Chapter 32
He picked up the padded jacket that had been tossed near the shoe cabinet. Just a few days ago it had been so clean—now it was covered in dirt, smeared with mud and footprints, and the sleeve was torn. He rummaged through a drawer until he found a needle and thread, then stitched up the torn part. After that, he took a damp towel and started wiping the jacket clean.
His hand brushed against the outline of the phone in the inner pocket.
"Did he reply?"
When he turned on the phone, a notification popped up. Hongju quickly opened his message box.
[Who's worrying about who?]
A soft breath of laughter escaped him. It sounded like a sigh of relief. Mu-gyeong’s message wasn’t wrong, after all. He was the one who’d be getting the shit kicked out of him again tomorrow. Someone like Mu-gyeong, with all his money, could survive anything—stabbed, hit by a car—he could afford surgery without blinking.
"Even worrying gets scolded."
Though blood still oozed little by little from his palm whenever he moved, his fingers didn’t stop tapping the keypad.
[Still, please be careful.]
...He was just glad he hadn’t died. That the rope he was hanging onto hadn’t snapped just yet. Hongju exhaled slowly, hand resting against his chest.
***
"Whatever you talked about yesterday, I don’t care. You better fucking beg, got it?"