Sweet Shot

NOTES: THIS IS SIDE STORIES TILL CHAPTER 156.

#Aftermath (1)

Kwon Dae-woo left the police station after several days of investigation. His face was sunken, with dark circles under his eyes, clearly showing his haggard appearance. During his first-ever police interrogation, Dae-woo felt fear for the first time in his life and stuck close to the lawyer his father had sent, trembling in his hands and legs, all dignity forgotten.

It had been a gathering like any other. Well-known and large-scale clubs in each district had covert relationships with local police, and on nights when checkpoints were set up, the club owners would quietly tip off regular customers like him. They had been enjoying themselves as usual, cleverly avoiding detection, when suddenly a checkpoint appeared out of nowhere.

Born as the son of a mid-sized company CEO, Dae-woo had lived a VIP life. He spent money without care, traveled abroad frequently, and was treated well wherever he went. Even when he caused trouble, it was always easily swept under the rug, and people followed him around even when he behaved badly. Knowing that they all flocked to him because of his money and background, he always lived with an inflated sense of pride. From his experience, he deeply felt that the world ultimately moved under the command of those who had wealth. Dae-woo thought this kind of life suited him well. That’s why he enjoyed living.

The clubs and drugs were the same. Club owners would bow 90 degrees when they saw him. He paid more than triple the room charges in exchange for their tips. It was the same everywhere he spent money. People would bow, grovel, and serve him automatically. But now…

“Fuck!”

As soon as he left the police station, Dae-woo lit a cigarette nervously and threw the barely smoked cigarette to the ground in anger. He gritted his teeth, cursing.

It wasn’t even supposed to be a checkpoint night. When he pressed his lawyer to ask, he only learned that someone had tipped off the police. They said it was impossible to know who it was. Since his father’s legal counsel was a veteran, this meant that even if they bribed the police, they couldn’t find out.

Dae-woo took out his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Where else? I’m at home. I’m under house arrest. Shit, we’re totally screwed.”

It was one of the friends who had been with him that night, a high school classmate.

“You don’t know either?”

“Know what?”

“Who ratted us out.”

“I don’t know. They say someone tipped them off?”

“Why else would the cops show up that night, you idiot.”

Dae-woo put another cigarette in his mouth. Although the lawyer had a car waiting, he seemed unsettled and just kept flicking the lighter nervously.

“No matter how I think about it, there’s only one person it could be.”

“Who?”

“That fat bastard.”

“What?”

“That pig! Song Ha-min!”

It had been a gathering like any other, but if there was one difference, it was that that bastard had shown up that day. What made him unable to contain his anger was that, no matter how he thought about it, Ha-min seemed to be the only one who could have tipped them off.

The thought that he had been beaten by someone like that made his hands tremble. How dare he, that lowlife. He had been so infuriating that day. Just because he had lost some weight, he showed up acting all high and mighty. It was quite a sight. He wanted to chase after him and drag him back by the hair, but he was so stunned that he lost him in a moment of distraction. That was his mistake, and now his regret.

In high school, he had been a pushover who couldn’t even squeak. Even when beaten day and night, even when his parents were insulted, he was someone who couldn’t even talk back properly. He was a pathetic bastard with no sense of self, who would crawl or kneel as told. But to see him appear completely changed, looking straight at him and saying everything he wanted to say – it was shocking, but more than that, it was insulting. How dare he, how dare he, to me, he. How dare he.

“…You really think it was him?”

“Who else could it be? Even the club owner says he doesn’t know about it. Fuck!”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Where did you say he works part-time?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, you should find out, asshole. Is that all you can say when you don’t know?”

He seemed even more heated than usual. The person on the other end of the call hesitated, then slowly spoke, seeming to read the mood.

“…Do we really need to stir things up?”

“Are you scared?”

“No, it’s just… we avoided detention, and there will be a trial, but… the lawyer says we’re first-time offenders, so there’s a good chance we’ll get probation. Shouldn’t we stay quiet until the trial is over…?”

“Ha, hey. Have you become a cowardly idiot?”

Dae-woo scoffed at his friend’s cautious words.

“If you cause trouble again, won’t you really fall out of your father’s favor this time?”

“No parent can win against their child. Forget it, just find out where Song Ha-min works part-time.”

“…But we saw him that day. He has all the evidence. We don’t even know if he’s the one who reported us. Shouldn’t we wait and see how things go before making a move…?”

“Hey, you bastard. Since when did you start talking back to me?”

Dae-woo cut off the man’s words, lowering his voice ominously. The person on the other end hesitated, then quickly agreed and hung up. Dae-woo took a deep drag of his cigarette. After inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs, he let out a low, unpleasant laugh.

What he had said to Song Ha-min that day was sincere. He missed it. He missed trampling on that weak existence that had been nothing but a victim, that couldn’t even reach his toes. The thrill of looking down on a face steeped in misery and self-loathing was addictive once experienced. Violence was an addiction, and the feeling of being a predator was no different from drugs.

The memories of those days under police investigation were the greatest humiliation of his life. From the detectives who didn’t know who he was hitting him on the head with file folders, to himself trembling in fear at the thought of actually going to jail. At the time, he had been anxiously biting his nails thinking “Fuck, what do I do?”, but after returning home, taking a warm shower, eating a full meal, and sleeping in a warm bed, he felt like he was going crazy.

The only time he had ever bowed his head was in front of his father. He had always lived seeing others bow to him. But now, the memory of himself curled up like a frightened child, trembling, made him feel so ashamed and pathetic that his head felt hot.

Moreover, he didn’t know what would happen when his father, who already knew about this, returned from his business trip to the United States. It wasn’t supposed to be discovered, and it shouldn’t have been discovered. His father had always told him one thing: even if you cause trouble, don’t get caught. To his ears, it meant don’t do it at all.

Before that, he had to properly finish off that bastard. Dae-woo gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand that all of this was because of Song Ha-min, because of that lowlife. After receiving the location of the cafe where Ha-min worked from his classmate, Dae-woo immediately left home.

As Dae-woo got into his car irritably, he remembered Ha-min’s words from that day, spoken straight to his face without flinching, even though his hands were trembling. Asking not to pretend to know him, saying they had no right to. Ha-min’s wide-open eyes kept pricking at his nerves.

“Bullshit. Who does he think he is to tell me what to do?”

As soon as he started the engine in the driver’s seat, Dae-woo put a cigarette in his mouth.

During the few days he rested at home, he had been obsessively checking Song Ha-min’s social media. Although there were only a few posts on his feed, Dae-woo checked dozens of times a day, hoping to find something. Posts about reading books, honest selfies, sunset skies – they were pathetic posts with nothing special, but the number of likes and comments far exceeded his own. Even foreigners were leaving heart emojis and comments. In just a few days, Ha-min had surpassed the number of followers Dae-woo had struggled to accumulate over years of posting about luxury goods.

It was the same with YouTube. He had stumbled upon a video by chance.

Lee Tae-in. It was a channel with just three unremarkable characters for a name, but it had reached a million subscribers in less than two months since its creation. Meanwhile, Dae-woo’s channel, which he considered to be that of a “gold spoon influencer,” couldn’t surpass 50,000 subscribers no matter how expensive products he showcased.

The content itself wasn’t anything special. Videos of original songs, band performances, daily life of composing music, drinking with friends – they were all unremarkable videos, but the view count kept increasing almost daily. Moreover, while Tae-in himself never talked about luxury goods or money, people had figured out he was from a wealthy background. They praised him for his inherent class that didn’t need to be flaunted. Of course, Dae-woo could see it too.

Because he had an excellent eye for luxury goods, he could recognize Tae-in’s Italian wristwatch, limited edition shoes, and the clothes he wore even in passing glimpses. Although they seemed casually put together without visible logos, they were all basics that cost hundreds of thousands of won. It stung to see shoes and accessories that even he couldn’t get appearing briefly in the videos, but he accepted it. Thinking, this guy might be even richer than us. He was one of the few people Dae-woo acknowledged.

But the person Tae-in introduced as his best friend was Song Ha-min. As soon as he saw the name Song Ha-min in a video he watched by chance, Dae-woo’s brow furrowed. At first, he didn’t notice, but after watching it three or four more times, he realized. It’s this bastard. At first, he thought it couldn’t be, even laughing in disbelief, but when he looked at the graduation photo, he knew. The distinct features were still visible, even buried in fat. Upon discovering Song Ha-min, Dae-woo felt both joy and a surge of inferiority.

Hundreds of comments praising him, asking why he didn’t debut, calling him handsome. The fact that he was the best friend of Lee Tae-in, whom Dae-woo rarely acknowledged and secretly envied.

That fat pig who used to be his errand boy, who used to crawl between his legs, who couldn’t even open his mouth when beaten, fuck. Fuck!

Dae-woo slammed the driver’s seat. At the same time, he slammed on the brakes and glared fiercely at the cafe where Ha-min was working.

How should I kill him? How should I make him suffer? How can I make people see how ugly and pathetic that bastard is? Dae-woo pondered for a moment before getting out of the car. He planned to go in and show his face first. He was looking forward to seeing what kind of face Ha-min would make when he suddenly appeared.

Dae-woo lifted the corners of his mouth in a sinister smile as he grabbed the door handle of the cafe entrance. As befitting a place called a hot spot these days, the interior was huge and crowded with people. The overall bright wood-toned interior and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling were impressive. But Dae-woo, not interested in any of that, went straight to the counter. There were already more than five or six people waiting.

Ah, fuck. Do I have to wait for this?

Not here to leisurely sip coffee, Dae-woo felt his irritation rising at having to wait patiently. He grabbed a passing employee and asked,

“Hey, part-timer. Is Song Ha-min here?”