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Capitulo 1

“You’re up.”
Of all of the things that Taehyung had thought that he would regret hearing he had not thought
that it would be this. Logically he should have been scared by a lot more other words, the typical
ones and the more obscure. Something along the lines of “you have cancer” was one, “don’t
scream and I won’t you hurt you” was another. A rather strong fear of his, and he supposed that it
was for a great many others, was hearing the words “we tried our best to save him but sadly, your
father is dead, Mr. Kim”.
But “you’re up”? Why, it was just two simple words and yet he felt the unmistakable sensation of
dread course through him.
It had been quite some time since he had felt the sensation, likely around the time that he had taken
his force entrance exam. Taehyung could recall sitting at the desk, fresh out of high school with a
pen in hand and a series of sheets in front of him; sheets that would determine him being allowed into the force or not. For some older teens that had been his age, it had been college entrance
exams they had been sitting; filled with dread. But for him it had been the force entrance exam,
because a failure to pass would have ruined his future aspirations. That was why he had been so
scared back then.
Right now his stomach felt the exact same too. It was in the way that his stomach clenched hard,
as if seized hold of tightly by a fist. Working in sync with his stomach his throat and also seemed
to have restricted to the width of a straw. Taehyung’s skin had been rather warm from the heating
inside the department office floor and yet it was now decidedly chill. Was he going to break out
into a sweat? He wasn’t sure but he felt just like he might. A cold clammy sweat that could only
be described as terror sweat.
Yet Namjoon was looking at him like nothing of great importance had just happened. Why, he
might as well have asked if he would log into the database and change an entry for him, judging
from the rather calm look on his face. Taehyung studied the files in the crook of his elbow as he
shifted to sit against his desk. Namjoon didn’t pull up a chair and act professional. He just leaned
back to sit on his desk, the edges digging into the backs of his thighs and the seat of his black
trousers brushing against the wood. He placed the files down beside his laptop and then he just
folded his arms over his chest and looked down at him.
Taehyung rapidly figured out why he had picked to sit on his desk rather than on the other side.
The position allowed him to look powerful, in control. He had to look up at him and thus it made
him look like he was below him. Right now he felt like he was, felt like he was on his knees rather
than seated at his desk. It was the effect of his shadow falling over his laptop and his gaze burning
down at him.
God, he felt like an ant in front of him right now. A teeny tiny insignificant ant in the shadow of a
massive boot heel just waiting to be stomped on.
“I’m sorry?” Taehyung asked him, lifting his eyebrows at him in a gesture he hoped looked
confused and not condescending. The last thing he wanted to do was look disrespectful towards
him. Even if he wasn’t technically his superior he couldn’t piss him off. Not now, after everything.
“I told you,” Namjoon said without even blinking. “You’re up.”
Taehyung studied his face for a moment and then glanced at his laptop. He had been sorting
through a series of intercepted emails in the hopes that he would find an error in any of them. That
someone would fuck up and use a word strong enough for them to have reason to get an arrest
warrant. A word that wasn’t coverage for something else. Something like “skin” or “goodies” or
any other fucking word lifted from a dictionary. Why not just be honest and say “meth” or
“prostitution ring” or plain old cold blooded “murder”? Why did they have to be so goddamn
tricky and make his job harder? Yet here he was after five hours of constant scanning and nothing.
Taehyung couldn’t possibly get an arrest warrant without physical proof. If he had intercepted
emails then he needed to have enough solid information to result in a successful prosecution. No,
an email made up of random shit that could mean anything certainly wouldn’t withstand a trial.
But how could their team arrest anyone when there was never any evidence? Sometimes
Taehyung felt like he was hitting his head against his screen over and over. It would likely yield
better results for their team than their current method.
“Taehyung?”
“Yuh-yeah, boss?”
“How many times have I told you to not call me boss?” Namjoon said. It was easy for him to say
that, as if it was just a simple drop in formalities and nothing more. The fact that he could pluck
him right out of his office job and decide to dump him into the centre of a massive sting operation
showed that he was clearly something a little more than a coworker. He wasn’t entirely certain that
dropping the title would change a thing. “What is it? Talk to me, you look a little…” Taehyung
dragged his eyes away from his laptop screen to look at him again. He saw slightly furrowed
brows, not a sign of anger but possibly one of displeasure. “Taken aback by that news.”
“With all due respect, uh, Namjoon, I’ve been working this department here for less than a year,”
Taehyung explained, as if he wasn’t aware of this fact. “I’m hardly the most knowledgeable of all
of our team so I don’t-”
“Who told you you weren’t the most knowledgeable?” he asked, cleverly derailing the point that
he was trying to make. Taehyung just mumbled something under his breath as he stared at his
desk. Not too far from Namjoon’s files was his coffee mug, the dregs now likely freezing cold and
as thick and dark as tar. There was a small lunchbox from a café just down the street open in front
of him but he had lost his appetite suddenly. In the light from the window the remainders of the
rice looked gelatinous and the kimchi looked sloppy and wet, like vomit.
The currently empty department room fell silent save for the sound of the clock and he hated it. He
wished that someone else was in the room too, Sungah or even Hoseok. That would make the
atmosphere less heavy and suffocating for sure, and right now Taehyung felt like breathing was a
difficult task. Namjoon took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Taehyung just gnawed on his
lower lip rather than say another word.
Namjoon was his superior right now but only in experience. Namjoon was his boss because he
had had the best experience to take charge of their rather select small team. He wasn’t much
higher in rank or even greatly higher in age. But his father was a Chief Inspector and Taehyung knew what that meant. It meant that Namjoon was already well above his station in terms of
respect and influence. If he told him that he had to do something, Taehyung had to do it. He could
vocalise his want to not, could even request a referral but it would never get out of this
department. Right now Taehyung had to stay on Namjoon’s good side even if he didn’t want to
do this.
“We’ve been working together for how long, Taehyung?”
“Seven months,” he replied without looking up at him, eyes focused on the slight chip in the rim
of his coffee mug instead.
“Seven months…”
Yes, it had been roughly seven months since he had been taken from his usual desk job, sorting
out database records and typical violations to be placed in the narcotics and illegal substances
department. Taehyung himself still wasn’t entirely sure how he had gone from rather low level
enforcement to the current high level he was at. This was more than updating databases and
keeping files in order. Taehyung had more or less overhauled the entire system that they had had
before he had been put in place. Too many paper files full of useless shit, not enough instant and
accessible material on hand. Maybe that was why Namjoon had plucked him out of the team, but
there was one major problem.
Taehyung had no practical experience in the field. He had partaken in small street and car patrols
when he had been a rookie. Two years down the line he was no longer considered one, but
Taehyung still felt like a rookie. The kind of officer that had never made an arrest was the kind
that did not get sent into the largest gang in the country as an undercover spy.
“Seven months,” Namjoon repeated as he shifted on the desk slightly. Taehyung lifted his gaze to
see that he was looking across the department; across the rather small office floor. It reminded
Taehyung of a classroom somewhat, the long rectangle shape and the several tables inside, the
cork boards here and there covered in pinned up photographs and sheets of text. It felt like they
should really have a larger department but apparently that was unnecessary. “In that time I’ve seen
you go from making simple database entries to making links between data accounts that have led
to convictions.”
“Only once or twice I didn’t-”
“Thirteen convictions and five pending trial,” Namjoon interrupted. “That’s more than once or
twice. How would we have ever arrested Crazy Choi if you hadn’t connected that single call he
made to Do Hyungwon? Huh? Not me. I didn’t even imagine that Choi would be stupid enough to agree to meeting someone by call, yet you remembered. You remembered the location and that
got a confession from Do.”
“Hmm…” Taehyung made a noise as he nibbled on his lower lip.
“Crazy Choi was the most prolific arrest this department has made in ten years Taehyung. All ‘cos
of you.” Namjoon touched his shoulder briefly at this, as if to drive the point home. “That’s
something. We’ll go back to this later but let me explain. We’ve got reason to believe that you
might just be the guy we need for this Taehyung.” He shifted to reach over and lift one of the files
off the desk. Namjoon opened it up and glanced at something inside, eyes running over something
that could have been a photograph or a sheet of paper. Taehyung just stared at him and tried to not
wriggle in his seat in discomfort. “You know The Boy, right?”
Namjoon was asking a pointless question and they both knew this. Of course Taehyung knew
The Boy, he had been tracking and compiling cross-references of the gang for months now.
Taehyung knew names and faces, ages and occupations. He practically knew their designer suit of
choice from the amount of time he spent looking at photographs and recordings of the near
hundred men that belonged to the empire. So when Namjoon asked him if he knew The Boy he
knew that he did.
“What about him?”
“Been seen a lot recently, I’m talking daily. Hoseok got quite a few choice shots of him.”
Namjoon must have been looking at one such shot. “You know how rare it is to see him. So what
does that mean?”
Taehyung also knew that Namjoon was aware of the fact that he knew this too. It was pretty
obvious how he had gone from an invisible force to suddenly being seen everywhere. His time to
step on the chessboard was approaching; there was a new player in the game. He didn’t say any of
this of course, because he didn’t need to. His silence was all that Namjoon needed to hear. After a
few seconds Namjoon looked up at him, lifting an eyebrow as he did. The movement was languid
and yet authoritative and so Taehyung lifted a hand and held it up to him. Asking for the file. The
other man handed it to him and so he turned it around and checked the photograph.
As expected Hoseok had once again proven his skills at being in the right place at the right time.
That not only applied to his delivery of arrest warrants, or his perfectly timed raids that always
snared a few rats in their nets. Hoseok also had the greatest lucky streak that Taehyung had ever
seen. He knew that his coworker had enrolled in military duties right after high school, and from
there he had used the experience in being placed in the department. If Taehyung was the
mastermind behind the computer screen then Hoseok was the mastermind of working on the
streets. And it was that lucky streak of his that had resulted in these shots.
The photograph in front of him had been taken from either a sidewalk or inside a building,
perhaps a café. Though there were multiple bodies it was clear where the focus was supposed to
be. It was supposed to be on the young man stepping right out of the suit store to cross the
sidewalk and enter the Mercedes-Benz S-Class limousine. Black suit, fitted and designer. Didn’t
need to be an expert to see that. Taehyung had no doubt that the waistcoat alone likely cost his
monthly pay packet and his wages weren’t exactly low. In the shot The Boy was reaching up to
undo a jacket button, the one right in the centre. His attention was elsewhere, looking at a man to
his left rather than in the direction of the car.
Taehyung flicked to the second and sure enough there was a closer shot. This time his face was
more than a profile. His black hair was swept back off his brow neatly to reveal a rather
conflicting visage. Looking at his face Taehyung saw neither a boy nor a man but something
trapped between. Eighteen he might have been, but he had yet to lose the lingering vestiges of his
teenage years. His features seemed too large to be called mature from his large eyes (deer eyes
Taehyung thought for some reason before pushing the thought away) to his prominent nose, to
that tight little pout of a mouth of his. Despite his features being masculine, his strong eyebrows
and nose, his height and frame, Taehyung couldn’t shake his initial feeling upon studying him.
He was an adult child. He was trapped between two worlds. The young man on the photograph
had a spoilt look on his face - it was in his mouth, that pout. Yet the way he held his shoulders
showed that he was also authoritative.
The third and final shot was so crisp and clear that he could see the most minute details on his
face. The rather deep scar on his left cheek that wasn’t noticeable in the further shots was now
unmissable. Taehyung could practically count his eyelashes, soft pretty little curls of black. He
was glancing down the street, brow lightly furrowed as he squinted from the strong sunlight.
“Sungah’s gonna be pissed Hoseok beat her to these,” Taehyung joked as he looked up at
Namjoon. “These are fantastic shots. Probably the best ones we’ve got of him.”
“Best ones the department’s gotten since he was about…eleven,” Namjoon agreed with a nod as
Taehyung looked back at the photograph.
Yes, the young man on the photograph was the same even when he looked so very different.
Gone was the short height and sloping small shoulders, the youthful innocence. No more long hair
and teeth in need of braces. He had grown up from the database photographs that they had of him.
Taehyung knew that he would look very different from his middle school photographs too. He
had certainly grown up well, and so had he.
“Looks nothing like that dried up fucker,” Taehyung remarked as he looked at the shot. “Mrs. Jeon must be a looker and a half.”
“Don’t have a fucking clue, I’ve never seen her. Jeon keeps them sheltered remembered.”
Namjoon reached down to pull the file from his hands. Taehyung spared a quick final glance at
the photograph before it was out of sight once more. “But not anymore. No, Jeon Jungkook is
finally hitting the streets like the heir that he is.”
“And we got the best shot of him possible. Goddamn, Hoseok won’t shut up about this for
months.”
“We think that he’s getting groomed to take over, and that means right now we’ve got a way in.
Times are gonna be turbulent for them with power and influence shifting everywhere,” Namjoon
explained as he placed the file down and folded his arms over his chest. “That’s where you come
in.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is,” the other man agreed with a vigorous nod. “See, we’ve got reason to believe that
they’re going to start…investing in some new meat. There’s going to be a purge, that much we
know. Like with all power shifts, the old’s going to make way for the new.” Namjoon paused for
a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “We got a tip off an informant. They’re bringing in boys,
not old men, not middle-aged men. We’re talking young blood. You need to bring in a new
generation for an empire to last.”
“OK, so why me? Why not this informant? Why can’t they do it?”
“Two simple reasons. One,” Namjoon held a hand up and a single finger, “they’re too old and
they have tender connections right now. We need them to stay exactly where they are, rather than
go deeper.” He lifted his second finger, making the peace sign at him. “Two, they’re our ticket
into the gang. That’s why we need you Taehyung. We need someone that can’t possibly be linked
back to the department.”
“But you’re smarter, y’know what to do if-”
“Shit Taehyung I might be smart but so are you, your aptitude tests were off the chart. I know
because I checked the records. Yes I’m smart, that’s why I need to stay back here, in the base
camp. You have think of this situation in a certain way. Don’t use your ace card when you can
pull a joker.” Namjoon reached over and tapped him on the side of his head. “You’re smart. Very smart. You’re also a damn good bluffer.”
“Bluffing about kiddie shit is easy Namjoon,” Taehyung retorted, an almost whine in his voice as
did, “that’s not kiddie shit. If I say the wrong thing I can lose my head, and I like my head. It’s a
nice head if I can brag about it.”
“I’m in too deep Taehyung. This department has affected me, I can’t go undercover. I’d blow the
operation up. Sungah can’t, she’s female so she can’t even attempt to join. Hoseok can’t. He’s just
like me, he’s like a soldier, not a spy. He does his job great, but he’s not right for this one. Daesu’s
too old, Youngjae couldn’t look anymore like a fucking cop if he tried.”
Taehyung realised that he had named all of the team already except for him. They were only a
small group of officers, for the only time they needed numbers was during raids. That was when
the armed units stepped in, following Hoseok’s guidance. Other than that there were just six
officers on the current squad and it would be pitiful if not reflective of the rather low level of drug
activity in the region. There were more convictions for buyers of drugs than for sellers, and
certainly not producers. No, most of the drugs floating around were imported shit from North
Korea, China, The Philippines and more.
When it was so hard to find dealers and producers it wasn’t like there was a demand for officers in
the field.
“Taehyung, this is the best shot we will get at infiltrating Haedogje Pa. It’s been an entire
generation, we’ve been waiting forever.”
“I know, I know,” Taehyung muttered. “I know it’s the best but…me?” Namjoon held his gaze
without blinking, refusing to back down. “I don’t even have any practical experience. What the
fuck am I supposed to do?”
“You will undergo some training Taehyung,” he explained, shifting on the table as he did. “How
to work a firearm mostly, but other stuff too. You’re not going into it naked. You’ll be prepared.
We’ve got nearly three months to prepare ourselves for this. By the time we get you inside you
will know every single thing about the fucking Haedogje Pa you will ever need to know.”
“I already know all about ‘em,” Taehyung said, edging close to an argumentative retort. “I know
everything that I need to know. I don’t need to know anymore.”
“Not everything, not yet,” Namjoon said as he shifted to get off his desk. “The only way to know everything about Haedogje Pa,” he said as he placed a hand on his shoulder, “is to join Haedogje
Pa.”
Taehyung didn’t follow him with his eyes as he left the department office. He was too busy
staring at the files left on his desk to do so. They were just sitting there, so very much like
Pandora’s Box waiting for him to open them and look inside. Namjoon just knew that he couldn’t
ignore them, because he would just have to check the files to see the information. To see if it was
correct and that there wasn’t the slightest piece of error. That was why he had left the files there, to
tempt him. Taehyung wanted to go back to his laptop, to scanning the countless other emails and
pretending that none of this had happened but he knew that he couldn’t.
There was no way of backing out of this. He was cornered and he shouldn’t even try.
Taehyung sighed and pushed the lunchbox aside so that he could pull the files closer to him
instead. He opened the thin manilla one and slipped the photographs out, spreading them across
the desk. The glossy surfaces reflected sunlight back at him. Then he opened his desk drawer and
pulled a rather tattered notebook free, covered in scrawls of ink with torn and folded pages. Right
now the other files could wait. Taehyung wanted to do his own investigation first; starting with
identifying as many men in the photographs with Jungkook as he could. Then he would try and
figure out what exactly that might mean.
If anyone on their team could predict the future of Haedogje Pa then it was him. That was why
Namjoon had left him the files and had picked him as their spy. He had figured that much out on
his own.
Taehyung sighed and turned to look at the photographs on his desk. No one on the shots looked
back at him, all caught looking down the streets or at watches; fingers pressed to earpieces so that
he could see black wires curling down and out of sight into shirt and suit jackets. No one stood out
to him on this particular outing. There was a high chance that they were just hired thugs and
nothing more; bodyguards for the baby heir in their midst. Taehyung dragged his eyes away from
a bald-headed man to look at Jungkook: at The Boy. He tapped his pen against the notebook as he
stared at him.
A new player on the chessboard, not a pawn but rather a king. Jungkook was limited right now,
unable to move around much or control vast swathes of his empire yet. No, that still remained in
the hands of his father; who was now something close to the queen. The most powerful but not
the most important. Well, Taehyung knew his chess and that meant that he was going to be a rook.
There was much work to be had and he knew something else too.
He was going to need more coffee.
Taehyung knew about Haedogje Pa. He was sure that anyone working in the force would, along
with those in government sectors and the judicial system. They were often referred to as a cancer,
a malignant cancer that lingered and would never go away. They were something above every
other gang in the country because they had long surpassed what could be counted as a “gang”. No
petty street wars or power struggles. Haedogje Pa were an empire to be precise: the largest and
most ruthlessly monitored empire in the entire of Seoul. Everyone knew about them, but no one
could do a thing to rid them from existence.
The motto of Haedogje Pa was this: you’ve got the poison, we’ve got the antidote.
The poison applied to a great many things. The gang dealt in a rich profusion of drugs: marijuana
and prescription medication like Valium and Xanax were the soft shit; Yeba, methamphetamine,
heroin and cocaine were the more in demand, the hardcore shit. But drugs weren’t the only things,
though they certainly were a powerful foundation. Taehyung knew that the empire had been
founded on drugs smuggled from American military camps into the general population. That
meant that they were very important in regards to the culture of the empire.
A second staple and by no means last specialty of Haedogje Pa was countrywide prostitution.
Taehyung didn’t like calling it that because that seemed to state that the gang dealt in sex workers,
when in reality he knew that they were sex slaves. To call the women and men working the
circuits willing was so far from the truth it was rather shocking. They were either drug-addicts,
immigrants, runaway kids or desperate. With all of those factors put into play it wasn’t about
workers anymore, but rather more people trapped under their control. First the addicts, then the
slaves. There were underground strip clubs, brothels, dens filled with the kind of shit that
Taehyung could only imagine. Sungah had worked on busting open prostitution rings before
moving onto the vice desk, and he had heard stories. Stories that he had wished he never had.
They were more vices that interlaced under these two: gambling, pornography, extortion and other
shit. These were just as important even if they seemed to be lesser, because they were just another
pillar of strength that kept the gang standing strong and unbreakable. Looking for a chink in the
armor was something that took years of work, and more often than not there was never enough
time or strength to break through. Taehyung wasn’t stupid. He knew that an empire wasn’t just
built on smarts and money alone. It required power and influence, along with protection. He knew
that Haedogje Pa had links to all kinds of powers in the country. There would be politicians,
chaebols and CEOs, judges and more all willing to help keep the business flowing and the risks
low. They were Seoul’s biggest open secret, and not a thing could be done without information.
When he had joined the desk for narcotics and illegal substances he had found out about Haedogje
Pa very quickly. Even now it was impossible to not see their name popping up everywhere that he
looked. There wasn’t a day spent at his laptop that he didn’t come across the gang at least ten
times. With them controlling the criminal underground in Seoul it made perfect sense. Yet
Taehyung had discovered something when he had starting delving deeper into the
databases. Taehyung had discovered his rather tremendous ability to recall names and faces, and
chunks of information that he had never truly done so before. He had learnt the high-ranking
members well enough to be almost a relative of theirs, and he could connect them all up like a
web. It wasn’t just a single aspect that he could memorise, but rather entire hierarchical systems.
Taehyung had never realised how fantastic his visual memory was, and it was sorting through the
files and updating databases that had allowed him to show the team just how useful he really was.
He wasn’t just a desk jockey, trapped behind a table with a laptop and a pot of coffee. He was so
much more than that.
It had shocked Namjoon to the point of dumb silence when he had first given a name of a prolific
member in regards to a conversation that he had overheard. The other young man and Youngjae
had been puzzling over a rather sloppy hit on a dealer that had been called Oh, standing in front of
a cork board just across the department room as they had tried to figure it all out. Taehyung had
heard them trying to figure out who the fuck would have killed their own dealer when the name
“Choi Wooyoung” had spilled out of his lips without a second’s hesitation. It had made perfect
sense to him, seen as he had been listening to a recording just an hour earlier dated a month prior
in which the man had vocalised concerns about a loss of profits in a district. The exact same
district that Oh had worked before his untimely death. From there Namjoon and Youngjae had
connected the dots, but they had needed the initial push in the right direction to do so.
That had been the first time that Taehyung had used his memory to assist in the process of lining
up suspects for arrest. It had not been the last. He didn’t know why but he had just stored
knowledge about Haedogje Pa away and he could utilise it without needing to reference the
databases in most situations. Sungah had once referred to him as a university lecturer, an expert at
Haedogje Pa knowledge. Daesu had told him that he needed to get a life.
It was that very skill of his that had gotten him caught right in Namjoon’s sights of course. If one
were to send an undercover agent into the fray, what better one to pick than one that knew names
and faces and allegiances almost as if they were already in the gang?
That was why he had been pulled out of desk duty and instead thrust into a series of terrifying and
rigorous mandates to get him prepared. That was why, just a week from now, he was going to be
dragged into Haedogje Pa. It was also why he was he sitting in a café with their informant
halfway across the capital rather than at his office desk.
“Right,” Lim said as he opened the manilla file and started spreading the photographs out across
the table. Over the slightly tacky coffee rings and scattering of loose sugar particles. “Let’s try this one last time, huh?”
Taehyung had never met Lim prior to this arrangement. Being an informant he had needed to stay
well away from the department at all times, which was why Taehyung now owned a brand new
phone and a whole new set of falsified credentials to his name. Upon first meeting him he had
been surprised for he hadn’t looked like what he had expected. Taehyung had expected a rather
grizzled middle-aged man, tough and sinewy in a street weathered kind of way. He had not
expected a rather chubby man with stubble on his jowls and hair that was too long and slightly
unkempt. But despite this he saw signs on him that showed that he had worked his job well. First
of all his rather flat pug-like face showed a nose with a crooked bridge from multiple breakages,
and his stubble couldn’t fully disguise the scar on his cheekbone either.
But it wasn’t just his face. Lim showed himself in a manner that bled confidence and influence.
His suit was designer, the heavy Rolex wristwatch sneaking out from the cuffs whenever he
reached over to retrieve something a sign of his bank account. He breathed slow and evenly. He
even blinked as if on a perfectly timed cue. It showed fantastic control and Taehyung had found
himself consciously copying him during their meetings. Lim was an informant, a spy in other
words. He lived and breathed the Haedogje lifestyle and he didn’t break character once. Even
during their meetings he was a gangster, not a police officer. At first Taehyung had been quite
simply terrified by his brusque and blunt nature. One time he had made a mistake the man had
grabbed one of the knives from their table and had stabbed it right at him. “That’s it, you’re dead,”
Lim had spat and he had thrown himself back in the chair and had toppled over to land in a mess
on the floor.
All he had done was state that Park Woobin was a dealer in methamphetamine. No, that was Park
Wooyoung. Park Woobin had links to strip clubs and was most certainly not a name to be dropped
in casual company lest he wanted to piss a great many men off.
Every time that Taehyung had made a mistake he had done something like that. A stab at his hand
or chest with a rather blunt butter knife, the press of something against his knee that might just
have been a gun from under the table. Lim had trained him to be so scared of fucking up a street
name or the standardised charge for marijuana that Taehyung had learnt that thinking before
replying was a safer option. Replies didn’t need to be blurted out like answers to a high school
quiz. He could take three seconds to get a correct answer and keep his cool, rather than get it
wrong and potentially lose his head.
It wasn’t about being perfect, Lim had told him. It was about knowing the information mostly for
his own gain. The more he knew, the stronger he was. That was why he was being tutored like
this. Knowledge is power, and every member of Haedogje Pa had power.
“Some of this is pretty easy,” Lim explained, settling the pages down like a teller dealing cards.
“You’ve met one or two of ‘em before. If you dunno ‘em then this time I won’t pretend to stab
you, I’ll fucking stick you like a roast pig kid.”
“The support’s appreciated like always,” Taehyung muttered as he watched him finish spreading
the photographs out.
Lim hadn’t just taught him how to handle the pressure of quick thinking, he had also ensured that
he been seen in his company around other low ranking members. Taehyung couldn’t just show up
one day out of the blue. He had needed to be eased into it all. His wardrobe was no longer filled
with casual clothing and the handful of shirts and black trousers that he needed for his desk duty.
No, all of that had been replaced in favour of suits. Not designer, not yet, but better quality and
well-fitted. He needed to look the part, in both fashion and how he held himself. Taehyung had
spent many evenings in front of a mirror pulling at his shirt cuffs and just trying to look like he
belonged in a suit; like it was a second skin to him. It was hard but he had reached a point in
which he now felt a little more confident in himself.
Mostly that was because he had stood in the same room as several other gangsters other than Lim
and he was still breathing now.
Those meetings had been absolute hell for him. Taehyung had spent the first three convinced that
he would fuck up and say the wrong thing. Even when he hadn’t been the centre of attention he
had been terrified. He was there to stand by Lim’s side, often like a silent witness to the deals that
were agreed to. So far he had witnessed bribery for a local government election, the forced
removal of a rather enthusiastic D.A., and illegal property development. That was Lim’s field of
entry into Haedogje Pa, and it meant that Taehyung had needed to stay very alert in the small
meetings. Always in public but in locations that he had known that the gang owned. Coffee stores
that were always filled with men in suits and women that looked like escorts, restaurants with
bouncers on the doors. He had once even been dragged to an underground strip club to sit in a
back room for a deal. The bass had pounded loud enough for him to feel it like a heartbeat. As if
the deal hadn’t been stressful enough, the sight of naked women and men writhing around poles
and on polished counters hadn’t helped alleviate the sensation.
But it had paid off in his favour for he had caught the eye of a member. A very important member.
The man was called Nam, first name currently unknown to him. But he had seen him in the
presence of The Boy and that meant something. Nam had addressed him like he would an
underling, but he had addressed him nonetheless. The man had wanted to know from Lim what
exactly he had been in the meeting for. So Lim had explained that he was a tribute to Haedogje
Pa, a new willing recruit. From behind his shades Nam had studied him intently, all business deals
at hand suddenly forgotten about in favour of him.
Then the man had turned to one of his lackeys with a grin on his face and Taehyung had heard
him say: “he would love him, huh? Look at that face”. Taehyung had yet to figure out who
exactly he had meant by that.
Yes, the meetings over the near three month period had been rather hellish. His fears of fucking up
had been unfounded. He hadn’t, but he had often ended up retching over a toilet bowl shortly after
they had finished for his relief had finally caused his nausea to take over.
“Right, give it to me kid,” Lim said as he sat back in his chair and lifted both arms up. He swept
them out in a casual gesture, a “show me what you can do” kind of thing. So Taehyung leaned
over the photographs and he took a second to run his eyes over them.
“Nam,” he said, stabbing his forefinger down.
“Who’s he? C’mon, quicker.”
“Supplier of skin. Gets girls and boys from Laos, prepubescent. Doesn’t deal in adults. Owner of
Blue in Gangnam-gu. The club is an investment, all cash earned goes in his pocket and not to
Haedogje Pa. That’s why Choi Sooyoung,” Taehyung tapped another photograph, “has a fucking
chip on his shoulder.”
“Why?”
“‘Cos Choi thinks himself a philanthropist. He circulates earnings in Dobong-gu for homeless
shelters. Choi preaches that Haedogje Pa should look like guardians in their respective districts:
care for the people and they’ll keep you in the profit zone. Nam doesn’t give a shit. They’ve been
at each other’s throats for months now. You’ll never see ‘em together.”
“What does Choi Sooyoung do?”
“Hypocritical fucker runs scams.” Taehyung moved his hand to hit another photograph, fingers
bouncing off the end of the man’s chin. “Bae Goohee.”
“Slimey-looking fucker. Gimme facts.”
“Arms dealer. Deals in handguns mostly, but can procure assault weapons when needed. Chinese
mostly, mass-produced. Gets the rare shipment from Russia but mostly it’s China or Vietnam.”
Lim was nodding at him now, showing that he approved of what he was hearing. “Bae’s a tough
fucker. You don’t cross him. He’s well-respected and you don’t even look him in the eyes you
just get on your knees.”
“That motherfucker didn’t even blink when he cut me up,” Lim muttered. Taehyung paused for a
second to stare at the man before shifting in his seat.
“Bae’s got the strongest connections to The Boy-”
“No, don’t call him that. That’s wrong it’s too…” Lim waved his wrist around rather than grab for
a knife like usual. “Call him by his proper title or you could piss him off. Don’t matter what others
call him, call him Master.”
“…To Master Jeon,” Taehyung continued. “He’s gonna stay in power ‘cos he’s got too much
power. Can’t get rid of him, he’s a threat.”
“So the others, they’re just pawns, huh?”
“No, not all of ‘em. Him,” he tapped the final photograph, “Kim Jinwoo. Pretty boy. He’s the son
of Jeon’s old partner Kim Jintae. Owns The Gold Monkey Casino in Singapore. That’s probably
one of the strongest pillars of oversea influence that Haedogje Pa have at their disposal. He’s been
palled up with Master Jeon since childhood but…”
“But?”
“Word coming from the pawns is that Master Jeon and Kim don’t play nice with each other.
Something to do with religion. Kim’s a born again what’re they called…bible fucker, and he
doesn’t like Jeon’s bad behaviour.”
“If only we knew what he gets up to,” Lim said as he folded his arms on the table. “But he’s still
too secretive.”
“That’s where I step in,” Taehyung said, not meaning to sound cocky but unable to stop the words
from spilling free.
“Kim, I got one thing to say to you,” Lim said, expression hardening as he did. Taehyung had to
resist the pressing urge to gulp. After a few seconds of silence the man burst out laughing and he
nearly jumped in surprise. “You’re a crazy kid but I like that. You’d have to be fucking crazy to
agree to doing this.”