However, Sejin only scowled at Cheon Sejoo’s question. As if asking what more kind of gratitude he expected, she shot him a glare full of irritation and got out of the car.
That was the end of it. Sejin disappeared down the alley without even once looking back. Her attitude was so cold it made Kim Hyunkyung’s plea feel meaningless.
So Cheon Sejoo thought Kwon Sejin must have some kind of plan. Maybe he had a way to get by well enough not to make Kim Hyunkyung worry. But that wasn’t it. He realized that in less than a week.
***
Clang— The pliers clattered loudly as they fell into the large stainless steel sink. Turning the faucet on, Cheon Sejoo lathered his hands with soap and carefully washed off the blood that had hardened. Once the blood had been scrubbed clean, what was left was a hand covered in calluses. Just as he turned the water off, Sunhyuk, who had been standing beside him, held out a towel.
“Heading out right away?”
“Gotta.”
The second delivery guy dragged in by the cleanup team had finally declared surrender after almost five days. Even after having all his fingernails and toenails pulled out and his skin scorched in places, he hadn’t said a word—until they brought up his family. After that, he confessed in less than half a day. The stolen meds were hidden inside the club, the very place the goods had gone missing from. Now, Cheon Sejoo had to go retrieve them.
Casting a quick glance at the figure slumped over and drenched in blood, Sejoo clicked his tongue and walked out of the workroom. It wasn’t until he left the stifling space, which didn’t even have a proper vent, that he could breathe again. Standing in the hallway, he leisurely lit a cigarette that Sunhyuk handed him.
Strands of sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead. Sunhyuk’s gaze skimmed over the tips of his flushed ears and his cheeks, red from the heat. Sejoo pretended not to notice and pushed his hair back. He didn’t know when it had grown this long, but the strands left a sensation against his palm.
“What do we do with the delivery guy?”
“Clean it up.”
“You gonna do it yourself?”
At Sunhyuk’s question, Cheon Sejoo exhaled a low sound through the corner of his mouth. The delivery guy’s condition wasn’t great. He wouldn’t die right this instant, but if left alone, there was a high chance he’d go septic within a day or two. It’d be better to dispose of him quickly, but there was no telling how long it would take to wrap up things at the club. And once they found the meds, there’d be more work waiting.
After a brief pause, Cheon Sejoo shook his head. “Call Dalma.” At that, Sunhyuk responded with a short “Got it,” and pulled out his phone.
There was a set method for disposing of the bastards brought into the workroom. If they died here, that was actually the merciful route. It meant they disappeared from the world without pain. But the ones who hung on halfway like this—those never ended well. Most got gutted alive for organ trafficking. Sometimes, they were handed over to the broker who supplied drugs to the club, known as Dalma.
No one knew exactly what happened to the people Dalma took. Rumors said he did things not far off from human experimentation, but no one knew for sure. In any case, having fewer things to worry about suited Cheon Sejoo, so he often called Dalma when needed. And this particular delivery guy had almost caused Dalma serious losses by skimming the product—so handing him over made even more sense.
As the soft ringtone buzzed, Sunhyuk spoke.
“He actually called earlier, too. Said this guy—he definitely wants him.”
“Yeah? I bet he’s pissed. Good. Tell him to come get him once we find the stash.”
While Sunhyuk was on the phone with Dalma, Cheon Sejoo went upstairs to the office on the second floor. When he stepped inside, the cleanup team members glanced up from their respective tasks and greeted him with nods. He walked over to the one sitting near the entrance.
“Where’s Jinyeong?”
Seo Jinyeong, the fourth member of the cleanup team, was currently out in the field. He was the one who’d taken the photo of the delivery guy’s nephew—the photo that had cracked him. At Sejoo’s question, Haewoong, who had been tapping on a keyboard, blinked and replied.
“Still keeping watch on the target. Should I call him in?”
“Yeah.” Cheon Sejoo replied curtly, pulled open the office fridge, and took out a beer. He popped the can open and downed it in one go without taking a breath. Watching this, Haewoong—mid-call—shook his head in disbelief.
“Chief, don’t you ever get sick of beer? You drink it like water.”
“That’s his life juice.”
That came from Yoon Cheoljoo, tapping away at another keyboard across the room. At his remark, Haewoong burst out laughing. Sejoo scowled and hurled the empty can at the life-juice-commenting bastard. Thunk—the can smacked Cheoljoo’s head, and he let out a wail, making Haewoong laugh even harder. Sejoo rubbed at his throbbing temples and swore at them both.
“Fuck’s sake, if you know it’s my life juice, then try buying some for once. Stop sneaking it, dammit.”
Even though he stocked it by the case, a quick step away from his desk always meant four or five cans would mysteriously disappear. He’d turned a blind eye, knowing it was Haewoong and the others, but now their mouths wouldn’t shut. At Sejoo’s scolding, the two of them fell silent as if they’d rehearsed it. Their fake act of diving back into work was so transparent it made him chuckle under his breath.
That’s when a call came in from Kim Donggil of Shinsa Capital. Kim always handed off some annoying task whenever he called, so Sejoo stared at the screen with irritation before finally answering.
“What.”
– “Hyungnim, did you sleep well last night?”
Slathering oil on his voice again—who knew what bullshit he’d say this time. Cheon Sejoo leaned against the desk and turned the phone volume up. He pulled an apple from the fridge, bit into it, and replied.
“What do you want.”
Even with Sejoo’s frosty tone, Kim Donggil didn’t falter.
– “I just wanted to hear that handsome voice of yours. Nah, truthfully, it’s like this. There’s this homeless bastard hanging around on the first floor—figured maybe you could, y’know… take care of it for me…”
Is this fucker serious? Now he’s asking for homeless cleanups? Cheon Sejoo stared in disbelief, didn’t even bother to respond, and just hung up. The phone rang again immediately, but he rejected the call and blocked the number outright. Visit NovelPing for the full chapter.
Shin Goyeon had told him to straighten out Shinsa Capital’s order—not run their errands. Aside from that one time he smacked around the ringleaders of a group brawl, most of what he did for Shinsa Capital amounted to grunt work. He’d been too lenient. And now they thought they could dump whatever they wanted on him. Sejoo thought he’d need to tell Shin Goyeon soon—he was cutting ties.
He went into a side room at the edge of the office and changed clothes. After dressing in the spare suit he kept there, he stepped out to find Sunhyuk standing just outside the door with his phone in hand. Looked like the call had ended.
“We’re going to the club to grab the stash. Who’s coming?”
Sejoo picked the apple up again from where he’d left it on the table. He took a massive bite and asked through a mouthful. Somehow, Haewoong understood anyway and raised his hand.
“Me!”
“You’re in.”
“What? Where are you going?”
Realizing too late that Sejoo had been asking for someone to accompany him, Yoon Cheoljoo sprang up from his chair like a starving hyena, eyes gleaming. But it was already too late. Sejoo shoved Haewoong forward and waved dismissively as he left the office.
Unlike the blockheads in Shinsa Capital, the members of Cheon Sejoo’s cleanup team were all quick-witted and sharp. Yoon Cheoljoo had graduated from a prestigious university and worked as a hacker. The youngest, Haewoong, was a genius who had attended the police academy.
There was only one reason Goo Haewoong, the third-generation heir of the Goo clan, wasn’t a proper officer and was doing this kind of work instead. His anger management issues—and a moral compass that tilted just a bit off society’s norm.
“Chief, you go in the back, in the backseat!”
Haewoong constantly squabbled with fellow team member Seo Jinyeong, and even picked fights with Sejoo now and then. But to Sejoo, he was just the endearingly dumb youngest. Grinning innocently, Haewoong pushed Sejoo into the backseat. Not out of deference—but because everyone knew Sejoo drove like absolute shit. The cleanup team avoided letting him take the wheel whenever possible.
Sunhyuk drove. The three of them got into a black sedan they used for work and headed for the club in Cheongdam-dong. While Cheon Sejoo, who hadn’t slept, lay in the back and dozed off, Moon Sunhyuk used the time to nag Haewoong—mostly about controlling his temper.
“Yes, yes,” Haewoong replied obediently, but he didn’t seem to be thinking too hard. The way he asked if there’d be something to eat suggested he’d followed along just because he was hungry. And considering how big he was, Haewoong was always hungry. Cheon Sejoo, half-asleep, hovered at the edge of consciousness as he listened vaguely to their voices.
— “Sunhyuk hyung.”
That’s when Moon Sunhyuk got a call. Since Cheon Sejoo wasn’t answering his phone, Kim Donggil had switched targets. Sunhyuk connected via Bluetooth, and the car filled with that grating voice again. At the sound of it, Sejoo’s eyelids twitched open.
“What is it?”
— “Uh, is Chief Cheon with you, by any chance?”
“Why.”
Looking into the rearview mirror at Sejoo sprawled in the backseat, Sunhyuk replied flatly. Kim Donggil let out a heavy sigh, then launched into an explanation in a voice suddenly full of forced sympathy.
— “It’s that brat, you know? The one who kept whining last week, saying he wanted to see his mom. He showed up again and he’s sleeping in the hallway, homeless. I tried telling him to scram, but he started flipping out, saying he’d call the cops if anyone laid a finger on him. I couldn’t just hit him, y’know…”
Ha. Lying on his back with an arm over his forehead, Cheon Sejoo let out a disbelieving laugh and opened his eyes. So after walking off like that with his chin held high, now he had no place to go and was squatting in a hallway? It was so ridiculous that all trace of sleep vanished. As he shifted upright in his seat, Sunhyuk glanced back and asked:
“So, he’s asking us to take care of it?”
— “Yeah. Hyungnim said if I made another mess, he’d kill me, remember? If the cops show up again, it’s just gonna be our guys taking the heat, so…”
There was a reason Kim Donggil wasn’t handling the so-called homeless kid himself. And honestly, it made sense. Kwon Sejin seemed like the kind of kid who’d absolutely raise hell and drag the whole neighborhood in if someone so much as laid a finger on him.
“Then just call the police first. Say there’s a minor wandering around without a guardian.”
— “Ah…”
Kim Donggil let out a noise of revelation, as if Sunhyuk’s answer had just unlocked a great truth for him. But then he hesitated.
— “Wait, but… if the cops take him, and he tells them we kidnapped his mom or something, aren’t we screwed?”
“Tell them to bring proof. They can’t search the office without a warrant. What the fuck are they gonna do.”
— “Yeah, but still…”
“Then just leave him alone.”
— “But, I mean, he’s…”
Kim Donggil clearly couldn’t get Sejin out of his head. Finally, Sejoo had enough of his dragging voice and cut him off.
“Hey. I said leave him.”
“I said leave him, you fuck.”
His irritation spiked. What, was that tiny brat really that much of a nuisance? Calling the cops over it? The fact that this oversized bastard was getting freaked out was just pathetic. At Sejoo’s sharp tone, Kim Donggil groaned, then finally said “Understood” and hung up.
A chilly silence settled inside the car.
Sunhyuk and Haewoong both sensed that Sejoo’s mood had soured and didn’t say a word. Cheon Sejoo didn’t know why he was so annoyed either. But he didn’t feel like pretending he was okay, so he just kept his mouth shut.
Like that, the car came to a stop in front of a building in Cheongdam-dong. The place where the delivery guy had hidden the drugs was a private social club run by Shin Ji-han. Shin Ji-han was one of the five sons of Shin Kyung-joo, chairman of DG Group, and the younger brother of Shin Gyoyeon—Sejoo’s superior. He also served as the CEO of DG Entertainment.
The club he ran wasn’t open to just anyone. It was a strict members-only space—without a member card or being brought in by an existing member, ordinary people couldn’t even get into the parking lot. Which is why their sedan was immediately blocked at the entrance.
“Who are you?”
The man standing guard may have technically been security, but in reality, he looked more like a thug, showing off bursting chest muscles as he glared at them menacingly. Sunhyuk said nothing and rolled down the backseat window. Sejoo, sitting behind the driver’s seat, dug into his inner pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it over, and the man examined it front and back like he was checking for counterfeits. Once convinced it was real, he bowed at a perfect 90 degrees.
“Good afternoon, Chief Cheon Sejoo. Please proceed inside.”
The gate bar lifted, and their sedan descended into the underground parking lot. Sejoo retrieved the business card—marked with the title “Director of Strategic Planning, DG O&M”—and slipped it back into his inner pocket. DG O&M was an investment firm run by Shin Gyoyeon, heir to DG. Being affiliated with the Strategic Planning Office there effectively meant Sejoo was one of Shin Gyoyeon’s personal agents. The card was basically a master key that opened all DG buildings.
They parked close to the elevator, and the three of them—led by Sejoo—took it straight to the fifth floor. As the doors opened, the corridor stretched out ahead in dead silence. Not only was it not a peak hour, but the soundproofing was so good that even if someone screamed bloody murder inside, nothing would be heard outside. Without hesitation, Sejoo walked forward. He already knew where the stash was hidden.
Eventually, they found Room 13 in the center of the corridor. Sejoo tried the doorknob.
Click—locked.
Frowning, he looked around, then spotted a camera in the ceiling corner watching him. He waved his fingers at it, beckoning. A few minutes later, a man in a perfectly tailored suit appeared before them—the club manager.
“Open it.”
He pointed with a jerk of his chin and spoke without preamble. The manager looked visibly troubled. The two of them knew each other already. Sejoo narrowed his eyes. The guy knew who he was—and yet he hesitated to unlock the door. Whoever was inside must be someone fairly high up.
“Who is it. A congressman?”
The manager shook his head. If not a politician, maybe some trust fund asshole. But to that guess too, he shook his head. If it was neither, then there shouldn’t be a problem. Annoyed, Sejoo sighed and asked again.
“An exec?”
“Yes…”
What kind of ballsy bastard was getting high in here in broad daylight? A few faces came to mind, but none were people Sejoo needed to wait on. Even if Shin Kyung-joo himself were inside, flashing Shin Gyoyeon’s authority would settle things. Who the hell did they think they were? Recovering the goods came first, so Sejoo informed the manager plainly:
“If you don’t open it, I’ll break it. Your call.”
“Haa… Chief… Then please, I beg you, cover for me later…”
The manager looked like he was about to cry as he fished a key out of his pocket and stuck it in the knob. Click—the lock disengaged, and the door creaked open. A sour stench immediately wafted out, making Sejoo wrinkle his nose hard.
“The fuck… why’d you even… open—”
A slow, slurred voice emerged from within. It was a familiar voice. Recognizing it as Han Jonghyun’s, Cheon Sejoo threw out a hand to block Sunhyuk and Haewoong from stepping inside.
Han Jonghyun, nasty as he already was, was even worse to those beneath him. And judging by the stench, he’d been partying all night. It wasn’t a sight twenty-five-year-old Haewoong needed to witness. Stepping in alone, Sejoo called out.
“Executive Han.”
Clack—the door shut behind him. With the light from outside gone, only a faint indirect glow remained in the room. Cheon Sejoo’s expression had gone blank. He scanned the inside.
“…What the hell.”
The place was trashed. Empty glasses and wilted fruit platters littered the tables, and several used condoms were scattered across the floor. The air reeked of marijuana. A syringe had rolled under one of the side tables. It was disgusting.
But despite all the mess suggesting multiple people, the only one left in the room was Han Jonghyun. The tall man was sprawled across the sofa. The breeze from earlier must’ve made his bare torso shiver; he rubbed his arm and turned toward the noise.
His bloodshot eyes were unfocused. Pale-faced, Han Jonghyun sniffled and shook his head a few times before slowly pushing himself up and leaning back against the couch. Haa… He exhaled a lazy breath. While he came to his senses, Cheon Sejoo pulled a jackknife from his jacket pocket.
Without hesitation, he began searching the room for the stash.