Kang Seon-ho’s eyes lit up at Choi Woo-hyuk’s words.
“How much will you do it for? Hm?”
“Check that through my secretary.”
Drunk on the omega’s sweet scent, Kang Seon-ho looked like a hyena drooling at the mouth. Choi Woo-hyuk watched that spectacle in silence for a moment, then finally stood up with the intention of stepping out for a smoke.
Shizunami had grown somewhat rowdy by then with the number of visitors. The liquor had dulled their senses, which naturally made their voices run high.
From one of the rooms, a cry tangled with moaning rang out in short bursts and long. It resembled the sound of a small wild animal weeping on the edge of death. As he made to leave, the secretary who had been standing by, Han Min-jae, stepped forward.
“Check the amount listed against the omega in my room.”
“Yes, Executive Director.”
“Pass it on to Kang Seon-ho. Confirm whether he intends to take on the debt and proceed accordingly. He’s the type to change his mind, so don’t get your hopes up.”
It was the treatment of expensive goods. That was natural both for Choi Woo-hyuk, the island’s owner, and for Kang Seon-ho, whose nature had always been that way. Something as absurd as human rights simply did not exist here.
“Understood.”
“No need to follow.”
Choi Woo-hyuk took the long umbrella from the secretary’s hand and walked out of the building. The rain driving into the ground was so fierce it was visible to the naked eye. It was enough to make him entertain the pointless worry that the Eunryu River might overflow.
Choi Woo-hyuk was someone who liked rain. More precisely, he liked watching people flinch and tremble over something as small as raindrops falling on their own bodies.
The thick, stale smell of rain was more than enough to wash away the metallic smell of blood. The heavier the rain, the more people retreated inside, and gloomy alleyways became perfect blind spots. Rain soaking into the ground and streaming in all directions swallowed every trace without exception.
The clear advantages rain offered had been valid — up until he had set foot on Cheongun Island. Now. Well. Not particularly.
Choi Woo-hyuk was reaching for his cigarettes and lighter when his fingers found something else in his pocket. A small cylindrical object no longer than his pinky finger. The ownerless lip balm. He almost laughed at himself for having forgotten to throw it away and carrying it all the way here.
It looked fairly new, the surface still clean. He flipped the cap open and a wave of artificial strawberry scent hit him. Tossed carelessly, it would probably splash right into that puddle over there. He was on the verge of doing exactly that when it happened.
Urgent, tangled footsteps and a dull thud rang out and overlapped. His gaze shifted toward the source of the sound, but the corner of the building cut off his line of sight and there was nothing to see. Only.
“A little shit like you needs to get beaten half to death before you stop mouthing off. Fucking hell, you owe me for the clothes too, so shut up and come with me, you little bastard!”
“……Please, don’t. Sob, please, I’m begging you. I don’t want to, please…….”
I’m sorry. Please spare me. On this island, there was no shortage of occasions to beg in situations like these — but the voice that murmured those all-too-common words was too young. Not even the roar of the rain could drown out the boy’s sharp, raw crying.
“Cute little thing, thought I’d be gentle with you, and you don’t know your place. Ha. You little—”
“P-please, sir, I…… I only do cleaning, sob, I only do cleaning…… please just—”
A thud rang out, and the crying stopped.
In the moment that followed, Choi Woo-hyuk, who had lit his cigarette, suddenly moved toward the commotion. It was as though something had pulled him there. The closer he got, the more the unidentifiable dull sounds continued.
The boy who had been crying and pleading had gone quiet — not from resignation, but from sheer exhaustion. Beneath the hand striking his cheek without mercy, the boy’s body went slack. The middle-aged man who had him by the collar and was slapping him relentlessly had his belt undone, his buckle loose, and his zipper open.
“When you’re told to do something, you shut that mouth of yours and do it, that’s all there is to it. Where does a little bastard with no manners get off saying he can’t. Do you know who I am! You little—!”
At that moment, the man noticed someone watching them. He stared at Choi Woo-hyuk with uncertain eyes, and before long recognized who he was.
“Executive Dir——!”
“That’s enough. Go inside.”
“This little bastard—”
“We do make him available for whatever use you wish.”
Choi Woo-hyuk said it coldly.
“However, reckless damage may cost you double the original sum.”
His gaze then shifted to the boy, soaked through with rain. Choi Woo-hyuk was giving the man time to remove himself.
“……Th-thank you…….”
Of all the rotten luck. The man, having caught on, fled the scene in a hurry.
“Hey.”
The boy, who had been half collapsed, pushed the wet hair out of his face.
Choi Woo-hyuk enclosed the boy beneath the umbrella he was holding. At the slow tilt of his head upward, their eyes met.
“We meet again.”
Again……? We meet again?
Yi-won blinked again.
The voice that cut through the pouring rain was unfamiliar. His hazy consciousness did not recognize him immediately. His vision was already a wreck from repeated blows and exhaustion. Of everything the man had said, the one thing he barely managed to make out was the brief greeting: we meet again.
Yi-won assumed he must be one of the visiting guests who had simply witnessed the situation. There was no reason for anyone to take notice of him — someone without any standing, who had just been taking on dirty work all across the island. The short greeting of we meet again couldn’t help but feel unreal.
Yi-won looked up at the man again, quietly. The man, announcing it was a reunion, put a cigarette between his teeth with a faint smile. A click, and simultaneously the lighter’s flame lit up the man’s face.
“……Ah.”
An overwhelmingly tall figure. A man with no color to him from head to toe. Sharp, deep-set features, and a fresh cigarette caught between his teeth. Someone who, through young eyes, could only be described as striking.
It’s the person from the early hours of the morning.
“Wasn’t trying to listen this time either.”
“…….”
“Because of this.”
It was a repeated coincidence. Stepping outside to smoke and crossing paths. Yi-won quickly lowered his head.
He gripped his knees with his burning hands and forced himself upright. His body, with one knee still buckled, couldn’t find its center and staggered again.
Even then, Yi-won kept his head bowed low and couldn’t bring himself to look directly at Choi Woo-hyuk. No — he wasn’t allowed to look. Already twice. Yi-won was committing, for the second time in a row, a mistake he shouldn’t be making with Choi Woo-hyuk.
“……Thank you for your help.”
Yi-won had arrived at Shizunami sometime in the late afternoon and had spent the whole time helping in the kitchen with prep work. The kitchen was busier than ever, with word going around that a guest who required special attention was coming.
Even in his poor condition, he concealed it and kept his hands moving. Perhaps it was the nature of the night. Shizunami’s rooms filled up earlier than usual, and the guests that evening were generally rougher than normal.
There was even a room where drugs were being offered. There were quite a few servers who had refused and gotten hurt for ruining the mood, then were dragged back in after trying to flee the room.
Yi-won. Sorry, but could you run the hall just once? You only need to drop off the food.
Yes. I’ll go.
He roughly wiped the cold sweat beaded across his forehead with his hand and scrubbed it on his pants. He loaded the trolley high with dazzling dishes that looked good enough to make anyone fall in love at first glance.
I’ll bring your food right out.
The outcome he’d assumed, as a matter of course, would pass him by did not.
Hey. Come over here and sit down.
I’m sorry, but I…….
Damn it, talking back. Why are all the ones coming in tonight like this?
The man didn’t wait — he grabbed Yi-won’s wrist and pulled him down into a seat. His body, yanked off balance, knocked into the table.
Ah……!
Dishes crashed into each other. The plates with food and the liquor glasses toppled over.
You little, damn it.
The crotch area just beneath the bloated liquor belly of the man — whose shirt buttons were straining to stay closed — had, of all places, gotten wet.
