IOTF Ch 18
by soapaThe discharge process was simple. With a final reminder to take my medicine, I packed my things and stepped outside, where a fierce cold struck my neck. Before, Jang Wooseong or Kalbang would have had a car waiting, but I’d become a kite with its string cut, and all the money I had was the 5.4 million won I’d saved up earlier.
I took a taxi and circled the city. Unable to calm down, I looked at the winter sea. Watching seagulls fly around, I called Jaehoon hyung. Even though he’d see my number, he didn’t pick up.
It was already the fourth time. At this hour, he’d surely be out of the sauna, sipping coffee, but not answering meant he was avoiding me. I put the phone in my pocket and got back in the taxi. Holding my cigarette-scarred bag, I told the driver,
“Take me to Yeoju Inn, please.”
My situation was, needless to say, back at an inn. That yellowed, musty-smelling place with thick cotton blankets, an old inn. Whether I was a kite with a cut string or not, I should’ve been thrilled that my ties with the boss were severed, yet all I could think of was “ruin,” and my heart felt like it stopped whenever Han Doopil’s name popped up.
I clicked on the message he’d sent. It was the address of a hostess bar called Moment.
[Find Manager Im. It’s right after the turn at Bujeon-dong Park.]
Reading it, I bit my lip. The sharp sensation rising from my gut wasn’t pain but dread about what lay ahead. I had to pay off 400 million won now, and fury boiled up at why I had to pay it, only to turn into a sigh at the thought that at least I’d escaped him.
I gripped the phone screen tightly, then let go, repeating the motion. Getting out of the taxi, I opened the creaky inn door and stepped inside.
“Give me a monthly room, please.”
Knocking on the small glass window, the innkeeper poked his head out.
“What’s that?”
“Got any rooms?”
“Yeah, I do, but… why’re you back?”
He stared at me, tilting his head. Too tired to wonder why, I prepaid a month’s rent.
Holding the heavy key, I climbed the stairs. Passing through the dark, dingy hallway, I opened the door to Room 302. Locking it behind me, I stepped into a room unchanged from before. Yellowed wallpaper, cotton blankets, an old boxy fridge, a mirrored side table, and a coat hanger. Standing smack in the middle of this poverty, I was there.
Lowering my head, I unpacked. Tossing the bag aside, I went downstairs to find a dry cleaner. Thankfully, the three suits I’d left before were still there. After picking them up, I bought men’s underwear and skin lotion at a nearby mart, along with a box of drinks, hangover cures, and some cup ramen.
Each time I paid, my phone buzzed. Watching my balance shrink in real-time, my resolve hardened. I’d never had a choice from the start, so I went back to the inn, changed, and fixed my hair.
Moment. Fuck, even the name’s tacky.
Han Doopil flat-out called it a mid-tier hostess bar, so it’s obvious how low-class it’d be. Queens was shitty as a venue, but the hosts were decent. The guys Manager Kang scouted had good looks and knew how to party. The waiters and kitchen aunties had skilled hands, and since Versace regulars lined up, we only drank expensive liquor.
But this was a mid-tier joint. There’d be ugly-ass hosts and ones with wrinkles barely hidden by makeup. And the customers who’d party with them? Their level was predictable.
A deep sigh escaped, and my neck stiffened. I’m not good with stomach-turning stuff—could I even do this? Maybe I should talk to Han Doopil again, ask for a different place, but that’d mean getting the boss’s approval.
…No way.
I’d just gotten free—seeing him again was the last thing I wanted. Facing him, begging him, no thanks. And since this place was Joo Geonwoo’s too, sending me to a mid-tier bar meant he wanted me to live like shit. So I gritted my teeth. I’d never beg him. I’d endure and pay off that money no matter what.
Wearing a white suit, I left the inn. In the taxi, I told the driver to head to the spot Han Doopil mentioned. The park, darkened early by winter, was dim. Under streetlights, trash bags and clusters of young guys smoking dotted the area.
Hosts, huh.
Guess I found the right place. Looking around, I spotted a hair salon with its lights off early. Raising my head, I saw a green “Moment” sign. The plain two-story building had an illegal rooftop room tacked on.
Head up, I climbed the stairs. A billiard hall mark lingered from its past use. Reaching the second floor, I pushed the door open. Against the damp smell of booze, a stocky man walked out.
“Who’re you?”
“Hello. I’m a host sent by Han Doopil.”
“Oh.”
He gestured me in. I followed him into a room. A black couch, over 30 years old, sat there—way shittier than Queens. No thought for customers, just a lone vent, and a trash can, just cleared, with a rattling lid from age.
They don’t even care this much?
It’s worse than I imagined. Even so, a place where customers pay to drink and play shouldn’t be this…
“Nice face.”
The man tossed out his impression, patting the seat beside him. Usually, it’s a sign to come closer for a look, but something about his eyes felt off.
“Name?”
“Lee Soyoon.”
“Soyoon, huh. Pretty name.”
I stood close, across the table from him.
“You wear cologne?”
“I think it’s courtesy.”
“Nice. The scent fits Soyoon perfectly.”
He put a hand on his thigh, looking up at me. Up close, his nostrils were thick, legs spread wide like he was flaunting his balls.
“Can I start today?”
“How long you been taking guys?”
I shut my mouth at the crude question. How long I’d been “taking guys”—what do I even say?
“Five years as a host, first time at a mid-tier bar.”
“First time? And you came here?”
“Didn’t Han Doopil tell you?”
Did I let some irritation slip? His head tilted at my reply, and he reached for me. Just then, a wiry, high-strung guy burst through the open door, shouting.
“Lee Seungkwan!”
The sharp voice stopped the man’s hand mid-reach. Pretending he wasn’t up to no good, the shrill voice barked again.
“I told you to lay low for a while! Stay home and play phone games—why’re you crawling out again, huh?”
A man in his early 40s, throwing a fit, spotted me.
“Who’s this?”
“…Are you Manager Im?”
He shifted his expression and turned toward me.
“Oh, right. Got a call from Han hyung. You’re early—I thought you’d show tomorrow.”
Reacting, I stared at the guy called Seungkwan. No manager, yet he tried to interview me? Dumbfounded, I glared, and Manager Im shoved Seungkwan with his foot.
“Get outta my sight! Out!”
“No nagging a husband like that.”
“Fuck! Out!!”
As Seungkwan resisted, Im grabbed an ashtray. Pretending to smash it, Seungkwan hauled his bulky frame up, glancing at me.
“Fucking bastard!! Hope he croaks soon so my luck turns!”
I was floored. Pretending to be the manager wasn’t enough—they’re a couple? Same-sex marriage isn’t legal here, so probably a common-law thing, but saying it outright threw me off.
Well, it’s a mid-tier bar, so maybe it’s possible.
“I’m Manager Im. What’s your name?”
“Lee Soyoon.”
“Pretty. How’d you meet Han hyung?”
“I was at Queens.”
Im nodded with an “Ah…”
“Kang sure knows how to pick ‘em. If I didn’t have my quirks, I’d run things clean like him. As you saw, my nature’s a bit off.”
This time, I said, “Ah… yeah.”
“How long you been at it?”
“Five years.”
“You’re real pretty. How’re you this pretty?”
Im peered at my face like it was a marvel, eyeing the mole under my eye and my lips, nodding approvingly.
“Our customers’ll love you. Sorry to Kang, but I hit the jackpot, kid~!”
He rambled on. Knowing I’d have to take male clients too, I didn’t ask much. Doubling up was fine, customer management was on the hosts, and settlements were every Wednesday.
He didn’t care if I sold my body or dated, just don’t get caught hooking up with other hosts. Fights over that—grabbing customers’ hair—happened too often. If I got caught, I’d face the “big uncles.”
“Big uncles?”
“Yeah, Han hyung’s boys. Coastal guys—tough and scary. Don’t get caught, got it?”
My eyes sank. Han Doopil’s crew meant the boss’s men.
“What should I call you?”
I almost said “Sunjung” but shut my mouth fast. Back then, it was from seeing a Sunjung Loans sign at the terminal, but nothing caught my eye now.
Funnily, a sentence popped into my head.
“That dog’s name was Songi. Like snowflake Songi.”
A pretty dog the boss said he’d raised.
“Like snowflakes settling.”
The bastard who treated me like a dead dog.
And I was still a dog on his leash.
“Call me Songi.”
“Songi? Cute. Alright, Songi it is.”
Im took my number. No separate contract needed. He showed me the host waiting room. A guy called the madam saw me and approached.
As business started, phones rang everywhere, like always. The young guys from the park were on theirs too. I sat on the yellow linoleum floor of the waiting room, awaiting a call.
Still nothing from Jaehoon. He’d seen my texts but didn’t reply. Did he know I’d ended up like this? Or was he laying low because the boss’s men already got to him?
No clue. Didn’t matter. Even if I reached him, he couldn’t pull me out, and pretending otherwise wouldn’t get me to Seoul. As the cigarette smoke thickened, the madam called my name.
Hosts eating rushed to rinse their mouths and left the room.
Phone in hand, I stood. Squeezing between shorter hosts, I lined up. The room door opened, and I pressed down teary eyes, forcing a bright smile.
The second time I threw up. Back from the bathroom, a young host next to me chugged watered-down whiskey and started groping a limp woman’s chest. Sucking her dark areolas with his mouth open, shoving a hand between her legs, the sour stench made me gag.
“Our Songi!! Over here!!”
This place was pure trash. Even group orgies wouldn’t be this unhygienic. At least today, female customers streamed in, sparing me dark dicks. I slid beside a woman, pulling her into my arms. Smelling cheap hairspray, she undid my belt, trying to bury her head.
“Let’s see that dick. Dick! Gotta eat Songi’s dick! Where, where~ how big is it~!!”
She sang, unzipping me. Over fifty, she wiped red lips and sniffed my briefs. Another host and customer were already fucking, while across, a pair spread legs wide, teasing with fingers.
“Sis.”
I politely called the customer sniffing my pubes, tongue out. I’d already puked, so I was sober.
“Sis, show me your face.”
At my call, the drunk woman looked up. Seeing her tattooed eyes, she cooed fakely.
“Why~~ I wanna eat dick too! Everyone’s eating, and I’m left out.”
True, she was today’s table bankroller. She’d hit a savings club payout and brought her crew, fine—but giving me two 50,000-won bills to suck and fuck? I’m not popping a boner for chump change.
I could, but starting my first day cheap wouldn’t earn shit. With a mountain of debt, how’d that work?
She caught on quick, smacking her lips and pulling out a gold wallet. Offering another 50,000, I grinned, pulled her up, and stood.
“What! Songi~ not enough? That’s it?”
“Fifty grand won’t even get a song, but you’re so pretty, I’ll sing for you.”
“No song~ let me eat Songi’s dick~!!”
“Sure, be a regular, and I’ll stick it in.”
I placed a hand on her bony ass, thrusting my hips. She clung to me, delighted.
“Be my regular, and I’ll water your flowerbed full, sis.”
I grabbed the mic, punched in a number. As the track started, I held her and sang. The room’s sour bodily fluids and fucking noises drowned in my voice, but suddenly, she sobbed in my arms.
A woman with a heavy story, comforted by a guy younger than her son, wept through the night. Knowing dawn would bring grimy reality, she buried herself in me, tears flowing. Black streaks ran down my white shirt. A customer done fucking wiped his crotch and passed the glass again.
Boring, stale scenes—third-rate or first-rate, all the same. The bare face behind the glamour. As my song ended, the others tidied their crotches. Wiping wet hands on towels, kissing, taking tips.
Glasses circled again. I drank shitty liquor and saw the customer off.
Dawn came with loud noises. A fight broke out somewhere—hair-pulling, glass shattering. I didn’t care, heading to the waiting room. No clue how many calls I’d run with the dawn shift. Counting the cash in my pocket, I’d made over 300,000 won.
At this rate, with TC runs, I could cover monthly interest, but my body wouldn’t hold up.
Dazed, I drank water and left the room. The fight escalated, shouts calling for uncles.
I told the manager at the counter I’d step out. “Hurry back if a customer calls,” was the last I heard before heading to the stairs, when dark figures climbed up.
Uncles summoned by the ruckus. I stepped aside against the wall, then saw a familiar face.
A round, shaved head—Jang Wooseong. Fast and light among the bulky guys, he locked eyes with me.
But he looked away first. Like he didn’t know me, he passed by. It felt weird. Him avoiding my gaze overlapped with the guy who’d called me “Boss.”
“…”
After Jang Wooseong and the uncles vanished, I stood still for a moment. This was the change, the right outcome, yet I groaned. I’d fought the boss for this, but couldn’t accept this small shift—my pride stung, teeth clenched, nose tingling at my own stupidity.
I descended the stairs, breathing cold air. Looking up, stars shone. Below, the Moment sign and customers stepping from taxis. I slipped into an alley. Hand on my gut, the booze-warmed stomach felt hot. Exhaling, I heard footsteps.
Turning instinctively, I saw Seungkwan. He passed by with a guy under his arm. Wondering if the manager knew he was messing around, they entered the alley.
Unaware someone was there, Seungkwan pinned the guy to the wall and kissed him out of nowhere. The sound of lips sucking in cold air mixed with a meaty smell—pork fat, like they’d eaten samgyeong. They went at it for a while.
“If your wife finds out, I’m dead.”
“She knows I do this.”
“Knowing’s one thing—doing it near the bar, right in front of it, is another?”
“What can I do? Got warned, can’t even go near the slaughterhouse.”
“So who told you to fuck up? No money for a motel—seriously?”
I was dumbfounded. A laugh escaped. Hearing it, they noticed me and yelped.
“Oh my!”
“Who’s there!”
Who else? The guy you interviewed this afternoon, asshole.
I stepped from the shadows into the streetlight. Recognizing me, Seungkwan flinched, stepping back before speaking.
“Oh, a host. Started today.”
“Keep going. I don’t care at all.”
I passed the meat-stinking pair. The guy kissing Seungkwan turned, asking, “Who?” as I walked off.
Then Seungkwan called me.
“Hey.”
Hey?
Ignoring him, he said it again, “Hey.” I turned slowly, giving his ugly face a crooked look.
“Business good at the bar…”
“Who’s ‘hey’?”
His eyes widened at my words.
“What?”
“Who’re you calling ‘hey’? Even the manager doesn’t call me that—what’re you to do it?”
“Look at this punk!”
“You know my name.”
“Huh. What kinda bastard…”
Muttering, he stomped toward me. His heavy steps and reaching hand looked ready to grab my collar.
“Touch me, and you’ll pay a dog’s price.”
He froze.
“No motel money—got cash for a dog’s price?”
“You little…”
“What kinda bastard, huh?”
I stepped closer. Even if he didn’t come, I’d let him grab me, and said,
“Yeah, that’s me. People call guys like me ‘done for.’”
So go ahead, hit me. Mess with me. I’ve sunk this low—I’ll show you what I’m made of, whether it’s a fellow host or the manager, doesn’t matter.
“…This… what… this…”
“But you can’t touch me. If you do, your wife’ll fuck you up first.”
He couldn’t argue, raking his hair back, cursing nonstop. The guy against the wall tried dragging him off, but pride made him snap, “Let go!” and throw a fit.
“So call me by my name from now on, mister.”
You fucking bastard! he roared as the wall guy clung to him. I watched the old, ugly guy freak out with dead eyes, then left the alley. Feeling slightly better, a scream—“No!!”—rang out. Turning, I saw Seungkwan charging with a brick.
“You fucking punk!”
Raising my arm to block, he flew back. It happened too fast. His scream erupted, and I realized Jang Wooseong had stepped in.
The brick dropped from Seungkwan’s hand. Jang Wooseong brushed blood off his knuckles and approached me.
“Be careful. This is the last time.”
My heart thudded. As he left, Seungkwan’s bloodied face glared at me.
“You… what… kinda bastard are you…”
Yeah, what am I?
I lowered my head. Instead of answering, I pocketed my hands and slowly walked back into the bar.
Drunk, I staggered to the inn. At Queens, a young uncle drove hosts home in a van, but here, nothing. No group meals after closing—once customers dried up, the manager bailed, and hosts left on their own.
The snacks were tasteless garbage. Eating a few fruit slices left my stomach burning. Wanting to sober up, I wandered into a 24-hour diner, ordering ramen and kimbap.
Sipping broth, my phone rang.
It was Jaehoon. Silent all day, he called at dawn.
—Heading home?
“Yeah, sorta.”
He paused.
—Where you at?
“Yeonsan.”
—Hoo.
His sigh matched mine.
—When’d you go down there?
“Few weeks ago.”
Jaehoon lit a cigarette. I set down my spoon, leaning on the table, and continued.
“People looking for me went to you, right?”
—Fuck. Who’d you get tangled with? Why’re those bastards after you? They’re not just thugs—they’re pros. Not the shoulder uncles we know. Hey, …what the hell you doing there?
Worried, he rambled. He thought sending me there caused this, that I’d fucked up over money.
—What’d you need money for there… Ha. Fuck. You don’t gamble or do drugs. You get a girl there?
Sighing, I pushed my hair back.
“No girl.”
—No girl! Then why’re those fuckers after you! ‘Where’s Lee Soyoon?’—knife to my throat, everyone in the room saw! Just me? Boss and manager tied up too, three days straight, couldn’t leave! Scared shitless… I really didn’t know where you were—what was I supposed to do! They tried killing us all, lighting charcoal in a tiny room, you know that??
It was grim. Worse than I’d imagined.
“Sorry, hyung.”
—Don’t just say sorry!! Tell me who you’re mixed up with!!
I don’t know. Who he is, how to explain him, what we are now—I don’t know, hyung.
“…Got some debt. Gotta stay here till I pay it off. I’ll earn at this place for now, maybe move later.”
Even saying it felt hopeless. Could I move? Would moving clear the debt? I’d need to scam, but would there be a mark? No clue yet.
—How much?
“You can’t fix it.”
—How much, damn it! You’ve got sisters looking for you. I’ll scrape some cash…
“Four hundred million.”
Silence. Then, Fuck, that’s shitty.
“I’ll pay what I can. Gotta figure it out.”
—Hey!!
“Calling, whatever—I’m done. Even Park Joon eating my deposit and bolting didn’t stop it. Just sell my body, scam. That’s how I live.”
I stared at the cold, bloated ramen. Uneaten, discarded—just like me.
“What can I do? Can’t even die, so I gotta live.”
My mouth felt bloody saying it. His name stuck in my throat—I wanted to rip it out.
—I’ll look into it.
No need. I said it. Guilty for ghosting, Jaehoon offered short-term cash. I couldn’t refuse.
Call ended, a text came soon after. He’d sent 300,000 won.
The sky, cloudy since morning, started snowing.
Watching snow fall blankly, I got out of a taxi. Guys gathered outside the building—not smoking, just standing in the cold. Why not go up? Then a loud voice boomed. Something crashed, followed by a plea to live.
“What’s that?”
A host answered.
“Manager’s flipping out.”
“Why?”
“Assistant Manager Lee… slept here last night, I guess. Got caught.”
Last night flashed back. Fighting me in that narrow alley, beat by Jang Wooseong. Pummeled and gone—or so I thought. Back to the bar?
“Slept here and got caught how…”
Then an “Aaaah!” and curses, likely Seungkwan’s. Moments later, someone was dragged out by the hair. Panting, it was the manager; in underwear, flung to the ground, it was the guy with Seungkwan yesterday.
“You fucking bitch! Sleeping with my man wasn’t enough—you fuck in my bar?!”
Right at clock-in, I saw shit I shouldn’t. A lover’s spat at the place I had to work—irritation surged. Seeing Seungkwan stumble out, it looked like he got caught mid-fuck. No motel money, and now this mess.
The absurdity wrinkled my brow. Annoyed, I headed inside, locking eyes with Seungkwan. About to climb the stairs, I snapped,
“If you’re incompetent, at least be a good shutter-man.”
“…”
“Leeching off others—what’s this?”
No opening yet, and this crap promised a bad day. I didn’t care what he did, but since Jang Wooseong beat him, he’d been weirdly tangled with me.
“Don’t screw over others.”
His eyes shot up fiercely. Whatever he wanted to say, he knew I saw him as trash.
“You. Ran off and got dragged back, huh?”
I snorted. That’s all he had?
“So? What’s that to you, Seungkwan?”
“You fell out with the boss, right?”
“So? What’s your point?”
Boss talk pissed me off. My commute was shitty enough without getting shittier.
“What’s that got to do with me making money here?”
He couldn’t answer. Thinking I’d quake at that made me madder.
Unable to hold back, I kicked scattered junk aside. It clattered past his legs. Startled, he flinched—even that pissed me off.
“Don’t mess with the hosts—go home.”
I glared at the man with the intensity of someone about to spit on the floor. Lee Seungkwan stared back at me for a long while too. Soon after, the hosts who had been standing outside in the cold shuffled inside, grumbling. I shook my head in disgust as well, shuddering.
It was supposed to be 7 p.m. when business started.
When it rains, customers flock in; when it snows, they thin out.
Everyone knows the warmth of a heated floor, so on a cold day, staying home is simply better.
I checked my empty phone and asked the kitchen auntie to fry me an egg. Leaning against the wall, a ding sounded.
[Hyung. It’s me, Yeonwoo.]
As soon as I saw the text, I pressed the call button.
“Hey, hyung. Where are you right now?”
“Moment.”
At my reply, Ji Yeonwoo clicked his tongue and said something.
“So you really ended up going there?”
Ji Yeonwoo said he’d heard it from the manager and suggested we meet for a drink since the weather was shitty anyway.
“If it’s slow with customers, sneak out. I’ll treat.”
“Alright, send me the location.”
The call ended, and I immediately prepared to leave. When I told the madam I was clocking out, she gave me a sour look. She said something about how customers might come looking for me later, but I was more curious about news from Queens. I zipped up my jacket, took a taxi, and headed to the meeting spot.
The place Ji Yeonwoo told me to come to was a shellfish grill restaurant. It was a spacious spot, with smoke rising from various corners.
“Hyung, over here.”
“You holding up okay?”
“Don’t even get me started. You wouldn’t believe how many assholes have clung to me since you left. Just the other day, I almost got my head smashed by a customer.”
Ji Yeonwoo carried his usual lighthearted vibe as he rattled off what had been happening. Most of it was about the manager and Han Doopil, and how some new host was stirring up trouble left and right. He said the guy came from Seoul like me and strutted around so arrogantly that Yeonwoo wanted to punch him. Last time, after closing, they were all eating together when the guy started fighting with the manager, and the uncles came up and dragged the manager out.
“Anyway, ever since that bastard showed up, the vibe’s been total shit, I’m telling you.”
“What’s his name?”
“No clue. Don’t even wanna say it. His ugly mug’s so damn sneaky-looking too. Get this—he even put a dot under his eye to copy you.”
I was so dumbfounded I stopped mid-sip of my drink.
“He says since I’m from Seoul and used to work at a high-end bar, a lot of customers think of me as ‘Sunjung,’ but this guy’s basically going around acting like he’s Sunjung. Crazy psycho bastard.”
I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“I don’t even get what you’re saying.”
“So, in short, he’s trying to catch the boss’s eye.”
“…”
“With Hyun hyung going to Versace and you disappearing too…”
Oh. That’s when I realized why Ji Yeonwoo had sought me out. In other words, rumors had spread. There was this host the boss used to keep close, but lately, no one’s seen them together, so people figured he got dumped.
“He’s copying me?”
“That’s right. Heard it from customers—put a dot under his eye, wears a white suit, even styles his hair like you.”
“So he’s not doing it for the customers, but to get in the boss’s good graces. That’s what you mean, right?”
Ji Yeonwoo didn’t deny it. He tossed back his drink, furrowed his brow, and said,
“I don’t know what his deal is. But it’s true he’s copying you, and it’s true he’s going around saying he’s Sunjung. The boss… I don’t know. Not sure if he knows you and the boss had that kind of relationship or whatever. Anyway, what I’m curious about is how the hell you ended up at Moment…!”
That’s when it happened. A group of men in black suits stormed into the restaurant. Everyone’s eyes naturally turned toward them.
“Hyung, don’t look.”
Suddenly, Ji Yeonwoo whipped his face away and whispered.
“What? What’s up?”
“Don’t look. Let’s get outta here. Somewhere else.”
Ji Yeonwoo stood up, acting cautious. Just as I wondered what was going on, a huge man strode into the restaurant.
It was impossible not to notice him—it was Joo Geonwoo. Dressed in a long black coat, his handsome face stood out from afar, exuding a menacing aura.
“Hyung, I’ll pay and head out, so step outside first.”
“Why do we need to avoid him?”
“Well…”
That’s when the boss’s head turned our way. I don’t know if he spotted me. He shifted his gaze back forward and walked further into the restaurant, and I felt an absurd laugh bubbling up between my lips.
It was a feeling I’d never experienced in my life. Wondering if he’d seen me and pretended not to was ridiculous—I stood up and walked outside. As Ji Yeonwoo finished paying and we crossed the threshold together, someone spoke.
“Oh? Yeonwoo? You said you were clocking out early—came here?”
It sounded like he’d run into someone he knew. But then Yeonwoo suddenly pushed me behind him.
“Oh, hyung, you’re here too?”
“Yeah. It’s snowing, and the boss had a meeting, so I tagged along. Who’s that?”
I couldn’t see his face, but from Yeonwoo’s reaction, I had a guess. From the instincts I’d honed eating with hosts, it was probably that guy copying me.
“Nah, hyung, see you tomorrow. Have fun.”
Ji Yeonwoo shoved me out through the open door. With a thud, I stepped outside, and the cold air slapped my face. But Yeonwoo only knew half the story. Avoiding notice now didn’t guarantee it’d stay that way.
The moment I stepped out, I locked eyes with Baekil, the guy with a long scar across his mouth, like it was fate.
“…”
Baekil saw me exiting with Yeonwoo and said nothing. He just stood there, puffing white breath as always, looking down at me.
“Oh. Hello.”
Even at Yeonwoo’s greeting, Kalbang didn’t shift his gaze. Yeonwoo grabbed me and started dragging me toward the road. As he pulled me along, he kept cursing the host copying me.
“Ugh, running into that psycho here of all places! Man, what a jinxed bastard! Who the hell does he think he is, following the boss here?! Ugh, fuck, that crazy asshole…”
I slapped Yeonwoo’s hand off. As I shook free of his grip, he whipped his head around.
“Huh? Hyung?”
“Hang on, I’ve got something to say.”
“Huh? Hyung, where you going! Where you headed!”
I walked back down the path I’d been dragged from and stood in front of Kalbang. He stayed put, as if he’d known I’d come, waiting there.
“I know you don’t wanna talk to me, but there’s still some unfinished business.”
“…”
“The video. I asked Han Doopil, and he said to talk to the boss about it.”
Kalbang tilted his head toward me, signaling to go on.
“Ask him how much I need to pay in a lump sum to get it deleted.”
“…”
“That way I can figure out how much I need to scrape together.”
That was all I had to say. I wasn’t about to argue I couldn’t pay, and my hellish rock-bottom life had already begun.
“So get me an answer quick.”
I turned away. I didn’t know how much the boss would demand or what he’d say, but I wanted it resolved fast. If I had to shoot porn, how much would I charge? Jaehoon hyung said he’d gather some cash— if it’s even a few million, getting that video deleted first would ease my mind…
“Just one word.”
That’s when Kalbang spoke.
“That’d do it, right?”
I glared at him.
“You’re not clueless, so why drag it out?”
The boss’s right-hand man scraped at my pride with a razor. I wasn’t dumb enough to miss the implication—that my pride wasn’t worth shit. One word, the one the boss wanted to hear, could get me forgiven for everything, so why cling to worthless pride?
Still, I didn’t answer. Instead, I wanted to storm into the restaurant and spit in the boss’s face.
Don’t make me laugh.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
You’ll never get an apology from me, even if you drop dead and come back.
Knowing what he wanted, I bit my lip hard. Turning my back on Kalbang, I kept walking, grinding my teeth into my inner lip.
“Hyung, what’d you talk about?”
I didn’t answer Yeonwoo’s question either. My mouth tore, pain mixing with the taste of blood.
“Man, that guy’s fucking scary. When he beats people, it’s precise as hell. Like a machine.”
No, I’m the machine. I’ve turned into one now, just earning money.
“But hyung, the boss today…”
When I didn’t react, Yeonwoo shut up. The rumors floating around had now become fact, and Yeonwoo confirmed with his own eyes that the boss and I were done. Plus, that copycat host had gone inside, so the story of the boss moving on would solidify.
“Nah, let’s just drink, hyung.”
“…Yeah… let’s go.”
Like Yeonwoo said, drinking was the answer. I wanted to get far from this place. Climbing into a taxi, I clenched my fist.
What Kalbang said stuck in my chest.
Kalbang delivered my words exactly as I’d asked. Sure enough, after closing, a text from Han Doopil arrived.
[The boss says come to the office. Stop by before work.]
Seeing the text, my heart thudded. Bitterness swirled in my mouth as tension rose. I’d brought it up, but now that a response came, my head spun.
“Songi, today’s table runs. It’s exactly 250,000 won, so here…”
“Just give me whatever.”
The madam’s words didn’t fully register. Normally, I’d take every last 1,000-won note, but I took what she gave and left. Even after a taxi dropped me at the inn, the tension didn’t ease.
Morning came, and I lit a cigarette. There was no point guessing what to say. He’d secretly filmed us having sex without my consent, kept it, and was using it as leverage for a veiled threat—I was the clear victim.
Plus, I had to find a compromise with this guy who’d fabricated a debt with absurd calculations.
Hoo, my eyes turned red with rising frustration again. But I couldn’t stay upset forever, so I got ready.
Arriving at the Queens building, I took the elevator up. When the doors opened, a thug guarding the office widened his eyes. Not expecting me, he looked flustered but stepped aside.
I walked down the hall and opened the middle of three doors.
In a room with light streaming in, Han Doopil and the boss sat. Even though I opened the door without knocking, they weren’t startled.
“Boss, I’ll head downstairs then.”
As if their talk had just wrapped up, he gathered some ledgers. Tucking thick stacks under his arm, he passed me, and the boss’s gaze slowly turned toward me.
“You told me to come, so here I am.”
“You’re the one who wanted to meet, Lee Soyoon-ssi.”
He no longer called me Sunjung. Fair enough—being called that now, when I wasn’t anymore, would feel even more pathetic.
“That video you secretly filmed hasn’t been sorted out. You took it without my consent, so delete it.”
No answer came right away. As if expecting this, the boss crossed his legs and tilted his head leisurely.
“You’ve ended up in a funny spot. Not long ago, you were insisting you weren’t a whore.”
“…”
“Filmed in a sex tape, getting pounded by a guy. What’s the Seoul pretty boy’s pride gonna do about it?”
I’d anticipated his mockery too. Knowing he wouldn’t delete it easily, I walked to the sofa and stood before him, saying,
“You’re the one who stabbed me in the back, boss. Filming me without me knowing, planning to spread it around.”
“Spread it? That’s a stretch. I said I filmed it for my personal collection.”
“So you’re admitting you filmed it secretly?”
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Thinking I couldn’t push back because he’d done it too, he rubbed his sharp eyes and said,
“Guys like us all do the same shit. I told you—don’t expect an apology from me. Get used to a thug like me.”
For a moment, I nearly snapped. I wanted to let it all out, but I’d come prepared.
“I don’t need an apology. I’d rather settle it with money than hope for that. You’re not someone important to me, so what’s the point of expecting anything?”
His eyes twisted instantly. Ignoring it, I pressed on.
“Last year was a fucking disaster for me. You know that, right? When I got hauled to the police station as a drug smuggler. That hit me so hard I almost lost my mind. But maybe it was a blessing—like it was just a bad streak, so I’m trying to move past it.”
“Big balls on you.”
“My dick’s big too.”
“I know Lee Soyoon-ssi’s dick is big. It’s so damn stimulating when it rubs against me, swelling up like it’s gonna burst with piss.”
His crude words actually made me feel better. Yeah, this was more like Joo Geonwoo. Better than when he watched me come back to life in the hospital with those snake-like eyes.
“So delete the video. I’ll pay you back.”
His eyes were truly serpentine. Glinting slickly as they scanned me, I clenched my teeth to not flinch, but he opened his mouth like he knew even that.
“Guess you don’t remember, but you can’t deal with me, Lee Soyoon-ssi. You’ve got nothing to bargain with. No matter how tasty your big dick is, it won’t pay my money back.”
I know. 400 million isn’t pocket change. But it’s not impossible either.
“I’ll pay it even if it’s tough. I won’t beg you. Won’t ask for a discount either. Won’t run, of course. If I think of it as money I’m throwing at myself for once finding comfort in being tangled with trash like you, that’s that.”
For a brief time, I’d found comfort in being under Boss Joo’s wing—that’s how I saw this money I was throwing at myself. I wouldn’t question why I had to pay or if it was even legit.
“So delete that video you’re holding onto one-sidedly. Whether I sell my body or my organs, I’ll handle it, so let’s wrap this up. You said it yourself—that video’s just insurance, not something to cling to.”
I knew exposing him as a filthy, vile person wouldn’t faze him. Still, I wanted him to know how low he was.
“You drag people into the gutter, make them film porn on their own, and you’re no different from an old madam luring young guys into hosting with money. Debating who’s worse is pointless. So delete the video.”
“…”
“I’ll pay you back every cent and leave this shitty town on my own.”
With a trembling sneer, the boss shut his mouth quietly. Seemingly struck by being lumped with Madam Jeong, his stiff lips pulled out some papers.
“Four hundred million.”
“…”
“No point asking how I calculated it. It’s just a number I pulled based on my own standards. Considering the manpower, time, and effort I spent after you vanished, it’s nothing. And only this much can offset the time you spent fucking around with a filthy bastard like me, right, Lee Soyoon-ssi?”
He tossed the papers onto the wine-colored desk with a thud. I grabbed them quickly and looked inside. Nothing was written—just my name, ID number, and hospital records.
Then he called, “Baekil.” The door opened, and Kalbang approached, handing him something. A black USB. Holding it, the boss continued.
“Here’s the deal: release this video, and it drops to 300 million. Sign with me to shoot porn, it’s 200 million. Two films, 100 million. Three films, and you’re free to go. Or, if you wanna clear it in one shot, do a hardcore one. The new Chinese investors I’ve hooked up with like the rough stuff.”
I’d asked him to delete it, but he was spouting nonsense. I’d clearly said I’d pay to have it erased, yet he was babbling about porn.
“But Lee Soyoon-ssi.”
He plopped the USB on the desk with a thud.
“You haven’t seen this yet, have you?”
“…!”
“You’d check out a product before buying it, or at least preview a movie before paying. Why not say you wanna see it? Just asking me to delete it without looking—think that’ll work?”
I was floored. When I’d asked to see it, he’d acted like he’d kill me. The day he told them to dunk me was the same day I’d said I wanted to check it. He’d flipped out then, and now he pulls this?
“Baekil, you’ve seen it, right?”
“No need to make a fuss about it now.”
“You’ve got weird tastes, so you probably kept it. What’d you think? Who’s Lee Soyoon screwing in it?”
“My memory’s fuzzy lately. The guy getting fucked underneath is definitely Lee Soyoon-ssi, but the one pounding on top—I couldn’t quite tell.”
What bullshit was this now? They were playing ping-pong like it was scripted, and I felt my sanity slipping.
“Well, I’d recognize myself, but to others, it might not be clear who I am.”
“Guess since Lee Soyoon-ssi’s the star, the focus is on him, so you’re not as visible, boss. You said it was for your personal stash, so naturally, the other guy’s face stands out more.”
“Right, my face doesn’t sell, but Lee Soyoon-ssi’s face underneath does. Drop it as a thumbnail, and plenty of people would come running.”
Bang! I couldn’t hold back and kicked his desk. Humiliation and rage had already boiled over. Normally, I’d toy with someone, piss them off, and make them self-destruct—I’d never lost a fight that way.
But Joo Geonwoo was on another level. Then again, this bastard wasn’t even human to me anymore.
“Delete the video!!”
“Lee Soyoon-ssi, thrashing around won’t do shit.”
“It’s a hidden camera without consent!! You filmed it on your own!!”
He didn’t blink. Even if I swung a knife, it wouldn’t change a thing. From the start, he’d never planned to show or delete it. He just wanted to keep me in his grip, torment me, and make me crumble under the fear of an unknown video.
I couldn’t think of any other explanation. The terror and pressure of something unseen were beyond imagination. But even if that unimaginable fear killed me, I wouldn’t kneel before Joo Geonwoo.
I ground my teeth hard. Glaring murderously at Joo Geonwoo, clutching that black USB.
What had I even expected? He’d always been this kind of bastard. A subhuman thing born in a dumpster, unaware he’s trash.
I’d known he was like this from the start, known I’d lose no matter how I fought back since stabbing my gut, yet I was the fucking idiot holding onto a shred of hope.
“I don’t need it. I don’t need any of it, so do whatever the hell you want!”