Tae Hwan took a deep breath, pulled out a fresh cigarette, and, lighting it slowly, looked at his nephew.
"Damn it, kid..." His voice held not just relief, but also a frank, almost fatherly pride. "You actually pulled it off. Those ice bastards almost melted."
"I told you, uncle, don't shit your pants," Tae Sagi pulled out his lighter again, clicking the lid in a pleased rhythm. "They didn't come out of desperation. They came because we offered them something no one else has: not a channel, but magic. An illusion. In our time, that's the hardest currency. Harder than the dollar and more pleasant to the touch than a stripper's tits after her third cocktail."
Ye Woon closed the briefcase, rubbing his temples as if he'd just run a marathon.
"The hardest part starts now. One thing is on paper, another is moving this 'live cargo' across half of Asia. The slightest mistake by Zhou, the smallest crack in our 'invisibility'..."
"He won't make a mistake," Tae Sagi interrupted, and steel suddenly rang in his voice, stripped of all its jester-like veneer. "I picked the team myself. They know what's at stake. And they know very well what will happen if they screw up. Their fate will be so sad that even the story about the father and the milk will seem like a funny joke."
Tae Hwan nodded confidently, taking a deep drag. Ye Woon leaned back against the sofa, looking as if he immediately needed a glass of something strong. And Tae Sagi slowly stood up, stretched so that his joints cracked like dry branches, and grinned his signature reckless smirk again.
"So, Uncle Hwan, Mr. Ye Woon? Seems we've just opened a new, exciting chapter. More thrilling than with the Thais. Shall we drink to that? Not to success yet," he winked, "but simply to the fact that the start no longer looks like complete bullshit."
Tae Hwan laughed hoarsely, and wrinkles spread like sunbeams across his usually stern face.
"Damn jester! Alright, damn you, let's do it, to the start! Just make sure it's not the start of the end."
"Oh, pessimist," Tae Sagi sighed, but his eyes were laughing. "I can already see the newspaper headlines: 'Local entrepreneurs don't believe in a bright future, prefer to stew in their own bile.' Relax, uncle. If everything was that fragile, we'd still be selling stolen stereos at the market."
He gestured to the waiter stationed outside the door. The young guy in a white shirt and black vest entered with frightening silence, as if gliding on wheels.
"Three 'Courvoisiers', the hundred-year-old, if you haven't run out of it due to my uncle's festivities," Tae Sagi said without even looking at him. "And ice — separately, in a crystal bowl, not that cheap crushed stuff. We're not construction workers to eat ice out of a bucket."
"Right away, Sagi-nim," the waiter breathed out silently and vanished as noiselessly as he had appeared.
Ye Woon ran his hand over his face, wiping away invisible sweat.
"The hundred-year-old... Sagi-nim, that's..."
"It's what we can afford now, Ye Woon," Tae Hwan interrupted, and a tired but unshakable confidence sounded in his voice. "After today's conversation, we'll be able to afford a lot of things. Get used to looking at price tags without that sacred, horrified grimace of yours. It reminds me of the face of a man who just sat on a cactus."
Tae Sagi snorted, pulling out a cigarette.
"Uncle's right. You, Ye Woon, are our financial genius, yet you walk around with the face of a perpetually swindled depositor. Stand tall. We didn't steal this cognac, we honestly... acquired it as a result of competent business optimization. The difference is colossal, feel it?"
The glasses arrived instantly. Three orbs of heavy crystal, inside which a thick, dark amber elixir slumbered. The ice in a separate silver bowl indeed sparkled with perfect, large cubes.
"Well then, gentlemen," Tae Sagi began, raising his glass with an exaggeratedly solemn air that lasted exactly two seconds. "Let's raise a toast to the fact that our flimsy little boat not only didn't sink upon encountering an iceberg called 'Serious Business,' but even managed to moor to it and scrape off a couple tons of first-class ice for our cocktails. We didn't just survive — we're now officially guides for such behemoths. But!" He paused, his eyes sparkled with familiar madness. "The most important thing we learned today is this: we are the only fishermen in this whole sea of shit who have not just a map, but a whole guide to all the underwater rocks, and next to each such rock, there isn't a red 'danger' buoy drawn, but a pink, chubby winking smiley-ass. To our new, very quiet, and damn deep little river..." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "...which, as it turns out, in depth and unpredictability resembles that legendary cunt of your ex, Uncle Hwan. Remember, you complained there was no bottom to it? Well, our new 'river' seems to have no bottom either. And thank god! That's what we drink to! So we don't surface!"
Tae Hwan snorted, two plumes of smoke escaping his nostrils, then burst into a hoarse, rolling laugh, slapping his knee.
"You bastard! Comparing!.." he exhaled through laughter. "Alright, damn you! To 'bottomless prospects'!"
The glasses met in the center of the table not with a chime, but with a dull, velvety kung, the sound of expensive glass and an equally expensive future.
Tae Hwan took a small sip, rolled his eyes, letting the taste spread, and grunted contentedly.
"Alright, I admit. The start indeed doesn't look like a complete... well, you know. But, kid," he looked intently at Tae Sagi, "you keep me on my toes worse than my cardiologist. At least he takes money, but you, just for sport, are ready to give me a heart attack."
"The heart, uncle, needs training," Tae Sagi replied impassively, sipping the cognac. "Otherwise, you'll get fat, become lazy. Who's gonna yell at me and call me an irresponsible bastard then? It'll get boring."
They finished their glasses in a silence that was no longer tense, but saturated with plans, money, power. Tae Hwan heaved himself up heavily, his knees cracking.
"Alright, I gotta go. The paper rat can't wait for me to bring her this new mountain of papers to chew through. Ye Woon, you with me?"
Ye Woon nodded, hastily finishing his cognac and once again assuming the look of a harried clerk, though now a glint of the sums mentioned in the contract flashed in his eyes.
They headed for the exit, passing through the dimness of the main hall. At the bar, with his back to them, sat Sung Wo. He was whispering something to the bartender, his back in a cheap leather jacket looking tense. Tae Hwan walked past, merely nodding. But Tae Sagi slowed his pace.
"Oh, Sung Wo!" His voice cracked like a whip in the silence. "How was your work as a basketball referee, huh? Bet you blew that whistle 'til you were hoarse. Nothing interesting happen lately? Any... sudden disappearances of star players? Or maybe, unexpected rises of new talents?"
Sung Wo flinched and turned around. His face, usually exuding confidence, was now pale and slightly frightened. He opened his mouth to say something, stammering:
"Sagi-nim, I... I mean, they played, yes... Everything as usual..."
"Ah, a rhetorical question, don't sweat it," Tae Sagi waved his hand, grinning broadly, but his eyes, cold and assessing, didn't release Sung Wo. "Just thinking out loud. It's interesting how quickly the game changes on the court. Today a hero, tomorrow... a non-entity. Just like in life, right? The main thing is not to be the one deemed expendable. Alright, don't let me distract you."
He slapped Sung Wo on the shoulder, the smack sounding a bit harsher than friendly familiarity required, and walked on, catching up with his uncle. Sung Wo remained standing, slowly wiping his suddenly sweaty forehead with his palm.
The door had just closed behind Tae Hwan and Ye Woon when a new group burst into the club with noise and guffaws. The air, just heavy with expensive tobacco and cognac, immediately filled with cheap deodorant, sweat, and the cocky bravado of teenagers.
"Well, well, well, look who decided to visit us at such an early hour," Tae Sagi drawled, turning on his heel and spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the whole hall. His voice sounded loud, theatrically joyful. "If it isn't Ming You and his faithful entourage! Team 'Yoshido' in full, combat, so to speak, non-sporting lineup! Wow! Guys, did you skip practice? Or decided that the best warm-up before a victory is alcohol and a bad attitude? I approve!"
Ming You entered first, his face its usual stone mask. Behind him limped Lu Shen, still red from shame and the offensive jokes he couldn't handle. Jung Ho walked with an affected, overly straight posture, trying to look older. Haru Lin glanced around with a predatory, assessing interest, and Hong Ren just trudged at the back, lost in his thoughts.
Tae Sagi took a few steps forward, his dazzling white shirt with a black pattern seeming like the only source of light in the dim hall. His gaze, sliding over the whole team, hooked onto Ming You with predatory pleasure.
"And you know, Ming You," he continued, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, but so that everyone could hear, "I've been noticing you more and more lately. Practically become your secret admirer. I especially love your... choice of transportation. So modest, practical. A blue van, right? With a dent on the right fender, if I'm not mistaken. A very memorable model."