Joker 1 (Side Story) Ch 12

The only light brightening the dark reception room came from the wall lamps hanging on all sides.

Inside cube-shaped transparent crystal cases, the bulbs looked as though someone had crammed in a handful of wire lights meant for decorating a Christmas tree.

The tiny cherry-like bulbs flickered fiercely, though a few, worn from effort, blinked weakly now and then. Perhaps that was why—perhaps it was all just an optical illusion caused by the light. Looking again, Kwon Taeha’s face remained as expressionless as it had been from the start.

“Do you know what one of Joo Sangkyung’s requests to me was? He asked me to kill Joo Hawon if he were ever sold to a brothel or to some depraved pervert.”

A crack began to form in the man’s otherwise calm face.

“That damned father—he thought of his son as property.”

“Wasn’t he far too young for that? Too young for such a miserable life.”

“So you think it’s better to die than to live miserably?”

“I’ll refrain from commenting on that. As I am now, I’m someone who wants nothing more than for Joo Hawon to live happily.”

In Kwon Taeha’s brief, dry laugh, there was a trace of emotion — how dare you.

“I’ll stop with the personal sentiments here. Before we discuss business, I’ll hand over what’s left of Wikileaks.”

“You say that as if it was yours to begin with.”

“Joo Hawon gave it to me. It may not be something you need, ceo, but it’s something I’m reluctant to part with — surely that’s a fair bargaining chip?”

“What do you want?”

“A sort of contract job. Would you mind if I took it for myself?”

Just then, Kwon Taeha’s gaze flicked to his phone, where a voice message had arrived. The sender was Joo Hawon’s number. As expected, Mailer Kwon must have been diligently charging his phone; it was never once turned off.

Lowering the volume to its minimum, Kwon Taeha pressed play and brought the speaker to his ear.

“This isn’t what we agreed on. You know how much debt we owe!”

Despite Mailer’s raised voice, Kwon Taeha lowered his eyelids as if he were listening to a sweet melody.

“Taeha-hyung disappeared without a word — it’s chaos here! You told me to trust Uncle, but you know my problem can’t be solved just with sponsorship!”

Kwon Taeha moved the phone away from his ear and ended the playback.

Tangbang had shown interest, but the volume had been so low that the voice hadn’t carried.

“Do you know King David?”

“…The one who killed Goliath?” Tangbang frowned at the sudden question.

“Turns out, we almost had a King David born in our family. He not only struck Aeil from behind but now wants to slit my throat, too.”

Tangbang still didn’t understand the full meaning, but he thought the metaphor was apt enough. At least, by comparing himself to Goliath, Kwon Taeha had admitted he wasn’t the good guy.

“Heo Iljong. Where did you hide him?”

“Pardon?”

“The deal starts there.”

“And why are you so sure I’m the one who hid him?” Tangbang feigned an indignant expression.

“There’s one thing I learned from Jade Miller — you don’t need to cling to a cheap sense of superiority. In a world where people you’d never suspect can stab you in the back, the only smart thing to do is be cautious and suspicious of everyone.”

“Haha, aren’t you being overly careful? Do you really think someone like me could ever stab CEO Kwon in the back?”

“Whether you take that job or not is none of my concern. So stop the useless games and get to the point.”

The rough texture of the sweater against his skin still felt unfamiliar to Tangbang. Even when he lifted his hand to touch his lips, that unpleasant sensation followed. Maybe it was the whole situation itself that was making him uncomfortable.

As an information broker, Tangbang had met countless people, but he always found it easiest dealing with those called chaebol — the wealthy elite.

With the desperate lowlifes, things always required violence and threats, which was exhausting. But men like Kwon Taeha — there was no need for such tactics.

They never even considered Tangbang their equal. That smug belief — that someone like him could never harm them — was precisely what he exploited best.

Long ago, he wouldn’t have accepted Joo Sangkyung’s commission if it had been only for money.

Tangbang had been waiting for a chance to drag the people who ruined his family into the same pit — and he had succeeded.

If they’d seen him as a real threat from the start, he would’ve been destroyed before he could even build his Macau empire.

That was why it would be troublesome if Kwon Taeha saw him as an equal now. Tangbang lowered the hand that had been touching his mouth.

“You already know who sent this, don’t you?” Tangbang held up the bolt between his thumb and forefinger.

“Are you saying you want to trade that for Heo Iljong?”

“Of course not. I’m just curious — nothing more.”

“You don’t think a trade is possible, do you?”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s one of two things. Either you don’t know where Heo Iljong is… or, since you mentioned taking the job, he’s already dead.”

Damn it. Tangbang cursed inwardly.

He had hoped marriage life with Joo Hawon might have softened Kwon Taeha’s sharp mind — but he was as troublesome as ever.

If he wanted something, he’d have to put a card on the table.

“As you said, unfortunately, it’s the latter.”

Had there been even a flicker of delight on Kwon Taeha’s face, it would’ve been easier to gauge him — but there wasn’t.

“The body.”

“You know the kind of scum he dealt with — gamblers, traffickers, pimps. He was neck-deep in organ trade and prostitution rings. He had to flee Macau to escape the police, and I was the only one who could get him out.”

Even though he himself had been in a corner, sneaking one more person aboard hadn’t been hard.

“Tsk. And that fool of an old man started a fight on the ship, thinking the sailors were trying to steal the money he’d brought. You know what kind of men sailors are, hardened by sea winds — it didn’t end well.”

Tangbang slapped the floor with a dull thud, as though he’d dropped an anchor, and shook his head as if lamenting a tragic tale.

“Among the debt papers Heo Iljong risked his life to bring, there was one belonging to Joo Hawon. Not the document showing his debt was paid off with your money a few years ago, but the older one — the contract that had once shackled him.”

Tangbang hadn’t wanted to say Heo Iljong was dead. He’d planned to keep that card hidden and use it when it would benefit him most. But Kwon Taeha already knew too much — his movements, his illegal entry routes — there was no hiding it.

He would soon realize that Tangbang and Heo Iljong had boarded the same ship. When that happened, any chance of negotiation would crumble.

“Was it you, CEO Kwon?”

“What about it.”

“The one who set this all up.”

“What would I gain by taking down Heo Iljong and you?”

“Because you were the one who paid off young Joo Hawon’s debt. Thanks to that, he survived — isn’t that ironic?”

Having driven in the nail, Tangbang mimed zipping his lips shut.

“If you weren’t the one who attacked me, then you actually benefited from me. If those documents had fallen into the hands of someone against you… well, I can’t imagine how Joo Hawon would react.”

“How strange. Why do other people seem to understand our relationship better than we do?” 

At Kwon Taeha’s vague response, Tangbang crossed his legs the other way.

“So Joo Hawon knows, too? Then I can speak freely, yes?”

“Go ahead.”

Tangbang’s narrow, snake-like eyes twitched. For a moment, he almost took the bait, and ground his teeth inwardly.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have needed to react when I mentioned Heo Iljong.”

“So go on, Mr. Park Sooyoung.”

At the sound of the old name he had long discarded, Tangbang bared his teeth in a grin.

“I understand you perfectly, CEO Kwon.”

Between the facing sofa and the table lay a line that Kwon Taeha had drawn. He had spoken of elitism, but in the end, even when others held advantageous cards, it was always Kwon Taeha who controlled the game.

If he were to take even one more step beyond that line, the deal might fall through. Moreover, Tang Bang had no intention of delivering the truth directly to Joo Hawon. That was a card too useful to throw away so easily.

“If you delete my information registered as a high-risk passenger in APIS and lift the wanted order issued in Macau, I have no other conditions to ask for.”

“Bring me all the documents related to Joo Hawon. We’ll talk after that.” With that, Kwon Taeha rose from his seat, declaring the negotiation over.

Standing up from the sofa draped with a cloth cover, Kwon Taeha buttoned his suit jacket with practiced ease. Tang Bang straightened, facing the nobleman who was leaving without a trace of hesitation.

Thud—he knocked on the closed door, and as if waiting for the signal, the double doors swung wide open. The man who seemed ready to leave without looking back suddenly turned his head.

“I’m curious when your lackeys turned into smugglers.” Tang Bang clasped his hands together, as if paying respects to his lord.

“To honor the late Heo Iljong, I’ll make sure to take good care of his Yongyuk operations as well.”

At the clownish act, Kwon Taeha turned his gaze away.

Only then did Tang Bang let his body collapse back onto the sofa, which had been standing rigid until now. The heat rising from his throbbing ribs was intense.

He had gone so far as to provoke Kwon Taeha using Joo Hawon—considering that, this much damage was still a decent outcome. From the looks of it, the bloody feud within the Kwon family seemed to have begun anew. But from what he’d heard, this incident didn’t seem to be Aeil’s doing. Then who could it be?

Who would stand to gain by taking down both Gangho Inn and the Yongyuk operations?

Judging from the police’s sudden raid starting from Gangho Inn’s basement, it did seem like they were after WikiLeaks…

Either way, being caught in a fight between these monsters was no different from being used as a pawn. So, he’d have to repay them in kind—fight poison with poison. Kwon Taeha might not be someone to call a barbarian, but no matter how high one stood, if they could be used, that was enough.

Still, who would have thought that man would respond with violence? Judging by the way his bodyguards moved—their hands quick and lethal—they were less bodyguards than mafia.

Tang Bang burst out laughing, only to clutch at his shattered ribs with a short groan.

Relatives who used Aeil’s Tex Resort were always sensitive about wiretapping, so they inspected every room before staying. The same went for Kwon Taeha and Joo Hawon. That was probably why even a minor bug wouldn’t go unnoticed.

But there was one thing they didn’t know—Joo Hawon’s phone itself had a hidden recording function.

“Fuck, fuck… That senile old bastard, what the hell does he want me to do?”

He stopped the playback, weary from the filth of the endless stream of curses. There were about twenty voice messages sent from Joo Hawon’s number.

He had installed a hacking app just in case something happened to him when he wasn’t around. It was overprotection, perhaps, or a twisted form of obsession.

But aside from this incident, he had never once listened to the recordings transmitted from Joo Hawon’s hacked phone. Even though he’d been tempted more than once, he’d always resisted. It was Mailer Kwon who broke that restraint, and for that, he would pay the price.

“Sir.”

The secretary general of the Strategic Planning Office, seated in the passenger seat, turned around. He had been stationed in Korea for at least two years and had recently applied to transfer to Vietnam. If it hadn’t been for this mess, the transfer would have gone through smoothly. Though it was understandable if he felt regret, his face betrayed none.

“Tang Bang went from Macau to Jinmen, then illegally entered Korea again. About fifty members of the Gangho Inn faction remain in Macau, and roughly thirty entered Korea with him. Some joined by plane, and they’re not listed in APIS as high-risk passengers.”

“There were unregistered individuals?”

“Yes. They seem to be the ones leading the external operations. And based on Tang Bang’s route, we also tracked Heo Iljong, who was last spotted in Jinmen. Since then, there’s been no trace. We’re tracking the smuggling vessels, but since we’re conducting an official investigation…”

In other words, if they were to take illegal measures, they could find them more easily.

“No need. That’s far enough. Good work.” The secretary general bowed his head slightly and turned back to the front.

“You requested to be stationed in Vietnam, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have family there?”

“Yes.”

The Strategic Planning Office generally offered higher salaries than other STA departments. Even so, the fact that he hadn’t relocated his family suggested that Vietnam was simply a more comfortable place for him.

“I’ll make sure you can transfer next month.”

“Thank you, sir.”

There were dozens of secretaries in the Strategic Planning Office, all functioning as Kwon Taeha’s limbs.

As with any major corporation, a company could not be run by the power of a single owner. The head merely pointed the direction in which the company should go.

The company, following that direction, divided its operations into departments and within them formed teams that extended like branches. When those trees grew dense enough to form a forest, that collective came to be called a conglomerate—and every tree in that forest shared the same roots.

The larger the forest, the greater the need for a control tower to oversee and protect it. Inevitably, that department would become a direct subsidiary under the owner’s command. For STA, that department was the so-called Strategic Planning Office.

Currently, Joo Hawon belonged to the general secretary’s office, serving as something close to a personal aide. Though he wished to join the Strategic Planning Office someday, Kwon Taeha didn’t allow it.

To be fair, his career and education weren’t up to standard, and Joo Hawon accepted that. Yet, if Kwon Taeha truly wished, he could easily grant him a parachute or a pair of wings. The reason he didn’t was because he wanted to keep him from working at all—wanted to force him to focus only on his health.

Even if he said so, it would sound like an excuse, and he had no real authority to stop Joo Hawon from working if he wished to.

What if he hadn’t ignored the emotions that had shaken him the day he first met the young Joo Hawon? Would Joo Hawon have been spared from all that pain?

Kwon Taeha had always believed that imagining “what if” scenarios about the past was a waste of time. But when it came to Joo Hawon, he wasted time endlessly. And at the end of all that, his conclusion was always the same.

He wanted to grant Joo Hawon anything he desired.

But even that wasn’t within his control. Joo Hawon neither indulged in luxury nor pleasure, and whenever asked what he wanted, he never had an answer.

No matter how much he pretended otherwise, Kwon Taeha knew. What Joo Hawon wanted was his own growth. Since he had started both studying and working later than others, he put in twice the effort. He had even taken and passed the CAP exam that everyone said was too early for him.

Even the lung condition he’d have to live with for the rest of his life had improved gradually through effort. No matter how tired he was, he never skipped training with his coach, and thanks to that, his seizures had decreased significantly.

Piece by piece, Joo Hawon was growing on his own. One day, he might find this narrow frame—this “me”—too confining.

The present Joo Hawon was more candid than he had been as the twenty-eight-year-old head dealer, and he envisioned his future with clarity. No longer dreaming vaguely of seaweed farming, he now had a solid, concrete goal.

“I know it’s absurd to think I could ever stand equal to someone like that heron, but if a sparrow works hard enough, maybe its legs won’t tear apart.”

Kwon Taeha could still picture him clearly, resting his face against his chest and chattering like a bird.

He did not doubt Joo Hawon’s heart. But if the day came when the grown Joo Hawon decided to leave him, finding him again would be harder than ever.

Ha… Kwon Taeha let out a hollow laugh, deeper than a sigh.

So that was why.

It explained why he had never been pleased with Joo Hawon dabbling in stocks. Even though he was using the money Kwon had given him, he returned a fixed portion of the principal without fail. Damn it—he wasn’t even a real loan shark, yet things between them still looked like this.

Joo Hawon tried not to show him the profits he earned, but if Kwon wanted to know, there was no way he couldn’t. He simply chose not to dig into Joo Hawon’s affairs that way. Truthfully, he would have preferred that Joo lose it all. What kind of twisted desire was it, wanting him to depend entirely on him? Kwon Taeha wanted to be the only one that existed in Joo Hawon’s world.

It was a blend of agape-like love and madness, but the greater problem was that he didn’t understand what exactly was wrong with that.

Kwon Jaehee said his way was wrong, but Kwon Taeha believed that white lies were necessary to protect both himself and Joo Hawon. No—saying it was to protect their relationship was already a contradiction. Because of it, he constantly doubted situations that had never even happened, and sought to bind Joo Hawon tighter.

“I was the kind of man who wouldn’t rest easy unless I shoved myself inside you.”

A breath like a scream brushed against his ear.

“I tried desperately to please you because you paid off my debt. I didn’t even know what I was getting into! I got on that ship knowing nothing, and they said if I just worked hard, my debt would be cleared. You were the one who gave me hope.”

He had never thought he’d been wrong—so why did the image of Joo Hawon looking at him in despair come to mind now?

Perhaps Kwon Jaehee had been right. After all, the words of someone born of love and raised by love held more truth than those of someone like him, born only for business.

It had been a mistake.

At the time, there had been no other way.

He could never forget the look in those eyes when Joo had gazed at him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had wanted to hold Joo Hawon’s entire life in his hands.

No matter the excuse, the thought was filthy, and a self-mocking laugh slipped out.