Chapter 55: Too Tempting to Refuse
Chapter 55: Too Tempting to Refuse
Not his uncle’s broad, sturdy back, but a soft, fragile, warm back.
A scent sweeter than the fragrance of flowers kept pricking at Dowon’s nose, and he tried to open his eyes.
But every time, his consciousness drifted away again.
He thought this was fine.
Over the last ten days after turning into a monster, Dowon had suffered pain so intense he’d felt it would be better to just die.
Hunger and thirst weren’t pains you could endure.
The food and water he used to eat wouldn’t stay down—he vomited them back up the moment they passed his throat.
In the end, unable to withstand the thirst of drying out and the pain that felt like his whole body was slowly breaking apart, Dowon bit into his uncle’s neck.
Like rain falling on cracked, parched ground, his uncle’s blood spread through his body and brought Dowon’s reason back.
And he realized what he was doing.
Even though he was young, Dowon felt pain like his chest was being torn to pieces.
His only blood relative—the uncle who had raised him in place of parents he didn’t even remember.
And he had harmed that uncle, like some beast.
Dowon thought it would be better to die together with his uncle.
But that thought only came when the hunger and thirst stopped, and soon Dowon was tormented again by agony that made him feel he would go insane.
After lying as if dead for a full day, his uncle turned into the same kind of monster as him.
Then his uncle only looked at him with pity, went out alone, ate something delicious, and came back.
Dowon begged his uncle to please let him go, but his uncle only shook his head, his eyes dull and gloomy.
When Dowon no longer even had the strength to beg, that woman came.
And she cut off his uncle’s head—the uncle Dowon had hated so much these past few days that he’d wanted to kill him.
His uncle’s head rolled—thump, thump—until it came to a stop at Dowon’s feet, then instantly turned to ash and vanished.
At that moment alone, both thirst and hunger disappeared.
His mind went blank, like he couldn’t think anything at all.
He regretted, so deeply, how he had screamed these past few days that he’d kill his uncle.
As remorse overflowed inside the boy’s too-small heart like a burst dam, even the chains binding his hands and feet snapped apart.
Dowon remembered only the woman’s last words—telling him to come find her if he wanted revenge.
She was the same kind as him, yet she carried a subtle human scent.
That scent was drifting from far away.
He smashed through everything in his path, and when he arrived, the woman was fighting someone. Dowon, too, threw himself at her like he’d gone mad.
He felt like if he tore her entire body apart, the pain in his chest would disappear.
But no matter how he hurled himself at her all night with everything he had, he couldn’t do anything to her. Instead, at the critical moment, the woman stopped her hand.
More than anything, he desperately wanted her to cut off his neck like she had done to his uncle and put an end to this pain—but the cruel woman ignored his plea.
And then the sun rose.
No one had to tell him. The memory held in his blood screamed at him to run.
But Dowon ignored instinct and attacked the woman anyway.
And when his entire body finally burst into flame, the boy felt a clean, freeing release more than pain.
But even at the very end, the woman ignored what he wanted.
She blocked the sunlight with the coat she was wearing, and knocked him out.
The scent lingering at his nose and the warm touch slowly brought his consciousness back, and he remembered what had happened.
He realized he was on the woman’s back, being carried.
But he had no strength left to lunge at her like before.
He just wanted to feel this warmth forever.
It was like the warmth of a mother’s arms he didn’t even remember.
Then a familiar smell reached Dowon’s nose.
Fried soboro bread.
The bread his uncle used to buy for him often.
Dowon barely lifted his arm, heavy like a water-soaked wad of cotton, and reached past the woman’s shoulder. From the table piled like a mountain with bread, he grabbed one and put it in his mouth.
‘Ah… I throw up when I eat this.’
Forgetting that he couldn’t eat human food, Dowon had unconsciously put the bread in his mouth, drawn by the nostalgic smell.
But at the unexpected turn, Dowon’s eyes—shut tight—flew wide open.
The crisp crumble of the soboro, the sweetness of the red bean paste inside—the texture of the fried bread came through clearly in his mouth.
How long had it been since he’d eaten food?
Clinging to Serin’s back, Dowon chewed and chewed, tears running down his face.
“Oh my, the kid woke up!”
He heard someone’s voice.
Then the woman carrying him set him down from her back and sat him on a chair. Inside the cramped office—barely four pyeong—so many people were crowded together, eating bread.
Among them, one woman was eating bread fiercely without even glancing at him—not even swallowing properly, just stuffing it in.
Seeing that, Dowon shoved the bread in his hand into his mouth in one bite and scanned the table.
“Is there no pollack-roe baguette?”
Dowon liked pollack-roe baguettes more than fried soboro.
But maybe everyone else had already eaten all the good stuff—he couldn’t see any.
He swept up the last remaining piece of mango cake with his hand and tossed it into his mouth, then looked around.
Several adults were staring at him, blinking, but the woman who had carried him all this time was only eating bread fiercely and didn’t even look at him.
After eating gamjatang, the Daejeon famous bread we had for dessert was excellent.
While everyone else got fooled by hype and picked the wrong breads, I—armed with accurate YouTube intel—grabbed the pollack-roe baguette.
Right after me, Yuri and Cheolmin hyung also had pollack-roe baguettes in hand.
I quickly shoved the baguette I was holding into my mouth and succeeded in grabbing the last remaining baguette.
Bella, who could only eat a lot but lost on information power, was still cramming down soboro and sausage bread, one after another.
I sneered at her internally and began my mango cake conquest.
It was fantastic.
I could feel the boy on Serin’s back waking up.
The brat flared his nostrils the moment he opened his eyes, then snatched a fried soboro like lightning and started chomping.
I don’t know why all these long-term motel guests are the same—every single one of them is obsessed with food.
People living in expensive rooms that cost several million won a month act like beggars who never get to eat.
Lauren said the boy had woken up, and Serin—completely absorbed in inhaling bread—didn’t even turn around. She just put the boy down in the spot she’d been sitting, then stood and kept eating.
She tended to eat a variety rather than sticking to one menu, but unfortunately, she never got to taste the pollack-roe baguette.
Sitting in the chair, the boy stuffed the bread in his hand into his mouth, chewed, and asked for pollack-roe baguette.
The kid had taste.
Then he swept up the mango cake I’d been targeting—without even using a fork—and shoved it into his mouth.
I didn’t like the brat.
If he weren’t a guest, he wouldn’t even have gotten to taste bread…
Now that he could eat, he was just indulging his greed.
But my stomach felt like it was about to burst too, so I let go of my irritation toward the kid.
Smacking my lips, I set my fork down and said,
“I’m so full. That was really good, Miss Serin! Cheolmin hyung, the gamjatang was really delicious too!”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, little brother. It was my first time at that place, and it was excellent. Let’s go together sometimes.”
Cheolmin hyung must have a small appetite—he’d eaten only one pollack-roe baguette and had already put his fork down.
“I’m going up to rest now.”
“Yes. I’ll rest a bit too, then go up to the rooftop to train.”
Cheolmin hyung bowed to me at a perfect ninety degrees as I left the office. Since it was cramped, my butt almost brushed Yuri’s face.
Lauren looked at that scene strangely.
They said the identity of that CIA agent woman was a secret, right?
I’ve watched movies and dramas, so I know the most important thing for an agent is not getting their cover blown.
I’ll keep the secret.
And I’ll cooperate too.
It was the moment a kind of pride swelled in me—pride in myself for pretending not to know the agent’s identity and cooperating.
A message notification buzzed on my phone.
[Hello, Mr. Kang Chan! I’m someone who works on the government side. I have something urgent to discuss—may I meet you now?]
Holy—
Government?
NIS, maybe?
A subtle thrill and curiosity rose up in me.
[Yes~~]
I even sent two tildes.
I should’ve acted indifferent and hidden what I was feeling, but I guess I got too excited.
[Come to the café at the intersection in front of the motel.]
I headed straight to the meeting place.
The thought flashed through my mind that showing up in a tracksuit and slippers might be rude, but I decided not to care.
The café didn’t have many customers. Most were with companions, and the only person sitting alone was a blond foreign man wearing sunglasses.
No way. Knowing my luck…
When I walked in, the man seemed to recognize my face. He stood and greeted me.
“Hello. I’m Sam—the one who contacted you. Please forgive the rudeness of reaching out so suddenly.”
Honestly, the sight of a foreign man bending at a perfect ninety degrees—more politely than gangster Cheolmin hyung—was a bit awkward.
“It seemed like it was about time you’d arrive, so I ordered a drink in advance. Since it’s evening, I ordered hot cocoa instead of coffee. How is that?”
A freshly made hot cocoa sat in front of me.
He was really polite.
Is this what adult society is?
Bitter coffee isn’t my thing—sweet hot cocoa is exactly my taste.
This kind of attitude seemed worth learning. I thought I had decent business sense from dealing with guests every day, but watching Sam’s professional demeanor left a strong impression.
“Thank you. But you said you’re on the government side. Which government?”
When I asked while taking a sip of hot cocoa, Sam took off his sunglasses and set them on the table, then continued.
“To be honest, I work with the U.S. government—CIA. The reason I’m here is that we received intelligence that a dangerous individual, believed to be a terrorist, is staying at the motel where you work, and we came to request your cooperation.”
“Terrorism?”
“Yes. To be exact, we don’t yet know their precise identity, but the reliable information we have is that it’s one of the long-term guests.”
The long-term guests were the people who had been eating bread with us just moments ago.
My telekinetic field was attached to them, so if I wanted to know every move they made, I could. But as a professional motelier who values guest privacy, I don’t casually violate a guest’s private life.
So who the hell would be a terrorist…
If I didn’t know Lauren was a CIA undercover agent, she’d be my top suspect.
But Lauren and Sam—sitting in front of me—were on the same team.
Then Chae Serin?
That was possible too.
If that vampire woman really wanted to, she could turn a whole city into scorched earth.
But the one I suspected most was still Bella.
Bella only ate all day and watched dramas, and she was Russian. Even if things were more tense with China right now, traditionally Russia and the U.S. were natural enemies.
My sharp instinct was whispering that the person they suspected as a terrorist was Bella.
“Ah… of course, we won’t ask a normal civilian like you for free, Mr. Kang Chan. The CIA provides appropriate compensation to cooperating civilians.”
My eyes lit up.
“During the period you cooperate, we’ll provide a base salary of ten million won per month, and if you provide meaningful information, we’ll give separate rewards depending on the quality of that intelligence. If we judge it truly important, we plan to pay a huge sum.”
“A huge sum… what’s the maximum?”
If people generous enough to hand out ten million won for doing nothing called something a huge sum, what did that even mean?
“Among informants in our history, the highest amount has exceeded ten billion won.”
My god.
Even I—who doesn’t get emotionally shaken because I’m a psychopath—nearly spat out the hot cocoa in my mouth.
“Of course, because these rewards must be handled confidentially, we take care of everything so there are no issues with Korea’s tax laws.”
I had only come out of simple curiosity, but it felt like a bright halo was shining behind Sam’s head.
Swallowing hard, I tried to negotiate.
“Can you also make it so the gift tax that was already assessed becomes… not a thing? And I want the cash deposited into my account—if you can also set that up legally with no tax issues, I’ll do it.”
Sam nodded readily, without showing even a hint of agitation.
“No problem. If you actively cooperate with the operation, we can do far more than that.”
I was moved.
Out of the 3 billion won Bella gave me, I’d been facing paying 1 billion in tax no matter what—now a way had appeared.
Ah… is this tax evasion?
No. The U.S. is Korea’s blood ally, and this is legitimate compensation for participating in an ally’s operation—so it’s tax optimization, not evasion.
“Send daily information to the number that contacted you earlier. And please access the link I’m giving you and install the program. It’s an app that prevents wiretapping and allows us to confirm your location for emergency response.”
I nodded and clicked the link Sam sent, then installed the app.
“And don’t try to judge the value of information yourself. Please report everything—every minor incident that happens at the motel. We’ll assess it and pay accordingly. In particular, any details about long-term guests—no matter how trivial—should be reported.”
I nodded.
That Soviet-agent glutton Bella might actually get arrested by the CIA.
Wait.
Doesn’t this conflict with my professional ethics—my duty to keep long-term guests safe?
I accepted because it was too tempting to refuse, but thinking again, there were a lot of things that bothered me.