand.
"Hand it straight to the authorities, or roast them lightly on my end first."
The choice in my left hand stretched straight like a palm frond.
The president, visible even now playing fetch with his dog on the Blue House lawn. Using the power institutions centered on him. The strongest blade, the surest method. But…
"Pricey. No telling what he'll demand in return. And besides."
A president far more merchant than politician.
Anything cooked start to finish through his hands wouldn't come cheap.
On top of that… it could implicate more than just Ammunition Infrastructure Construction—potentially the entire Ammunition Group.
"No such thing as eternal allies in this world. Especially not that guy."
Better not to give any pretext for being discarded like yesterday's trash.
In the end, my only real choice—the one I had to make—was the gnarled, thorny branch in my right hand.
A branch that'd scratch my palm and was a pain to handle.
"Chairman, you called for me?"
As I tapped the report pages with my fingertips, lost in thought, a voice suddenly reached my ear.
The woman whose father had the skill to trim those thorns a bit. Aide Yoo Se-na stood before me.
"You seemed deep in focus, so I waited… but it was taking a while."
"Ah, perfect timing. Have a seat, first."
Aide Yoo Se-na blinked her doe-like eyes, a big question mark hovering over her head.
Every time I met those eyes straight on, a twinge of guilt-like feeling stirred.
Because… I was about to drop a hell of a task on her. One demanding hardships on par with what she'd endured before.
"I'd like to meet your father soon. Your father, Aide Yoo Se-na."
* * * *
Yoo Tae-chon's residence in Myeongdong.
Inside the elegant tiled hanok house at the foot of Namsan Mountain.
A man who looked plenty vicious to anyone knelt neatly and conversed with Yoo Tae-chon.
"So, the loan shark market's mostly wrapped up. No more personal loans—just focusing on corporate promissory notes."
Yoo Tae-chon, peering through his reading glasses at the documents brought by his money-keeper man.
Evoking an old gray wolf, he stamped his seal without delay.
"No more shadows forever. Should've done this ages ago."
"With that young Han Seo-jun taking the chairman spot, it's a blessing. Staying within the establishment's walls benefits you too, sir."
In his youth, Yoo Tae-chon had dominated Myeongdong's loan shark scene, building his fame.
A crow's caw rang in his ears. Gazing at the evening glow, he recalled his dark past.
Memories of Joo Gwae-yul, a junior from his hometown whose brutality knew no bounds.
"What's Joo Gwae-yul up to these days?"
"He spent a few months in Thailand recently, then returned. Says he's in real estate development."
"No, he's a gangster to the bone. That half-baked legit front's fake—dig into the details."
Caw, caw—the crows cried out louder than usual today.
Staring into the twilight settling over the courtyard, Yoo Tae-chon felt an eerie premonition grip his body.
Something tied to Joo Gwae-yul, now walking a different path… creeping toward him like a thief.
-Ding-dong!
Then, playfully, the doorbell announced an unexpected visitor. A household servant approached him, bowing.
In a calm voice signaling the story's overture.
"Sir, Miss Se-na is here. And… a Mr. Han Seo-jun, the chairman, with her."