Chapter 139
Chapter 139
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 139
Chapter Title: Those Climbing from the Shadows (4)
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“Whaddya mean, crawlin’ all the way up to Seoul? Minsu, you know somethin’?”
“I know… It’s the first time seein’ hyung-nim since he went off to the big house. I dunno either.”
A rundown college in the Busan-Gyeongnam region. Thirties gangsters who’d wormed their way into the student council like liver spots on wrinkled skin.
Covered head to toe in irezumi tattoos, they were heading to Seoul in beat-up old foreign luxury cars that were over ten years past their prime.
Their rough faces twisted in scowls at the highway toll booth attendant. Picking fights over pocket change—their pathetic, shabby lives in a nutshell.
“Ha, what a bitch with no manners. Figures she’s from Seoul, all uptight like that. What, her guts gonna twist if she cuts us a little break?”
After some shouting match, they passed the toll gate and entered Seoul. The driver lit up a cigarette clenched in his mouth without even cracking a window.
“The uptighter the bitch, the prettier she is, usually. See, this Seoul joint… same damn thing. Tight-assed but pretty. That’s why we’re headin’ up there now.”
Another gangster licked his lips with a saliva-slick tongue.
He was thirty-one, still without a decent job or even a front business from the organization.
No wonder he was playing kingpin in the student council of some no-name sports college—a glorified playground.
Inside the cramped, outdated foreign luxury car that had nothing going for it but the emblem, he gazed out at the Gangnam high-rises and kept talking.
“Seoul. Whether it’s Seoul bitches or Seoul stacks of cash… gotta squeeze ‘em hard in the chest once, right? Like this, like this.”
“Yeah, get your filthy paws off! Byeong-sik! Grab the hammer from the trunk behind ya! Smash ‘em flat! Heh heh heh.”
Then came the childish sight of him grabbing the fat gangster next to him by the chest with both hands.
*-Ding-dong! Mae-bong Tunnel entrance 100 meters ahead.*
Their destination came into view far off. Was that when it started?
The ones trading lewd, crude jokes back and forth fell quieter and quieter.
“…….”
Inside the tunnel, the faint orange lights beyond the window, and their own wretched reflections in the glass.
They seemed ashamed to even look at themselves straight on. Heads drooping one after another without a word.
The heavy silence flooding the car only broke after they crawled out of that unusually long tunnel onto solid ground.
“In this Seoul… we gotta make it big. That way I can keep playin’ kingpin in front of some shiny pot or whatever.”
“Phew, if a gangster can’t make it with gangster shit, what kinda gangster is he? You’re right, Byeong-sik.”
A more serious air about them now.
The new hope Huni tossed them over the phone—mirage-like as it was—had them fluttering forward like moths to a flame.
Toward that Gangnam high-rise soon to come. And toward their twisted desires.
“Let’s go. Huni hyung-nim’s probably waitin’.”
* * * *
Gangnam, Huni’s office.
A fairly upscale office in a high-rise, rented on purpose to impress the underlings.
“Thanks for the opportunity, Huni hyung-nim!”
“We’ll bring results on everything you said within a month and head back up!”
“We’ll give it our all… no, we’ll make it happen no matter what!”
That mirage of an office seemed to work like magic.
A few sweet words from Huni, and the gangsters were pledging undying loyalty.
The mules for laundering Ju Gwae-yul’s dirty money had no clue they were just moths, eagerly strapping on their oil-soaked packs.
“Good. You’re all busy now, so I won’t keep ya long. Get goin’. Won’t be far off.”
“Yes, hyung-nim! Rest easy!”
*Thud.* After they left and a bit of time passed, the door to the inner room swung open.
He’d apparently caught a nap; rubbing his eyes, Nakgu stretched and stepped out.
He slapped a hand on Huni’s shoulder and opened his mouth in his usual cheeky tone.
“Huni, still kickin’, huh. Look at you layin’ down the law with the kids downstairs. Nearly pissed myself.”
“Nakgu hyung-nim, you were in there?”
“Got here this mornin’, caught some shut-eye. Woke up to the chatter. *Yawn.*”
Nakgu perched on a chair, propping his shoe up on the wooden desk.
A cheap plastic lighter sparked, filling the office with acrid cigarette smoke.
Peering through narrowed eyes, Nakgu looked at Huni and asked.
“Phew, those meat shields to tank for the names. How many you figure we can round up?”
“Guys livin’ like shit are a dime a dozen. Don’t worry.”
The thirties gangsters were already heading out the window toward the street below.
Watching them clump together with some half-assed sense of resolve, Huni continued.
“If the punks beat the smaller punks below ‘em, and those beat the ones under them, we’re talkin’ 1,000, 2,000 easy.”
“At 100 million a pop, that’s enough to spin the big laundry machine once. Nice work. Big bro’s gonna love it.”
“Yeah. But Nakgu hyung-nim, how’s the job you took goin’?”
*Pfft.* Nakgu chuckled like it was no big deal. He oversaw the shady ops at Heukryong Construction, where Ju Gwae-yul was the real boss.
That’s why the confidence, maybe?
He stubbed his butt in the metal ashtray, slapped his chest with his palm, and bellowed with swagger.
“Kid… been done for ages. Just gotta stuff in the mules and it’s over!”
Heukryong Construction was preselling a massive officetel complex in Bundang’s outskirts.
The units under borrowed names would halt mid-term payments, and Nakgu’s outfit would scoop up the rights for laundering.
And… Nakgu had layered on insurance.
“It’s all Heukryong doin’ the work, but on paper, it’s under Ammunition Group’s banner, so no blowback.”
“Ammunition Group? That chaebol?”
Construction by Heukryong, officetel brand from Ammunition’s infra division.
Just in case of any cop meddling, a plausible cover was all wrapped up.
Huni mulled Nakgu’s explanation and didn’t hold back the admiration.
“Damn… usin’ a big corp brand too. Wild methods.”
“Ammunition takes a fat cut in the middle, but whatever. Ain’t in it for the profit anyway.”
Nakgu laced his hands behind his head, nudging the ashtray to the table’s edge with his shoe tip.
A bold line spilled from his mouth right after, brimming with ambition like he owned the world.
“We just spin the laundry machine. Just the machine. The scraps of meat? Shove ‘em in the Ammunition bastards’ mouths as packaging fees.”
* * * *
The yellowed envelope Yoo Tae-chon handed me. Inside was a detailed org chart of nationwide knife-wielding gangsters. Especially Ju Gwae-yul’s Iljeong faction.
Must be from years of eating knife-and-fork meals to climb this far.
That “Nam-dong loan shark kingpin” title wasn’t handed out for free.
“Hmm, brutal-lookin’. I ain’t good with scary shit.”
The grizzled wildman face straight out of a wanted poster at the police station gate.
Kim Won-cheol, who’d seen it all in fifty years—land, sea, air—played up the dramatics with a grin.
“Man… still a work of art every time. How do they all look like they stepped outta some adult comic? Fierce as hell.”
“The guy who gave you this ain’t exactly a saint either.”
“Yoo Tae-chon washed his hands of it ages ago. And he grabbed knives for loan sharkin’, not as a gangster from the start.”
Kim Won-cheol’s finger pointed to the top of the document.
The photo it highlighted showed a man radiating far more intimidation than the rest.
“So this Ju Gwae-yul guy. He the problem gangster here?”
“Would be better if he was upfront about it… but he ain’t officially a gangster. That’s the issue.”
“Huh? What’s that mean?”
Ju Gwae-yul, Iljeong faction boss. He didn’t belong to any org. At least not on paper.
He even played the friendly local bigwig, joining volunteer work to mock the cops’ nets.
“Damn, half-moon then? Balancin’ between gangster and civilian like… jjamppong?”
“Half-moon pullin’ all the strings from behind. That’s why he’s trouble. Can’t touch him if he don’t show. Have to, eventually.”
Branches snaking down from Ju Gwae-yul’s photo.
Pointing to the buzzcut Huni and permed Nakgu below, I went on.
“Only way’s to snip ‘em off from the bottom up.”
“Finish ‘em clean? Just cut ties with Ammunition Group’s deals, no?”
“It’s complicated.”
Ammunition Group had lucked into the presidential line somehow. Gains were solid, but the side effects weren’t light.
One snag from the opposition faction, and those lingering mob ties would choke the group like smoke.
So.
“Think of it like cancer treatment. Root it out thorough—no roots left, no relapse.”
“Yeah, fair enough. Urgent bit first… this money laundering part, right? Still.”
Kim Won-cheol’s shiny forehead wrinkled a bit awkwardly.
“Usin’ group muscle without cops… overseas maybe, but domestic? Tough.”
“Got a plan in mind.”
My idea smoothed out that wrinkled brow like polished glass.
“Wear the cops’ shell, but not from the top—use the invisible underside shell.”
“Underside… invisible shell?”
“Yeah. For example.”
My carefully crafted anti-gang chemo. The best for killing cancer cells ain’t the prosecutor general or chief prosecutor.
One who doesn’t dip into politics or office politics at all.
Some regular prosecutor high on the prosecutor buzz, more focused on cases than the org.
“Use a loose cannon? Loose cannons don’t just hit the sore spot—they hack up healthy organs too.”
“That’s for me to rein in. Or rather, Chief Secretary Kim here.”
“Damn, how it all connects.”
Like a dog collar snapped on, Kim Won-cheol brought all ten fingers to his neck.
“Another bomb around my neck. But that look—you’ve got someone in mind.”
“Verified talent’s always best.”
I snatched up my cell phone.
A few taps, and a name and number popped up.
*-Kim Beom-ho 010-XXXX-XXXX*
“I’ve got this prosecutor I really cherish… the one who caned T Group’s troublemaker in the calf. Name’s somethin’ like.”
Kim Won-cheol rummaged his memory at my words. IQ 144 prodigy label earned, alright.
*Ring ring.* Before the tone cut off, he nailed the name.
With a bit of… what, an old-man joke that’d spark riots ten years from now.
“Yeah, Park Eun-ji! Memorable name. Perfect for teasin’ at drinks… ah, scratch that. Scratch it. Heard these days it gets you reported to labor board.”