Sit
"Deok-su hyungnim! I'm here."
"Yeah? What'd those bastards say?"
"What else? Bring in that punk from the southern hunters' squad—Kang Moo-hyuk or whatever. And that cocky bastard who's always with him. What's his name again? Right, Hyeon Jeong-geon. Hyeon Jeong-geon, that little shit. They say he's holed up somewhere around here with him. Drag 'em in."
"By when?"
"They said grab him right now, but I barely pushed it back to tomorrow."
Cheon Deok-su stared off into the distance, lost in thought for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Don't clash with Ryeon Jeong-mun's boy if you can help it. Search every inch. If he starts shit, report straight to me."
"Got it."
Kang Moo-hyuk felt the attic growing cramped. It was because of the kids scattered around the bed in little groups of three or five.
I just wanted to hear some stories about Prison Village, that's all.
Kim Gil-young must have been thrilled, because he'd dragged in every kid from the alleys. Having never chatted with outsiders before, the children sat with eyes sparkling with curiosity.
Feels like I'm a monkey in a zoo. Well, whatever. More mouths mean richer info.
Kang Moo-hyuk didn't dismiss the kids' words just because they were young. On the contrary, without preconceptions, they spoke plainly about what they'd seen, heard, and felt, revealing raw truths.
Plus, these kids were unusually mature for their age—their words were logical and precise.
"Ryeon Jeong-mun's the coolest. I'm gonna grow up to be a leader like him."
"But that uncle's face is scary. I like Hyeon-uncle better. He seems like a fancy Seoul gentleman. I'm gonna marry a guy like him someday."
"Heard Deok-su caused a scene at Old Man Gong's place last time?"
"Nah, Deok-su ain't that bad. He was the one who loaded their briquettes."
"How do you know?"
"Saw him passing by. His clothes had briquette dust on 'em."
"Probably just did his own house. That guy's not the thoughtful type."
"The Chinese guys scare me when they come into the village. Last time, I locked eyes with one at the prison warehouse—nearly pissed myself. He came grinning at me, and I was shaking, but Hwang Dong-su helped me out. Yelled at the guy in Chinese, and the bastard ran off scared."
"What? Hwang Dong-su? That thug from Widow Hwang's place? What's he doing playing hero?"
"Thug or not, he don't matter if he drops dead. But Widow Hwang's in a bad way. She's sickly, and I wonder if she's got a warm spot by the fire this winter."
Before long, it had turned into a chaotic kids' gossip session, but Kang Moo-hyuk gleaned plenty of info.
From trivial village gossip to the power dynamics splitting the place.
Prison Village was roughly divided between Cheon Deok-su's crew and Ryeon Jeong-mun's faction, but there were plenty of independent hunters like Hwang Dong-su too.
Some operated in small parties without forming big groups, while others were starting to absorb hunters into guild-like structures on a small scale.
"What's this? Kids?"
Hyeon Jeong-geon had just returned to their hideout and stared at the attic scene in disbelief.
"Hyeon-uncle!"
The little girl who'd called him her ideal type hugged his leg. The other kids swarmed him too, clinging excitedly.
"Aigoo, you little rascals. Hey, hey—grab the snacks from that round tin over there, Gil-young. Take 'em outside and share nice with everyone."
"Yessir!"
Hyeon Jeong-geon shouted after the kids as they stampeded out with the snack tin, thrilled as could be.
"This is our secret—uncles are here!"
"Yeees~!"
The noisy chatter faded quickly.
"No brains on these kids. Can't even call this a hideout anymore. Right? Why the stare?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're staring holes through me. Feels like the boss has something to say... Oh, worried the kids'll blab? Don't sweat it. They look young, but they've got heavy mouths and deep thoughts. Life here's made 'em wise beyond years. Me at that age? I was busy causing trouble."
"No, not that. Just surprised you're so popular with kids. Caught me off guard."
Kang Moo-hyuk's genuine shock made Hyeon Jeong-geon scratch his neck awkwardly.
"Popular? Nah."
"Makes sense, though. Saw you donating rice, briquettes, all sorts when you came in. Deserve the popularity."
"Kids said that? What, spilling all that? It ain't much. Outsiders get eyed warily here, right? Strategic move. Nobody hates free food and clothes. No place to spend cash anyway, so I handed out some rice cakes instead of moving gifts."
"Rice cakes? Looked like enough for a village feast."
"Feast? Nah. Rice prices spiked that year coming into Sinuiju—folks were starving. Chinese controlled it, squeezed us. Truck full made 'em happy. Just a full belly for once."
Kang Moo-hyuk stared silently, so Hyeon Jeong-geon cleared his throat and changed the subject.
"Quit grilling me. Not the point now. Cheon Deok-su's crew's on the move. Oh, you wouldn't know? Cheon Deok-su's one of the big two factions here..."
"I know. One of Prison Village's two major powers."
"Kids told you?"
"First I heard today. Three hours of seven nonstop kids chattering? Even NIS couldn't get this intel."
"Haha, yeah, they're chatty. Probably excited—outsider after ages. Adults too busy surviving to play. Alleys packed tight, no play spots, no real school. Nowhere to gather."
"No school?"
"They call it a study hall. Some educated folks teach, but it's lacking bad. What isn't? No hospital, no fire station—nothing. Get hurt bad here? You're dead. Potions help if you got 'em, but cash for that goes to food and shelter first. Most just waste away sick. Fire? Disaster."
"That's why folks can't fight back hard against Chinese hunters' bullshit."
"Get chased from Sinuiju? Nowhere to go. Makyung? South? Lucky not to get nabbed by cops."
Spitting it out heatedly, Hyeon Jeong-geon paused, steadying his breath calmly.
"Anyway, still no escape route. No outside contact either."
"You're a broker. What about your old lines?"
"Mine are cut, and local fixers too. Island in the middle of nowhere."
"I see... Ugh, cough cough! Khk..."
"You okay?"
Kang Moo-hyuk hacked violently, like something caught in his throat. The fit eased after a bit, but his face had gone deathly pale.
"Th-there, meds..."
He chewed and swallowed the pill Hyeon Jeong-geon fetched, no water. Color slowly returned as time passed. Hyeon set the bottle by the table.
"Works, huh? Looked like you were dying, but you're fine."
"Band-aid. Each cough drains me. Soon I'll need a wheelchair. Gotta get the injection before it worsens."
"Mm. I'll scout again, find a way to contact Iron Will. Hole somewhere."
"Don't push too hard. Just check."
"You know me, Hyeon Jeong-geon."
That night, Hyeon Jeong-geon didn't return to the hideout.
"Dong-su, you know hyungnim's generous, right? Snag this Kang Moo-hyuk punk, he'll pay fat. Chinese got burned underestimating him, but you know how tough Hyeon Jeong-geon is. Few here can handle him besides you. Gotta care for your mom. Can't hunt nursing her—need side cash, yeah? Take the money, hyungnim'll talk to Chinese, open a path to city hospital."
The proposal from his childhood neighbor tugged at Hwang Dong-su.
He kept distance from Cheon Deok-su's pack, uncomfortable with packs like Baekdu tigers. But he couldn't pass one-off gigs like this.
Hwang Dong-su took after his missing father—one of Prison Village's top hunters. Skilled enough for high-value monsters regularly.
But what good were pricey byproducts if you couldn't sell free?
Villagers could only sell monster parts locally in Sinuiju. Get caught at Tumen River or Shandong black markets? Done for.
Could've lived well elsewhere, but North hunter blood cursed them to inequality.
With Chinese dominating sales, crossing them meant instant poverty.
Food supply, movement limits, treatment—all in Chinese hands. Resentment natural, but hospital for mom? He'd look away once.
"Know the hideout?"
"Obvious. Few spots. One of Hyeon Jeong-geon's close ones."
"Half the village owes him. Me too."
"So, no?"
"..."
"Byeong-ju's widow hiding 'em?"
"Know it? Go grab."
"Said it already. Need hyungnim or you or Ryeon Jeong-mun to take Hyeon. Can't ask them. Just drag 'em. No need breathing. We handle rest."
Hwang Dong-su sighed long, then resolved.
"For Byeong-ju who died saving village, can't cross that threshold while widow's awake. Sneak in late, quiet."
"Fine, your call. Noon tomorrow deadline. Counting on you."
Deep night, poor electricity—only lanterns glowed.
Batteries and oil precious, all slept early. Alleys moonlit only.
In that dark, Hwang Dong-su moved. Slipping into the Uiju house like daylight, he sensed wrongness fast.
No presence.
He meant Hyeon Jeong-geon's.
First floor: widow and Gil-young's presences.
Upstairs: only a civilian's, suspected Kang Moo-hyuk. No Hyeon trace.
Hunter or not, can't mask presence resting like this. Drains heavy. Hiding? Anticipating? Nah. Can't hold forever.
Normally, he'd bail uneasy. But no other shot. Noon tomorrow for mom's hospital.
Bracing for worst brawl, he climbed to attic.
One lay in bed. Hwang checked face. Startled.
"Not sleeping?"
"Waiting for Hyeon boss. Worried."
Then it clicked—no presence because absent.
Relief at no tough foe, but odd calm hit him.
"Strange. No scream. Non-hunter sees intruder, stays cool? Takes guts. No wonder Chinese frantic."
Kang Moo-hyuk struggled up, propping torso.
"Too dark. Can't see night guest's ugly mug—no surprise."
"Night guest? Not thief."
"Offends thieves. They steal goods, not innocent lives over fences."
"No excuses. Got reasons."
"Mom's illness? Food? What'd they promise?"
"!!"
Hwang gaped, shocked—knew his identity.
Trap?
Kang continued.
"As heard: polite old speech, low tone. Sturdy build, tall, shaggy long hair, big face scar. Hwang Dong-su? Village thug?"
"Who're you?"
"Here to kill me. Don't know? Kang Moo-hyuk. Right?"
"How? Never seen you."
"Quit looming. Sit. Neck hurts craning."
"What trick?"
"Sit, Hwang Dong-su. Unless you wanna see your mother die."