PAHO 81

The Autumn Games had a so-called ticketing system. Spectators could bet coins on their desired candidates by purchasing tickets, which was a factor that fueled the heated competition.

Meanwhile, at Uiyeonggwan, in order to prepare for a situation where the odds were skewed toward a specific person due to coins being concentrated on a likely winner, they disguised special police unit members as competitors and mixed them into the preliminary and final tournament brackets. These were the shills.

“It used to be a bloody battle, a free-for-all, but I hear it’s not like that these days. They say that as sponsors increased and the scale grew, they even hired bookers like in American pro wrestling and created separate scenarios. There are even rumors that they pre-determine the likely rankings all the way up to the semifinals and draw up the tournament brackets accordingly.”

After hearing Ma Jaewan’s explanation, I felt like I understood why the interest of the lofty capitalists in the Autumn Games was particularly high. They had not come to see a mere martial arts tournament, but had chosen Nakdo and Uiyeonggwan as a single, enormous marketplace. Indeed, it wasn’t as if there were no matches at all on a regular basis, and it was unlikely that so many tourists would flock here just to watch a single fight.

“If you’re interested in participating as a Copper, Officer Nam, you should try applying. I think registration is until today. A senior who participated the year before last said they give a really big bonus based on the profit scale. I don’t know for sure since I haven’t received the official contract yet, but I heard it could be up to a hundred million.”

At the dizzying number of a hundred million (億), his impassive face momentarily grew heavy. It was likely the price for stepping into the ring himself, enduring things like injuries and having his face exposed to an unspecified number of people. But with that money, couldn’t he be of some help to Nam Haejin right away? He could settle the accumulated medical bills, and Haejin could attend private academies like his other peers. Swallowing hard, Nam Gyeonhwa soon shook his head.

“First of all, I don’t think I meet the conditions, as I’m not an official member yet.”

“No, you don’t. Officer Nam Gyeonhwa’s name was on the special police unit list.”

Taking out his phone, he launched a security application, swiped quickly through the sections, and then showed him a screen. Among the list of official members arranged in alphabetical order under the heading “Special Operations Division Member Status,” Nam Gyeonhwa’s name was also listed. They had said at the medical center that he was listed as belonging to the special police unit, and it seemed his name was really on the personnel roster. The fact that he belonged to an organization felt both good and awkward, and Nam Gyeonhwa, with a rather complicated expression, looked at the screen before pushing the phone away.

“…As my duty, the Director’s security comes first, so it would be difficult for me to recklessly participate in other matters.”

“Ah, right. I guess since you’ll have to perform security duties frequently during that period, standing in the ring would be a bit much.”

If he were alone, what would it matter, but Nam Gyeonhwa was strictly under a certain contract with Na Taebeom. If he were to participate in the Autumn Games as a shill on his own authority in such a situation, things could get complicated due to unforeseen variables, and the blame for that would naturally be directed at Nam Gyeonhwa. No, it would be a relief if he only had to take all the responsibility himself; innocent Nam Haejin could end up getting caught in the crossfire. Even though he was desperate for every penny, as long as they weren’t struggling to get by, there was no need to act recklessly. The food, clothing, and shelter he was currently enjoying were provided on the condition that Na Taebeom would protect Nam Haejin. So he had no desire to needlessly get on Na Taebeom’s bad side.

“It’s a little disappointing. It would have been nice to prepare together.”

Ma Jaewan smiled sheepishly. Nam Gyeonhwa, who had set down his spoon, silently rinsed his mouth with water. Even though he had made a firm decision, his mouth somehow tasted bitter.

Coming out of the shower room, Nam Gyeonhwa was drying his wet hair with a towel when he suddenly checked his right arm. The medicated patches, stuck on like bandages from his wrist to his elbow, were soggy and tattered from the water. Nam Gyeonhwa grabbed the edge and slowly peeled off a patch. The skin pulled taut, and the red, swollen back of his arm stung. He shook his right wrist from side to side. It wasn’t severely painful, but as his participation in high-intensity training had recently increased, the sensation in his right arm seemed heavier than before.

That was not all. Inside his bag in the locker, there was a heap of medicine prescribed for his recent cold and body aches, still in the packet. It was because he had been given iron supplements and multivitamins all at once for signs of anemia and suspected malnutrition. He had thought he had a healthy constitution his whole life, but since coming to Nakdo, various parts of his body had strangely been unwell. To say it was from overwork—he had never slept deeply his entire life, so what had changed that he would get a nosebleed from just slight overexertion? Last time, for instance, he had not even imagined his cold and body aches would get that severe.

Thanks to Na Taebeom’s whimsical visit that day, his cold symptoms fortunately got better quickly, but his physical recovery was still slow. He knew in his head that he had to take care of his body as much as possible to avoid suddenly collapsing like last time, but it was not easy to actually look after himself. He felt he had to do something by carving out time in the early morning, making it difficult to sleep peacefully at night, and he had little interest in eating, so it had long been a habit to find something cheap and just get it over with. He would not mind spending hundreds or thousands on Nam Haejin, but he felt it was a waste to spend money on himself, so there was nothing to be done.

The main building was quite quiet, as if most of the special police unit members had already returned to the dorms. As Nam Gyeonhwa was heading down to the entrance, he suddenly felt a distinct presence to his side and turned his head. Whistle. Na Taebeom, who had whistled crudely, slightly lowered the tinted sunglasses he was wearing.

“You’re finally out.”

Instead of the cliché question of what he was doing here, Nam Gyeonhwa’s gaze fell on the unfamiliar structure placed like a stand behind him. It was a motorcycle he had never seen before. With a black body and hints of light orange here and there, it had a sleek appearance that made it look almost like a crustacean. It was flashy and looked expensive at a glance. Judging by the size of the fuel tank and exhaust pipe, it seemed to be a middleweight, but did he know how to ride a motorcycle in addition to driving a car?

“…You must have been busy. It’s been hard to see your face.”

Instead of expressing his interest in the motorcycle, Nam Gyeonhwa asked after Na Taebeom. Na Taebeom grinned.

“Yeah, I was a bit busy. It’s full of guys who can’t do anything without me.”

Licking his lips, he nonchalantly moved away from the motorcycle he had been leaning on. At the exaggerated movement, as if he were boasting, Nam Gyeonhwa feigned ignorance and gestured at the motorcycle with his eyes.

“What’s that motorcycle? I haven’t seen it before.”

“This?”

Grinning as if it were the reaction he wanted, Na Taebeom tapped the windshield on the front of the motorcycle.

“It’s probably been about an hour since I bought it. They said it was good in both performance and design among the ones that came out this year, so I bought it, but it was surprisingly expensive for something with two wheels.”

“They’re usually like that. Some of them can cost up to the hundreds of millions depending on their features…. Anyway, I didn’t know you could ride a motorcycle, Director.”

“Me? I don’t know how.”

“Huh?”

At the unexpected answer, Nam Gyeonhwa stared blankly, blinking. If he did not even know how to ride, why did he buy a professional-grade motorcycle, not something like a scooter? He did not seem to have a hobby of collecting motorcycles. Before he could even process the question, Na Taebeom tossed something he was holding in his hand toward Nam Gyeonhwa. Catching it reflexively, Nam Gyeonhwa examined the white puppy doll in his hand. To be precise, it was a motorcycle key that used a puppy doll the size of a fist as a decorative chain.

“You said the puppy knows how to ride a motorcycle.”

Na Taebeom slapped the driver’s seat with his palm.

“Get on.”

“…Get on?”

“I gave you the key. Check if the engine starts.”

Awkwardly fiddling with the motorcycle key in his hand, Nam Gyeonhwa slowly approached Na Taebeom. He carefully got on the motorcycle, inserted the key, and started the engine. Vroom. A clean exhaust sound erupted, and at the same time, the dashboard lit up.

“What do you think.”

Na Taebeom, leaning his arm on the motorcycle’s cowling, asked casually. Nam Gyeonhwa, who had been repeatedly gripping and releasing both handlebars, nodded his head.

“…It’s good. The grips are a perfect fit for an adult man’s hands, the vibration is stable, and only the necessary parts are installed without being excessive, so it won’t be a burden when speeding up.”

“So, in short, it’s good?”

“It is, but one this big is a bit heavy for a beginner to ride, so if you’re planning on riding it, Director, you should try riding another bike first to get used to it…”

“I told you. I don’t know how to ride. And why would I learn to ride a motorcycle? The puppy can drive for me.”

“Me?”

“Since we’re on the subject, give me a ride home.”

Nam Gyeonhwa, whose body was naturally pushed forward because Na Taebeom had hopped onto the back seat, looked back with a bewildered expression. Why is this so uncomfortable? Na Taebeom, who had nonchalantly picked up the helmet hanging on the side, grumbled as he undid the haphazardly fastened belt. Sighing, Nam Gyeonhwa spoke.

“Are you being serious?”

“Do you think I’m joking? I didn’t bring my car, either. This is the only thing we can ride right now. Or are you telling me to walk?”

From the special police unit headquarters to Uiyeonggwan, the distance was barely over 2 kilometers, even including the tunnel. It was a short distance that could be covered quickly on foot, so the request to give him a ride on a motorcycle was absurd, but he had no particular argument against it. With no other choice, Nam Gyeonhwa took a helmet and put it on, then checked in the side mirror to see if Na Taebeom had put his helmet on properly before gripping the handlebars.

Even when riding on the back seat, if it was one’s first time on a motorcycle, a sudden increase in speed could cause one to lose balance and have an accident. Judging by his clumsy posture, it seemed he had never ridden a motorcycle before, so Nam Gyeonhwa was deliberately maintaining a safe speed when Na Taebeom, who had flipped up his helmet shield, spoke brusquely.

“Why is this so slow?”

“I’m keeping the speed down on purpose. So you don’t fall.”

“Fall? You said you know how to ride.”

“Not me. I’m talking about you, Director. Even with the tandem belt on, a sudden increase in speed might be hard to get used to.”

“Whatever, just go faster. What’s the point of a motorcycle if it’s slower than a tractor?”

So that’s how you want to play it. Momentarily stopping the motorcycle, Nam Gyeonhwa pulled Na Taebeom’s two arms, which were wrapped around his waist, even tighter.

“Hold on tight.”

With the warning, he lowered his helmet shield and gripped the handlebars. The motorcycle, letting out a roaring exhaust sound, began to charge forward fiercely. It was a speed that could not even be compared to a moment ago.