Double-Piece

A New Home

*Crash!*

The sound of something shattering scraped against Ajin’s ears before he could even flinch, his shoulders hunched.

“Aaargh!”

A deep scream followed. The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t tell who it belonged to. It could have been Mankwang, who guarded the entrance, or Piluk, who kept an eye on the women. Or perhaps it was someone else entirely.

“Ugh…”

Ajin let out a faint moan as he squeezed himself further between the boxes stacked to the ceiling. The wooden crates were stuffed with all sorts of things, emitting a musty, sour smell. Someone had even vomited in the corner.

It was a revolting place to hide, yet Ajin wriggled deeper like a mouse searching for a burrow. He had lost his pants somewhere along the way, wearing only his white underwear as his bottom shifted nervously in the darkness.

The noise continued—a cacophony of breaking objects, people yelling, someone screaming in rage, and heavy thuds reverberating on the floor. With every sound, Ajin’s spine twitched, sending shivers down his small, round backside.

At his feet, red hanafuda cards lay scattered chaotically.

This place—a *gambling den*—was where Ajin worked. Pushed around and tossed aside, he had ended up here at the tender age of nine. Now, at twenty, he had never once left.

This three-story building in the heart of Jongno bore a sign reading *Gold Hotel,* though it was a front for all sorts of illegal activities. In the semi-basement, the gambling den was in operation. The first floor was a lobby, the second floor a brothel, and the third floor had cramped rooms stacked like chicken coops.

It was a place brimming with pleasure and entertainment, and it was always packed. Anyone who entered rarely left. They would gamble downstairs, drink with women on the second floor, spend time with them on the third, catch some sleep, and then return to gamble once more.

Working here, Ajin had grown used to the chaos. Whenever men gathered, fights often broke out. They would throw punches and then laugh, grabbing a woman’s chest or tossing hanafuda cards around. Nosebleeds and missing teeth were common sights.

Ajin’s job was to sweep up the broken glass and tidy things up afterward.

But today’s brawl was different. It wasn’t just customers fighting among themselves.

Around five in the evening, while they were preparing to open, a group of several burly men stormed in, wielding brutal weapons like wooden clubs with nails driven into them, thick knives, and small axes.

These men wore traditional coats over black suits, and they were all large in build. Their clubs swung with such force that the air whooshed as they cut through it. Their sudden, unannounced invasion made the gambling den staff drop like autumn leaves. Blood and screams splattered to the ceiling.

Ajin had been in the bathroom, minding his own business, when he peeked outside and, horrified, crawled into the storage room. In his panicked escape, he had lost his pants somewhere along the way.

And now, it had been over an hour since he hid in the storage room. The noise was beginning to die down. The screams and shouts were fading, and the sounds of things breaking had ceased.

Yet, for some reason, Ajin felt even more afraid.

Had the people screaming been killed? What were these men after? How long would he have to hide here? What if the men burst into this room? Would they capture him, too, and hack him to pieces with a knife?

Ajin chewed on his swollen lower lip, already bitten raw. Suddenly, he sprang up and started moving boxes around. He needed to make a hiding place. Just keeping his head down like a foolish squirrel wouldn’t stop these coat-wearing men from finding him.

The boxes were heavy. Even just shifting them slightly made him grunt with effort, and his lame leg wobbled under the strain.

But he gritted his teeth and kept moving them—it was a matter of survival. After only a few moves, his fingers tingled with pain. Eventually, he could no longer lift them, so he dragged them across the floor. Annoyed by his bangs that kept brushing over his nose, he pushed them aside roughly.

Finally, he managed to create a bunker just big enough for his body to squeeze into.

Then he heard footsteps.

Ajin nearly fainted with shock, rushing to the door. He intended to block it somehow. The bunker he’d painstakingly built didn’t even cross his mind anymore.

But before he could touch it, the door burst open. A man’s shadow, backlit by the hallway light, swallowed Ajin whole.

“There’s one more here!”

Ajin felt his arm roughly seized, and he was dragged outside. Only then could he see the full view of the gambling den.

“H-Hii…”

The gambling den was a mess. Over half of the tables were overturned, and knife marks marred the surfaces like they had been slashed by a wild animal.

At the counter where they lent money—called the *loan shark counter*—the enforcer of this place, Mankwang, lay face down with his neck half-slit, blood dripping steadily onto the floor. Other familiar faces were scattered around like empty sacks, discarded in various corners.

The men in traditional coats lined up the surviving employees into three rows.

In one line stood the older women who worked in the kitchen and did various cleaning tasks. Another line held the women in short skirts and heavy makeup, and in the last line stood the gangsters who managed the gambling den—Mankwang’s underlings.

The men in coats surrounded them, gripping their bloodstained clubs and knives, ready to smash heads or slit throats if anyone dared make a wrong move.

“P-Please, spare me…”

Ajin begged the man gripping his arm, but he received no answer. The man simply looked him up and down, raised his eyebrows at Ajin’s exposed skinny legs, and tossed him into the line with the women.

Ajin landed with a helpless thud, his knees and palms soaked in blood from who knows where.

Ajin’s bony shoulders trembled. Do-eun, standing at the back of the line, helped him up, her long hair brushing his cheek lightly.

“Ajin, are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah… And you?”

“I’m fine.”

Ajin took her hand and struggled to his feet, his short left leg touching the floor awkwardly. His deep-set eyes were quickly wet with tears, his heart pounding at the relief of seeing someone he knew.

Do-eun gently patted Ajin’s back. Her green high heels were stained with blood as well, though fortunately it didn’t seem to be her own.

Ajin wiped his bloody hands on his shirt, glancing around.

“Who are they? Why are they doing this to us?”

“They’re from the Taehoe Gang.”

“Taehoe Gang…?”

The name sounded familiar. Ajin pursed his lips, trying to remember. But his mind, consumed by fear and confusion, couldn’t bring forth an answer. He gripped Do-eun’s delicate wrist tightly.

“Are they going to kill us? Are we going to die?”

“They wouldn’t gather us like this if that was their intent.”

Ajin felt reassured by her words. Do-eun was rarely wrong. She had spent her entire life on the bottom rungs of society and was sharp-witted. Not only her, but all the women working alongside her had an instinct for these things.

Ajin let out a silent sigh, just as someone shouted loudly.

“Hey, everyone, the boss is here!”

At that, all the men in coats turned toward one side. Naturally, everyone else’s gaze followed.

A dark figure was entering through the doorway, a man of considerable size, even larger than Piluk, who had been the tallest in the den. He had to be at least 190 centimeters.

He wore the same black suit and draped coat as the others, but his looked different—sharper, without a single wrinkle, and the long coat draped over his shoulders shimmered with a sleek luster. Under the dingy lights of the den, the fabric subtly revealed a pattern—a wave motif, like waves rolling across the sea.

The man approached with long strides, the wave patterns swaying heavily with his movement.

Finally, his face came into view. His skin was pale, starkly different from the darker, rough complexions of the other men. His face was as flawless as white porcelain.

Above, thick eyebrows sloped upward, and his deep-set eyes had slender double eyelids. His nose was sharp, with a pronounced tip like an arrowhead. His cheekbones were well-defined, and his firmly set lips and angular jaw added a rugged masculinity.

His jet-black hair was cropped short, barely reaching his forehead. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, an age that suited his face well.

Had he come as a customer, the women here would have been excitedly on their toes over him.

And yet, no one uttered a word of admiration. The dark aura he exuded was thick and oppressive, like charcoal dust. His eyes, deep black, felt as though they could swallow everything around him.

Seeing those eyes, Ajin pressed his legs together tightly. The chill in the air felt like it was scraping against his bare skin.

This man was terrifying. Instinctively, Ajin could tell.

Ajin hunched his already narrow shoulders even more, hiding behind Do-eun. Though his actions weren’t manly, Do-eun, who had known him since he was nine, shielded him kindly.

The man stood in the center. His imposing size was all the more evident at this close range. His hands were large, his forearms and chest thick. One slap from a man like him would likely make someone’s face burst open like a ripe persimmon.

“…”

Without a word, the man surveyed everyone in the gambling den. A profound silence followed his lead, everyone falling in line with the quiet. Lips sealed tightly, breaths held, each person took care not to do anything that might disturb him.

His gaze moved smoothly, yet heavily. He looked at each and every one of them. For a moment, even Ajin’s eyes met his before his gaze moved on.