POV: Kang Tae Oh
"Hyung'nim, just forgive me this once, I beg you! Just this once!" Hyunsook rubs his hands furiously, slamming his head on the ground in utter desperation.
He is kneeling on the maroon carpeted floor of a VIP room in Moonrise Club. A trail of dried blood goes down the side of his face. One of his eyes is bruised and swollen, closing it completely. Blood drips from his broken nose.
It's almost funny how many regrets people suddenly develop when faced with death. Almost.
Tae Oh swirls the whisky glass in his hands, takes his time bringing it to his lips and sipping. The liquid warms his throat but cold fury drips from his voice. "Why? So that you can fucking steal from me again?"
Hyunsook shakes his head furiously, his whole body trembling like a leaf in a storm. He was once one of the guards standing in a line by the door. They all are clad in black suits without ties. The soldiers of the Moonrise club who run all sorts of errands here.
Right now terror has blanched their faces. They stand so still they might turn into statues. After all, they are witnessing the end of a person who used to work with them yesterday.
Seungjae enters with President Choi. The latter stops short at the scene before him.
"It's okay, come inside. They are all loyal people here," Tae Oh drawls delicately, enjoying it. "Except for this one."
He holds out his hand and Gunwoo places a plier in it.
"Give me your hand," Tae Oh says. Gotta make an example out of this one. The last person who betrayed him, Tae Oh killed him too mercifully. That's why they have begun to think they can just fuck him over.
When Hyunsook doesn't comply, Seungjae gestures to the guards standing back. Tentatively, they come forward and seize him.
The President doesn't move from his place while Tae Oh plucks out Hyunsook's nails, his shrill screams echoing in the VIP room.
One by one, all his nails are gone, leaving only battered fingers and bloody trails behind. The fucking loser has passed out.
Tae Oh leans back, still unsatisfied. "If you have the nerve to steal from me, you should have the nerve to bear the punishment."
It was a messy job.
His hands are sticky and stained crimson, and he can feel blood on his tunic. He wipes his face, smearing it intentionally, then glances at the President's ghostly wide eyes, the sweat on his temple.
"Get him some good shoes and give him something to drink," he tells Seungjae without taking his eyes off the old man. Everyone present knows the vicious meaning behind these words.
Seungjae heaves Hyunsook onto his shoulder and leaves.
With his chin lowered, Tae Oh gestures for the President to sit down. Gunwoo takes out all the guards, leaving them alone. My my, our President is squirming uncomfortably.
"What happened?" Tae Oh asks, still holding the bloodied plier in his hand. The room smells metallic, like a bloodbath.
He already knows what happened, though. Asking is just giving President Choi a chance to lie.
But he doesn't. Once President Choi finishes speaking, there are a few tense moments of silence.
Then Tae Oh hurls his whisky glass at the wall behind the fucker. It crashes, shattering into several pieces. The loser flinches.
"Then you should have taken the tea!" His voice booms in the room. He is on his feet. "It's 2026, you fucking idiot! He was only bluffing. If you had blown it in his face, he would have become a fucking joke in front everyone."
What a dimwit!
"You-you don't know that. He has done similar things before," President Choi makes lame excuses. "He is too clever. As long as he holds military command, he will remain difficult to deal with."
"The point was to have everyone oppose him. Once you took the tea, no one would have taken him seriously, military command or not!" He can't believe he has to explain this. What a bloody moron!
The old man sputters, opening and closing his mouth in a speechless manner. The ugly sight annoys him further.
He snaps at the idiot, "You can leave now!"
The man doesn't need to be told twice. He leaves the room at the speed of light.
The people of Korea chose this loser to be their President. They deserve to be deceived.
He gets up, washes his hands in the restroom. He is wearing a black suit. In the mirror, he admires the streak of blood against his pale white skin. There's a spatter on his neck too and a tinge of crimson on the curved barbell on his eyebrow.
This is what gets people to fear and obey you. You go just a tiny bit easy, smile just slightly, and they start to feel easy enough to stab you in the back.
He washes his face, gets out and Gunwoo hands him another pressed black shirt.
"Hyung'nim, the party will arrive here on Friday," Gunwoo informs him as he pulls on the new shirt, buttons it and settles down. He is 35 years old–3 years older than Tae Oh–always keeps his hair slightly long and has a circle tattooed at the back of his neck.
He's never elaborated its meaning.
"Take care of everything. This deal can't go awry," Tae Oh says, still furious. He lies back, stretches his neck and tries to release some tension. Yanking out nails and dealing with dimwits puts pressure on your shoulders and neck. It's exhausting.
Noticing this, Gunwoo pours whisky in another glass and hands him. "Yes, Hyung'nim, I am confirming everyone's identity and background. You will only see them once everything's verified."
He is Tae Oh's right hand; A loyal man he can rely on. Although no one can be fully trusted, they have survived some life and death situations together.
After he leaves, Tae Oh reaches inside his coat's pocket and pulls out the deck. He keeps it tied with a black rubber band. Though he has heard it should be kept in silk, he doesn't have the patience for that.
The Temperance card is at the bottom of the deck. From his last spread. Seeing it eases some of his foul mood. Is it the card or the sense of familiarity?
Or maybe he is being told to calm the fuck down.
His deck is like a close friend to him. A confidante, a therapist, an ally rooting for him. It's honest when there's a need for it, it's comforting when he is anxious, and it has never called him a devil. Unlike people…
He shuffles the cards, murmuring. "Dear deck, how will the deal go this Friday?"
Rustling sound fills the room as he shuffles the cards thoroughly. It's the classic Rider Waite Smith deck. At last, he stops and without spreading the cards too far apart, he picks out three cards.
He neatly places them side by side on the table, the whole deck placed on a side too. This is the moment when he gets excited.
Slowly he flips each card, from left to right.