The click of the door closing behind him was muffled.
Not a solid, metallic clang, nor a futuristic hiss. It was a dull thud, like the lid of an old wooden box. A sound of finality.
It was over. Truly, everything was over.
This was the exit for the 'Unclassified.'
Kang Ji-Won stood there for a moment, in the dimly lit side corridor. The hallway reeked of cheap disinfectant and old dust. There was no red carpet here, no screens flashing the names of the successful. Just drab grey walls and an emergency exit at the end.
"Echoless."
The word throbbed in his head. Echoless. It wasn't just a classification. It was a death sentence for his future.
[Classification: Echoless.]
He felt a sudden, bitter taste in his throat, like ash. Damn it. Even the air here tastes like failure. He tried to swallow, but his throat was desert-dry.
This isn't happening. It can't be. Maybe it's a System error? I should go back, demand a...
But his body told him otherwise. His knees felt weak, as if the strings holding them up had been suddenly cut. He braced his hand against the cold, grey wall. The rough, peeling paint momentarily brought him back to reality.
From a distance, through several layers of soundproofing, he heard a roar.
A collective cheer of triumph.
They were celebrating. Of course they were. The world kept spinning even if his had just stopped.
Then came a pop, maybe magical fireworks. Then the sound of an excited announcer screaming over the main hall's speakers: "...Imperial Dragon Echo! My God! It's Park Seon-Jin! A new miracle for Seoul!"
Seon-Jin.
Ji-Won's stomach tightened. Lucky bastard... No, no. It wasn't his fault. This wasn't envy. No, it was something deeper. Something... colder. More hollow. It was injustice. Why him and not me? What did I do to deserve this void?
Seon-Jin would go to the top academies. Seon-Jin would get sponsorship deals. Seon-Jin would never have to worry about...
...Hyun-Soo.
His heart clenched.
[2,000,000 Won]
The cold red number he'd seen on his phone that morning stabbed at him again. How? How am I going to pay that now? Will I have to pull her out of the hospital? Will she... die... No. Don't think about it. Don't think about it now.
The 'Harmony' was his only ticket.
I knew I wouldn't get an S-Rank like Seon-Jin. I wasn't dreaming that big. But at least an F-Rank... a goddamn 'Shoe-Repair Echo'... anything...
The 'Echoless' don't get jobs. The 'Echoless' are trash. You are nothing. You are less than nothing.
"Kid."
Ji-Won slowly raised his head. What now? Were they going to kick him out forcibly?
An old security guard was standing at the end of the hall, next to the emergency exit. The man was chewing something slowly, his expression a mix of boredom and pity. That damned look.
Don't look at me like that, old man. I don't want your pity.
"You can't just stand here. This exit is for... well, you know. For leaving."
Ji-Won didn't answer. What was there to say? Sorry, my future just shattered against this wall?
He pushed himself off the concrete. A leaden weight spread from his shoulders down to his feet. Every step required a colossal effort. The air in the hallway seemed thicker, heavier, like he was walking underwater.
He passed the old guard, who looked away and sighed, "Better luck next time, kid."
You old fool. There is no next time.
Ji-Won pushed the emergency exit bar.
The afternoon Seoul sunlight hit him like a physical blow. He had to squint. The air outside was hot, humid, and filled with the relentless noise of the city: car horns, the roar of bus engines, the chatter of pedestrians, and the sound of the giant digital billboards on the adjacent buildings.
[The Harmony Tower Welcomes You To Your Future!]
My future. What a joke.
Ji-Won looked up at the giant screen overlooking the plaza. It was now showing live footage of Park Seon-Jin waving to the crowds, the faint golden aura of his 'Dragon Echo' swirling around him.
Ji-Won turned his back.
He started walking.
Where do I go? Home? What will I tell Mrs. Ahn (the landlady) when she asks for the rent?
He wasn't walking anywhere specific. He walked past the bus stop he'd arrived at. He didn't have enough money for a taxi. He just walked.
The streets of Seoul, which just yesterday had seemed full of opportunity, now looked like a hostile concrete jungle.
He kept walking. Across the Mapo Bridge. The slow-moving current of the Han River below seemed to stand still. He stopped for a moment, leaning on the cold railing. He looked at his reflection in the murky water.
A pale young man. Hollow eyes. A cheap shirt plastered to his back with sweat.
A failure.
He pulled out his phone. The cracked screen barely lit up. He opened his call log.
[My Sister Hyun-Soo]
Oh God. Hyun-Soo. What am I going to tell her? Lie? Tell her I got a weak Echo? No... I can't lie to her. She's the only real thing left.
He pressed the green button.
Ring...
Ring...
Maybe I should hang up... No. Be a man.
Ring...
"Oppa?"
Her voice came through, weak, but alive. Her voice was the only pure thing in his world.
"Oppa! Are you done? How did it go? Did you get a cool power? Are you going to be a 'Walker'? Did you get a 'Fire Echo' like the hero in the manhwa I'm reading?"
Ji-Won closed his eyes. He felt a lump clog his throat, sharp as glass shards.
He opened his mouth.
Hyun-Soo... I...
"Oppa?"
Her voice came again, thinner this time, a fine thread of anxiety creeping through the phone's white noise. "Oppa, are you there?"
Kang Ji-Won squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers gripped the cold metal of the bridge railing.
Say something. Anything. Lie.
"Ah... yeah, Hyun-Soo. I'm here." His voice came out as a croak, strange even to his own ears. "The... the street noise is just really loud."
Coward. Is that the best you can do?
A massive truck rumbled past on the bridge, the roar of its diesel engine shaking the asphalt beneath his feet. It was the perfect excuse.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Okay! So... is everything okay? Did you... Did you get it?"
Did you get it?
The question was so simple. Almost childish. A yes-or-no question that would decide the fate of two lives.
Ji-Won looked down at the dark water of the Han. The sun had begun to set, sending long orange and violet streaks across the sky, dyeing the river the color of an old bruise. It was beautiful... and cruel.
How can the world be this beautiful the moment mine just died?
"Ji-Won?"
"It... It just finished," he finally said, picking his words with painful care. "I'm... I'm on my way home now, Hyun-Soo."
A silence.
For three full seconds, there was nothing but the faint sound of wind in the receiver. Three seconds that felt like three eternities.
She felt it. She's smart. She always knows.
"Oh," she said finally. One small word, but the light had vanished from her voice. She wasn't asking about the rank, she wasn't asking about the power. She'd heard the defeat in his voice. "Okay, Oppa. Okay."
He felt a sharp sting behind his eyes. Don't cry. Damn it, don't cry now.
"Oppa, are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. "Your voice sounds..."
"I'm fine," he cut her off, probably more harshly than he intended. He softened his tone. "I'm just... a little tired. That's all. It was a long day."
Tired. Yeah. That's a good word. Tired of all of it. Tired of being me.
"Okay... Okay, Oppa. I'll wait for you. Bring me some candy if you can?"
"Of course," he said, knowing he didn't have a single won to spare on candy. "I'll see. I have to go, focus on the road. I love you."
"Love you too, Oppa. Be safe!"
...Beep.
The call ended.
Ji-Won lowered the phone from his ear. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen. The distraction was gone. There was nothing but the city noise, the faint smell of the river, and the weight of his failure settling on his shoulders like a wet, leaden shroud.
Coward. Coward. Coward.
He shoved the phone into his jeans pocket. The last orange light of the sun vanished behind the distant buildings of Yeouido, plunging Seoul into twilight. Neon lights began to flicker to life, promising a night of excitement and money to everyone who wasn't Kang Ji-Won.
He started walking again.
There was no reason to rush. Where would he go? "Home"?
"Home" was too big a word for what awaited him.
"Home" was a Goshiwon room in the Mullae-dong district. An area of old factories, rusty metal-working shops, and cheap residential buildings stacked on top of each other. The air there always carried a faint smell of burnt metal and old kimchi stew.
It was a long walk back. Across Mapo Bridge, then through the crowded streets of Yeongdeungpo. He could take the subway, but...
...Balance: 3,450 Won...
No. Save it. You don't know when you'll need every last damned won.
So, he walked.
The walk became a ritual. One step. Another step. Each footfall was a hammer blow, driving the words "Echoless" deeper into his bones.
He passed a Tteokbokki stall. The sweet, spicy smell of the red sauce made his stomach clench painfully. He hadn't eaten anything since a dry piece of toast that morning. Ignore it. Pain is a luxury I can't afford right now.
He passed a convenience store. A poster on the glass: [Part-timer wanted! Must possess an Echo of any rank (Stamina-type preferred)].
Ji-Won looked away. Even a damned convenience store job was now a pipe dream.
An hour later, or maybe it was two, his legs had become numb stumps. He barely felt the pavement anymore. He finally reached the narrow, dark alley that led to his building.
The alley was dark. The single streetlight was broken. The only light came from the flickering red neon sign of a closed Noraebang (karaoke) at the end of the street, washing the grimy walls in a sickly red glow.
His building was the tallest and ugliest one in the alley. Five stories of cracked concrete.
Home. What a dump.
He pushed open the heavy front door. The smell of mildew, dampness, and cheap ramyeon hit him instantly.
He started climbing the stairs.
First floor. Second floor.
Two million won...
Third floor. Fourth floor.
...How, how, how? A loan? Who would loan to an Echoless? Sell my organs? Maybe...
He reached the fifth and final floor. The hallway was barely wide enough for one person and dark. He stopped in front of his door: 504.
He fumbled for his key. His hands were shaking slightly, not from cold, but from sheer exhaustion. Damn it. Even my hands won't obey me.
He jammed the key into the rusty lock. It wouldn't turn. It was stuck.
"Dammit!" he hissed, jiggling the key violently. Not now. Just... just let me in.
Finally, with a painful metal click, the lock turned.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Pitch black.
The room was a box. A folding bed that took up most of the space, a small desk, and a chair. That was it. A tiny window looked out onto the brick wall of the next building.
He didn't bother hitting the light switch. Why? To see his own empty walls?
He closed the door behind him, leaned his back against it, and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the cold floor.
Silence.
For the first time since he'd left the Harmony Tower, he was completely alone.
So... this is how it ends.
He sat there in the dark, listening to his own heartbeat. Then, as his foot shifted, he felt something.
Paper.
A piece of paper had been shoved under his door.
He reached out in the dark, his fingers fumbling on the floor until they grazed the edge of the sheet.
What's this? Mrs. Ahn's rent bill? But it's not due yet...
He pulled out his phone. He used the light of his cracked screen to see.
It wasn't a rent bill.
The words were printed in dark red ink, stark even in the dim light.
[FINAL EVICTION NOTICE]
The two words screamed off the page. The red ink looked like it was bleeding on the cheap paper.
For a moment, Ji-Won didn't understand. Eviction? No, it had to be a mistake.
He shined the screen on the details. [Tenant: Kang Ji-Won, Room 504]. [Amount Overdue: 550,000 Won (2 months + late fee)]. [Final Deadline: 72 hours from date of notice].
72 hours.
550,000 Won...
He laughed.
It wasn't a laugh. It was a short, dry, ugly sound that ripped out of his chest and startled him in the dark, silent room. Laughing? Of course. What else is there to do? The universe doesn't just kick me, it stomps my head into the curb.
Mrs. Ahn. The landlady. He remembered his last conversation with her, just last week. A tired old woman, worry lines etched deep around her eyes.
"Ji-Won-ah," she'd said, her voice thin, "I know you're a good boy. I know about your sister. But I... I can't give you any more time. The bank won't give me any more time."
And I begged her. God, I begged.
"Please, Ajumma," he remembered saying, head bowed. "Just until my Harmony day. Please. I'll get an Echo. I'll take the initial 'Walker' loan and pay you back everything. I promise."
She believed me. She gambled on me. And now... I've failed her.
She wasn't a monster. If she were a monster, it would be easier. But she was just another person being crushed by the System, same as him.
72 hours. Three days.
In three days, I won't just be Echoless. I'll be Echoless and homeless.
And suddenly, it wasn't funny at all.
The first number [2,000,000 Won] collided with the second number [550,000 Won]. Two and a half million won. A mountain of money that seemed as impossible as seeing a dragon fly over Seoul.
And what about Hyun-Soo?
Ice flooded his veins, colder than the floor.
If I'm evicted, where do I go? A shelter? What if Hyun-Soo is discharged? What do I tell her? 'Welcome back, by the way, we live in a cardboard box under Mapo Bridge'?
He hit the power button on his phone. The screen flickered... [Battery: 4%].
Great. Just great. Even my damn phone is giving up.
[4%]. Just like his chances in life.
Ji-Won stood up.
His legs moved on their own. There was no conscious decision. It was just a reaction. To sit in the dark was to die. And now, dying meant Hyun-Soo would die, too. No. Not yet.
I can't give up.
He paced his tiny room like a caged animal. Two steps to the wall. Two steps to the door. He tore open his only closet. A few worn-out clothes. Nothing worth selling. He looked under his folding bed. Dust. And an old shoebox.
He pulled it out.
Inside was his savings. Everything he had in the world. Folded bills, coins. He'd counted it last week.
78,000 Won.
Seventy-eight thousand won. Enough for two weeks of ramyeon. Not enough for anything.
He closed the box.
He stood in the middle of the room, the darkness wrapping around him again.
The rules.
He thought of the word. I've lived my whole life by the rules. Study hard. Be polite. Work hard. Wait for your turn at the Harmony Tower. And the 'System' will take care of you.
They lied.
The System doesn't care. The rules were made to protect people like Park Seon-Jin, with his goddamn golden aura. The rules exist to keep people like me at the bottom, drowning in the mud.
72 hours.
[2,000,000 Won.]
[550,000 Won.]
The numbers were spinning in his head. The rent debt. The hospital debt.
If the rules don't apply to me... then why should I follow them?
He felt something inside him shift. The coldness he'd felt turned into something... solid. Sharp. Like a piece of ice had formed where his heart used to be. The despair was no longer hot and tear-filled. It had become cold. And quiet. And logical.
I can't earn the money. The System won't let me.
...So I have to take it.
No.
No. What am I thinking? Stealing? Am I crazy? I'd be caught in a second. An Echoless robbing a 'Walker'? That's a joke that ends with a funeral.
There has to be... another way.
He suddenly remembered the poster at the convenience store: [Part-timer wanted... Stamina-Echo preferred].
Even the lowest jobs required an Echo.
...Unless...
...Unless it was a job no one advertised.
A job no one talked about in the light of day.
A job for people with nothing left to lose.
He remembered rumors he'd heard in cheap cafes, whispers from older men who'd lost their powers in the 'Rifts.' "Cleaner" jobs. "Salvage" jobs.
'Corpse Hauler.'
The name made him shiver even as he thought it. Going into low-ranked 'Gates' after the official teams were done, to drag out bodies and broken equipment for a few thousand won. An illegal job. A highly dangerous job. Leftover monsters, toxic gases...
...A job that didn't require an Echo.
Because they expected you to die.
72 hours.
It was the only option. It wasn't a choice. It was a sentence.
Ji-Won moved toward the door. He grabbed the cold handle. His phone's dim light illuminated his face for a moment.
There were no tears. There was no fear.
Just hollow, cold eyes, and a man with nothing left to lose.
He opened the door and stepped back out into the dark hallway, into the night that had just swallowed him. But this time, he wasn't walking aimlessly.
He had a destination.
The 'Walker's Association' building. Not the shiny front entrance.
The dark back alleys. Where people like him crawled, looking for work in the shadows.
Kang Ji-Won didn't bother locking Room 504.
Why? Is a thief going to come steal my shoebox full of 78,000 Won and dust?
He descended the stairs, one flight at a time. Fifth floor to fourth. Fourth to third. With each floor, he left behind a piece of his old self. Kang Ji-Won the student, Kang Ji-Won the brother, Kang Ji-Won the rule-follower.
When he hit the dark alley again, he didn't hesitate.
He knew where to go. Not exactly, but he knew the direction. The 'Harmony Tower' where fates were given, and the 'Walker's Association' where those fates were cashed in. They were in the same high-end district of Yeouido, the glittering business side of Seoul.
The only problem? He was in Mullae-dong. On the other side of the river. And his phone battery was...
...4%...
No maps. No help.
Good. Let it be harder. Why not?
Luckily, he knew the way to Hyun-Soo's hospital by heart. And the hospital was close enough to the Association district.
He started walking.
It was nearing midnight now. The streets that had been bustling earlier were now eerily quiet. The office-worker noise was gone, replaced by the rumble of overnight delivery trucks and the whir of lone taxis.
He passed the metal-working shops of his neighborhood. The closed bay doors were covered in graffiti. The smell of cold metal and old oil was heavy in the air. This is my world. The bottom.
He crossed another bridge. Not Mapo this time, but a smaller, pedestrian overpass spanning a highway junction. Below him, the red and white headlights of cars streamed endlessly, like blood cells in an uncaring artery.
All those people... going home. To warm beds. They have Echoes. They have jobs. They have lives.
He felt like a ghost walking in the world of the living.
After another forty minutes of fast walking, the scenery changed. The rusty factories disappeared. The glass and steel buildings appeared. The streets were cleaner, the neon lights brighter. He had reached the 'Walker' district.
The main 'Walker's Association' building was impossible to miss. It was a skyscraper of black glass and silver steel, shooting a faint blue beam into the sky. It was a symbol of power, wealth, and the System that had just cast him out.
But Ji-Won wasn't heading for the front entrance.
He walked past the glittering revolving doors, past the massive bronze statue of the 'First Walker' in the plaza. He kept going, heading for the back alleys.
Here, the glamour vanished.
The smell changed instantly. No more expensive perfume from the lobby, but the rank stench of sewer steam rising from vents, cheap beer, stale vomit, and... something else underneath... something sharp and metallic. The tang of the 'Gates' that never washed off.
The alley was dark and damp, lit only by the flickering red neon signs of a few dive bars that catered to 'Walkers' who couldn't afford the fancy places out front.
Where... where are they?
He saw a group of men laughing loudly outside one bar. They were wearing pieces of torn armor, massive weapons strapped to their backs. No. Those are real 'Walkers'. Not what I'm looking for.
He pushed deeper into the shadows.
And then he saw it.
It wasn't a bar. It was a Pojangmacha, an orange-tented street food stall, the kind you see on every corner in Seoul. But this one was different. It was crammed into a dead-end side alley, away from all traffic. The tent's plastic flaps were torn and filthy. There was no menu posted.
And there was a line.
Not a line, really. More a collection of ghosts. About ten or twelve men and women, standing in the shadows near the tent's entrance. They weren't talking. They were smoking. Their faces were gaunt, their ages ranging from nineteen to sixty. Some were in worn-out street clothes like Ji-Won. Others wore the tattered remains of unserviceable armor.
Ji-Won felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the night. This is it. These are the others. The Echoless. The broken. The desperate.
He stood there, at the mouth of the side alley, unable to move. What do I do? Just walk up and say 'Hi, I'm here to die'?
Someone in the line noticed him. An older man, missing one eye, which was replaced by a gruesome white scar. The man spat his cigarette onto the pavement.
"What do you want, kid?" His voice was a gravelly rasp, like two stones grinding together.
Ji-Won froze. All the eyes in the shadows turned to him. They weren't hostile. They were worse. They were empty, dead.
"I... I'm looking for work," Ji-Won managed to get out.
The one-eyed man laughed. A dry, humorless bark. "'Work?' There's no 'work' here, kid. Only 'contracts'."
"Then... I want a contract," Ji-Won said, trying to keep his voice steady.
The one-eyed man sized Ji-Won up. "You're new. Ain't seen you before. Just bust out at the Tower today?"
Ji-Won nodded.
"Hah," the man sighed. "Always get a fresh batch after Harmony Day."
The man jabbed a finger toward the orange tent flap. "Wait in line like everyone else. Mr. Baek hands out the contracts. Don't speak unless spoken to. And don't waste his time. Got it?"
"I got it."
"Good. Now shut up."
The one-eyed man turned away. The others looked away, too. He was dismissed.
Ji-Won took a hesitant step, then another, and stood at the end of the silent line.
Mr. Baek. Contracts. Corpse Haulers.
He was here. There was no turning back. All he had to do now was wait.
Kang Ji-Won stood.
He stood at the end of the silent line, in the alley that reeked of stale beer and desperation.
What the hell am I doing?
There was no answer. So, he did the only thing he could: he waited.
The midnight air was starting to bite. He was only wearing a cheap t-shirt and a thin jacket. He felt the cold seep through the thin fabric, past his skin, and into his bones. Great. I'll freeze to death before I get a chance to die in a Gate.
The men (and one woman with a hacking cough) in front of him smoked. A cloud of cheap tobacco smoke hung in the air, mixing with the steam from a nearby sewer grate. Nobody spoke.
What was there to say? 'Hey, rough day?' Everyone here was here because all their days were rough.
Minutes passed. Maybe ten. Maybe twenty.
My battery... 4%... probably 3% by now. He resisted the urge to check his phone. What for? To see the time? It's not like I have anywhere else to be.
Finally, the orange plastic flap of the tent was pulled aside.
It wasn't Mr. Baek who came out. It was a pale man, maybe in his thirties, wearing a dirty tracksuit. The man staggered out, his eyes wide. He was clutching a small, grimy white Data-Chip in his hand.
He'd gotten a contract.
The man walked past the line. He brushed by Ji-Won without even seeing him. His eyes were vacant, staring at something Ji-Won couldn't see.
That's it. That's the future. A ghost holding a chip.
The line shuffled. One step forward.
Ji-Won's heart hammered. I'm closer now. One step closer to... what?
More minutes passed.
Someone else came out. Another went in.
The line shuffled. Another step.
The woman with the hacking cough who was directly in front of him coughed violently, spitting something dark onto the pavement. Then it was her turn. She disappeared behind the orange flap.
Now, Ji-Won was at the front.
It was just him and the filthy, greasy plastic curtain.
He could hear voices inside. A low murmur. The woman's voice, and then a man's, rough and quiet.
Then, silence.
The flap opened. The woman came out, clutching her own data-chip. She wasn't coughing. She just looked... flat. Like all the air had been let out of her.
The one-eyed man, who had stepped away to smoke another cigarette, was now back, standing behind Ji-Won. He blew smoke near Ji-Won's ear. "Your turn, kid. Don't keep Mr. Baek waiting."
Damn it.
Ji-Won felt his legs refuse to move. This is it. This is the moment. All I have to do is turn around and run. I can find another way. I can... I can what? Beg on the streets?
[550,000 Won.]
[2,000,000 Won.]
[72 Hours.]
The numbers were like fuel. They pushed his body forward.
He reached out a hand, which was shaking slightly now. Damn it, stop shaking. He grabbed the heavy, oily plastic flap. It was cold and damp.
He pushed it aside, and ducked to enter.
The first shock: the heat.
It was suffocatingly hot inside. A small propane heater was hissing in the corner, casting an orange glow on the plastic walls. The smell was a potent mix of instant ramyeon, old burnt coffee, and sweat.
The space was tiny. A folding camping table in the middle, two plastic stools, and a single, ruggedized, military-grade laptop open on the table.
And the man.
He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a muscle-bound gangster. He was... ordinary.
A man in his mid-forties, balding, wearing thick, cheap glasses. He had on an old fishing vest over a grimy t-shirt. He was hunched over the laptop, tapping rapidly at the keyboard.
This is Mr. Baek? He looks... like a convenience store manager.
Baek didn't look up. "Sit," he said, his voice a smoker's rasp.
There was one plastic stool opposite him. Ji-Won sat. It was wobbly.
Click. Clack. Click-clack-clack.
The sound of the keyboard was the only thing in the tent for a full minute. Mr. Baek stared intently at the screen.
Am I supposed to talk? The one-eyed man said not to talk...
Finally, Baek stopped typing. He let out a long sigh, as if he carried the heaviest burden in the world. Then, slowly, he raised his eyes.
He looked at Ji-Won from over the top of his glasses.
His eyes were small, sharp, and utterly devoid of any emotion. They had seen it all.
"Name," he said.
"Kang... Kang Ji-Won." Damn it, why is my voice shaking?
"Harmony Day." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.
Ji-Won nodded.
"Echoless."
Ji-Won nodded again.
Mr. Baek looked back at his screen. Click. Clack. "No priors. No combat training. No... nothing."
"I... I learn fast," Ji-Won said, hating himself for how weak it sounded.
Mr. Baek chuckled. A dry, papery sound. "Everyone 'learns fast.' The problem, Kang Ji-Won, is that the 'Gates' don't have a learning curve. You either survive, or you don't."
He leaned forward. The smell coming off him was strong. "Why are you here?"
"I need... money."
"Everyone needs money," Baek said, leaning back. "But the people who come to me... they're the people who are out of options. Are you out of options, Kang Ji-Won?"
[72 Hours.]
"Yes," Ji-Won said, and this time, his voice was steady. The ice of his despair had firmed his spine. "Yes, I am."
"Good." Baek nodded. "Honesty is the only thing I value. Because lies get people killed out here."
He tapped a few more keys. "No deposit, I take it? No up-front cash?"
Ji-Won shook his head. His 78,000 Won wouldn't even cover the cost of the damn heater.
"Of course not." Baek sighed. "'No-deposit' contract. That means special terms."
He turned fully to Ji-Won, his eyes gleaming in the heater-light.
"That means your first job... 80 percent of it is mine. For the 'risk.' For the 'equipment loan.' You get 20 percent. No negotiation."