Chapter 45

“Were you guys playing golf?”

Taegeon asked, sitting on a rusted steel chair. He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt with his right hand, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shook one free, and placed it between his lips. The air around him was thick with the constant, muffled groans and strangled screams of gagged men.

The captives lay facedown in a neat row, stripped to their underwear. Despite their humiliating state, their gaudy luxury watches still shone brightly on their wrists. The elderly men were then forced to stand upright in a line, their bodies trembling together. One of the large enforcers tossed the golf clothes removed from the captives into a steel drum and soaked the pile in gasoline.

“Take it outside and burn it. The smell is fucking revolting.”

At Taegeon’s command, Myeongsun silently jerked his chin toward the door, signaling for the large man to move.

“Yes, hyung-nim.”

The man hoisted the drum into his arms and carried it out of the abandoned warehouse.

Taegeon lit his cigarette and drew in a single, unhurried breath. Then he let it rest between his index and middle fingers, the hand holding it settling against the knee of his crossed leg. His fingers began tapping against that knee in a steady rhythm. Blood had splattered across the concrete floor in jagged patterns. Several of the larger men worked in silence, sweeping and scrubbing away the gore with plastic brooms.

Mo Jeong-gil approached from the rear, moving with a slight but labored limp. He lowered a golf bag beside Taegeon’s chair.

Taegeon glanced up at him. “Why the hell are you back out here? You should be at home.”

“The bone’s completely healed. I’m fine,” Jeong-gil replied, his tone indifferent.

His tibia had been shattered as punishment for losing his head and putting Lee Jaeha in danger. His conscience would not allow him to lie around resting while his superiors continued working. Although Taegeon’s relationship with Lee Jaeha had deteriorated significantly since that day, Taegeon had been comparatively lenient with him. Aside from the clean break of Jeong-gil’s tibia, Taegeon had imposed no further punishment. It was Jeong-gil’s own restlessness that had driven him back into the field. He simply could not stomach the thought of remaining idle.

As a result, the bone had been healing far more slowly than it should have. His impatience had even caused an infection severe enough to bring on a fever, yet he could not shake the suffocating sense that he was becoming dead weight to his ‘hyung-nim’ and the organization.

“Quit being so goddamn stubborn.” Taegeon flicked ash from the tip of his cigarette. “Myeongsun, I told you to keep Mo Jeong-gil tied down until that bone actually healed.” As he spoke, Taegeon dug through the golf bag with his free hand. His expression remained so blank that neither man could tell whether he was joking or entirely serious.

Myeongsun and Jeong-gil had served as his hands and feet for years. They simply concluded that their boss was in a relatively decent mood today. Compared with the past several months, during which Taegeon had barely slept while systematically annihilating the remnants of Myeongwon and every collaborator connected to them, this qualified as an ordinary day.

Taegeon eventually selected an iron and tapped the clubhead against his palm. Biting down on the cigarette filter, he spoke through it, his words slightly muffled.

“Whoever lands a hole-in-one gets a pass.”

The middle-aged men, their mouths sealed with duct tape, groaned in unison.

Taegeon regarded them with listless contempt. “What? No volunteers? If your game’s that fucking pathetic, I guess you’ll have to take a beating.”

Without warning, he swung the club into the buttocks of the men lined before him. The iron cut through the air with a vicious swoosh. Because he struck only muscle, the shaft began to warp after several more blows. The captives convulsed beneath the assault. Whenever one of them tried to crumple, Jeong-gil drove a hard kick into him and barked for him to get back on his feet.

Taegeon removed the cigarette from his lips and tapped away the ash.

“You old bastards, I told you to move quickly. You honestly thought this was the time to enjoy a round of golf?” His gaze drifted over them without interest. “Did you really believe there was still anything left for you under Jang Changsik?”

“Ugh… h-hng… nng…”

Pitiful whimpers rose from every direction.

The captives were approximately the same age as Jang Changsik’s younger brothers, men whom Taegeon had once been instructed to call grand-uncles or great-uncles. In his younger days, Jang Taegeon was little more than a lapdog, raised in Jang Changsik’s household. Naturally, the men who had demanded the same respect from him never saw him as anything more.

An animal raised in cruelty, whether it grows large or stays small, never fully forgets its youth.

Scars etched into the soul eventually break open, bleeding through in some way.

However, no such fracture existed within Jang Taegeon. There was simply nothing in his mind that could be considered trauma. That was exactly why he could swing a golf club at them without hesitation or personal malice, even though they had once treated him like livestock.

As he beat the men who had regarded him as a beast, Jang Taegeon’s expression did not change. His face remained an empty, detached mask, the look of a man who had merely arrived to complete another day’s work.

“From where you’re standing, great-uncles, did I really look like some sweet, obedient little boy?” Taegeon shifted his grip on the club. “I warned you. I told you that if you refused to listen, I’d drag you here and beat you like dogs. Now look at you, reduced to this pathetic shit in your twilight years.”

After each man had endured a brutal share of the blows, they collapsed across the concrete, groaning in agony. Not a single bone had broken, as Taegeon had struck with enough precision to damage only the muscle. Their incessant whining finally irritated him. With a careless snap of his fingers, he flicked the cigarette aside. It landed directly in a pool of blood, where the dying ember hissed, spat once, and went dark.

“Ah, this is boring as hell,” Taegeon remarked, his voice dull and drained.

He slid the bent club back into the golf bag and dropped into the rusted chair again, crossing his legs. Reaching into his pocket, he took out another cigarette, fitted it between his lips, and leaned back with his head tipped toward the ceiling. The exposed line of his neck was thick and elongated, carrying the raw, latent strength of a beast. Dense cords of muscle ran along his jaw, so hard and tightly drawn that even a blade seemed unlikely to penetrate them.

Taegeon smoked like that for several moments before lowering his head. He spread his legs, planted his elbows on his knees, and leaned his upper body forward. He looked like a man inspecting fish laid out for sale at a wet market.

“Did Changsik throw you a little something?” His eyes narrowed around the smoke. “Your loyalty, much like your useless old pricks, must be suffering from erectile dysfunction, so don’t bother dressing it up for me. I’m not buying a fucking word.”

He delivered the insult with casual indifference, drawing again from the cigarette as his face remained entirely devoid of emotion.

At Taegeon’s silent cue, Myeongsun approached the men sprawled across the floor, each footstep heavy and resolute.

The sight of them trembling was almost theatrical. Their filthy cheeks glistened with tears and sweat.

Myeongsun seized the duct tape and ripped it from their mouths.

Scattered screams tore through the warehouse.

“D-Director Jang, please… let’s be rational about this…”

Taegeon’s eyes settled on the speaker. “What was that? Are you saying I’ve lost my mind? Treating a perfectly sane man like some raving lunatic is pretty fucking insulting.”

“T-That isn’t what I meant!”

Taegeon pressed his thumbs into the ridge of his brow, making a futile attempt to massage away the mounting pressure. The cigarette remained clamped between his fingers.

His insomnia had worsened again in recent weeks, and Mo Jeong-gil and Myeongsun could not stop themselves from stealing wary glances at his face.

It was painfully obvious that he had not slept at all. Even so, without fail, he emerged each morning and climbed into the car Myeongsun brought for him, his expression sealed behind an impenetrable mask of composure.

Both Jeong-gil and Myeongsun knew exactly when the insomnia had first taken hold of him.

A precarious cylinder of ash lengthened at the end of the cigarette. When Taegeon finally spoke, his voice was as dry as old parchment, carrying the exhaustion of a man who had ceased to care about anything in the room.

“I know for a fact that one of you pathetic excuses for great-uncles leaked information to Myeongwon.” His gaze moved slowly down the line. “Start talking, and do it quickly. The first one to open his mouth gets a discount on the beating he’s owed.”

The warehouse fell into immediate, suffocating silence.

Then one of the men began thrashing like a fish suffocating on dry land, his body twisting wildly as a piercing cry burst from his throat.

“D-Director Jang! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything, I swear!”

Once the first confession broke the silence, the others followed. Their voices rose in a frantic, overlapping chorus, each man shrieking in desperation to be heard before the rest.

Taegeon flicked away the cigarette he had barely smoked.

“Myeongsun-ah, what the hell are you waiting for? Slit the first one’s throat.” His mouth twisted without amusement. “Loyalty is just so fucking… honorable, isn’t it?”

“Yes, hyung-nim.”

“Director Jang, wait! What is this? What are you saying?” the first man exclaimed, struggling violently. “You promised to let us go!”

“When did I make that promise?” Taegeon inquired. “I said I would reduce your beating and send you away first.” His gaze shifted to the others. “As for the rest of you, pay attention. If you provide the wrong detail, you will end up just like him.” He issued the command casually, with both hands tucked deep in the pockets of his dress pants. Then, he gave Myeongsun a dismissive wave. “I’ll wait in the car. Finish up and join me.”

Mo Jeong-gil approached, despite his labored limp, and bowed his head deeply. “Hyung-nim, I’ll take care of everything here. Please go ahead and get in the car.”

Taegeon looked down at him. “What about that leg?”

“The boys can handle the rest. It won’t be an issue,” Jeong-gil said, glancing at Myeongsun. “Myeongsun, please hurry and escort hyung-nim.”

Myeongsun, who had been holding a bloodstained sashimi knife, handed it to a younger thug beside him and immediately followed Taegeon. Taegeon looked sideways at the crown of Jeong-gil’s bowed head. Without another word, he turned and left the abandoned warehouse, the same place where Lee Jaeha had been kidnapped.

It had taken six months of careful work to track down every involved person, drag them out one by one, and sever their limbs.

Several members of the organization bowed deeply to Taegeon as he walked away, then slammed the warehouse door shut. The screams inside echoed against the walls, gradually fading into muffled, distant wails.

Myeongsun caught up and walked slightly behind Taegeon.

“What did he do today?” Taegeon asked casually, as if it were just idle conversation.

“He attended a fundraising gala for Assemblyman Jo Dae-cheol. According to the report, he stayed there all evening and returned home about an hour ago.”

Taegeon remained silent, his stride steady as he continued toward the waiting car. Sensing his mood, Myeongsun moved ahead and opened the rear door. Taegeon slid into the back seat.

Just as Myeongsun was about to close the door, Taegeon spoke, “Take us to Pyeongchang-dong.”

Myeongsun hesitated. “You really need to sleep, hyung-nim.”

“Who said I’m staying up all night?” Taegeon leaned back, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes. “I’m only going to watch.” The finality in his voice ended the discussion.

With worry on his face, Myeongsun closed the rear door and got into the driver’s seat. Taegeon sensed Myeongsun’s lingering concern and gave a sharp kick to the back of the seat.

“Let’s go. Move.”

“Yes, hyung-nim.”

It was clear that Taegeon planned to stand guard outside that house all night again.

Myeongsun hesitated, wishing he could convince the man to rest for just one day.

Taegeon clicked his tongue in disbelief.

With no other choice, Myeongsun pressed the accelerator.

***