Double Junk - 3

Chapter 3

03

“Shouldn’t we take this guy too?”

Flower Lady was one of the ajummas. She had the loudest voice in the kitchen, both in a literal sense and in terms of influence. Her voice was indeed loud, and even the higher-ups and the men would listen to her.

“He looks scrawny. Skinny guys like him aren’t very useful, ajumma.”

A gang member wearing an apron raised his head, but Flower Lady didn’t back down.

“He’s the best at doing odd jobs. He’s good at preparing vegetables, washing dishes, and he’s meticulous with his hands. Teaching someone else would take months. Let’s take him with us.”

Upon hearing this, the gang member scrutinized Ajin from head to toe. His gaze fixated on Ajin’s protruding hip bones, and he raised and lowered his eyebrows.

“Are you a kitchen boy or something?”

“Uh… well…”

Ajin stammered in response. He wasn’t a kitchen boy, but if he could go with Flower Lady and avoid wandering the streets, he would welcome anything. Even if he had to sell his body, he could do it if he had the chance. Flower Lady might object, but there was nothing he couldn’t do.

“Fine, whatever…”

The gang member seemed reluctant but didn’t refuse. He turned away without lingering. Flower Lady immediately hugged Ajin by the side and scolded him in a hushed voice.

“You idiot. Why are your pants like this?”

“I… I just went to pee in the restroom…”

“Goodness, you’re like a child… Cover your head.”

“What? Okay.”

Ajin gathered his disheveled bangs to cover his face. It was the promise he made with Flower Lady. Don’t cut your hair. Cover your face. Keep your head down. She had told him to do these things if he wanted to live a comfortable life.

For some reason, Ajin felt that he could trust the words of the older woman.

The gang members gathered those who were chosen and led them outside. Flower Lady took off her apron and used it to hide Ajin’s protruding hipbones. Ajin obediently followed her lead, glancing in the direction where Seokju had been sitting. However, Seokju had disappeared by now. All that remained were the chair he had been sitting on and the discarded cigarette butts beneath it.

“Let’s go quickly, hurry up.”

A gang member clapped his hands impatiently, urging everyone forward. They left the gambling den like families evacuating, huddling together.

A gentle spring breeze swept across their foreheads as they stepped outside. Ajin stared blankly at the sky, as it had been ten years since he had left the gambling den. Furthermore, it happened to be spring. The world was teeming with life, and even the sky was warm.

Ajin wandered around for a while, feeling like an ex-convict released after a lifetime in prison.

***

Dang, dang, dang!

A large bell resounded loudly throughout the house. Flower Lady, with her dark complexion, scolded the ajummas so loudly that it seemed like the window frames might shatter.

Upon hearing the bell, servants working all over the house rushed out to the courtyard. The courtyard was as big as a sports field, and the sound of the bell was so loud that it was almost deafening.

“The boss is coming. Quick, stand still!”

A chubby man who acted as the bell’s supervisor, grunting like a pig, urged everyone on, whipping their backs with his tongue. Ajin, who was chopping onions in the enormous kitchen, also hurriedly rushed out. However, due to his limping gait, he always struggled to keep up. The vast distance between the kitchen and the front door didn’t help.

“Boss is coming. Hurry up, you sons of b1tches!”

The bell supervisor, who had taken it upon himself to manage the servants, lashed out, smacking the backs of those who moved too slowly. Ajin, trying not to attract attention, bent his waist slightly and joined the line of servants standing in formation.

At the same time, the front door swung open, and a line of sleek black cars entered one by one. The thunderous roar of the engines and the brilliant lights emitted by the thick, round front bumpers were intimidating. Even though they were cars Ajin saw every day, they still scared him.

As his neck tensed like a stretched rubber band, the smell of onions in his hand pierced his nose.

Squish, squish.

Ajin sniffed and swallowed back the mucus. After handling onions for several hours, he had shed a bucket of tears and snot. Ajin absentmindedly wiped his nose with the back of his hand, only to be hit by another wave of spiciness, forcing him to shed more tears. His tears fell onto the evenly arranged dirt ground.

“Could you be quiet for a moment?”

Flower Lady, standing beside him, scolded Ajin. Ajin protruded his lower lip. While doing so, he discreetly swallowed both the spiciness and the tears.

Soon, all ten cars had arrived. The third car to arrive had its door opened first.

It was Seokju. Seokju, dressed in a suit as usual, casually folded up his sleeves. A servant quickly approached and took his coat from him.

When Seokju turned toward the house, the servants bent over to greet him. Seokju accepted the greetings nonchalantly and entered the house straightaway.

Seokju’s house was a hanok, a traditional Korean house, but a very large one. It didn’t resemble an old nobleman’s house with deep roots. There were cars parked here and there, a huge chandelier hanging in the main hall, plush beds in every room, and comfortable sofas in the living room. There was even a Western-style tea table in the garden.

Of course, it didn’t look like the typical residence of gangsters either. It was too elegant and clean. It seemed more like the home of a “boss.”

Ajin watched Seokju, who was getting farther away, with a sidelong glance. Seokju’s expression was neutral, appearing briefly and then disappearing. Ajin had tasted the bitterness of disappointment.

Seokju was impressive.

Part of it was because he was handsome, partly because he was called “boss,” partly because he was tall, partly because he looked strong and the guys around him respected him, partly because he smoked cigarettes often, partly because of this huge mansion he owned, and partly because he was generous with money.

Money. That was the most important thing.

The people who had come from the gambling den thought they would be trapped and forced to work, but Seokju paid them for their labor. It was twice the money they had received at the gambling den.

When they received their first paycheck, the people immediately decided to obey Seokju. In today’s world, there is nothing as important and effective as money. They didn’t care about how Seokju had killed the gangsters at the gambling den or how he had disposed of their bodies. No, they completely forgot about it as soon as they received their money.

People who had come from the gambling den praised Seokju every day. He was surprisingly polite, not like a gangster. He had the air of a general. He was manly. He was a man. Even if he became president one day, they would vote for him. They poured out all sorts of compliments.

Ajin didn’t participate in those conversations, but he was there. When the servants gathered to eat and talk, and the topic of Seokju came up, Ajin pricked up his ears.

“They say the boss is also from Busan.”

“But how come he speaks Seoul dialect so fluently?”

“I don’t know. I can’t understand what the other gangsters are saying at all. But the boss is good. He’s genteel, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He learns quickly.”

“Maybe that’s it. Besides, he’s smart, so he went from being a gangster to a boss.”

Or like,

“Sanhong saw it. In the boss’s study.”

“What?”

“The ledger, the ledger.”

“What kind of ledger?”

“Apparently, it’s a ledger of buying and selling drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, like opium.”

“If it’s like opium, then what is ‘like opium’?”

“They say it’s not opium, it’s heroin.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Phenolphthalein. In Japanese, they call it Hiropon. It’s a drug that looks like a jewel and like flour. Apparently, Taeho Gang makes it. So, China and Japan can’t get enough of it. Even Westerners from far away come to buy it.”

“Wait, they created a new drug? And it looks like a jewel? Our people are skilled, but making drugs too… it’s hard to believe.”

“Because the gambling den is in a prime location, they bought it to sell that phenolphthalein, not heroin. Kim Boss didn’t want to sell it, but he had no choice. You know those buildings behind the mansion, on the mountain side?”

“Oh, you mean the place we can’t enter? Guarded by those big guys?”

“Yeah, they make drugs there too. This house is at the foot of a mountain in northern Seoul, right? It’s to avoid suspicion.”

“They bought this big house and all those cars to sell that jewel-like drug?”

“It seems so. The ledger only has weights and money written in it, no product names. But it’s definitely drugs, no doubt.”

Or like,

“Why are they wearing hanboks?”

“It looks like a patriotic act.”

“Gangsters?”

“Gangsters are Koreans too. Originally, guys like that are the most nationalistic.”

“…Is that so?”

“And no matter what they sell, if they earn foreign currency, they’re patriots, right?”

Or like,

There were various rumors circulating. Some said he was the son of a remarkable family, others said he fought against twenty people alone and won, some claimed he was strong enough to uproot trees with his bare hands, and some said the wardrobe was piled with gold and silver treasures.

There were also wild rumors, but Ajin believed most of them. If someone had seen Seokju in person, they would have no choice but to believe those words.

Naturally, Ajin began to admire him. Any young boy would under the circumstances. Among men, he was a man. He was strong, rich, and even the big guys were afraid of him. How could you not admire him?

This admiration was even stronger because of me, a wretched boy who had weak legs and was full of fear. Every day, Ajin’s admiration grew.

Taeho Gang members followed Seokju into the house. As the courtyard became quiet, the servants scattered and returned to their places. Ajin also hobbled back to the kitchen.

One of the servants passed by him. It was the servant who had received Seokju’s coat a while ago. He held his head high as if he had accomplished something great and pointed his nose toward the sky.

The servant’s robust hanbok grazed Ajin’s hand, which still smelled strongly of onions. Ajin was startled and quickly folded his hand. As he watched the hanbok swaying away, he sniffed and swallowed the mucus that had almost dripped out.

Just like that, without thinking, he found himself wanting to wear Seokju’s clothes.