LM 103

Despite trying to meet quietly at the bar, thanks to his extremely busy counterpart, Woo Hyunse had to come here in person. As he entered the room guided by an employee, the noisy sounds like repeated explosions were suddenly cut off. He ordered drinks and snacks out of courtesy and leaned back on the sofa.

He hadn’t wanted to come all this way when even breathing felt bothersome lately. But the bait his counterpart had thrown out was too tempting to resist.

“I’ve acquired an interesting video.”

The subdued voice was full of wicked mischief. From experience, when this bastard lured people like this, the results were rarely good. But since he wasn’t the type to contact people for trivial matters, Woo Hyunse continued to stay on the call he’d been about to end.

“What kind of video?”

“It’s a bit much to send. Come see it for yourself.”

“It’s annoying to come and go.”

“Suit yourself.”

The coy rejection clearly meant this wasn’t an ordinary matter. Hence, his presence here now.

After a few minutes with his eyes closed, the door opened. Woo Hyunse slowly lifted his eyelids. The person who greeted him had his hands deeply thrust in his pockets—quite an improper posture for welcoming guests—and looked at Woo Hyunse with his head tilted to one side.

Though he was clearly smiling, his eyes were fierce. Perhaps it looked that way because of his particularly sharp, upswept eye corners.

“Why are you calling a busy person like this? Does Director Joo have nothing to do these days?”

“Your tongue’s gotten long for someone who came wagging his tail.”

The man sat heavily on the sofa, the long scar on the bridge of his nose twitching. He poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp. Woo Hyunse glanced at him briefly but didn’t try to stop him.

“I hear you’re busy enjoying yourself with a new plaything these days? There are rumors that CEO Woo is going to be rejuvenated.”

“That damn plaything, shit.”

Originally, he’d intended not to touch the alcohol. Pulling the empty glass back in front of him, he drank it straight and smiled bitterly. Where did this guy and that guy pick up the term “plaything” and use it in the wrong place? Though he didn’t hide his irritation, the other man shamelessly picked at the snacks on the table while fiddling with his phone at the same time.

Despite coming all this way, he was being treated worse than a random dog. Still, Woo Hyunse accepted it generously. He knew this bastard had been like this from birth.

His relationship with this man, Joo Shindo, went back a long way. They’d met the moment he stepped into the underground world, and their history of fighting each other was too numerous to count on fingers and toes. Later, they even wielded knives, leaving matching scars—Woo Hyunse on his side, the other on his ankle. The other man had aimed for Woo Hyunse’s lung, while Woo Hyunse had tried to cut the other’s ankle.

Past that bloody history, they were now business partners. If things went well, they might even start calling each other friends.

“What video?”

“Shouldn’t you take some heart medication before watching? CEO Woo might faint from shock, being unexpectedly weak-hearted.”

“Just show me and tell me.”

It was too bothersome to retort. Joo Shindo stared blankly at Woo Hyunse before curling up the corners of his mouth. His narrowed eyes were as cunning as a goat’s horizontally slit pupils.

After tapping on his phone, Joo Shindo stretched it out in front of Woo Hyunse. It was the video that had made Woo Hyunse come all the way here. It seemed to be secretly filmed, as the people in it weren’t looking at the camera. Amidst raucous laughter, the wide table was like a scene of debauchery.

“…”

The people in the video revealed their faces one by one. There were many familiar faces. Woo Hyunse slowly lifted his back from the sofa and peered at the video. Light entered his eyes, which had shown no interest at all before.

Everyone was naked, not even wearing underwear. It was a video of old men, who looked to be in their sixties at most, lewdly playing with young people who appeared to be college students tucked under their arms. It didn’t discriminate between genders. Someone young twitched on the sofa as if drugged, while an old body with sagging skin tottered toward that man.

“That’s enough.”

Joo Shindo took back the phone and pressed the stop button. Woo Hyunse rubbed his jaw with his large hand.

Laughter burst out of his lips before shock did. It was quite something. He knew they played dirty, but he didn’t expect this level of filth in the end. There was nothing they hadn’t touched—from orgies to drugs.

“Did you film this yourself?”

“I told you I acquired it.”

“From whom?”

“You shouldn’t try to learn trade secrets.”

If he were to handle this as he had lived until now, the right way would be to somehow coerce Joo Shindo and delete that video, but Woo Hyunse had no such intention at all. The moment he saw the video, an exclamation mark flashed in his mind. This was indeed a treasure. He had to get his hands on it no matter what.

“Hey Joo, send me that thing.”

“Oh, CEO Woo, you think business is easy? How can I just give it to you for free? I have a family to feed. I need to work hard to support my kids. I’m the breadwinner, you know.”

Joo Shindo was being extremely picky. He had been expecting that all along. Woo Hyunse tapped the table as if using a calculator before speaking.

“I’ll change the profit distribution ratio for the next six months.”

“This bastard is trying to take it for free without any business ethics. Does Director Woo think money grows on trees? It’s a miracle your business has lasted this long with that sort of attitude.”

“Twelve months.”

“Three years.”

“Eighteen months.”

“Three years and six months. Not a day less. Hey, I’m feeling generous today.”

Like a true gangster, he was trying to get something for nothing with just one video. Usually, this kind of proposal would have led to insults, flipping tables, and fistfights, but right now, Woo Hyunse was the needy one. Given Joo Shindo’s personality, prolonging the conversation would only result in him demanding more. Woo Hyunse raised his hand to signal his agreement.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a losing deal. Even one year would be a significant loss, let alone three and a half years. Feeling angered, he threw the drink in his hand toward the other man. Despite having his eyes glued to his phone, Joo Shindo managed to dodge it by slightly tilting his hand.

“You’re the one without business ethics, you son of a bitch. Trying to squeeze an innocent flea dry with just a copy, not even the original.”

“What would I do with your liver, CEO Woo? Make a soup? I don’t eat that stuff. You know that.”

“I thought you started eating it recently?”

“The young master doesn’t like it.”

“Crazy bastard…”

Woo Hyunse was genuinely disgusted. Joo Shindo could look at the writhing entrails of other humans just fine, but he seemed like he would make a fuss even if the young master slightly cut his finger.

At first, Woo Hyunse thought he’d play with that awful personality until he got bored and then discard him, but for some reason from the past, Joo Shindo was obsessively clinging to one person. Woo Hyunse was both shocked and amused by the remarkable change in his friend—or rather, his frenemy—who used to be indifferent to everything.

Joo Shindo, who had been staring at his screen without sparing Woo Hyunse the slightest glance, suddenly put the phone to his ear. Woo Hyunse’s face contorted as Joo Shindo’s trademark caustic nonsense erupted.

When he started rambling about the nighttime activities of the two men—something Woo Hyunse neither wanted to know nor hear about—Woo Hyunse couldn’t bear it anymore and washed his ears with alcohol using the palm of his hand. Even if it stung, disinfecting his ears from the vulgar words took priority.

“I’m coming right now, so wait outside. …What do you mean you can’t? What? You can’t come up with an excuse? Want me to set the building on fire?”

Woo Hyunse had known Joo Shindo was crazy for a long time, but it seemed his madness was worsening day by day. Maybe someday he’d have to commit him to a mental institution himself. And then, as the only sane one left, he’d have to take care of the remaining shares.

Joo Shindo hung up abruptly and got up to his feet. He checked the lighter in his pocket as if he might actually set something on fire. Woo Hyunse thought it would have been better for society if this bastard didn’t like people, and Woo Hyunse sent his sincere condolences to that young master who had to put up with such a thing.

At the same time, Woo Hyunse understood. He knew the emotion underlying all these crazy actions—forcibly changing someone’s nature, carrying a lighter to potentially burn down a company.

As that word surfaced in his consciousness, he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. It felt like lying awake in the early hours, staring at an unfamiliar hotel ceiling with open eyes. Feeling empty, angry, dejected, irritated—

And missing someone like crazy.

He resented the fact that they weren’t by his side right then. Memories alone weren’t enough. He needed to hold the other man’s wrists and ankles, be embraced in their arms, intoxicated by their scent, stroke their soft hair, and coil around them like a snake, intertwined like a single stem. Only then did it seem like the unending thirst might be quenched, even if just a little.