Chapter 26

Mu-yeong stole a sidelong glance at Choi Yook. Resting his elbow on the window sill, the man was scanning banners strung along the roadside. Regardless of how interesting their text might be, his mood at least did not seem foul. After all, despite bringing up Choi Sijin, Choi Yook hadn’t sworn at him, struck him, or clamped a hand around his throat.

What had caused his shift in attitude? Was it bringing the notebook after all? Stealing cautious glances, Mu-yeong smiled and struck up conversation.

“Section Chief, aren’t you hungry?” Mu-yeong asked cheerfully. “Would you like to grab some dinner before we hit the road? It’ll be far too late by the time we reach Seoul.”

Choi Yook kept his eyes fixed on the outside, offering no response. Mu-yeong gave it another shot.

“It was my first time seeing a nursing home menu, and the food looked surprisingly good.” Mu-yeong drummed his fingers lightly on the wheel. “Stir-fried mushrooms, dried radish greens soup, assorted seasoned vegetables… Even the pineapple you bought was served. Ms. Yoon Hee-sook ate with an enormous appetite too. Though that was right before she flipped her entire meal tray. The clatter was so deafening that everyone gathered around to watch.”

In other words: Yoon Hee-sook was eating well enough, so shouldn’t the two of them get some food as well? Even if being lumped together as “we” felt rather bizarre. Choi Yook turned his head to face Mu-yeong.

“Tell me more about that,” Choi Yook demanded.

“About the food? Well, the mushrooms were king oysters…” Mu-yeong blinked in confusion.

“Skip the tedious menu breakdown and pick up where you left off,” Choi Yook snapped.

Mu-yeong was puzzled by the request. Compared to the man’s daily routine of beating people half to death, a commotion like that wouldn’t even register as a fight. What did he find so amusing about it?

Perhaps Yoon Hee-sook keeping her lips sealed had irritated him to no end. Regardless, talking about it was delightful. Who else in the world could he share such a story with? If asked to give details, Mu-yeong could recount every single second and paint the scene all night long.

“It was total pandemonium,” Mu-yeong said, gesturing animatedly. “Ms. Yoon Hee-sook lunged at the staff member collecting the trays, hurling curses. She tried to grab her by the hair, ended up getting her arms pinned, thrashed around, and kicked the tray away… The orderlies rushed in as soon as the call went out and restrained her. Even then, she kept shrieking at the top of her lungs. People were whispering like crazy.”

A faint sneer played upon the corners of Choi Yook’s mouth. Nodding slowly, he jerked his chin toward the window. He ordered curtly, “Pull up to wherever’s open. Don’t waste time trying to pick something fancy.”

It meant they were going to eat, exactly as Mu-yeong had hoped. Even though the man didn’t share a personal vendetta against Yoon Hee-sook, he must have found the story immensely satisfying. It was quite a twisted taste, but for a mobster’s sadistic streak, it seemed harmless enough.

The place Mu-yeong pulled up to was literally right next door—a blood sausage soup joint, the first eatery that caught his eye aside from a barbecue restaurant. Inside, the sticky aroma of pork lard hung thick in the air, and the diner buzzed noisily with patrons enjoying drinks with their meals. The soccer broadcast blaring from the wall-mounted television was quite loud as well.

The owner behind the counter flinched, pulling his shoulders in upon catching sight of Choi Yook. Granted, even in broad daylight in the middle of Gangnam Boulevard, the man looked extraordinary and menacing; standing late in the evening under flickering, aged fluorescent tubes, it wouldn’t be surprising if a violent crime erupted at any second. Mu-yeong addressed the owner in a sweet, gentle tone.

“Hello! A table for two, please,” Mu-yeong announced with a friendly smile.

“…Ah, you brought company,” the owner stammered, startled. “Sit wherever you like. What can I get you?”

Whether out of fear of Choi Yook, the owner made a deliberate effort to keep his eyes fixed on Mu-yeong. Mu-yeong glanced back at Choi Yook. The man wore an utterly indifferent expression, as though he couldn’t care less whether what went into his mouth was soup with rice or rice with soup.

“Order whatever you want.” Choi Yook looked away dismissively.

Mu-yeong promptly turned to the owner. “Then two special-sized bowls of blood sausage soup, please, and a large plate of boiled pork head meat.”

“Right away, coming right up. Just a moment!” the owner responded.

Clutching the order ticket, the owner hurried into the kitchen. Taking a seat, Mu-yeong spread paper napkins on the table and set out the spoons and chopsticks. Before long, the owner returned and set a warm wet wipe and a small dish onto the tabletop. As Mu-yeong was all too accustomed to, there was only a single set.

There was no reason to cause a scene in front of Choi Yook by repeatedly calling out to the owner. Just as Mu-yeong was about to let it slide, Choi Yook opened his mouth.

“Boss,” Choi Yook called out.

“Yes?” The owner turned around with a start.

“You left out a wet wipe and an extra dish here,” Choi Yook stated.

Choi Yook rapped his knuckles on the table in front of Mu-yeong. Flustered, the owner turned his head toward Mu-yeong.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry, so sorry! I’ll bring them right away.” The owner bobbed his head in embarrassment.

The owner practically fled toward the kitchen. Moments later, a small dish and a wet wipe were placed in front of Mu-yeong. He looked down at them blankly. What was this trifling thing, yet it made the chair he occupied finally feel like a real place meant for him?

How wonderful would it have been if someone other than Choi Yook could see him? Then he would have bought that person meals every single day and gone out to eat together. He could have done the driving, packed snacks, and dropped them off right at their doorstep. Wiping his hands with the warm towel, Mu-yeong offered his thanks.

Mu-yeong wiped his hands, offering a grateful smile. “Thank you for speaking up for me. Whenever I ask for small things like this myself, people usually forget.”

“If you’re taking my money, you need to earn its keep.”

Choi Yook answered as if stating the obvious. From the television mounted in the distance, the commentators’ voices surged, adding to the diner’s clamor.

―”Lee Da-woon takes the shot! It’s a goal!”

The striker leaped into the air and pumped his fist into the empty space. Soon engulfed in a flurry of hugs from his teammates, he broke into a radiant laugh. Watching the replay that followed, Mu-yeong uttered a quiet murmur of admiration.

“It’s always amazing seeing the ball curve like that,” Mu-yeong remarked, watching the screen. “When I was little, I tried imitating that kick and only ended up bruising the top of my foot.”

“You don’t look like the type to kick a soccer ball, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi,” Choi Yook remarked dryly.

“Still, becoming a soccer player was quite the dream of mine back then.”

Smiling, Mu-yeong poured water into a stainless-steel cup and slid it across to him. Choi Yook remained quiet for a moment before leaning back against his chair.

“Every boy that age has the exact same dream,” Choi Yook murmured.

“Was that your dream too, Section Chief?” Mu-yeong tilted his head in interest.

“No,” Choi Yook answered flatly.

“Then what did you dream of becoming?” Mu-yeong leaned forward in curiosity.

Choi Yook gripped the metal cup, rattling it against the table.

“A doctor.”

It was a surprisingly ordinary answer. An answer that didn’t suit him in the slightest. Mu-yeong widened his eyes, staring at him in disbelief.

“Because Sijin was terribly sick when he was little?” Mu-yeong asked.

“Yeah.” Choi Yook let out a heavy breath, tilting his head back to exhale slowly into the ceiling. “He was so fucking sick he couldn’t even open his mouth.” A bitter grimace flickered across his face.

Staring up into the empty air, his features took on a weary cast. It seemed just the thought of the days when his little brother was sick made him shudder, yet it also seemed that back then, he had harbored that dream with genuine fervor. From that expression, Mu-yeong caught an unexpected glimpse of raw sincerity.

Choi Yook truly cherishes his brother.

When Choi Yook traded barbs with Choi Sijin or threatened Mu-yeong on his behalf, he had suspected as much, but seeing it now felt on an entirely different level. Mu-yeong’s mind churned with unsettling thoughts. It felt as though he had peered into a completely different dimension of Choi Yook.

Of course, he knew well enough that a total piece of shit to one person could be a saint to another. Look no further than Kim Jeong-seon’s boundless love for her son. Yet her maternal devotion had never felt like such a jarring, dramatic contradiction.

Likely because unlike Kim Jeong-seon, Choi Yook appeared devoid of basic human warmth. He seemed like the type who couldn’t possibly care deeply or tend tenderly to anyone—even his own flesh and blood. A man built with rebar for bones and poured concrete for flesh. What was more, the fact that he had cherished Choi Sijin ever since his childhood illness meant Choi Yook’s affection wasn’t born from the weight of a name.

Was it purely the bond of blood, or because Choi Sijin secretly held his older brother dear? Whichever it was, the reality was equally rotten: Choi Sijin’s most formidable champion was the one person who could see Mu-yeong. Choi Yook’s dark eyes shifted downward, looking at Mu-yeong as if peering from high above.

“Setting aside that this is my family business,” Choi Yook began slowly.

“…” Mu-yeong held his tongue.

“Why aren’t you on the national team, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi, instead of wasting away here?” Choi Yook questioned with sharp scrutiny.

It was an unexpected question. No one had ever asked him such a thing, but whoever asked it, the query would have sounded equally absurd.

How many people held onto their elementary school dreams well into adulthood? Back then, he simply found kicking a ball fun and cool; it wasn’t out of any grand ambition. Wrapping his fingers around the water cup before him, Mu-yeong smiled.

“It’s not as if going into professional athletics is an easy path,” Mu-yeong replied with an easy laugh. “Besides, I just liked running around—it was never that serious. And it’s not like I was any good at studying either.”

“That part isn’t particularly surprising.” Choi Yook smirked faintly.

Choi Yook tilted his chair back on two legs before letting it drop forward. Thud. The wooden chair legs struck the floor, producing a dull, heavy clatter.

“Of all the jobs out there, there must be a reason you landed at an errand agency,” Choi Yook pressed.

“Well, that’s…” Mu-yeong hesitated.

“You’re the same age as Sijin,” Choi Yook pointed out, leaning back into his seat. “Which means you fell for him when you saw his debut confirmed at nineteen.”

Tilting the chair back once more, he dragged up the messy chatter Mu-yeong had rambled on about earlier.

“Then the second you finished high school, you enlisted straight into the military. As soon as you were discharged, you took a job at an errand center. And not long ago, you were hovering around Sijin like a damn moth. If so…” Choi Yook’s tone grew pointed.

Once again, thud. The sound rang out like a hammer driving a nail home.

“It looks to me like your entire career path was decided on account of Sijin,” Choi Yook concluded.

“…” Mu-yeong offered only a heavy silence.

“It may not be a ten-year plan, but six years in this day and age is more than enough to qualify as a grand scheme,” Choi Yook noted with cold amusement. “So I’m dying to know what ambitious goal replaced playing with balls for you, Seo Mu-yeong-ssi.”

Gripping the water cup tight, Mu-yeong met Choi Yook’s gaze. Though the man seemed deceptively relaxed right now, he was a loan shark. When it came to hunting people down, seizing them, and stripping them bare, he operated on a level leagues above an errand agency.