Chapter 147
Chapter 147
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: Live and Die by Loyalty (1)
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“Big Bro, time to pay my respects.”
Joo Gwak-yul didn’t go in for flashy stuff, just like any typical gang boss.
In his office, a little ways out from downtown Seoul. One wall was lined floor-to-ceiling with neat bookshelves next to an old desk, and a worn-out grayish-brown CRT TV hummed with static, flickering a blurry image.
“Yeah, yeah. You must’ve rushed over, Hoon. Making it here this quick at this hour.”
And there stood Hoon before him, hands clasped together like a totem pole.
Joo Gwak-yul cracked a small smile at the sight and beckoned him with a hand.
“What’re you standing around for? Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”
“Yes, Big Bro.”
On the battered cowhide sofa, the two men sat facing each other without a word.
The rugged-faced man with his buzz cut and scruffy gray stubble just stared silently.
It wasn’t until the teacups had clinked a few times that the conversation finally got going.
“Lemme see. It’s been about six years, right? The time you spent locked up in the big house.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Six years in Anyang Prison.”
“Yeah, yeah. You turned the whole Iljeong faction upside down in there. Couldn’t have your senior bros getting pinched at a bad time like that.”
The TV static sounded especially eerie today. On the screen, runners stood rigid at the starting line, waiting for the crack of the judge’s pistol.
Poised to explode off like bullets themselves.
“Six years. Six years. An eternity for those on the inside, but for folks on the out...”
Joo Gwak-yul shot a glance at the fizzing screen. Habitually stroking his chin—maybe that’s why—the prickly stubs of his short beard brushed his palm.
“It flies by like the blink of an eye. Just like... yeah, watching one of those track races.”
“...Big Bro.”
Bang! The starter’s pistol rang out right on time.
The runners exploded off the track, pushing to their max speed.
Joo Gwak-yul watched their focused faces and suddenly started naming names, as if struck by a thought.
Names of the senior gangsters Nakgu had leapfrogged—or knocked flat—during the six years Hoon spent in Anyang Prison.
“Soo-cheol, Black Ball, up to Deok-pal... Funny thing is, whatever happened to those seniors who were ahead of Nakgu during those six years?”
“I hear they all... retired. Officially, anyway.”
“Retired, my ass. The unlucky ones got turned into cripples, minus a limb or two. The ones with half a brain are pimping girls out in some backwater teahouse.”
During that brief race, runners started falling behind one by one on the track.
But the camera ignored them. It zoomed in tight on the leader, the one surging ahead.
“That’s what made watching Nakgu so damn entertaining. Seeing him shove ’em aside one by one like that... left quite an impression.”
“......”
“That’s the kind of show I’d love to see from you today, Hoon.”
To a stranger, he might’ve looked like a nice guy, smiling brightly with that ski mask vibe as he sipped his coffee.
Hoon lifted his bowed head to meet his gaze steadily.
It didn’t take long for his answer.
“It ain’t just fun watchin’ the underdog pull ahead, Big Bro.”
“What?”
“Sometimes... watchin’ the guy who shoves everyone else aside and bolts out front, runnin’ off all alone into the distance? That’s a hell of a show too, ain’t it?”
On screen, the leader pulled away from the pack. The announcer’s over-the-top hype filled the office.
In front of that crackling TV, Joo Gwak-yul’s face lit up with satisfaction.
Having run the numbers in his tangled head, he let out a hearty laugh and eyed Hoon.
“Hah, you little shit.”
“I-I’m ready to run, Big Bro. Just get me some sneakers that fit nice and snug.”
“Yeah. But before the shoes, I told you I had something for you.”
Only then did he hand Hoon the small wooden box sitting in the corner of the table.
Inside was a finger—part of Nakgu’s body.
The creeping stench didn’t faze him. Joo Gwak-yul exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and spoke up.
“Good thing my eye for talent’s still sharp. Right, Bitcoin? You’re gonna use that as your laundry machine.”
* * * *
Incheon Port.
Right by the pier, a salty, sticky sea breeze blew in.
I’d booked a private room at a small raw fish joint tucked into a narrow alley off that briny scent. I picked up a chunk of chopped octopus with my chopsticks.
All while taking in some gull cries and a voice in my ear.
“So this Nakgu guy—or whatever—is coming all the way out here to repent? To a company chairman like you, instead of a prosecutor like me?”
“If he wants to survive, he doesn’t have a choice. He’s gotta take the fall for everything. Whether it’s Ammunition Group or those egghead gangsters.”
“Quite the silver tongue you’ve got.”
From my spot next to the window overlooking the harbor, I ate the stir-fried octopus side dish and stared out.
A massive breakwater that looked like it’d never budge.
The easiest way to topple something like that—like the Iljeong faction under Joo Gwak-yul—was to drill a tiny hole.
Target the thinnest, softest spot, and puncture it quick and quiet.
“If Nakgu plays ball as the weak link, we’ll give him what he deserves.”
“Deserves? Heh, the only ‘desert’ a gangster gets is a death notice.”
“Well, in prosecutor circles, maybe. But we’ve got ways. For example...”
The octopus bits dodged between my chopsticks.
Chopped fine and tossed in sesame oil, but no tricks worked against the spoon.
I cleared a mouthful of nutty chewiness and picked up where I left off.
“A one-way ticket to a new country—the promised land for the repentant—plus relocation funds?”
“Hmm, spare a cooperative cuckoo from the cage?”
“Something like that. Long as he plays his part in catching the other birds.”
“Tch. Let’s have a drink first.”
It was barely past four in the afternoon, but Prosecutor Park Eun-ji was already twisting open a soju bottle.
She shoved aside the clean shot glass, filled a stainless steel tumbler halfway with soju, and downed it.
Wrinkling her nose, she tossed me a line.
“Kuh. Y’know, on second thought, if we just take his statement as a witness and he vanishes like smoke, that’d work fine.”
“And at the same time, he bundles up everything tying him to Ammunition Group and poofs. Like smoke.”
“You really know how to grab your share and run, don’t you.”
Grumbling like she was pissed for no reason, Prosecutor Park drained my water glass, then topped it off with soju—just like she’d done to hers.
Not half full, but brimming right to the edge without spilling.
“...Generous host.”
“Heh heh heh. Gets boring drinking alone. C’mon, Chairman, have some.”
“Who the hell drinks like this? Besides, the one who really needs it today is someone else.”
Prosecutor Park tilted her head, a question mark practically floating over it. I nodded toward the sliding door finished in rice paper under the wooden lattice.
“......!”
A shadow flickered under the light. I yelled toward the guy who’d been eavesdropping, holding his breath.
“No need to agonize out there by the door. Come on in already.”
* * * *
“Whew...”
Even after hearing the call to enter, Nakgu couldn’t make his feet move.
Just last night, a call out of nowhere from the Ammunition Group chairman—how the hell he got his number, Nakgu didn’t know.
“All the blame’s landing on you, Nakgu, right? Ammunition Group or your gangster crew.”
“Ammunition Group...? No way.”
A chill ran down Nakgu’s spine.
The sudden decision to acquire the office condo rights that his bullet-catchers had deliberately tanked. The big public show to seal the deal.
And on top of that... the audit of Ammunition Infrastructure’s domestic construction division and the fallout.
His finger still throbbed like it was on fire. That’s when all the puzzle pieces snapped into the big picture.
“You... you set all this up? This fucked-up mess? Why would a chaebol chairman dive into shit like...!”
“Can’t tell you what you can’t see.”
The curt response.
Ammunition Group’s chairman didn’t seem interested in any emotional chit-chat with Nakgu.
Just pick one option from what he’d laid out.
“I know the ways you can survive. Shade or sunlight, I know ’em all.”
“What the—?”
“Soon as the call ends, you’ll get a text. Be at the time and place it says.”
True to his word, the line went dead. Then a faint buzz and a text.
-Tomorrow, 4 PM. Inner room at Park Sik’s raw fish joint, Incheon Port.
And now, with his pinky gone, Nakgu pulled out his phone with trembling hands.
Missed calls filled the screen. Betrayal from the underlings he’d trusted.
Hoon elevated by Joo Gwak-yul. The whole crew treated Nakgu like he didn’t exist.
Ready to bury him on a word, no old loyalties spared.
“...Coming in, Chairman.”
The sliding door rattled open. The chairman looked way younger than expected.
Nakgu bowed at the waist, eyes shut, entrusting everything to this man who might toss him a lifeline at the end of the rope.
“I’m Nakgu.”
“Good of you to come.”
“I’ll do whatever you want. So... please, just tell me that one way to survive you mentioned.”
Ammunition Group’s chairman chuckled lightly. He shared a knowing smile with the woman across from him, then slid a brimming stainless tumbler Nakgu’s way.
The edge sloshed but didn’t spill.
“For now... you look tense. Have a drink and let’s talk.”