The Manager Is a Gangster

24 – Who Found Who (17)

1.

“Now, what should we do?”

“We, we won’t touch Haan-nim again! (We won’t ever touch Haan-nim again!)”

When asked by the three gangsters who were pounding their heads on the rough cement floor, the oldest one replied with a mangled pronunciation.

It was a desperate sincerity that didn’t fit with the gangsters who would lie whenever they opened their mouths, shouting that they didn’t want to die.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, yes! That’s right! I, I apologize! Please, please spare us just this once! (Yes, yes! That’s right! I apologize! Please, please spare us just this once!)”

“Hmm, but isn’t the target of the apology wrong?”

The target they should be apologizing to wasn’t me.

I won’t touch Miss Haan, that’s the correct answer, but saying it to me was the wrong one.

Normally, I would have said, “You still haven’t come to your senses!” and kept at it until a proper apology was made. However, under Haan’s strange demeanor, I found myself not leaving any room for relaxation, pushing myself to the limit unintentionally.

If I throw one more punch here, I might faint and never be able to get up again. It’s unreasonable to keep going.

But these dirty thugs answered quickly without giving me a chance to throw another punch.

“I, I apologize! (I’m, I’m sorry!)”

“We’ll do as you say! Please don’t hurt us anymore! (We’ll do as you say! We won’t do it again!)”

“I confess my sins! (I’ve committed a mortal sin!)”

Bowing their heads toward Haan, wiping their hands on their foreheads, they apologized, liquid dripping from their eyes, nose, and mouth.

An apology sincere above all else, because they didn’t want to die.

Not seeking forgiveness seemed to show they understood their situation.

In reality, it didn’t matter if they passed or failed; if Haan didn’t accept it, it was useless.

“······.”

Haan looked down at the thugs who were apologizing with all their might, colder than usual.

Approaching her cautiously, I opened my mouth next to her, in her cold expression that seemed to dislike even speaking to them.

“Miss Haan. If you have anything you want to say, feel free to say it. You can say anything here because Miss Haan, whatever you say, it’s allowed.”

“Then, you mean you’ll listen to anything I say?”

“Yes. If you want to live, there’s nothing I won’t do.”

With those words, I looked down at the leader among the thugs.

Upon hearing that, the leader vigorously nodded up and down, responding to my words.

“Well, anything! We’ll do anything if you let us live! (Well, anything! We’ll do anything if you let us live!)”

In response to the desperate voice, Mr. Haan exhaled heavily and slowly nodded.

Then he spoke.

“Well then, 1 billion each from both parties. Bring 6 billion. It’s the price of a life. If you pay that, I’ll spare you.”

“Wow.”

It was as if it was only natural for those cursed gangsters who didn’t want any association with him to demand 6 billion as the price of their lives.

It was something I had never imagined, and Mr. Haan, who had surpassed my imagination so easily, looked incredibly cool.

Is this what they call a crush? Did I actually like this kind of thing?

At that moment, when I felt my heart trembling from how cool Mr. Haan was, the leader of the three gangsters cautiously opened his mouth and asked a question.

“If, if it’s 1 billion each, then isn’t it 3 billion…?”

“It’s 6 billion, right?”

“Yes?”

“Because I’m saving you and the manager is saving you. So, it’s 3 billion twice, which makes 6 billion.”

“…”

It was an astonishing and incredible creative economy to the point where I couldn’t even utter an exclamation of admiration.

From the perspective of the one being extorted, it was an unfair and unbelievable calculation that made you feel like you were going to die, but what could you do about it? If you didn’t want to die, you had to do it.

I did tell Mr. Haan that I wouldn’t kill him, but that was just words, and it was a way to feel merciful.

Because you can’t think, “Well, at least I’m not going to kill you!” when you’re about to be beaten to death.

“Yes, yes…! Ah, I understand…! I-I’ll prepare 600 million!”

That’s why those guys had no choice but to nod their heads and tremble in order to survive.

“So, please. Ple-please spare us…! (So, please, spare-spare our lives…!)

Well, to begin with, I never had any intention of killing them, and I certainly never had a reason to. But that was a fact known only to me until just before my death.

From the perspective of someone facing their end, I must have thought dozens of times that I might really die like this. So, it was only natural that such genuine thoughts would emerge.

In truth, I had planned to deny this situation with lies to avoid it altogether. If anyone tried to lie about it, I was ready to seize them today and destroy the organization itself. But seeing it happen now, it doesn’t seem necessary.

Even if their physical wounds heal, they won’t be able to forget the existence of me.

Having experienced what I have, I won’t harbor petty thoughts of revenge towards myself or those around me.

These guys in front of me are not young thugs; they are seasoned gangsters, that much was certain.

If I had a vengeful nature from the start, I might have ended up in prison or suffered some other loss. I couldn’t have been a gangster like this for several years.

But just in case these guys go crazy and engage in mischief, there was a need for insurance.

“Well, what can I say? Mr. Haan will give you 600 million won in exchange for sparing your lives. I’ll spare you.”

“T-Thank you!”

I crouched down and brought my mouth close to the guy who was bowing to Mr. Haan.

And in a voice so low that Mr. Haan couldn’t hear, I whispered into the guy’s ear.

“But just in case you change your mind. If you think, ‘600 million is too much. Does this gangster bastard look down on us? It’s not good, let’s get rid of him,’ at any time, contact me. I’ll personally teach you what it means to be better off dead.”

“H-Heeey…”

“Now, here’s a business card.”

Finally, I inserted the business card into the guy’s shirt pocket.

It wasn’t my business card; it was the business card of Lee Seonggyeongho, the CEO of our organization, but that didn’t matter.

What mattered was that I told him to contact me before even thinking about making a fuss.

Leaving behind the gang leader who had turned pale beyond pallor as I wished, I unfolded my crouched legs and stood up.

“If you can come up with 600 million, call the number on that business card. I’ll give you exactly one week. If you miss the deadline, well… what should we do, Mr. Haan?”

“I want to sell what I’ve been doing to another country. I don’t know where to sell or who to sell to. Just let the manager handle it.”

“Is that so? Alright, I’ll do it that way. Got it? If you’re curious about how I’ll handle it, give it some time.”

“I, I would never allow that!”

Ignoring the desperate response, I turned my head towards Ms. Ha-an.

She, with a somewhat relieved expression, was looking at her own hands, not the gangsters, as if feeling a bit more comfortable.

“… 6 billion. 6 billion, that is.”

To be precise, her own two hands with six fingers each.

“Manager, is the 6 billion what you’re taking from those gangsters?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“I believed in you.”

“Huh.”

Believed, she believed?

Even though it was clear she had been conned, just that one statement of belief overwhelmed me with emotions, and my eyes felt a bit moist.

Wiping away the moistness with the back of my hand, I extended my hand to Ms. Ha-an with a bright smile, as if inviting her to dance.

“So, Ms. Ha-an, don’t stay in a place like this anymore. Shall we go eat something delicious?”

Unlike before, Ms. Ha-an didn’t refuse my persuasion and placed her hand on top of mine.

“Yes, let’s go eat something delicious. Manager.”

2.

Ms. Ha-an loved meat. Grilled pork belly, especially sizzling in oil.

Even the sight of her wrapping it in lettuce and eating it so enthusiastically was so beautiful that I could only become a meat-commander grilling meat for her.

And it was the same when we had oden for dinner last night. Han-ssi really enjoys eating. It’s cute.

I felt good because Han-ssi ate so well, to the point where it was unimaginable that he had just experienced such an incident.

After I finished cooking the meat, Han-ssi had a satisfying 30-minute lunch, and while he was in the bathroom tidying up, I finished paying and went outside to wait.

“He’s really cute. Pretty, cute, with a nice figure, everything about him is just pretty.”

It’s a talent that can only be used for being an idol.

“Oh! That’s right, an idol!”

I had forgotten, but that word that shouldn’t have been forgotten suddenly stuck in my mind and emitted its presence.

That’s right. I was trying to make Han-ssi into an idol. To be exact, I wanted to make him my own idol from the beginning.

But in the midst of dealing with those gangsters, I forgot about that fact and just enjoyed being with Han-ssi until now.

“If I hadn’t developed a habit of looking for idol talent every time I saw Han-ssi… it would be horrifying just to imagine. I almost missed the chance to lead Han-ssi down the path of an idol.”

However, even if the word “idol” came to mind and I had the thought of making Han-ssi into an idol, it didn’t mean that I could actually make him into one.

Because Han-ssi hated being an idol, or to be precise, using his appearance as a means of something.

His shining appearance was a curse and a threat to his life, as he had no guardian.

So Han-ssi came to hate hearing that he was pretty, even though he was so beautiful that he could be compared to the most beautiful lady in the world. He hated the fact that he was beautiful.

If he had such thoughts, it would be impossible for him to become an idol.

No matter what, appearance is the most basic means for a person to gain favor, and for an idol who seeks people’s favor, love, and happiness, appearance can only be a subject of evaluation.

“Hmm… what should I do now?”

A problem that was so difficult, to the point where it was on a different level than dealing with dozens of gangsters, lay before me.

And then, as I stood there with my arms crossed, furrowing my brow in thought, a familiar yet always new voice came from beside me.

“What’s the matter?”

“Ah, Mr. Haan.”

The person who approached me was, of course, Mr. Haan, who had cleanly erased any traces of eating meat in the restroom.

Perhaps because he was planning to crush his lifelong enemy and obtain a fortune of 600 million, Mr. Haan’s face seemed more relaxed than usual.

But that doesn’t mean he’ll agree to become an idol if asked.

“Still, I’ll give it a shot even if it’s an unripe persimmon.” Or with a mindset of “there’s no tree that won’t fall after ten chops,” I casually threw my words at Mr. Haan.

“Would you not consider becoming an idol?”

“An idol? Sure, why not.”

Huh?