Click.
With his lips parted, Seunghyeok flicked his tongue in a lazy smack and stepped into the elevator. The metal doors closed at once, and the white-lit numbers overhead shifted.
Left alone at the top of the stairs, Taesik slowly turned his head toward the lower floor. At the end of his gaze was the man he had run into earlier in front of the lobby.
The first thing that caught his eye were the lips—reddish, no less vivid than the women standing beside him. Whether he’d put something on them, or whether the lighting settled strangely on already pale skin, the thick lips, firmly closed, drew the eye with unsettling insistence.
At most, he looked like he was in his early twenties.
The blank face and the way he listened quietly with his eyes lowered gave off an air that wasn’t completely immature, but even so, he looked no older than twenty, twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. No more than that.
He’s not a minor… right?
Even while carrying out every kind of illegal business imaginable, Seunghyeok was uncompromising when it came to anything involving minors. If that man weren’t an adult and Seunghyeok knew it, his attitude earlier would have made sense.
A sudden unease crept in, and Taesik pressed his lower lip between his teeth. If Mr. Kim had even a shred of common sense, there was no way a minor would be here—but looking at the staff still standing around with confused expressions, he found it hard to trust that.
Praying that this morning wouldn’t end with them digging a hole in some mountain dirt, he looked down once more at Ihyeon, who stood frozen in the same posture, like a doll.
The pale face, still seeming faintly damp, overlapping with the faces of runaway teenagers from years ago—kids a mid-level manager had secretly prostituted—had to be nothing more than his imagination.
The thought of which finger that manager had lost flashed through his mind. Taesik quickly shook his head side to side, then headed down the stairs.
***
After gathering all the staff, all Mr. Kim managed to say was, “Since we’ve got a new boss now, let’s all work harder.”
That meaningless, nutritionally empty speech delayed their departure by a full thirty minutes. If Ihyeon left now, he’d be crammed onto a bus packed with people heading to work.
…How long would a taxi take? It’s probably jammed with rush-hour traffic.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Ihyeon checked his watch and turned. If he hurried, he could at least avoid the absolute peak. He closed his locker and rubbed at his aching eyes as he walked—only to have someone step into his path.
The black dress shoes that entered his view were polished to an excessive shine, like they’d just been cleaned. They certainly didn’t belong to Subin, who’d been dragged off by the hall staff talking about grabbing a drink of soju stew.
“……”
When he slowly raised his head, an unexpected face appeared. It was the man who’d clung to Gu Seunghyeok like a shadow.
Standing alone, he looked bigger than Ihyeon had realized—big enough to feel threatening. At a glance, the air around him clearly set him apart from ordinary people.
“You got some time?”
“……”
“The manager wants to see you.”
The tone assumed refusal wasn’t an option. The gaze, as if inspecting him, lingered on his face longer than necessary.
With that unfriendly look, it would’ve been natural to see Ihyeon shrink back or show wariness—but what surfaced on his pale face was a calm, unreadable blankness. After gazing up at the man for a moment, Ihyeon slowly parted his lips.
“What is it about?”
The memory of Seunghyeok’s eyes—ice-cold as they stared straight through him—rose unbidden. Ihyeon had wanted to dismiss their sudden reunion as one of those unwelcome coincidences life occasionally threw at you, but it didn’t seem like the other side felt the same.
“You’ll have to hear that from him yourself.”
Judging by the faintly coercive tone and the way the man blocked his path, refusing would be pointless. He should probably be grateful they weren’t dragging him along by force, but letting him walk on his own. A sigh-laced chuckle slipped from between his lips.
Watching Ihyeon’s faint, humorless smile with displeasure, Taesik set off first. Curious looks from passing staff clung to them, but Ihyeon ignored it all and followed behind.
More than wondering why Gu Seunghyeok wanted him, what hit first was the thought that his already limited sleep was being cut even shorter. It seemed likely he’d have to grab a few hours at a nearby motel before heading straight to his next job. If he hung his clothes in the bathroom, most of the cigarette smell would probably fade. His eyes, abused all night by acrid smoke, stung as he rubbed them.
Rounding a corner, a closed door appeared at the end of the corridor. Beyond it was an area general staff weren’t allowed to enter—somewhere Ihyeon had never been. Guards standing with their hands behind their backs spotted Taesik and quickly bowed.
Beyond the metal door, which opened with unusual ease, were stairs leading down.
Just as Taesik was about to step onto them, he suddenly stopped and turned his head. Tilting it at an angle, he scanned Ihyeon up and down with a suspicious look.
“Twenty-two?”
“……”
“No? Younger than that?”
The tail end of his words had already been cut short. The pale fingers pressing into his aching eyes froze. Judging by how similar this felt to earlier, there was no doubt he was one of Seunghyeok’s men. Ihyeon lowered his hand and slowly lifted his gaze.
“…Do I have to answer that to you?”
Fatigue sharpened his features, the irritation and displeasure laid bare. At the rude reply—calling him “you” without hesitation, no tension in sight—Taesik narrowed his eyes and scrunched the bridge of his nose.
There were only two possibilities. Either he was a kid so young the blood hadn’t dried on his head yet, clueless about how things worked—or, despite his looks, he’d been through enough hell for his liver to be swollen with nerve.
Neither was good news.
Swallowing the rising sigh, Taesik started down the stairs. Maybe it’d be better to send the cleanup crew and Mr. Kim up to the back mountain now, he thought.
***
The B3 VIP lounge was completely separate from the floors above. It had its own entrance, its own kitchen and storage rooms—even separate staff.
As if business hours didn’t matter, loud music pounded through the walls. Unlike the filthy upper floors, where spilled alcohol, saliva, and unidentifiable stains smeared the black matte tiles, the floor here was spotless.
In a space with no windows, where you couldn’t tell what was happening outside—or even what time it was—a vague sense of unease crept in. The empty corridors felt unfamiliar, a stark contrast to the upper floors crowded with staff and customers during operating hours.
While Ihyeon glanced around discreetly, the man in the black suit ahead of him strode forward without hesitation, clearly heading somewhere specific.
As the innermost door drew closer and the music grew louder, curiosity finally took hold. It wasn’t as if they were going to reminisce about a past that held no good memories for either of them, and it certainly wasn’t because a chance reunion with an old acquaintance had been welcome. So why had he been summoned like this?
“Manager, I’m coming in.”
Even without a reply, Taesik pushed open the heavy metal door. The pounding music spilled out the moment a gap appeared. Holding the handle to keep it open, he jerked his chin. Ihyeon let out a short sigh and stepped forward.
Thud.
The door closed behind him. He slowly raised his head. And before he could even spot Gu Seunghyeok—lounging comfortably on the large sofa at the center—his lips, already bitten, froze at the sight unfolding before him.
Beyond a wide glass wall lay a massive space. A swimming pool on one side, sofas and beds scattered across a broad hall on the other.
Bottles, cigarettes, paper, clothes—trash littered the tables and floor. Along with dozens of naked bodies tangled together.
Drip.
The sound of liquid falling into what sounded like a glass reached his ears. As if pulled by an unseen force, his head turned slowly to the side.
Where his gaze stopped, a man sat sprawled in the middle of a wide sofa, tilting a bottle of whiskey. A cigarette holder hung from one corner of his lips.
After filling an ornate crystal glass to the brim, Seunghyeok calmly brought a lighter to the tip of the cigarette holder, as if Ihyeon weren’t even there. The reflection of the flame flickered briefly in his dark eyes, cast downward, then vanished.
White smoke bloomed and curled upward, and the lashes that had been lowered lifted. This time, the moment their eyes met, a sickening chill raced over Ihyeon’s skin.
At Ihyeon’s stiffened face, so unlike before, one corner of Seunghyeok’s mouth curved upward. With an unhurried air, he gestured.
“Sit.”
The voice carried a strange weight, pressing down on Ihyeon’s entire body. His mouth went dry, his heart pounding wildly. He couldn’t tell whether it was the obscene, nonsensical scene before him—or the man watching it all with such leisurely detachment—that made his breath come so tight.