Chapter 9

Seo Mu-yeong dreamt.

Plopped down in the middle of a sunlit living room, his younger self rolled a toy fire truck across the floorboards. Golden afternoon light poured through the veranda glass, illuminating a lush canopy of houseplants.

A woman sat beside him, watching with warm, smiling eyes.

‘■■-ah, do you remember what dream Mommy had when ■■ was still inside my tummy?’

Young Mu-yeong nodded vigorously.

‘Yeah. You said a tiny baby elephant was badly hurt.’

‘That’s right! And then that baby elephant came wobbling over toward Mommy, and just as I opened my arms thinking, “Oh dear, you poor thing, that must hurt so much,” the elephant charged straight into Mommy’s belly with a loud BAM!’

Scooping the boy up in a warm embrace, the woman tickled his ribs playfully. As young Mu-yeong dissolved into breathless, joyous giggles, a flurry of adoring kisses showered across his cheeks.

‘Mommy loves our precious ■■-ie so, so very much.’

The name remained inaudible, muted out as though censored for an evening news broadcast.

As the woman’s tender voice receded into the ether, the default chime of a smartphone alarm intruded upon the dream. Mu-yeong snapped his eyes open and checked the digital display: six in the morning sharp.

His body moved faster than his waking thoughts. Throwing on a gray tracksuit, Mu-yeong slipped out into the dawn air and jogged through the quiet neighborhood streets. Though the sun had already risen, looking slightly disheveled was of zero consequence to a man whom nobody noticed.

Soaked through with sweat, a pleasant vigor returned to his limbs. Returning to his apartment, he plugged in the electric kettle and stepped under the shower. Probing the back of his scalp beneath the streaming water, the spot where he had been struck with the aluminum bat showed a tender, raised knot.

Gently washing his hair, Mu-yeong dried off. Whether he wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror or left it fogged, the face peering back looked equally blurred and indistinct.

Even so, his left cheek had surely bloomed into a deep, purplish bruise, judging by the raw, shredded texture of the inside of his mouth when probed with the tip of his tongue. Eating anything piping hot or spicy was clearly out of the question for breakfast.

The kettle rattled with boiling water. Wrapping a dry towel around his neck, Mu-yeong emerged into the small kitchen. Plucking a packet of black bean noodles from the stack of instant ramen perched above the gas stove, he poured the boiling water over the noodles.

Mu-yeong fitted the battered earbud into his ear canal. The very first audio stream to crackle through the link was Han Seo-yoon’s gravelly voice.

―“Section Chief, the… whatchamacallit, that stalker bastard’s vehicle repairs are finished.”

―“Seo Mu-yeong,” Choi Yook corrected dryly, supplying the owner’s name.

Han Seo-yoon sucked in a sharp, defensive breath.

―“Right, Seo Mu-yeong. Why that name refuses to stick to my tongue is beyond me… At any rate, we swept Sijin-ssi’s van and recovered one GPS tracker and one audio bug. We’re currently combing the rest of the fleet.”

―“Is that so?”

―“Yes, sir. And regarding Seo Mu-yeong’s background, we should have the bulk of his civil records compiled by tonight.”

―“Understood. Map out his personal network as well. Don’t miss a single detail.”

Call ended. Mu-yeong pulled up his tracking app. True to their word, the locator beacon on Choi Sijin’s management van had vanished from the map.

Yet the signal registered under ‘Vehicle 2’ blipped with steady clarity: the magnetic tracker planted under the chassis of the Porsche that Choi Sijin drove for personal leisure.

Which meant the audio bug concealed inside that cabin remained safe as well. Though when he might safely retrieve the recordings remained uncertain, laying low for the immediate future was imperative.

Unplugging the kettle, Mu-yeong stood before the sink, tossing the noodles in black bean paste and shoveling them hungrily into his mouth. Despite his hulking, stone-faced exterior, Han Seo-yoon was an exceptionally prompt and early riser.

Han Seo-yoon: residing in Mapo District; contact with out-of-town parents limited strictly to major holidays; no romantic partner; no close friends; social circle confined entirely to his superior Choi Yook, mob colleagues, and Lee Eun-jeong, the pet sitter who looked after his dog Seolgi.

Tipping the paper bowl back, Mu-yeong drained the last spoonfuls of savory sauce and dehydrated flakes. He had barely tossed the empty container into the recycling bin and brushed his teeth when his phone buzzed. The number was unfamiliar, yet the voice was unmistakable.

―“Seo Mu-yeong-ssi, I am downstairs.”

Han Seo-yoon had arrived. Opening the lower kitchen cabinet, Mu-yeong retrieved two cans of chilled energy drinks.

“Yes, I’ll be right down,” Mu-yeong answered brightly.

Ending the call, he trotted down the flight of stairs to find Han Seo-yoon waiting beside the black Carnival parked on the ground-floor pilotis. The shattered driver’s-side window had been replaced with immaculate, sparkling new glass. Stepping out through the front glass door, Mu-yeong approached with an easy stride.

“…Seo Mu-yeong-ssi?” Han Seo-yoon asked uncertainly, narrowing his eyes.

The brute’s sheer determination to verify the exact contours of his passenger’s face was almost admirable.

Yet before long, beads of cold sweat pricked along Han Seo-yoon’s temples. The color drained from his dusky complexion, and his irises flickered with dizzying disorientation.

It was a visceral reaction Mu-yeong knew all too well, having vomited on multiple occasions after staring too intently into bathroom mirrors. Beaming warmly, Mu-yeong stepped close and tapped Han Seo-yoon’s forearm with an energy drink can.

“Yes, Seo-yoon-ssi. You look exhausted—care for an energy drink?”

Knitting his brows in a severe scowl, Han Seo-yoon glared at Mu-yeong before taking a sharp step backward. Having received stern warnings from Choi Yook the night before, his guard was raised to maximum alert.

“I am fine,” the subordinate refused flatly.

Mu-yeong offered the can with an innocent smile. “There’s nothing strange in it, I assure you. See? The pull-tab hasn’t even been popped.”

Flipping the aluminum can upside down, he shook it vigorously. Looking thoroughly worn out, Han Seo-yoon scrubbed a weary hand over his face.

Han Seo-yoon shook his head. “No… that won’t be necessary. Here are your car keys. Be advised that you will be escorting the Section Chief down to Mangcheon in three days’ time. I have programmed the destination coordinates into the navigation system, so ensure you arrive punctually.”

“Understood,” Mu-yeong answered politely. “Are you heading straight to the office now, Seo-yoon-ssi? Would you like a lift to wherever you’re going?”

“Seo Mu-yeong-ssi,” Han Seo-yoon cut in, tension snapping through his heavy jaw. “Acting friendly with me will gain you absolutely nothing in this world. Do you understand?”

He emphasized every single syllable with cold, deliberate venom. It was an overt threat, yet Mu-yeong merely offered an airy shrug.

“If you don’t want a ride, you can just say no,” Mu-yeong said lightly. As Han Seo-yoon stared at him, dumbfounded, Mu-yeong added with a cheerful wave, “Have a wonderful day!”

Waving an energetic farewell, Mu-yeong climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. Navigating through the narrow alleyway, he glanced into the rearview mirror to find Han Seo-yoon still tracking the van with an unblinking, suspicious glare.

Just as Choi Yook had shrewdly observed, Mu-yeong was not in the least bit frightened of Han Seo-yoon. If worst came to worst, he only needed to hold his breath and retreat three paces into the shadows; Han Seo-yoon would lose all track of which direction he had vanished into.

Clinging cheerfully to someone who openly despised him was second nature. Up until middle school, Mu-yeong had acted that way toward everyone he encountered. Not that it had ever earned him a single friend, but it was an effective shield against hostile violence.

Probing his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue, Mu-yeong touched the laceration. Based on experience, four days of healing would allow him to gulp down piping-hot earthenware stews without wincing.

Until then, soft bakery pastries would do—minus anything filled with pistachio cream.

Late in the afternoon, having successfully wrapped up his surveillance in Goyang, Seo Mu-yeong headed to the errand agency office. Pushing the glass door open with a cheerful greeting, Lee Ho-joon sprang to his feet with a beaming grin.

Lee Ho-joon waved from his desk. “Hyung, look at this! Uncle brought back a massive haul of pastries from Daejeon!”

Brandishing the overflowing bakery shopping bags, the boy completely failed to register the faint bluish bruising along Mu-yeong’s cheekbone. The pastry Ho-joon thrust forward in offering nearly grazed Mu-yeong’s solar plexus, but Mu-yeong dodged the collision with seasoned reflex.

“Looks delicious, thanks,” Mu-yeong said with an appreciative smile. “Ah, Boss, there’s something I need to report to you.”

“Yeah. Grab a bite and talk while you eat,” Kim Sang-beom grunted, waving from the sofa.

Taking a bite of an apple-jam pastry, Mu-yeong settled into the armchair opposite the boss.

“Last night, I had an encounter with a man named Choi Yook—the Section Chief of Yeongchwi Moneylending.”

The moment the words left Mu-yeong’s mouth, Kim Sang-beom’s brow violently furrowed.

“Yeongchwi Capital?” Sang-beom demanded.

“Yes,” Mu-yeong replied. “They told me to track down a girl. Fourteen years ago in Mangcheon, she lived with a shaman until a house fire broke out, and she’s been missing ever since. They said she’d be twenty-five now if she’s still alive.”

“And this Section Chief Choi bastard specifically singled you out to say that?” Sang-beom asked.

“Yes. He insisted it had to be me. I’m scheduled to head down to Mangcheon in three days, and he already paid five million won upfront as a retainer.”

Wandering over, Lee Ho-joon scrunched his face and leaned his elbows against the back of the opposing sofa. Each time he tore into his croissant, light, flaky pastry crumbs showered extravagantly through the air.

“Why would they seek you out out of nowhere, hyung?” Ho-joon asked, chewing. “It’s not like our errand center is massive or famous, and it’s not like you’re widely known in the field. Don’t tell me…”

A sudden realization struck his face as his expression turned gravely serious.

Ho-joon tilted his head curiously. “Is this industry so full of washed-up fossils that they’re scouting fresh talent?”

Shooting up from his seat, Kim Sang-beom smacked Ho-joon upside the shoulder with the hand holding his croquette. “You little punk, I’m one of those fossils! And do you think this is the time to crack jokes?”

“Hey, it could actually be true!” Ho-joon protested, mumbling around a mouthful of pastry. “Otherwise, how do you explain how hyung came back completely in one piece without a scratch? A loan agency like that screams syndicate thugs. It’s not like they woke up one day and decided to become model citizens.”

Ho-joon grumbled with an aggrieved pout. Seeing his undisguised relief made Mu-yeong feel an odd mix of bittersweet warmth and ease. Sweeping the tip of his tongue along the sore interior of his mouth, Mu-yeong chuckled faintly.

“In any case, that’s how it turned out,” Mu-yeong said. “And Boss, I should still be able to handle my regular schedule without issue. You know how quickly I knock out incoming cases.”

Collapsing back onto the sofa, Kim Sang-beom retrieved an e-cigarette from his jacket. Perhaps because Ho-joon had repeatedly threatened to toss it into the trash if he ever vaped inside the office, he merely fiddled with it between his fingers instead of lifting it to his lips. Rolling the device like a pair of walnuts in his palm, the boss leveled his gaze at Mu-yeong.

“If this was something you could’ve turned down, you wouldn’t have dragged it all the way back here in the first place,” Sang-beom pointed out.

“…”

“Don’t even think about holding out for more money,” Sang-beom warned grimly. “Find a clean exit midway through and pull out. That isn’t a job for someone like you.”

A rare sharpness pierced Kim Sang-beom’s eyes. Wondering if the man knew something, Mu-yeong focused intently on him.

“Why do you say that?” Mu-yeong asked.

“First off, Yeongchwi Capital has had a filthy reputation from the start,” Sang-beom answered grimly. Keeping his face stony, Kim Sang-beom continued, “And on top of that… my gut just gives me a bad feeling.”

For an atmosphere so solemn, the conclusion felt rather anticlimactic. Deflated, Ho-joon let out a long sigh.