IC C17

Chapter 17

“Well… I suppose that would be nice.”

Siwon answered reluctantly. To be honest, he couldn’t imagine such a chance ever coming his way. In his mind, he was a man who lived with no ties to money. And even if an opportunity to make a great deal of it did happen to present itself, it would hardly be something legal.

“So then, if we scouted you, would you accept?”

“By we… you mean Baeksa‑pa?”

“Lost your sense, have you? Do you want me to shout that name out in the open?”

Under the table, Jushang kicked him hard in the shin. The nerve—it was he who had first brought the syndicate into the conversation.

Just then, their food arrived. Siwon bit deep into a sugar‑dusted piece of toast, the sweetness calming the heat rising in his gut.

“So. Is that a yes or a no?”

“Of course I’d say no.”

“Why?”

“…”

“Are you ignoring me right now?”

“No. I was just thinking of how best to phrase it. But I don’t think there’s any way to dress it up nicely.”

“Then just say it as it is.”

“I don’t ever want to become a gangster.”

How many in this world would willingly tie themselves to organized crime? Even though he was already mired in dirty work, Siwon was the same. However much money was thrown at him, he had not the slightest intention of joining Baeksa‑pa officially.

“So even if we tried to recruit you, you’d refuse?”

“Yes.”

“Tch.”

He had braced himself for a fist, but instead of striking him, Jushang merely clicked his tongue. His face was, surprisingly, composed—as if already pondering something else.

Siwon went on with his meal, unbothered. Whatever evil Baeksa‑pa wrought with the information stolen from Sovereign, he wanted no greater hand in it. Twisted though it seemed, that was his own line of morality.

Afterwards, he holed up inside the hotel, idly working through a puzzle magazine. Hong Kong was nothing more than a visa run for him—there was nothing to prepare until the ferry back to Macau tomorrow. Yet after four or five hours staring at crosswords, his patience waned. He glanced toward the window just as a voice rose.

“Yes, boss. I’ve been well.”

It was Jushang on the phone. Whoever was on the other end must have been a superior—the tone of his voice shifted entirely.

“Yes, sir. I’m in Hong Kong now… Yes. …Apologies, one moment please.”

His eyes cut sidelong at Siwon—a signal to give them privacy. But in the cramped hotel room there was no real place to go. Siwon retreated to the bathroom instead.

Click. He shut the door just as Jushang continued on.

“I’ll make contact myself, don’t you worry. Even if the bastard tries to scurry like a rat, he won’t get away when I’m already on him. Where could he even run? He’s been driven out of Macau already—he’s got nowhere left to go.”

Even speaking in a whisper, certain words carried through: “junket,” “broker,” “rebate.”

“….”

Siwon frowned faintly. As expected, Jushang—or rather, Baeksa‑pa—was up to more foul business.

Junkets. Middlemen who handled VIP guests from their first step into the city until the moment they left. Travel, hotels, dining, entertainment—all taken care of. On the surface, a legitimate service. But money of that scale always bred filth. Bribes disguised as “hospitality,” ties to syndicates, exploitation without end.

Better never to know. But working in a casino meant he now knew far too much. Siwon clicked his tongue in frustration.

Not that ignoring reality would absolve him. If nothing else, he needed to be aware—at least dimly—of what he was tangled in. That was the conclusion Zhang Yuren’s death had carved into him.

“No, no. This is exactly my specialty. I’ll confirm everything and report back at once. Yes, sir. Please take care.”

His voice, so servile, trailed to silence. After the shuffle of movement, the call must have ended.

Should he step out now? Siwon hesitated—until another ringtone buzzed. But this time it wasn’t Jushang’s.

“…Ah.”

His breath caught. It was his own.

He darted from the bathroom—but Jushang reached the phone first.

“Who’s this?”

Snatching up the device, he glared sharply, not asking the caller but stabbing Siwon with a predator’s eyes. Siwon’s breath hitched in his throat.

There were only three people who knew that number: Director Park, Jushang himself… and Lei Jun.

If it had been Park, Jushang would never have reacted so suspiciously. Which left only one.

Please, let it be a spam call.

But that fragile hope shattered at once.

“Xie Wei? He’s in the bathroom at the moment.”

Siwon screamed inside. The phone wasn’t meant for personal use, and now Jushang had proof he had broken that rule. Worse, Lei Jun would hear that “bathroom” remark—and with it, the lie about traveling to Hong Kong alone.

“…Hand it over.”

He stepped forward, hand outstretched.

With a scowl, Jushang switched it to speaker mode and tossed it at him.

“…Hello, Lei Jun?”

―“Are you with Senior Ju right now?”

Something about his voice felt unnervingly alien. Lei Jun’s tone, usually lilting and mischievous, had deepened. Siwon swallowed hard.

“…Yes.”

―“And yet you told me you were traveling alone.”

“…”

―“Is there some reason you couldn’t tell me?”

His question was soft, but carried the sting of accusation—almost as though he were suggesting Siwon’s relationship with Jushang ran deeper than it did. A wave of gooseflesh rolled down Siwon’s spine, and he burst out too quickly.

“It was just coincidence we met here!”

―“Oh? A coincidence? Do coincidences include sharing tea… and then heading into the bathroom together?”

“…”

Jushang’s stare cut through him like knives, filled with disdain—as if looking at a damned fool. And perhaps he was exactly that.

―“It’s fine. Everyone has things they’d rather keep hidden.”

Lei Jun’s words rang with gentle understanding—but not enough to dispel misunderstanding. Desperate, Siwon tried to redirect.

“So… why did you call?”

―“Do I need a reason? Surely we’ve reached the point where I can call just because.”

Jushang’s glare sharpened—clearly entertaining his own misinterpretation now. Siwon wished the floor would swallow him whole.

―“Well, truthfully… I was curious. Thought maybe we could meet if our times aligned.”

“…Ah…”

―“Of course, if you’re busy with Senior Ju, then forget it.”

“No, no, it’s not like that—”

―“So you could come out right now?”

“…”

―“Thought so.”

He chuckled. The sly laugh of someone who had tested and won. And Siwon—caught in it. He had no excuse left to make.

―“Well then. I’ll wait until Macau. We’ll see each other there.”

“…Alright.”

―“Enjoy your holiday, Xie Wei.”

“You too. I’m hanging up now.”

Any more, and the wildfires of rumor would spread. He dropped the phone onto the bed.

“You really are something,” Jushang scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. “If that boy runs his mouth even once, the whole casino will think you and I took a romantic getaway to Hong Kong.”

“…My apologies. I’ll make sure Lei Jun keeps it quiet.”

If not for Jushang’s “bathroom” remark, none of this would have happened—yet Siwon bowed his head regardless.

Jushang stared hard at him, then finally muttered,

“Be careful.”

“…Yes.”

Be careful of what exactly, he wasn’t sure. He had expected a tongue‑lashing. Instead, the man let it pass. That alone was unsettling.

“Look, being a total loner will rouse suspicion too. Have enough relationships to look normal—but don’t get too close. You’re not here forever.”

“…That’s true.”

A strange heaviness settled over him. Since the day he set foot in Sovereign, he had clenched his teeth with one resolve—that in three years, he would walk out free. Yet hearing the same words fall from another’s lips gave them an eerie weight. Maybe somewhere deep inside, he had feared he would never escape Baeksa‑pa at all.

Before he could dwell further, Jushang pressed again.

“You gonna manage to stay put without screwing something up?”

“…Do I look like a child?”

His incredulous reply earned only a narrow‑eyed glare.

“Answer the damn question. Can you sit tight without stirring shit up?”

“…Of course.”

“Then stay in the hotel. I’ve got business. Don’t you dare sneak off to meet some fool roommate. You step out of line and you’ll hobble home to Macau on crutches.”

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow.”

Half a day gone at the very least. Between the call he had overheard earlier and this sudden absence, something serious must have arisen. An opportunity. Perhaps at last, the chance to pry into Baeksa‑pa’s designs.

“So… what about meals?”

“What?”

“Food. If I’m stuck in the room, how am I supposed to eat?”

He kept his face straight, innocent. It might not have been wise, but he didn’t have time to concoct a better plan.

“…You really want to whine about food now?”

“What kind of situation is this, exactly?”

Feigning cluelessness, he let the question hang. Jushang exhaled heavily, exasperated.

“Order room service. Done.”

“Room service is overpriced garbage. Can’t I at least go out for dim sum? I mean, this is Hong Kong. I won’t go far.”

“Fine, fine. God, your tongue really is too refined for its own good.”

Knowing Siwon’s background as a chef, he didn’t press further. Or maybe his own urgency left him no time for deeper suspicion. Preparing quickly to leave, he tossed one final warning over his shoulder.

“Step out of line and I’ll kill you, no excuses.”

“Yes.”

Siwon answered meekly.

But the moment Jushang left, his compliant mask slipped. His face hardened into grim determination.