“What the hell are they making them do that they can’t even feed them?”
Park Geonwu looked down at his portion of food and tossed the comment out.
“Maybe they eat somewhere else? They’re obsessed with physiques — surely they wouldn’t actually starve them.”
“When you put it that way, yeah. These are the types who act like skipping one meal means death.”
Park Geonwu tried to make his small portion last.
Jiwon ate through his share slowly, and Kim Yunho, who always finished fast, wolfed his food down in his own way and headed off to the unmanned café ahead of them.
It was still the same — meals had to be eaten in the cafeteria by team, under the team leader’s supervision. But there was no longer any need to move at the captain’s command. They only started together; after that, everyone ate freely and left when they pleased.
The muzzle-wearers were the exception, of course. They still couldn’t do anything without the team leader’s permission. Even now, they were eating in silence with disciplined composure.
“You’re not going?”
He asked Park Geonwu, who still hadn’t gotten up even after finishing his meal.
“How much longer are those guys going to keep doing that?”
Park Geonwu was waiting for Gwak Chan.
“Go have your coffee and he’ll show up. He’s always late.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
Park Geonwu sighed, picked up his tray, and stood.
They grabbed their coffees and headed to the lobby, where it was already buzzing with noise.
“Results are out.”
Kim Yunho made a fuss about why they’d taken so long.
“What results?”
“Yesterday’s honey-gathering results.”
Park Geonwu, who’d been scolded by the instructor, sat down with a look of complete disinterest.
“First place went to Gwak Hyeseong. That bastard — takes over Lee Woojoo’s spot and now he acts like he owns the place. You think he colluded with the instructor?”
Kim Yunho grumbled about the results, even dragging up conspiracy theories.
“So? Did ten million actually get deposited?”
“He went to check right now.”
“Oh yeah? I wonder if we got three hundred.”
Park Geonwu, who’d seemed indifferent, asked with subtle curiosity. Three hundred wasn’t a small amount — it made sense to wonder.
“Hyeseong and Jihoon went to the bank, so we’ll know soon enough.”
The three of them, who hadn’t placed, chatted away, dropping the names of others who had made the list.
Second and third place had both gone to muzzle-wearers. They were eye-catching in all sorts of ways.
What had Gwak Hyeseong been like?
He hadn’t watched, so he had no memory of it.
“I guess pissing in front of people is just routine for those guys. They were practically putting on a performance.”
Kim Yunho marveled, thinking back on yesterday.
“Gwak Hyeseong was probably the same. Who knows, maybe he’s a seasoned pro.”
“Come on. When you think about it, who here isn’t a pro in some way?”
He came to Gwak Hyeseong’s defense.
“I don’t like him either. Still.”
“Alright, alright. Let’s not start the morning off on a sour note with that topic.”
Park Geonwu wrapped up the conversation, not wanting to go further.
“But why did you come?”
Park Geonwu asked Kim Jiyun, who had come in the training room, in a pitying tone.
“Because I felt like it.”
Kim Yunho shot back, just as combative.
They bickered childishly and moved on to other topics.
But a little while later, Gwak Hyeseong and Lee Jihoon appeared with wide grins on their faces, and when the muzzle-wearers who had just finished eating joined them, the noise around the honey-gathering results picked right back up.
The muzzle-wearers who’d placed second and third puffed up with pride.
It was its own kind of warm atmosphere — and yet, unlike the sailors, who deep down had no desire to run into each other outside of this place, the muzzle-wearers were already talking about throwing a party or treating everyone once the project was over. They were tighter with each other than the sailors were. And hidden among those close-knit men was an undercover cop.
Wild Dog 6, Choi Minjae.
He had blended in as if he’d been there from the beginning. Gwak Chan had a lot to do with that. Somehow he’d worked his magic — Gwak Chan had been taking Choi Minjae around like his right-hand man, making friends for him. Coming along together last night had been part of that too.
The thirty-minute break ended and the session began, but once again the police officers didn’t participate.
Since the muzzle-wearers didn’t complain, there was no disruption.
The instructor mentioned it was a shame the numbers were down, but it seemed more like he was bothered by the absence of Number 3 and Son Geonwoo. Maybe because the group was smaller, this honey-gathering session wrapped up within an hour.
Jiwon thought it was a truly strange experience. He never could have imagined he’d get used to pulling out his cock and pissing in front of everyone. But today, on the third day of it, he genuinely felt nothing. He still didn’t want to look, so he kept his eyes averted out of habit — but if he actually wanted to look, he probably could.
The best part was that no one said anything cruel about his broken cock. They seemed to have accepted it as just the way things were by now.
“My, my, you sneaky little things — why are you so good at this? Finishing in an hour, imagine that. Have I been teaching you too well?”
The instructor looked at the improved results with an expression of genuine emotion.
“But you know better than to get cocky, right? You need to perform just as well as the money hitting your accounts — no, even better. That’s the only way our guests will keep depositing. Isn’t that right?”
Before wrapping up the session, the instructor called the top three to the front and praised their performance.
Since the morning session had ended within an hour, they were given an early break.
“Where are you going?”
They were on their way to the clinic with Park Geonwu, whose eyes were still swollen, when Choi Minjae called out to them.
“Clinic. My eyes are like this.”
Park Geonwu welcomed Choi Minjae’s sudden appearance.
“Why, are you going too?”
“What about you?”
He turned to ask Jiwon specifically.
“I’m going to pick up my painkillers.”
“Ah. Because of your arm?”
He said it like he already knew.
“I saw you in the gym earlier. The surgery scar.”
He added, as if to justify himself.
“…Yeah. But why?”
“I’m bored. Yunho hyung and Chan are talking about stuff only they know. It’s kind of lonely.”
Whether it was part of his act or just who he was, he made a guileless face, the kind that radiated an innocent charm.
“Aw, is that so? Did that make our little Minjae feel left out?”
Park Geonwu found Choi Minjae endearing.
In the end, Choi Minjae tagged along.
The doctor handed Jiwon a container of painkillers as if he’d been expecting him.
“You’re taking six a day, but if you’re still in pain, take an additional three.”
“Is it alright to take that many?”
“Of course. It won’t come to that, but just in case your stomach acts up, take this too.”
He gave him stomach-lining medication along with it. Just the pills alone felt like a full meal.
Jiwon took the medication with a displeased expression and waited with Choi Minjae for Park Geonwu, who was still being seen.
“You’ve got something they’re holding over you too, right?”
Choi Minjae asked in a low, probing voice.
Does this guy not know there are listening devices? Or did no one brief him before he came in?
Jiwon glared at him, but Choi Minjae didn’t flinch at all.
“Same here. Who would understand something like this?”
Choi Minjae glanced down at his own outfit and let out a sigh.
“But in a way, it’s worked out. I didn’t know it would be like this — it’s beyond anything I imagined. I think this might be the best experience of my life.”
He even smiled with satisfaction.
Must be nice.
Just as Jiwon had feared, Choi Minjae hadn’t come here for the same reasons he had.
The saving grace was that he didn’t know anything about Jiwon beyond his name. And since Jiwon didn’t know anything about Choi Minjae either, it was better for both of them.
“Stay out of my business. I’ve already got someone I’ve got my eye on.”
Jiwon phrased it deliberately roundabout.
“What? No, I was just trying to get to know you — oh!”
It took Choi Minjae a moment to catch the meaning, and then he let out a small gasp.
He gave a wink and raised a thumb.
“Sorry. Let’s just be friends. That’s fine, right?”
“…Sure. But don’t try to get too close.”
If they were ever found out, neither of them would make it out alive. It was best for them to stay untangled from each other.
“Got it. I’ll be careful.”
Choi Minjae scratched his head, a little sheepish.
“Oh, and talk comfortably with me.”
“Sure.”
Jiwon answered deliberately coolly.
A brief awkward silence hung between them.
Right then, Park Geonwu finished his appointment and came out.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Apparently it’s an allergic reaction to the pool cleaning chemicals. Said it’ll clear up fast with the meds, not to worry.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Right. I was scared it might be conjunctivitis.”
Park Geonwu exhaled with relief.
Conjunctivitis would have meant wearing an eye patch, and there was a chance he’d be put in isolation — that had been weighing on him.
All they’d done was pick up some medication, but break time was already over.
They hurried back to the main hall.
The instructor had changed. It was the third instructor.
The instructor said that since they’d spent all of the last two days on honey-gathering morning and evening, it was finally time for real training. The tone implied that ‘honey-gathering’ wasn’t something that warranted that much time.
They’d half-expected something special — but it turned out to be serving etiquette training. The lecture was not as dull as the first day, but not particularly stimulating either — thoroughly ordinary content.
The police officers didn’t show up during that time either.
Where on earth is Team 1, and what are they doing?
If they were moving separately like Jiwon’s group, there should have been rumors. But there weren’t.
Among the crew members squirming with boredom and nodding off, Jiwon sat thinking about Team 1.
***
Team 1’s police officers had risen at five in the morning and made their way to a dojo on the third basement floor.
It was a place no one even knew existed. It wasn’t on any floor plan, and it was a secret space not disclosed to the general crew.
Summoned at the crack of dawn, Team 1 trained there in close-combat techniques. Specifically, restraint techniques — not to protect themselves, but to subdue those who did the protecting.
Of the eleven, three were already ranked martial artists, two had trained in combat sports even if not to a ranked level, and one was an active enforcer for a crime organization.
The rest were no pushovers either. Each had their own brand of fighting ability, and not one of them was easily intimidated. Which was why they learned fast.
Trained on an empty stomach all morning, the men — riled up to their absolute limit — picked up techniques at a startling pace. And they became more violent than anyone had anticipated.
The reason for giving special training to people who already had a physical edge over the other team members was obvious.
There was something they wanted from them.
More precisely — a scene that the hosts and guests wanted.
Watching the situation unfold through the CCTV, a smile of satisfaction crept across Department Head Kim’s lips.
