March Novel - Chapter 2

“Where’s the boss?”

Sehwa asked, lighting a cigarette.

“…Huh?”

“I asked if the boss is here yet.”

“Uh-huh. He… he’s coming with that new director guy, he said.”

Maejo stammered, uncharacteristically for him. The men surrounding Sehwa also fell silent one by one. Through the smoke, they quietly watched Sehwa’s downcast eyes blinking slowly, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the filter, his thin chest rising and falling, his lips parting and closing. Their gazes were calm and serious, making a mockery of how they had just been cutting and slicing people like raw fish on a chopping board.

And Sehwa, too, was not unaware of their lingering gazes. So,

“Did they say the new director is in charge of drugs?”

He casually touched on a topic that could ignite everyone’s anger. The thick, lingering desires of the crowd were instantly shattered. The men, ashamed of having been momentarily enchanted by Sehwa’s demeanor, became even rougher.

“Damn it, what’s so great about drugs that any dog or cow can sell that they’d give a directorship to some unheard-of bastard?”

“Exactly. What’s the point of dealing cards until your fingerprints wear off? Players are always treated like dirt.”

The men’s meaningless grumbling grew stronger. They seemed itching to vent their frustration somewhere. Sehwa, meanwhile, silently puffed on his cigarette. A person should know when to hit and when to quit. If he added another word here, it was obvious that unprovoked insults or physical abuse would pour down on him. In times like this, silently puffing on what he held in his mouth was the right answer.

“Still, thanks to recruiting that director, the boss bought land in the 3rd Star, they say.”

“Huh? In the 3rd Star? Really?”

“Yeah. But the part about seeing a stream, that seemed like a scam. They say it’s just a tiny construction site?”

“As if a spot with a visible stream would have been left unoccupied all this time? Of course, you should have been suspicious.”

Maejo muttered, bringing his hand closer to the drum barrel, as if to say, “Who buys real estate without even seeing it?” People outside the city walls, let alone the 3rd Star, found it difficult to even enter the 2nd or 1st Stars. Even the boss, who owned the largest gambling den outside the zone, was no exception, and Maejo wouldn’t be saying this without knowing that.

“Now that I think about it, I heard from a customer yesterday that the word ‘Star’ (성, seong) means ‘star.’ Did you guys know that?”

Odong whispered carefully, perhaps not wanting to appear foolish to the burly men standing behind him. A slight silence fell, and then belated reproaches erupted from all directions, as if to say, “You didn’t know that?” Most of the angry men probably didn’t know. Most of the people here were residents from outside the city walls who hadn’t even received proper compulsory education.

The capital is divided into zones from the 5th Star, closest to the river, to the 1st Star, where it’s difficult to find even a trickle of water. The higher the number, the better the zone, and rare and beautiful things were all concentrated in the good zones. For example, rivers, mountains, or flowers.

The once mighty waterway that spanned the entire country and reached the sea gradually dried up, becoming a precious resource given only to the privileged. Still, up to the 3rd Star, small streams were said to flow near some houses. Was it true that fierce political battles were waged over whether to incorporate that area into the 4th Star? For Sehwa, who had never even seen a stream within the city, let alone a river, it was just an irrelevant story.

“That’s why the area outside the city walls is called ‘Hwan’ (환, hwan), meaning ‘circle.’ Because it circles the city walls.”

“Is, is that so?”

Odong needlessly rubbed the tip of his nose. As he awkwardly kicked the drum barrel where the fire was lit, black ashes flew.

“Ah, stop it! Didn’t you know there was a ‘job’ here yesterday?”

“A job?”

“Yeah. So don’t kick it. It might be the ashes of the guys who died here and were burned.”

“Ah, damn it!”

Maejo and Odong jumped back, their faces pale. Peony, who was stoking the fire, just chuckled. Sehwa, still expressionless, picked off an unknown flower petal clinging to his sleeve. Still, since this place wasn’t far from the 1st Star, some flowers bloomed. Even if they were closer to weeds that grew well even on foul water, they were still flowers, and looking at them made him feel better.

Outside the city walls, in this zone where lower-class people like Sehwa lived, spring was particularly late. Even though it was a planned city that the military meticulously maintained for defense, most areas didn’t get sunlight. It would remain chilly like autumn until mid-April, and then a sudden, scorching heat wave would arrive without warning. After sweating and toiling through that, winter would quickly come, feeling as if his flesh would peel off.

The zones outside the city walls, where proper flowers didn’t bloom, were not given the beautiful character meaning ‘star’. The administrative districts, which were the outer perimeter and defense line circularly encompassing the main areas, were given the uninspired name ‘Hwan’ and further subdivided into the 4th Hwan, 3rd Hwan, 2nd Hwan, and 1st Hwan. Whether it was ‘Star’ or ‘Hwan,’ being pushed further to the outskirts was the same as the number decreased, but the weight carried by ‘Star’ and ‘Hwan’ was worlds apart.

In official documents and news, they might say ‘Hwan,’ but most people casually called it ‘Won’ (원, won, meaning ‘circle’ or ‘unit of currency’). It was a derogatory term mixed with mockery and self-deprecation. As the saying goes, people beyond the 1st Star were selling cheap pleasures like ‘4-won,’ ‘3-won’ to make ends meet.

Sehwa was born in the 2nd Won, not the 4th or 3rd. He came to use the surname Lee because he was born and raised in the 2nd Won. His mother was of unknown gender, and his father was a piece of trash, so addicted to gambling that he even used his newborn child as a gambling stake.

Lee Sehwa. At first glance, it sounded like a unique and pretty name, but its meaning was trivial. It was a name given on the spot by a player on a musty green blanket, saying that since he was put up as a stake anyway, he should stick like a card and become a really strong flower.

Indeed, Sehwa lived up to his name. He wandered from illegal gambling den to illegal gambling den to pay off unknown debts, blooming persistently and gracefully like a flower ready to be plucked at any moment. He barely managed to climb to the 4th Won by utilizing his unusual constitution, but… nothing changed. A 2-Won life merely became a 4-Won life. Just as multiplying anything by zero still results in zero, Lee Sehwa was still a resident outside the stars.

Hope slowly blossomed amidst the persistent depression and resignation after he started dealing with Lieutenant Kim. At first, he couldn’t believe the sudden stroke of luck. He naturally assumed he would use him as cannon fodder a few times and then discard him. He had been so anxious, unable to sleep, wondering when his neck would be cut, but the contract had been smoothly ongoing for two years now, making his worries seem pointless. Lieutenant Kim’s promise to give him a new identity if he distributed and embezzled drugs as instructed might actually become a reality.

Nothing he tried ever worked out well. No, his life started in the negative to begin with. So at first, he was only suspicious of his suddenly smooth-sailing fortune. When the monthly payment he owed the house dropped to around 300,000 won, he would jump up even in his sleep. Not 30 million, not 3 million, but 300,000? If he paid 300,000 won for only six more months, it would all be over? The debt, which had clung to him like original sin and seemed destined never to decrease, was truly almost gone?

Sehwa couldn’t believe it and called the house accountant several times a day. He didn’t know how to be happy when good things happened, so he slept curled up like someone being chased. “Did you think your harsh fate would ever change?” he thought, feeling as if a dark misfortune was about to choke him at any moment.

Only recently, as the deal neared its end, did Sehwa finally let down his guard a little. Now, he only had to transport drugs three more times, and his work with Lieutenant Kim would be completely over. The remaining tasks didn’t even involve bringing things into the city, which made them much less burdensome.

Only then did Sehwa cautiously caress the unexpected good fortune that had fallen upon him. It wasn’t his fault that he was born the 2-won child of a gambling addict. The boss, whose daily routine involved extracting tears of blood from others, was living well and making a lot of money. Compared to such people, he had tried to live even a little bit kindly, so he wanted to believe that this was his reward.

If only he could move to the 1st Star. If only he didn’t have to deal cards and sell drugs anymore. If he could work a normal part-time job like his peers, as seen on TV, and worry about next month’s living expenses while strolling through a park with a worried face… Just imagining it made his chest tingle. If he could just hold on for a few more months, he would be a resident of the 1st Star. He would step into the world of stars, not a 2-won or 4-won person. From now on, he could live as Lee Sehwa, not Sakura, March Boy, or Redhead.

“But I overheard that the new director is really young?”

“Are we old or something?”

“Damn it, did I mean it that way? Sakura, haven’t you heard anything? You’ve been in charge of distributing drugs in the house lately.”

Sehwa, who had been imagining a peace he had never known, finally composed his expression and shook his head. He flicked his cigarette butt into the drum barrel. The trash, shorter than his finger, burned with a gruesome sound, then quickly turned to ash and died out.

“Well… I don’t really know.”

He had informed the boss that he would quit being a player as soon as he paid off his remaining debt. Even the boss, who would have found fault with him if it were just him, couldn’t budge in front of the lieutenant’s rank insignia. The boss seemed to think that Lieutenant Kim was taking him away to make him his concubine. It wasn’t a disadvantageous misunderstanding, so Sehwa let the boss think whatever he wanted.

Most of the people in the house rolled and distributed drugs, but Sehwa’s performance was outstanding among them. Lieutenant Kim had originally proposed the deal to him because rumors had spread about his skills. Now that his cash cow, who brought in a considerable commission every month, was quitting in a few months, the boss’s face was rotting, and he just drank heavily. It had only gotten a little better recently because Maejo had hooked a big sucker, but the atmosphere in the house had been utterly gloomy.

Then, finally, yesterday. For some reason, the boss, with a beaming smile, called all the house members together. He said there was a small organization that had come up from below, and since they seemed exceptional at handling drugs, he had gently lured and taken them over.