Chapter Text
At the time of the incident, Kim Myung-gil was distracted. Ordinarily it would have been impossible for someone to get the drop on him so easily, but he was texting. It was a bad reason, and the texting was not about something all that important, but the matter at hand was annoying him, and annoyance sometimes distracted him more than critical decisions or danger. When he was really focused, he often became even more aware of his surroundings, but when he was just somewhat preoccupied, it was easy to not pay too much attention to who might be following him furtively down the street.
The person he was texting was Ms. Im. He’d thought when she sent him the first text that she had important news to relate. But it turned out she just wanted to talk about their breakup. Again. He was getting a little sick of it. He hadn’t even been the one to break up with her; she’d told him she wanted something serious and didn’t think he wanted to give that to her. She hadn’t been wrong, but now she was acting like he’d rejected her just because he’d agreed. She kept saying how she missed having fun with him in a way that was probably supposed to be casual (they were still business partners and friends, of course) but was actually aggravating.
Then again, she probably kept texting him like this more to keep tabs on his mood than anything else. He’d never killed any of his exes, didn't obsess over them either, but Ms. Im had always been wary of him, and seemed to believe there might be no time like the present for him to start.
It was just annoying. He sighed, considered what text to send next—
And had his phone snatched out of his hand.
It was a testament to his distraction that it took him a moment to shout, “Hey!” and another moment to start running.
Hong Min-beom had gone crazy.
Kang-yong had told him not to do anything stupid and just to keep his head down and let Kang-yong take care of everything. But! Kim Myung-gil had had the video of him for weeks now, and so far Kang-yong had yet to come up with a plan to deal with it.
It was fine if he had to sign some fucking paperwork or build a casino in his hotel, big deal, who cared. But Myung-gil had never promised to delete the video when the deal was struck. If he didn’t find some excuse to release it after business was settled, he might just keep Min-beom on a leash indefinitely.
At least until it was more advantageous to fake his suicide.
It wasn’t bravery that motivated him to stalk Kim Myung-gil. He’d reached the point where Myung-gil frightened him even more when he was out of sight; he could be sitting safely in his bedroom and feel like Myung-gil was hiding under his bed, or standing just out of his peripheries. And it certainly wasn’t reason that compelled him to dash out of cover and grab Myung-gil’s cell phone out of his hand.
When he described the incident later to Kang-yong, he said, “I don’t know! He has the video on his phone. He showed it to me once.”
“Kim Myung-gil isn’t an idiot,” Kang-yong said. “He definitely has it saved in more than one place.”
“Well, he probably has other important stuff on his phone too. If we could get something on him—anything—then we could threaten him too. He’d have to back off then.”
Kang-yong sighed. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past month? Obviously we want to get something on him, Min-beom! But attacking him openly in public could get you killed!”
Min-beom rubbed his forehead, wincing. His doctor had informed him he didn’t have a concussion.
But his head fucking hurt, damn it!
“So? How’d you get away?” Kang-yong asked. “You don’t have the phone, so you can’t have gotten away cleanly.”
“He let me go,” Min-beom said. “It was… awkward.”
After snatching the phone, Min-beom ran away as fast as he could. This was not very fast. He’d been stalking Myung-gil all day and hadn’t eaten anything except a sad spoonful of granola before heading out. And while he worked out regularly, he also regularly skipped leg day. Both facts he was now regretting. He’d had a little head start in the beginning but the sound of Myung-gil running after him was getting closer. And closer. And closer.
“Shit!” Min-beom half-yelled, half-gasped, and he pushed himself to accelerate just a little bit more as he approached a corner.
And then a body slammed into his from the side.
He hit the ground hard, yelping as his head hit concrete. Curled up protectively, shielding his face as best he could. Unexpectedly, no one hit him. After a moment of wincing and waiting, he looked up.
Crouching over him was a young man. He was wearing a t-shirt and very small red shorts and a mask. The mask was nothing special; Min-beom was wearing one too. The red shorts seemed a little unusual for Myung-gil’s style.
“Look, I didn’t do any harm and you caught me anyway. Can I just get a break?” Min-beom said, panting.
The young man put out his hand. “Phone.”
Min-beom held it out immediately. The young man took it and turned to Kim Myung-gil, who had slowed down when Min-beom got toppled over but now finally had caught up.
“Your phone, sir,” said the young man.
Myung-gil said, “Thanks,” and promptly took it back. Then, “Who are you?”
The young man bowed politely. “I was just passing by and saw someone run off with your phone. Do you want me to stay while you call the police?”
Myung-gil was looking down at Min-beom. Min-beom, who’d been hoping that with his mask, Myung-gil might never know who stole his phone as long as he ran away fast enough, cringed. “That’s not necessary,” Myung-gil said. “I know this man.”
“Oh, really?” The young man’s eyes went wide.
“I’m not going to call the police. You can let him go.”
“Ah.” The young man stepped back. He hadn’t actually been doing anything to keep Min-beom down in the first place—Min-beom just hadn’t wanted to test his luck by getting up and trying to run again.
But now Myung-gil waved a hand. “Hong Min-beom, we’ll talk later.”
Min-beom hesitated.
Myung-gil raised his eyebrows. “The longer I look at you, the more I feel annoyed.”
So… Min-beom left.
Kang-yong said, “You’re probably lucky, actually. If Myung-gil had caught you with no one around to witness it, you wouldn’t have gotten off so lightly.”
“Gotten off? I still haven’t. He said—oh shit,” Min-beom said. His phone was ringing, and it was Myung-gil’s number. “Oh, fuck.”
After Hong Min-beom departed, Myung-gil took a good look at his rescuer. (Though whether it was he or Min-beom who had been rescued was perhaps debatable.) The man was young, but maybe not as young as Myung-gil had thought at first, looking only at his eyes. He was well-built, and didn’t fidget as Myung-gil looked at him.
Myung-gil didn’t believe in coincidences. Had someone thrown fresh meat in his path to bait him?
Even so, he didn’t mind taking a bite.
“You’re fast,” he said.
“Yes, sir. You’re fast too. He just had a head start, but you caught up very quickly.”
“What’s your name?” Myung-gil asked.
“Kim Gun-woo, sir.”
“I’m Kim Myung-gil,” Myung-gil said. “Nice to meet you.”
Gun-woo had a strong handshake and highly callused hands. His knuckles were especially rough. When Myung-gil remarked that he had to be quite a fighter to have taken Min-beom down so easily, he shyly admitted that he was a boxer.
“You’ve got guts and initiative,” Myung-gil said. “I like that. Men with guts can do anything. How would you like to come work for me?”
“Ah,” Gun-woo said, “what kind of work?”
“Different kinds,” Myung-gil said. “You know. I run a business in the area. Financing loans. We’re very focused on growth in a competitive field, and I can always use some muscle.”
“Ah,” Gun-woo said. A confused furrow had appeared on his forehead. “Maybe? It depends on the kind of work. I’ve done deliveries in the past, and worked at a junkyard, and once at a barbecue. I’m pretty adaptable, and I’m always looking for work. But it depends on whether you need a full timer. I still need to devote a lot of time to my training for boxing.”
Myung-gil raised his eyebrows skeptically. Gun-woo raised his eyebrows back, almost in alarm. Myung-gil huffed.
A kid like this probably couldn’t be bait. He didn’t even know what Myung-gil was talking about.
Young, strong, gutsy, chivalrous, and handsome, the kind of guy who chased down purse and phone snatchers on the street and had no idea why physical labor would be involved in loan work. Or if he did know, couldn’t imagine that kind of dirty work had anything to do with Myung-gil.
Myung-gil was used to being taken for a gangster at first sight, even on his best behavior. It was the scar, probably, or maybe something in his attitude. Gun-woo seemed to think he was really just a nice, somewhat vulnerable ahjussi.
It was… interesting.
“Gun-woo,” Myung-gil said, lowering his voice, beckoning Gun-woo closer, “the truth is, I could really use some help.”
“Oh?”
“Truthfully, some of the people I’ve been dealing with lately… I may have gotten over my head.”
“Over your head?”
“These people—people like Hong Min-beom, who you just saw—they don’t do business honestly. They don’t hesitate to cheat, steal, or even resort to violence.”
“That’s awful.”
“It really is,” Myung-gil said. “Lately, I’ve been more and more concerned about my security. Gun-woo, I’m not proposing full time employment, but if you could join me for even just a couple meetings—even just one meeting—you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
“Who are you meeting with?”
“Hong Min-beom.”
“You should have him arrested,” Gun-woo said.
“The deal I’m doing with him is delicate, and he’s difficult to handle,” Myung-gil said, “but it could be great for my company. It could change the whole game. I don’t want to get him arrested. I just want to keep myself and my people safe. Gun-woo, would you be willing to accompany me at our next meeting? If you were there, if Hong Min-beom tried anything, you’d stop him.”
Gun-woo nodded furiously, then hesitated, then nodded. “Of course I’ll help you. Anything you need.”
Myung-gil smiled. He slowly raised a hand and patted Gun-woo’s cheek. He was wearing a mask, but the amount of skin still exposed was much smoother than his knuckles. “Thank you. I’ll feel much safer with you around.”
Gun-woo nodded.
He got Gun-woo’s number, and told him he’d let him know the time and place. That evening he called Min-beom.
“Tell me, Hong Min-beom, is there any reason I shouldn’t break your legs?”
“Kim Myung-gil,” a voice growled in the background. It wasn’t Min-beom; it was Min Kang-yong.
Myung-gil laughed. “I’m joking, I'm joking. Your cousin gets a free pass today. He introduced me to someone interesting, and I need him upright and with an intact face. Ribs are optional, though. So, Hong Min-beom. Tomorrow we’re going to have a meeting about plans for the hotel, and you are going to do exactly as I say.”