March Novel - Chapter 3

Such a timely appearance by a stranger. Of course, it was suspicious. Not just Sehwa, but everyone must have thought so. Isn’t this the typical trick when you hook a sucker and plan a scam? But given the situation, no one dared to speak up, and only the boss was excited. He was busy giving ridiculous orders, like having a new nameplate engraved with “Representative” for his office, or giving “our Director Gi” a good room.

Sehwa knew the recent drug distribution lineage by heart. But even considering all the small-time organizations, it was even harder to find a young boss that everyone would whisper about. No, it wasn’t just difficult. There definitely wasn’t one. If there had been such a successful new organization, the boss would have sent people to deal with them long ago. Because if you don’t step on them at the right time, you’ll inevitably be eaten yourself.

But the boss, intoxicated as if he’d done drugs, was reeling from the title of “Representative” he’d inadvertently gained and the fact that he now had a “Director” under him. Even players skilled in all sorts of scams sometimes fall victim to other houses’ foolish tricks. He used to not understand why suckers and players dragged into gambling dens fell for such shoddy tricks, but seeing the boss’s behavior these days, he began to understand. These obvious ploys were truly terrifying.

Well… in a way, he understood why the boss couldn’t act rationally. He was the kind of person who would complain at every company dinner, saying there were some things he couldn’t have, no matter how much money he made. In such a situation, he had heard sweet talk for the first time, like “Let’s go legitimate,” or “Isn’t it time you were called ‘Representative’ or ‘Chairman’?” It was understandable that he would lose his mind.

Sometimes, residents outside the city, especially those in this house, would throw their lives away for trivial things that would make others scoff. The most common reasons were frivolous things like lovers or love, but there were also quite a few who wished to be free from debt like Sehwa, and some, like the boss, had a desire for power, not wanting to kneel before anyone from any zone.

It’s because everyone’s hearts are poor. Branded as useless people, living lives like vermin who could die at any moment without warning, they still struggled to survive, hoping that someday a bright day would come. Even though, in truth, they knew such a day would never come.

“Oh? I think they’re here.”

Seeing the “dajji” standing at the entrance, it seemed the boss and the problematic director—no, the con artist—had arrived. Sehwa dusted off the unknown substances clinging to various parts of his body. His cuffs were quickly ruined, tangled with unknown soot and flower juice. He could already picture the boss’s distorted face, asking what kind of mess he was.

The boss had learned the word “protocol” from somewhere and told him to diligently attend to and serve the director. Protocol… He could only snort at the sudden pretense. Well, for Sehwa, it was an easy order. The man would surely have his own trusted people, so he just needed to generally inform him about how the house operated. Looking after a con artist was nothing compared to dealing cards, distributing drugs, and luring customers.

“By the way, you. Are you really going to be that director’s errand boy for a while? Is that true?”

“Only until I quit.”

“Hey. You’re really quitting? Really? Really?”

Maejo, who had been speaking loudly, shrank his neck like a turtle under the sharp glares from those around him.

“No, I thought the boss was just talking… Haha… No, really? So what are you going to do when you quit? No, not that… Wait a minute, does that mean you’re just giving away all your connections to the new guy for free?”

“How many times are you going to say ‘no’ and ‘really’?”

“Is this really the time to be so nonchalant? Can’t you tell by the fact that you’re quitting everything and serving someone else? It means you’re handing over your entire money source to that guy!”

“What would I use it for now that I’m quitting?”

Even to his own ears, his voice was excessively devoid of lingering attachment. Maejo, who had been pounding his chest at Sehwa’s indifferent reply, looked around and then lowered his voice again.

“That… living with your regular customer… Is that true too?”

“……”

“Oh, you idiot. That old man is a hardcore drug addict. Who would you trust if not a drug addict? Damn it, I’ll bet all the blood I’m going to eat tomorrow that you’ll be kicked out within three months after just getting beaten up.”

His not denying or excusing Maejo’s speculation was also intentional. Why would he tell such people something he hadn’t even honestly told the boss? There was nothing to gain. It would be a miracle if they didn’t report him to the authorities, blinded by the reward money.

“Hey. If you’re going to do that…”

Maejo lingered on “if you’re going to do that,” his mouth agape for a long time. He had a rare serious look on his face. Sehwa frowned deeply and turned his head. The rest of the conversation was obvious.

“If you’re going to do that, why don’t you just… with me…”

“Come in, come in.”

The boss’s booming voice from the entrance made Maejo awkwardly swallow the words he was about to say. Sehwa subtly gestured with his head for him to look forward. He pretended not to notice the spark in Maejo’s eyes as he glanced away. And he would continue to do so, forever.

“My younger brother, this place might seem a bit shabby to you, but if you’re going to keep these kids around, you need a workshop like this. That way, the guys below will stay sharp and motivated.”

“I see.”

The heads of the house members, who had been warming themselves by the fire with bored expressions, slowly lifted. No one had ordered them to, but everyone was doing it. It was a strange voice that made them instinctively look around, not wanting to miss anything. The man’s tone was gentle and quiet. But even with that soft reply, it commanded attention, possessing a destructive power that pierced their ears and tore through them.

“It’s cold, so you don’t have to call everyone together like this.”

“Ah, but Director Gi is one of us now, so of course we have to. Besides, Director Gi isn’t just anyone, is he? He’s the next in command here. Our kids might have grown up without much, but they’re not without manners. Come on in.”

At the boss’s fuss, the lined-up “dajji” split in half like torn paper. Sehwa, who had been hanging precariously at the very end of the crowd, also slowly moved back. And through that gap, the rumored director revealed his face. He seemed to have brought all his original subordinates with him, as he entered slowly, leading a group of men in black suits. As their long umbrellas folded in unison, raindrops scattered behind the man like special effects.

“Oh, damn it, what the hell is that….”

Someone’s unfinished sentence was probably, “What is that?” Sehwa’s feelings were exactly the same. What is that? Why is such a… person here?

“Greet him, everyone. This is Director Gi Taejeong, who will greatly expand our house… no, our company. It might be a bit chaotic for a while with a new member, but if you listen to me and Director Gi well from now on, you’ll get rice cakes even in your sleep. Got it?”

Sehwa swallowed hard with tension. Perhaps this wasn’t just a problem to laugh off, thinking the boss was getting scammed by a professional. The new director was clearly not someone who belonged under the boss. Such a person willingly offered his organization? Said he would come under him? That couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

His name alone suggested it. Director Gi? The title of director didn’t suit him. Rather than a soft-sounding name like Director Gi, it was… yes, Representative Gi. President Gi. Such authoritarian epithets, sharp, clipped pronunciations, felt more natural, as if they belonged to that man.

However, that suspicious man, Gi Taejeong. He was the very embodiment of a noir film that the rats, vermin, and trash living here had dreamed of. He was like the ideal figure of the back alleys, crafted meticulously with only capital and fantasy. If such a man approached first and whispered sweet words, anyone would let down their guard and become utterly infatuated. He couldn’t call the boss stupid. If he had someone like him under him, he too would probably become conceited and boastful, proud of himself.

Sehwa realized he had been staring too intently at the man and hastily lowered his head. He had heard from the boss that he wasn’t even thirty yet. Was it twenty-eight, or twenty-nine? Is that why? He seemed youthful, but not immature. The lines of his forehead and brow bone, high nose bridge, and jawline, revealed beneath his neatly combed hair, were subtle. Sharp yet soft. Delicately beautiful, yet refreshingly handsome. Perhaps these contrasting feelings made the man stand out even more.

Gi Taejeong picked off a flower petal clinging to his coat and put a cigar in his mouth. When a “gido” standing nearby lit it for him, he didn’t forget to politely ask the boss for his understanding. The boss’s voice, praising the man, saying he succeeded at a young age because he was so courteous, was sickening.

The flickering lighter flame briefly lingered in Gi Taejeong’s pupils and then vanished. The beautiful man was entirely dark and heavy. It was strange. He was clearly sculpted from only delicate, bright, and beautiful things, yet when combined, only harmful adjectives remained.

“Hey, Sakura! What are you doing? Hurry up and come greet him!”

Had his surreptitious gaze been caught? Sehwa flinched, his shoulders twitching, and awkwardly stepped forward.

“Director Gi, please understand. He’s a bit slow… But he’ll explain how our house works well. He’s been a fixture here since he was young.”

Just moments ago, he had been confident in his appearance. He had even secretly liked that it reduced bothersome tasks. But as the man’s face drew closer, Sehwa felt a little ashamed of his appearance. He had never once worn a shirt with luxurious buttons or a vest that cinched the torso. He had also never seen a coat that maintained its shape even in the pouring rain. It probably meant he had someone to manage everything for him, even without his direct involvement.

So, Sehwa, regardless of the embarrassment washing over him, found the new director even more suspicious. It wasn’t just because he looked rich. A person for whom such meticulous management is natural, that kind of person, doesn’t allow others to ruin them. But he was dealing drugs, of all things? From the very bottom? And he was even planning to hand over the organization he had painstakingly built to the boss?

“Ah…”

His timid, hesitant steps suddenly faltered as foul water splashed onto his ankles. Despite his carefulness just moments before, both his trouser legs were soaked. The man, who had been exhaling smoke with his head slightly tilted at the splashing sound of water, subtly lifted his eyes. His elegant gaze slowly swept over Sehwa. His shaggy hair, his ill-fitting, seemingly picked-up clothes, and his shoes, which he had clearly tried to keep clean despite everything… Sehwa’s body stiffened awkwardly under his gaze, which seemed to dissect his shabby appearance.

Only then did the director withdraw his peculiar gaze and meet Sehwa’s eyes directly. Embarrassed by the silent appraisal, Sehwa hid his hands behind his back. His figure, growing clearer against the gloomy weather, was more like a setting sun than a rising one. An ominous orange sky, a dark grip that seemed to plunge the sun beneath, an ambiguous time when it was unclear whether he was friend or foe.

“It was you.”

The beautiful man, with the sunset at his feet, smiled arrogantly.

“That famous flower.”