Chapter 3
"Well, that's true, but he's not exactly the sociable type, so I doubt he'd make it as a dealer or anything else."
Gubing clicked his tongue as he grabbed his glass of whiskey. His pinky, missing a joint, couldn’t quite wrap around it, jutting into the air instead. Mukyung suddenly straightened his posture and stubbed out his cigarette right on the tablecloth. Ssshh. The same sound had come earlier when his padded jacket had been singed.
"We'll be seeing each other often now, so at least try to look pleasant."
He hadn’t even realized he was scowling. What was more annoying was the tip of Mukyung’s shoe constantly nudging his shin.
"......."
Out of the corner of his eye, Hongju saw Gubing waving his hands wildly, making a silent fuss. When he glanced over, the man clasped his hands together and rubbed them in exaggerated pleading. His eyes were slitted into triangles, as if he’d slap him if he didn’t apologize immediately. And this was the same guy who told him not to smoke. He had done exactly what he was told—hadn’t done anything wrong—so he didn’t understand why he needed to apologize. But orders were orders. Besides, if nothing happened in the house, he’d be able to pay off his debt faster.
"......About earlier, I apologize."
The man, who had been staring at him silently, let out a quiet chuckle.
"Gubing was right. Stiff as a board."
Knee, knee. This time, Gubing mouthed words soundlessly, pointing a finger toward the floor. A wave of irritation surged up. Hongju took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the tray. Then, he stepped back with one foot and lowered himself. The worn-out flooring had been stripped away, leaving bare cement exposed. The moment his knees touched the cold surface, a phantom ache spread through them.
"I'm sorry."
"Ah, no need to go that far, kneeling and all."