Chapter 10
"If things get hard, come find me. I never forget a debt of gratitude. Don't try to endure everything alone like your father did."
Without another word, he pulled out a business card and placed it in my hand.
A neatly printed name.
A phone number.
A company name.
Everything stood out clearly.
I held the card without speaking.
It was a heavier message than words.
His posture.
His eyes.
His tone.
All of it felt sincere.
I stared at the card, then bowed my head to him.
Words of thanks rose to my throat, but I couldn't quite say them.
For that moment, he almost felt like real family.
When he turned away, his subordinates naturally followed.
At least in that moment, he didn't feel like a businessman.
He felt like a person.
Without another word, he headed toward the exit.
As he left the funeral hall, he glanced at the gamblers playing hwatu in the corner.
His eyes lowered briefly.
A small frown appeared.
But it didn't last.
He immediately turned away and continued walking.
His steps were fast.
No hesitation.
He seemed like the type to deal with important things quickly and ignore whatever wasn't worth his time.
I watched his back for a moment.
For some reason, my chest felt heavy.
Then I heard movement near the entrance.
The door opened.
Manager Park entered.
He approached.
"Never thought I'd see Manager Park here."
"What brings you here, President?"
"The deceased saved my life."
For the first time, Manager Park's face hardened.
Did I just cause some serious trouble?
The gangster boss hadn't merely felt like some ordinary thug.
He seemed like someone positioned much higher in a larger structure.
"I need to tell you something."
Manager Park quietly stepped closer and whispered into his ear.
The distance between them narrowed.
A moment later, the gang boss's expression changed.
Then he nodded as if everything suddenly made sense.
He looked toward me.
He curled two fingers toward himself while pointing at me.
Then he smiled faintly.
There were many meanings inside that smile.
Without saying another word, he left the funeral hall with Manager Park.
Looks like Manager Park confessed everything.
That gang boss was someone you shouldn't deceive.
I could feel that instinctively.
"Kim Seok-gi, President of Haesong Liquor Distribution."
If I stared at someone long enough, my ability could reveal their core information.
It was basically another cheat.
His name and affiliation immediately came to mind.
Liquor distribution.
There were certain fields even gangsters used because the profits were stable.
If he controlled liquor distribution, he might also control clubs, nightlife establishments, and distribution networks.
He's definitely not some small-time thug.
And after he left, everything changed noticeably.
Mourners began arriving one after another.
A lot of them looked like ex-convicts at first glance.
Former gangsters.
Thugs.
People who had served prison sentences.
They naturally bowed, paid condolence money, and entered.
Until then, the funeral hall had contained only cardsharps and gamblers.
Now it filled with people almost instantly.
The atmosphere changed too.
If I'd known this would happen, I would've booked a VIP room instead of the standard room.
I almost regretted it.
Soon Manager Park returned.
He quietly stood beside me.
"President Kim Seok-gi wants to meet you separately."
"What?"
"Kang Taesan, you'd better really be the Boss's grandson."
"And if I'm not?"
I asked.
Manager Park didn't answer.
He only smiled strangely.
That's terrifying.
Anyway, my plan had worked.
The parking lot outside the funeral hall.
Kim Seok-gi climbed into a black sedan.
The door quietly closed.
A moment later, the car slowly began to move.
Through the window, the funeral hall entrance gradually became smaller.
"After the funeral is over, I want to meet Dong-woo hyung's son personally."
The subordinate in the driver's seat nodded.
"I'll take care of it myself, Hyungnim."
Kim Seok-gi spoke casually.
"They say he might be that witch's grandson. Don't be rude to him."
The subordinate turned around in surprise.
"Really, Hyungnim?"
"Why? Scared?"
"No, that's not it, Hyungnim. Then does that mean the deceased was that witch's son-in-law, Hyungnim?"
The question was cautious.
But his speech remained rough.
Confusion and shock mixed together.
He clearly couldn't make sense of the situation.
Kim Seok-gi chuckled.
"Hahaha. The family tree got complicated out of nowhere. And just because I call her a witch doesn't mean you can do the same."
"I'm sorry, Hyungnim."
"If saying sorry solved everything, you'd make a habit of it."
Thud.
A fist flew.
Kim Seok-gi struck the subordinate on the shoulder without another word.
"Ugh! Thank you, Hyungnim."
The answer came automatically.
The subordinate lowered his head.
It meant both that he understood and that he wouldn't complain.
"Handle it."
"Yes. I'll take care of it, Hyungnim."
After that, Kim Seok-gi looked out the window again.
Mourners moved busily around the funeral hall.
"He's a sharp kid. Hahaha."
"Thank you, Hyungnim."
"Not you."
The subordinate froze.
A moment later, realizing his mistake, his face stiffened.
Kim Seok-gi laughed silently.
"A man needs to understand his own position. That's how you live comfortably."
It was a short sentence.
But the meaning was firm.
Blind obedience wasn't enough to survive.
Only people who understood their exact place lasted a long time.
Kim Seok-gi's eyes remained fixed toward the funeral hall entrance.
The young chief mourner dressed in black.
Kang Taesan.
The way he bowed.
The eyes that didn't shake even while calculating money.
The way he remained steady even among ex-convicts.
Each detail remained clearly in his memory.
A brat who understood his position quickly.
A brat who knew exactly where he stood and moved accordingly.
A brat who didn't get intimidated easily.
Kim Seok-gi had become interested.
He had spent a long time learning how to recognize people like that instinctively.
And this time, his instincts hadn't wavered.
The funeral hall entrance disappeared from view.
The car turned onto the main road.
Kim Seok-gi was interested in Kang Taesan.
Three days later.
Jo Sun-ja's private lending office.
The three-day fake funeral had unexpectedly become a huge success.
Criminals poured in nonstop.
Honestly, I hadn't expected much from the event.
But once it started, the situation was completely different.
Half the mourners had criminal records.
Theft.
Fraud.
Violence.
Gang activity.
There were all kinds.
Each person gave condolence money according to their circumstances.
Some even left business cards.
As I quietly watched them, I noticed that every envelope or small box they carried seemed to contain a story of its own.
The surprising part was that some of them had abandoned their old lives and started over.
A man who once broke into safes was now a locksmith.
A former con artist had become an insurance salesman.
Of course, some still lived in the darkness.
They seemed to stand somewhere between light and shadow.
The funeral hall naturally became a meeting place.
People exchanged information.
Shared phone numbers.
Sold stories from their past.
Planned their futures.
Sometimes quiet deals were made.
Sometimes hidden intentions flashed behind their smiles.
And...
The temporary gambling house business also succeeded.
I charged the cardsharps one million won per person as a seat fee.
The suckers they brought paid for spicy beef soup and soju.
Nearly three million won in cash came into my hands.
Even while counting it, I couldn't stop smiling.
This business was bigger than I had expected.
I didn't touch the condolence money.
That would cross the line.
I had used the framework of a funeral.
I hadn't destroyed the meaning of the funeral itself.
Once again, I confirmed where my own line was.
No matter how much money was involved, there were still rules that had to be respected.
If you really think about it, this is the true creative economy.
People spent money on the stage I created.
And I operated the system.
Inside that flow, I quietly controlled the direction the money moved.
The two local punks ran around busily.
They sold Bacchus.
Emptied ashtrays.
Handled small errands.
They kept their heads low, watched people's moods, and never missed an opportunity.
Every time I gave them an order, they moved immediately.
Only now did they seem to realize that small errands could become money.
Even with a rough estimate, they probably made more than one million won each day.
Tips were everything at gambling tables.
They hadn't known that before.
Bring someone one Bacchus.
One pack of cigarettes.
Empty an ashtray once.
The moment people started handing them tips, they became addicted to it.
At this point, it was obvious who was benefiting most from the entire operation.
[Hyungnim, this...]
[What's that?]
[The money we made selling Bacchus and cigarettes and emptying ashtrays.]
Jo Gyeong-cheol carefully held out an envelope.
His face was calm, but his eyes were shining.
[Why are you giving it to me?]
[Don't we always split everything?]
His name was Jo Gyeong-cheol.
He didn't talk much.
But he was sharp and knew how to survive socially.
He calls it splitting, but this is tribute.
[Splitting means money flows from the top down. When it comes from the bottom up, that's tribute.]
I spoke bitterly.
Jo Gyeong-cheol gave an awkward laugh.
[Still...]
[How much is it?]
[More than three million won, Hyungnim.]
My eyes widened.
It was much more than I expected.
Jo Gyeong-cheol had naturally begun calling me Hyungnim.
[That's quite a lot. Fine, let's do this. You two take one million each. We'll put the remaining one million into the condolence money.]
Once I made the decision, Jo Gyeong-cheol bowed deeply.
The other younger guy beside him also gave a short bow.
[Yes. Understood, Hyungnim.]
Only then did both their faces brighten.
Somehow, I'd ended up with two punk little brothers.
Anyway, you couldn't become rich by squeezing money out of the people under you.
That was a basic principle.
Money ultimately had to keep moving.
If you became too greedy, you eventually lost everything.
Either way, the money from the fake funeral had finally been settled.
I looked across the office.
"Debtor, it's time to settle the accounts."
