Chapter 138
Chapter 138
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 138
Chapter Title: Those Rising from the Shadows (3)
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“Damn it, you blockhead! Let’s just die together today. Got it?”
Seoul Central District Prosecutors’ Office, 6th floor.
Crack! A sharp sound rang out as the corner of a black binder struck someone’s head.
The woman with jet-black bobbed hair blocked the incoming binder with both palms, as if it were a routine occurrence.
“Ah, Senior. Come on.”
“Come on? Hey, you little punk. I told you… I told you not to stir up trouble!”
The prosecutor, with his unmistakably aggrieved expression, jabbed his index finger at his junior female colleague, his voice rising in frustration.
Why doesn’t this university junior of mine—same department, same hometown no less—ever pretend to listen to me?
He flung open the black binder in his hand and thrust it in front of her eyes.
“The A Group heiress marijuana case—orders from above to drop it, so we play it safe and push for a deferred prosecution. Is that simple logic too hard for you? Too hard?”
“Ah, but a prosecutor has to have some pride. Logic gets chewed up by… what should I call it, something emotional? Romantic?”
“I got emotionally shredded by the big shots upstairs, okay? Overflowing with romance!”
Frustrated, the senior prosecutor pounded his chest with his fist like a hammer.
He fixed his laser-sharp gaze on the wild filly of a woman before him and spoke.
“That T Group Kim Beom-ho case and the SA-Cheolhwa Tekwin Seo Yun-ji case are different, got it?”
“You’re saying those cases were proper justice in a just society, right, Senior?”
“And that proper justice is abnormally normal, you thick-headed junior!”
He roared, imitating the higher-ups as best he could, like a tiger.
But was it because his roar barely reached housecat level?
The most notorious blockhead prosecutor in the office’s history plugged both her eyes and ears, mimicking a monk walking silently toward the path of wall-gazing meditation.
“Look at her. She’s been messed up from the start. And she’s already a nutjob sprout…”
“Heh heh, you’re the one who lured me into the prosecutors’ office, Senior.”
“I must’ve been crazy. Yeah, I was crazy.”
Pounding his chest again at her brazenness, the senior prosecutor pointed to the name tag around the female prosecutor’s neck and opened his mouth.
“Anyway, Park Eun-ji. This time, just shut up like a dead rat and stay out of sight. Unless you want to see me hanging myself in front of that clock tower.”
“Got it. Shall we grab some food? How about yukgaejang?”
“Yukgaejang? Whose funeral is it? Eat it alone for all I care!”
Grumbling, the senior prosecutor stormed out the door.
Park Eun-ji watched his slumping shoulders fade into the distance, propped her chin on her hand with a bored expression, and muttered something under her breath.
“Always talking about dying whenever he opens his mouth, every damn time. The guy who buys five accident insurance policies because he wants to live forever.”
Her right hand slowly drifted toward the pile of documents on her desk.
Her listless eyes scanned the contents of the indictment papers.
Drunk driving, property damage, mutual assault, public urination.
“Tch, what a bunch of petty crooks.”
None of them could spark the flame of justice in her chest for a just society.
Park Eun-ji recalled a case from around this time last year.
Kim Beom-ho, the T Group scion, and Seo Yun-ji, then-president of SA-Cheolhwa Tekwin. Their affair.
“My hands are just itching…”
Though it had fizzled out in court like water diluted in water or liquor in liquor, the sensation of dancing on the edge of the blade lingered in her hands like an afterimage.
She stretched both arms high toward the sky. Then, slumping over her desk, Prosecutor Park Eun-ji let out a sigh-like mutter. A self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.
“Damn it, I just want to land a big one. Something huge, like taking down a nationwide syndicate of knife-wielding gangsters.”
* * * *
Huni, the rough-looking gang member with a buzz cut, fresh out of prison not long ago.
Though his movements were slow, his judgment of the world spinning around him was razor-sharp.
-[Gyeonggi Newspaper] (Ad) Black Dragon Construction’s president has lost his mind! Yatap-dong officetel bargain sale! Tearful discount sales! Low capital, high returns? Call now. Investment inquiries: 031-XXX-XXXX.
An ad at the bottom of the front page of the local paper.
In a rundown new office on the southern outskirts of Gyeonggi, Huni toyed with a utility knife as he sat.
“…It’s going just like Big Brother said.”
Was it because of the ad that had just caught his eye?
Huni recalled his recent encounter with Joo Gweyul, whom he called his big brother.
‘Here, let’s have a drink.’
Joo Gweyul poured sparkling golden whiskey into glasses. Staring at the scar on Huni’s eye, he spoke.
‘Yeah, Nakgu probably filled you in, right?’
‘Yes, Hyung-nim. I heard you’re going big into real estate… business. And spinning the washing machine on the side, as it were.’
Joo Gweyul raised his glass lightly without a direct answer. Only after the oak scent and burning sensation slid down his throat did Huni hear the response.
‘Crush the competitors, bury the saboteurs, and boil any untrustworthy bastards in a giant Pacific pot.’
‘…….’
Madness reflected in the glass.
Crack, crack—the glass in Joo Gweyul’s grip developed hairline fractures, as if it might shatter any moment.
‘So in the end, I seized it. Iljeongpa’s exclusive online private gambling ring. But!’
Clang! The glass shattered with a whoosh.
Golden liquor mixed with bright red blood dripped from his palm. Ignoring it entirely, Joo Gweyul simply lit a dark brown cigar.
‘Money in the shade has to come into the sun to be real money. Otherwise, it just flows away like this swill.’
A sinister smile parted his lips, exhaling acrid gray smoke.
Clutching the cigar between his fingers, Joo Gweyul posed a question to Huni. One to gauge his usefulness.
‘You still manage the student council at that sports university in Gyeongnam, right, Huni?’
‘…I run that turf, Hyung-nim. One call to the boys underneath, and they all come running.’
Huni, infamous as a thug in Busan and Gyeongnam.
Even after heading to the capital and serving time in prison, the local gang that bowed to him remained intact.
Especially among the younger gangsters’ new turf: university student councils in the provinces.
‘Ha ha ha, good, good. Then listen, Huni.’
Joo Gweyul gripped Huni’s shoulder hard with his bloodied hand. Madness gleamed in his hawk-like eyes.
‘Form a new crew underneath. Like spearhead troops at the front lines, a body they can throw away to cooperate with the money laundering.’
Officetel sales for laundering money.
Frontmen lending their names to the shell business.
Snapping out of the chilling recollection, Huni tapped the edge of the table with his shoe toe, pondering for a moment.
“…If not this, I can’t make it big with egg dealings anyway.”
Decision made, he let out a deep sigh. He pulled an old flip phone from his pocket and called a junior back home.
A thug in his thirties, still nominally attached to a university, sucking dry the student council’s funds.
“Yeah, it’s me. Weekend, Hoon-cheol, Byung-sik, Min-su—bring ’em all up when the sun sets.”
* * * *
Myeongdong after a long while. Yoo Tae-chon’s place was just as before.
The signboard on the large porch reading [Revenge Interest Compounds], his shrewd wolf-like eyes—all unchanged.
“Well, now. My girl said she’d drop by soon, but I didn’t expect Chairman Han to come along.”
Stroking his grizzled salt-and-pepper beard, Yoo Tae-chon eyed me steadily.
We were in the same boat now, but he wasn’t ordinary. Any half-baked probing would cost me dearly.
So… right now, all I needed were straight fastballs.
“Only someone who’s risen from the shadows to the light could give me the answer, so here I am.”
Surprised by the response?
Yoo Tae-chon’s expression grew peculiar.
Pondering the crow caws that had faded from his ears, he slowly opened his mouth.
“You say interesting things to an old man who aged eating knife-rice. From shadows to light, eh.”
“You could call yourself a model citizen now. If you want, I could even get you a commendation. With a yellow smiley sticker on the side.”
He let out a small chuckle at my absurd joke.
Then, a sip of tea lingering in his mouth.
It wasn’t just bitter green tea he savored. After chewing over a hint of hesitation, he tossed me an opening line.
“You’re here about Black Dragon Construction, I take it.”
“……!”
“From shadows to light. Only one outfit’s been flashing that kind of sunshine lately.”
He’d clearly spent plenty of time in the dark. He grasped the situation instantly.
“Probably hard to wield institutional power right now, right?”
“…You’re a ghost.”
“Dealing with shady types makes cleanup such a pain.”
I laid out the full situation for Yoo Tae-chon.
The long tale dragged on until the crimson paint that had filled the sky turned black.
“I’d like your advice. Any sharp solutions?”
“Hmm…”
The old wolf didn’t answer easily.
He turned his gaze to his one daughter, Yoo Se-na aide, staring intently.
“Dear, you serving Chairman Han well?”
“Father…?”
Yoo Se-na aide tilted her head, puzzled by the sudden question.
He clearly wasn’t pleased. Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue.
“Tch tch, that halfwit girl. Can’t follow the stars.”
“…….”
“Enough. You just sit there quietly.”
Their cryptic father-daughter exchange over, Yoo Tae-chon turned back to me.
“Joo Gweyul, the Iljeongpa boss. His handiwork.”
“Joo Gweyul… Joo Gweyul.”
“A gambler-pocket-picker who hit the right era.”
Joo Gweyul’s name wasn’t on Black Dragon Construction’s board list. Hiding his identity, no doubt.
And a rustling sound in his ears. Yoo Tae-chon pulled a box from the cabinet, took out a yellowed document envelope, and handed it to me with a word.
A compass pointing the way forward.
“To cut off an underground boss’s head, just trace where the blood from the limbs flows. So…”