Deputy Chief Lee’s briefing continued.
They had confirmed the positions of all on-site staff and crew at the time the rat was spotted, and had even investigated the entrance and exit logs in detail—but not a single suspicious person came up.
The real question was how the hell it had even gotten in there without a bracelet in the first place.
“What about the IT room staff? They could’ve tampered with it.”
Gwak Tan pressed.
“No, sir. After the matter with Representative Gwak Jun, we’ve already eliminated that possibility entirely.”
Manager Kim spoke with certainty.
“So what’s your conclusion? You trying to tell me the rat’s a ghost or something?”
At Gwak Tan’s words, a heavy silence fell instead.
They should have immediately refuted him—of course not—but the silence dragged on, as if they actually believed in ghosts.
These fuckers, seriously.
Gwak Tan ground his teeth at his grandfather’s direct secretary office staff who’d secured themselves HQ executive seats. If they weren’t his grandfather’s people, he would’ve fired them long ago.
“Chairman, let’s catch the rat first. It’s too unsettling to just leave it. The main Party is coming up—you’re not planning to go in there with the rat still around, are you?”
In official settings, Gwak Tan used “Chairman” instead of the familiar “Grandfather.” Just like in public he went by Kim Hansu or Michael Kim, titles were always kept strictly separate.
His grandfather looked steadily at him, a glint in his eyes.
“Let’s play hide-and-seek.”
He declared.
The moment he spoke, a strange expression flickered across the faces of everyone except Gwak Tan—Lee, Park, and Manager Kim. The air in the room shifted instantly.
“What? Hide-and-seek? What the hell are you talking about?”
From the look on his face, Gwak Tan was the only one who didn’t know what it meant.
Fuck. Look at this shit.
There was something here only he didn’t know.
He knew the project had been going for ten years. He knew that, aside from this one, all the others had been small-scale parties.
Since he’d only been actively involved for three years, it was natural there’d be history the others knew. But it still pissed him off.
As long as he sat at the head of this project, there shouldn’t be anything he didn’t know. Maybe not to the extent of Manager Kim, who was practically his grandfather’s right hand, but at the very least, he should know more than Lee or Park.
Yet there was clearly something here that only they knew—and it seemed important.
It wasn’t the familiar game of hide-and-seek—this had a dangerous air to it. Their own version of “hide-and-seek.”
“Let’s start by picking who to exclude from the game.”
Regardless of Gwak Tan’s mood, the meeting continued.
The moment his grandfather finished speaking, the big monitor lit up with ID photos and nicknames of the seven members of Team 1.
Men who looked uncannily like Cha Jong-su filled the giant screen.
“Sailor 1—that one’s coming to the main Party no matter what. Keep him in reserve.”
At his grandfather’s declaration, Sailor 1’s face vanished from the screen.
Since authority over the Sailors rested entirely with his grandfather, Gwak Tan didn’t interfere.
But honestly, knowing he was the only one who didn’t know what “hide-and-seek” meant made it hard to focus.
One by one, Deputy Chief Lee gave detailed explanations of the remaining Sailors, showing not just personal info but also nude photos—down to their perineums and chests.
His grandfather stayed silent the whole time. When Han Seoho’s face came up, he seemed to hesitate briefly, but in the end he said nothing.
Then came the last Sailor.
Sailor 7.
Drug addict.
And...
From what Gwak Tan knew, this bastard had been deeply involved in his nephew’s death. He’d just recently hired people in LA—where Park Geonwoo was still alive, along with his parents and siblings. Soon, he’d find out exactly what had happened.
Sailor 7’s chest filled the screen.
A smile crossed his grandfather’s face.
“Keep that one too.”
And that was that.
“Weren’t we bringing all of Team 1?”
Gwak Tan asked in puzzlement. Before the project began, his grandfather had insisted ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) on filling the Sailors’ ranks with seven men who resembled Cha Jong-su.
“If they survive, we bring them.”
“Survive? You mean in the game?”
Gwak Tan had no idea what he meant.
His grandfather only smiled.
“There’s reserve stock, so what’s the worry?”
“But those ones are in the best shape—”
“The ones we kicked out are good too. And the ones Manager Kim’s bringing in are even fresher.”
“Ah... well, if that’s the case.”
Gwak Tan didn’t press further.
It didn’t sound like his grandfather was talking about winning or losing in a game.
Surely they weren’t actually going to kill them—most likely, he was referring to injuries that could occur during this “hide-and-seek.”
Gwak Tan thought of the reserves living on Basement Level 1. Aside from the one who’d died from drug side effects and the one with a broken nose, the two eliminated ones had been carefully kept there. One of those beaten by Gwak Jun had recently been promoted from reserve to Sailor.
The very first dropout had been waiting down there for a week now—desperate to be called up, following every bit of training and grooming the surface Sailors received.
And even after the group living had begun, Manager Kim had kept recruiting. More precisely, he was waiting for the surgical swelling on the reserves to go down. He’d said he could bring in at least three more before the main Party.
Since headcount management was essential, even Gwak Tan was aware of that much.
“But wasn’t Han Seoho coming with us?”
Though he hadn’t won much favor with the guests, his current role was significant.
Thanks to his looks and body, he was popular among the crew—enough that plenty of them would hand over anything he wanted.
Han Seoho had been using them to gather rumors and information circulating among the crew.
Most of it was useless, but every now and then he brought something valuable.
Like the word he’d received on the last day of the Manito Game. No one knew who’d started it, but they’d found out every Sailor’s assigned word.
Even his grandfather had shown interest in the info Han Seoho passed along. But now, his name had been removed.
“If he survives, we keep him. If not, replace him. What’s so hard about that?”
His grandfather made a displeased clicking sound with his tongue.
“Is the tagger ready?”
He changed the subject as if to say the discussion was over.
“Yes, fully trained—no problem.”
Manager Kim replied with confidence.
Trained? What the fuck did that mean?
Gwak Tan frowned.
It wasn’t that nothing came to mind at the word “training.”
He’d never once checked the security team’s schedule. Of course, their job was security, so they trained regularly—but still, was there any need to involve them in a game?
There were twenty-two tagger candidates even without counting the Sailors.
“You’re putting the security team in the game? Chairman, that’s a bit—”
“I’ll explain later.”
His grandfather cut him off.
The fuck is this?
Now his grandfather was acting like he could just ignore him.
What really enraged Gwak Tan was the fact that something was going on inside this project—inside his own damn operation—that he had absolutely no knowledge of.
He barely restrained himself from planting a fist in the face of the man he’d always respected.
****
The counseling room was sparse—no desk, no table. Just a single recliner chair and two single sofas.
A big man in a suit was lying in the recliner.
Wasn’t the counselee usually the one lying down?
As Jiwon stood there wondering, the man slowly sat up.
Fuck. Jiwon nearly cried out in shock.
Maybach.
He hadn’t expected to run into him here—truly hadn’t—and it caught him completely off guard.
Michael Hansu Kim. Kim Hansu.
Cousin to Gwak Jun, the man Jiwon suspected was the head of this project. Third-generation Korean-American.
He was said to be practically an enemy to Gwak Jun, but rumors claimed he was a serious pervert, so Jiwon had figured he wasn’t completely unrelated to the project. He just hadn’t thought the guy would reveal himself so openly.
Without a mask, Kim Hansu let out a huge yawn, swung his legs off the recliner, and sat on the edge.
“You know who I am, right?”
He asked in his signature gangster tone.
“Sit.”
He jerked his chin toward one of the single sofas.
Jiwon hesitantly went over and sat, perching on the edge and keeping his back straight.
Like someone intimidated by the man’s presence—just as when they’d first met—he glanced sideways at him, hands folded, head bowed.
“You okay where you got hit?”
The unexpected question left Jiwon confused.
“Sorry?”
“I said, are you okay, you fucker.”
“Ah, yes. I—I’m fine.”
He deliberately stammered.
“Take it off.”
“...What?”
“Take off the gown!”
Kim Hansu snapped, despite being the one who’d called him in.
Motherfucker.
Cursing inwardly, Jiwon, still seated, began untying the shower gown’s belt.
Then Kim Hansu strode over.
“Haah, fuck. So fucking slow.”
Grabbing the gown at the nape, he yanked it down.
With a flick, Jiwon’s back was bared.
“Tch. A tiny little fucker with no fear.”
Whether that was aimed at the expelled Kang Jooyoung or at Jiwon, he couldn’t tell.
“Keep applying ointment.”
Was that concern for his injuries?
Of course not.
If he was here, it meant he was part of the organizers.
He was just annoyed there was a blemish on the merchandise.
Jiwon smirked inwardly.
When the man gestured for him to cover up again, he adjusted the gown. In the meantime, Kim Hansu went back to the recliner.
Even after only meeting him once before, his build and height were still imposing.
Jiwon regretted how little he knew about him.
Detective Kim Kyungseok had found him unsettling too.
Phew. Running into someone this unexpected had him tense.
A hundred questions flitted through his mind and vanished.
Had this guy been doing the counseling the whole time?
Judging by the atmosphere, probably not—but maybe Gwak Chan, Choi Minjae, and himself were all being handled by this guy.
Jiwon steeled himself for what might come next.
But Kim Hansu just stared at his own hands, blew on his nails, and did other petty little things.
It almost felt—though that was impossible—like he’d been dragged here against his will.
Like he’d come just to get under Jiwon’s skin.
Had Choi Minjae been able to withstand this?
Had he managed to play his role properly without getting swept up in the mood?
Gwak Chan seemed to have handled it well enough, but Jiwon couldn’t be sure. Honestly, he couldn’t even guarantee that any Sailor besides himself had met Kim Hansu at all.
So he just acted nervous, like Kim Jiwon would—watchful and subdued.
After a long silence, Kim Hansu spoke.
“We’re going to play hide-and-seek.”
The words dropped casually.
At “hide-and-seek,” Jiwon flinched.
When hide-and-seek starts, escape.
The words Gwak Chan had whispered to him in Eden echoed in his ears.
It had been less than a day since he’d sworn not to run, no matter what that meant.
And now, here it was again—out of Maybach’s mouth, the very same phrase, straight from a member of the organizing side.
Coincidence?
Or deliberate?
If he’d been certain Gwak Chan was on his side, maybe it would mean something—but he had no proof the man was truly undercover and not just an ex-cop. And after what Lee Jihoon had told him, there was every chance Gwak Chan was a plant for the organizers.
Jiwon felt like he’d walked into a trap.
“You know what hide-and-seek is, right?”
“...Uh...?”
“Jesus fuck. Hide-and-seek! You hide, the tagger comes to catch you.”
He shouted it in Jiwon’s face.
“Oh... yes. I know.”
“Could be two days from now, maybe three.”
Still looking at his nails, Kim Hansu finally raised his head.
“Anyway, the exact date isn’t set, but it’ll definitely be before the main Party starts.”
Why was he giving Jiwon this information?
Suspicious, Jiwon gave a slow nod.
“Hey, fucker, when someone talks to you, look at them!”
Gwak Tan looked ready to explode.
What the hell was he so mad about?
It pissed Jiwon off to be the target of his foul mood, but he didn’t forget his role. He lifted his head with a frightened expression.
“S-sorry.”
He stammered again.
Kim Hansu clicked his tongue in irritation.
“So eager when you’re sucking cock, huh, you little shit.”
Then he let out a deep sigh.
After a pause—
“Anyway, when hide-and-seek starts, you come straight to the HQ room. Right here. The counseling room.”
“...What?”
“Got something in your ears? I just told you—when hide-and-seek starts, come to this room.”
He even raised his fist.
“Should I shove this up your asshole so you get it the first time?”
Laughing, he opened his fist and curled his fingers, crudely mimicking when Gwak Chan had fisted him.
So he saw it.
Of course he had.
Jiwon barely held back the curses on the tip of his tongue, grinding his teeth.
“You’re really good at it. Compliments.”
Kim Hansu raised both fists and did some sparring motions.
“Next time, let’s try two. Okay?”
He grinned creepily.
Jiwon kept his eyes down to avoid glaring at him.
“What did I just say?”
“Huh? Uh... two...”
“Jesus fuck, are you stupid? When hide-and-seek starts—!”
“Oh—right. Come here.”
“Yeah. Run straight here and knock. Like this.”
He gave him the knock pattern.
What the hell was this “hide-and-seek” that warranted Kim Hansu showing up personally?
Why call him in under the pretext of counseling to tell him?
Had he said the same thing to Gwak Chan and Choi Minjae?
Or just to him?
The situation was so far out of his expectations, Jiwon could barely think straight.
“Memorize it.”
Kim Hansu made him repeat the code several times.
The first time, Jiwon pretended to mess it up from nerves; after that, he never got it wrong.
“But... uh... is that... okay?”
“What is?”
“If... I’m out of the game. I mean, if I’m out, I’m eliminated...”
“What game?”
“I mean, if hide-and-seek’s a game... then I have to participate—”
Only then did Kim Hansu seem to grasp his meaning, letting out a sigh.
“Ohhh, is that how it works?”
For a second, it looked like he’d slipped—but then his expression changed instantly.
The sigh had been an act.
“Who said it was a game?”
He bared his gums in a forced smile that made Jiwon’s skin crawl.