Swallow Hunting - Chapter 52.2
It felt as if hundreds of centipedes were crawling over his body all at once. Hae-jun’s hair stood on end from the unbearable sense of revulsion. He felt bile rising in his throat. He barely managed to stop himself from vomiting everything directly onto Choi Man-seok’s face.
“Cha Hae-jun, don’t you want to fall behind on your payments just once? Or you could sell your ass to me. I’ll shove it in real good for you.”
“Does this bastard sell his ass too?”
“Hey, look at him. Would selling a body like this even work? Only people with broken eyes would bother buying that.”
Choi Man-seok cackled while looking at the stiffened Hae-jun. The thugs watching the situation joined in, throwing out lewd jokes and snickering among themselves. Only Hae-jun and the middle aged man were outsiders who could not join this feast; they were merely the pieces of chicken for the others to tear apart.
When Hae-jun said nothing, Choi Man-seok smacked his lips. He tapped Hae-jun roughly on the shoulder and poured kaoliang liquor into an empty glass, thrusting it toward him.
“I have to drive, so I can’t…”
Before he could even finish his sentence, he was struck in the head once more. The nosebleed that had stopped began to flow again. When he wiped it with the back of his hand, a long red line stretched from under his nose all the way to his cheek.
“Drink it.”
He took the glass, but Hae-jun could not bring himself to drink. It was just one glass, so he could have gulped it down, waited until he sobered up, and then moved on. Hae-jun himself didn’t know if he lacked the knack for it or if he simply wanted to uphold his pride even in a situation like this.
“Hey, grab him.”
Choi Man-seok had no patience. Large men pinned Hae-jun’s arms from both sides. A loan shark grabbed him by the hair and snapped his head back before tilting the bottle of kaoliang liquor. The clear, potent alcohol poured in a torrent over Hae-jun’s face. As Hae-jun shook his head and gasped, the people around them whistled and pounded the table with their fists, creating a riotous noise.
Every part of his skin touched by the alcohol felt hot and stinging. His nose burned as if water mixed with red pepper powder had been poured into it, causing tears and snot to stream down. The alcohol entered his mouth, which he had opened to breathe. It went down his windpipe, triggering a coughing fit, and as the liquor pooled at the base of his tongue, a gurgling sound erupted every time he coughed.
Choi Man-seok emptied the bottle down to the very last drop. He slammed the empty bottle onto the table and then slapped Hae-jun’s wet cheeks repeatedly.
“I gave you expensive liquor out of consideration for our past relationship, and you fucking bitch. You can’t even drink it.”
The gangsters chimed in with snickering sounds. It was a place where only mockery and harassment ran rampant.
Hae-jun, having spat out the last of his coughs, sat there like a lump of stone. Choi Man-seok finally seemed to lose interest. He waved his hand dismissively at Hae-jun.
“Get lost, you brat. I’ll enjoy the food.”
His courage and strength to collect the payment had bottomed out. Since this was likely the only chance to escape this place, Hae-jun staggered to his feet and left the room. From behind him, he heard the middle aged man’s toothless mumbling and pleas for help, but he did not look back.
Holding his helmet, he arrived at the spot where his bike was parked. The rain was fiercer than before. He climbed onto the bike without putting on his helmet or donning his raincoat.
Contrary to his desire to escape this place even a second sooner, his body felt as heavy as water soaked cotton. It seemed the alcohol Choi Man-seok had poured over him had finally traveled through his bloodstream. The raindrops beating against his body felt painful and burdensome.
“……”
Hae-jun lowered his head and stayed like that for a moment. The scar deep between his legs throbbed.
This was why he hated rainy days. It was all the fault of this fucking rain.
***
In life, there are days when you step on a caterpillar. He couldn’t just stay depressed in a corner of his room simply because he had run into Choi Man-seok.
Rather than rotting away in a dark corner emitting a gloomy aura, it was more profitable to spend that time making deliveries and earning money. Interest did not wait for Hae-jun. It was constantly growing every minute and every second, waiting for the moment to crush him to death.
He met Yohan during a short break after lunch. Perhaps because he had been working hard lately, there were dark circles under his eyes. When Hae-jun gave him honey water, Yohan sipped it like a tired bee before collapsing onto the table.
“Cha Hae-jun, I’m going to die.”
“People don’t die that easily.”
“Why is living so hard?”
Hae-jun watched Yohan while finishing his own drink. He wondered what was wrong with the realist who usually told him that complaining was useless and that he should just go out and work.
“Did something happen?”
“No. I’m just tired.”
“How many rounds did you do yesterday?”
Yohan held up two fingers. Even after four consecutive tables, Yohan was the type to jump up the next morning and go out for deliveries, but it seemed his physical strength had finally worn thin.
“Did you drink a lot?”
“I threw away half of it. I barely drank any alcohol… but the guest from the second round yesterday had a hobby of doing Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.”
Yohan leaned his head back and massaged his neck, saying it was a total mess with all the flipping and tossing. Faint red fingernail marks were visible on his exposed nape. Even without being told, it was clear things had been violent. Since Hae-jun had also met such guests before, he didn’t pry further.
“Bak Yohan, have you ever managed to squeeze anything out of a sucker? A watch, money, or a car.”
Instead, he asked something else. The kind of practical benefits Yohan had emphasized so much.
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