Mercenary Black Mamba

The big guy's face morphed into a mess of saliva, tears, and mucus within a matter of seconds. Nupchi, upon witnessing that sight was suddenly overcome with a sense of déjà vu, nostalgic memory.

Back in the time in which he was still serving in Bupyeong's 7320th unit, the daily beatings and many varied forms of physical punishments turned into a daily ritual, a regular occurrence for him to go through. However, the... so-called 'training' for potential gas attacks happening every three days remained just as horrible as the first time that he had experienced it. Even after receiving that wretched, torturous training for over three months!

One's breathing would undergo immediate disruption, their throat would feel like it was burning with fiery, scorching, flames, and with the pain feeling somewhat akin to their facial skin getting peeled off excruciatingly... Just the thought of this made Nupchi's skin crawl in a dreaded cold panic. He learned for the first time how wonderful and precious clean air could be, back in those tormented times.

The pain of one's lungs being squeezed out and one's heart being tossed, shoved around presently experienced by the huge hulk seemed to rival the gas chamber of the Sam Chung Re-education Camp.

"Eiii, what a filthy thug!" Nupchi blurted out while frowning intensely.

Unlike the tone of his voice, though, some pangs, murmurs of sympathy ever so tugged at the corner of his heartstrings. He had already experienced the attacks of the nightmare (big bro) before, so he knew. Even an innocuous little brush could result in a severe or fatal stab wound.

Smack-!

"Ouch!" The big guy, now being dealt with a deadly punch to smash his face, shielded his head while shaking back, staggering side to side in dishevelment, disorientation.

Mu Ssang muttered scornfully at him. "You shortsighted fool. Want to live out the rest of your life safely, fully intact in one piece? Go back to your village and return back to agrarian farming life, alright? You should be grateful that the callouses on the edges of your hands have saved your life. Anyhow, please take the lead on providing the directions!"

"Sorry? Y-yes, sir!" The huge hulk hastily rushed up to the front without saying anything else, his legs shivering in pathetic pain, misery.

"Tsk, tsk!" Mu Ssang exclaimed in shocked disapproval.

Callouses would form on the inside of your palm when you wield weapons over an extended period. But wielding farming tools would build callouses on the edges of your palms, instead. In other words, this big guy was a noob that started his career as a Yangahchi just in recent times.

The company you kept would eventually influence you; once this big guy got corrupted to the core by the lifestyle of a gangster, it'd be too late to turn back.

People like gang members, prostitutes, and spies would always live at the margins of society as long as human society lives on, exists. The cold, hostile atmosphere of the military regime's early days thawed sufficiently for childish, juvenile, impish imbeciles with too much energy but lacking the motivation to till the land in order to head towards large cities. Inevitably, though, they would almost always just end up as Yangahchis.

Aggression, lust, and harboring unfounded suspicious were natural instincts related to self-and race preservation. A space of vacuum will get filled up by some presence, culture, or tribe eventually while stepping on one side of a balloon causes another ballon portion to swell up with helium gas particles. More vigorous policing efforts would never be sufficient to wipe out the professions (?) of Yangahchi or prostitution.

Mu Ssang stopped climbing up, ascending the staircase, and glanced back casually behind him. The middle-aged man talking on the phone stopped stiff, silently surprised, in his tracks,

"No, don't stop. Do carry on." Mu Ssang smirked and resumed his ascent in climbing up the steps.

That's what he wanted, after all. It'd save him from wandering around to seek out individual wild dogs if someone called the whole pack over to this specific space. The big guy ascended to the second floor and rapped the door surface hard with loud banging knocks on the second fire door.

"What is it?!"

The voice that sounded from behind the door frame was faint, soft, hardly audible. Regardless of what their intentions were, it seemed the owner had sought highly solid soundproofing to insulate their building from emitting high noise levels.

"It's me, Mak Sang-chu."

"Hey, inane fool! Go and watch the floor downstairs!" An unfriendly yell shrieked out, exploding out resoundingly, from behind the door.

"Mak Sang-chu (lettuce)? Kekeke, do these punks use vegetables as their gang names?" Nupchi jested out loudly.

Nobody knew how it had all begun, but for some reason, gangs in the region of Daegu picked out the names of fish as their gang names. The big guy just feigned not having overheard it and simply threw the fire door open, Intensely intimidated by the slender young man, the huge hulk couldn't even think coherently, lucidly enough to summon a clear, sound reply at the moment.

In the same manner that the eyes of a sniper could capture a mental photograph of what he saw within a mere 0.7 seconds, Mu Ssang rapidly scanned, surveyed, his sight examining the environment intently and closely inspecting all individuals found within the upcoming battlefield. Five so-so Yangahchis, two with fairly good physiques; 130㎡ out of the interior space about 365㎡ wide seemed to be a training space decked out with rubber mats on the floor; the ceiling was 2.8 meters high, six pillars supporting it; seven steel cabinets, five steel desks, six swivel chairs, two three-person couches wrapped up in imitation buffalo hide, two cloth-covered three-person sofa couches...

"Hehehe, would you look at how these lowly good-for-nothing serfs are wasting their time?" Nupchi chuckled in a soft, snide, snigger.

The eyes of the five men between twenty to thirty years old were glued on a TV screen that was then screening the scene of a curvy blonde riding atop a black man, her hips furiously, frenetically grinding away in moaning pleasure.

*

"Hey you d*ps**t, did I not tell you not to come inside!"

Was it because they got interrupted in the middle of viewing the contents of the video? A topless gangster showing off his carp-shaped tattoos glared furiously at the big guy with enough intensity to raze down a house down with the burning intensity of his gaze.

"This guest wants to speak to Deputy Chief Kang, you see." The big guy retorted with a nervous tone while rubbing his hands together with sweaty, quivering palms.

"So what, dumbass? Why the f**k did you bring him over here, then?"

The carp-shaped tattooed man began devouring the huge hulk's pathetic, limp, figure, with a cocktail fusion of dialects from Gyeongsang-do and Jeolla-do.

'You thought I wanted to come here? I'm here because I don't want to lose my life heedlessly!' The big guy, unable to say what was on his mind, could only stumble around clumsily, awkwardly like a disoriented ant that had no feelers.

"Where's Kang Min-seok?"

Mu Ssang's deep baritone voice resounded, echoed through the interiors.

"Holy sh*t, you truly have great vocal cords, don't you? I'm Deputy Chief Kang. What do you want?" A man in his early thirties at the back of the floor stopped swinging the practice golf club and strode fearlessly, without shame, or trepidation, over to Mu Ssang.

It wasn't proper or decent to judge a person simply by their looks alone, but this guy, with pinholes for eyes, the lower jaw jutting out noticeably, and his eyes darting around like a zipping fly shooting around.. He looked exactly like a rat. Once Kang Min-Seok stepped up, the glares that were fixed upon Mu Ssang all reverted back to the TV screen.

"I'm here to pay off President Kim Gi-Taek's loan."

"Really? But why are you being so curt, and hostile? You are here to start a quarrel or what?"

You'd gradually, intuitively gain character discernment after handling many people over the course of your life. A man who could remain relatively unfrazzled while being surrounded by a group giving off so many negative vibes or aura of "I'm a gangster" that fell under one of these categories - one, he had an issue in his brain or two, or he completely knew perfectly well how to take care of himself.

Kang Min-Seok decisively judged that this young man fell under the latter category.

"Aren't you just the same?" Mu Ssang grinned impishly in reply.

Even humans had 'grades'; Kang Min-Seok was an insolent, impetuous little Yangahchi, but he still had sufficient sound judgment enough to discern a person's underlying character and concealed motives. A punk like him would certainly survive longer in this field of work.

"Alright. Take a seat. Kim Gi-Taek, that's who you say you are..?" Kang Min-Seok decided to instinctively trust his gut feeling. His instincts had been honed for over a decade which prevented him from retaliating with force directed at this young punk. Still, a beatdown could always come at a later point in time.

He pulled out a thick stack of papers from the contents of a steel cabinet, then plopped himself down heavily upon a sofa couch seat.

"...Hey, Mak Sang-chu!"

"Yessir!"

Slap, slap-!

Without any hint of the slightest, faintest warning, Kang Min-Seok proceeded to violently strike and slap the huge hulk's cheeks in a spinning flurry. The huge hulk, Mak Sang-chu, kept his mouth shut silent and persisted in leaving his face open to slaps, violent hits.

"You dipsh*t, can't you clean this place properly?! Look at all the dust, you pathetic punk."

"Yes, sir! I'll get right on it!" Mak Sang-chu yelled out with loud enthusiasm, as his reply.

Being a Yangahchi was no cakewalk, it seemed. Mu Ssang sighed inwardly. How could their repertoire be such a carbon copy of Nupchi's actions? Was it because they had a crap for brains? These punks had no hint or even an iota of originality within their soulless, spiritually desolate, desiccated personalities.

"Listen here, Deputy Kang. Stop tormenting the poor kid and let's hurry up with paying up our bills, shall we ?" Mu Ssang shifted his gaze over to Mak Sang-chu. "You retard, you aren't even twenty years of age yet, right? This punk, your bones haven't even been fused organically yet, but you still desire to learn how to spill another person's blood first? Go pack your bags right now and just return to the village where you originally came from. Where your parents remain still waiting for you, the only souls who care about you in the slightest!"

"Uh... Uh...?" Mak Sang-Chu stumbled again, his gaze locked squarely upon Kang Min-Seok.

"What the hell? Will you listen to this as*h**? Who the hell are you to tell my cipher to come and go as you please?!"

Just as Kang Min-Seok was about to throw a massive tantrum, Nupchi stepped forward to say something. His big brother said not to do that earlier, but he just couldn't stomach some insolent, impetuous lowly serf acting up, rebelling like this.

"Hey, I'm Nupchi and I work for Bro Sam-shik. Shut your trap and get back to the daily grind!"

Kang Min-Seok's pinhole eyes glared directly towards Nupchi. He had no idea which pond Nupchi had been swimming in, but having a gang family name in this line of work was the same as advertising one's talents, vocational capacities.

They said that even a mere dog hound would get all tough and noisy in its own territory, but Kang Min-Seok was still cowered by Nupchi's hulking size and massive spidery hands.

"Eiii, f**k! What a sh*tty day this is turning out to be. Hey, you dips**t, just get lost and leave!" Kang Min-Seok vented his fury on the innocent Mak Sang-chu and settled down comfortably in his couch seat again. "Okay, so. What's your specially secured deal negotiated with President Kim Gi-Taek?"

"What's it to you? I'm here to pay, and you're going to get paid. End of story."

"Huh, Hehehe, that's true. Paying everything in one go, then?"

"If you were me, would you want to stare at an ugly like swine face over and over again, too?"

Kang Min-Seok managed to suppress his anger from boiling over and exploding. This young punk seemed to have a talent of rubbing you in the wrong way with only a few words. Kang Min-Seok oh-so wished he could smash that smug, smirking fool's chin, but for some reason, his body froze still on the spot when he stared into the young man's chilling, piercing gaze.

"...Hm, hm. Heh, hehe. I see, then. He borrowed three million from us on August 15th, 1982. His interest started off as 5% monthly and is calculated, aggregated as compound interest. It went up one percent every month and now, the cap has reached 50% monthly. We never got to collect the original loan, and by adding all the premiums~... F**k me, why is the calculation so darn complex?"

"Stop this bullsh*t already. How much is the amount owed?" Mu Ssang abruptly cut Kang Min-Seok off.

Kang Min-Seok tapped on a calculator before his brows shot up high. "After forgetting about this month's interest, we obtain the aggregate sum of 32.7 million Won. I'll round it off to a clean, simple 32 million. How about that? I'm feeling super generous today, what with how pitiful that uncle's life has turned into."

'Holy sh*t, what a bunch of mean f*ckers!'

Nupchi inwardly flinched. To think that three million Won ballooned into 32 million in four years! That was over ten times the original loan amount. These bastards caught people inside a fish trap and ruthlessly cleaned them out and fleeced them. A bunch of thieves that would even rob you of the underwear you're wearing on your body right now.

The 'fish trap' in this case was a slang word that was used by the loan sharks to denote the private loan with a monthly escalating interest rate. Just like a fish trap, it was easy to get in but impossible to get out. The one that started this whole fish trap concept was the Samshik Capi... No, actually, it was Bak In-bo. He wanted to create a loan scheme to completely overthrow the Jang family, and the fish trap concept was the key factor to achieving this.

*

"That is one helluva interest rate, ain't it?" A frown etched on Mu Ssang's face. He then pulled out ten ten-thousand Won notes from his wallet before placing the money on the table. "Deputy Kang. I loaned you a hundred thousand Won. The repayment due date will be ten years, while the interest rate starts off as 5% per month. But it will increase by one percentage point every month. If you wish to pay back before the date, then you will be liable for the cost of covering the losses to the potential income generated. Which will be one hundred times the original loan amount."

"What did you say?" Kang Min-Seok made a face of a man who got struck by a train while staring at Mu Ssang.

"Fu... fuhahaha!" Nupchi couldn't hold it anymore and exploded into a peal of laughter.

The big bro was not only good with his fists, but he was also gifted with a silver tongue. Nupchi learned for the first time today that words could be more refreshing than a fist.

"You motherf*cker, stop yapping bullsh*t! You, you must be a fixer, ain'tcha?!" Kang Min-Seok's complexion resembled a pig liver after he got turned into a moron.

He began thinking that this young punk must've been hired by Kim Gi-Taek. One's livelihood was more sacred than one's blood. If Kang Min-Seok and his boys don't destroy this young punk today, then their career as loan sharks would be finished for good.

Kang Min-Seok shot up to his feet, then kicked the coffee table, hard.

Bang-!

A dull noise rang out.

"Uh?!

A cry erupted out of Kang Min-Seok's lips. The table didn't even budge an inch. He then noticed that Mu Ssang's hand was resting on the table's surface.

Kang Min-Seok had to bear the full brunt of the rebounding impact force. He furrowed his brow in pain while staggering unsteadily in neither sitting nor standing posture.

But then, Mu Ssang's foot curved up like a whip. He caught Kang Min-Seok's neck with his ankle, and then...!

Whoosh- slam-!

Kang Min-Seok's face slammed on the table's surface. He couldn't do anything against the powerful force yanking his neck down.

"Kku-aaaahk!" He screamed loudly.

A human's face obviously was not tougher than the wood three inches thick. His nose broke and his lips burst open. Although the blood was shed, Mu Ssang adjusted his strength perfectly to ensure that Kang Min-Seok's facial bones would not cave in.

"You bastard. Even you think it's bullsh*t, don't you? Is there a law or something that says you can do a bullsh*t interest rate but I can't? Is there?"

Slam, slam, slam-!

Kang Min-Seok's face repeatedly kissed the table, hard. He struggled to free himself, but Mu Ssang's hand gripping the back of his neck was impossible to remove.

Mu Ssang wasn't being gentle with Kang Min-Seok because he was a law-abiding citizen. No, his real plan was to scare the living daylights out of this rat-faced punk and make him cough up the original loan agreement. Knocking him unconscious would make it that much more cumbersome to find that document, after all.

*

On the TV screen, the positions of the blonde woman and the black man had switched.

Huff, huff, ah, ah, huff, huff...

The pantings and moans harmonized rather well with Kang Min-Seok's pained cries. Yangahchis focusing on the porn had no clue as to what was transpiring behind them. They didn't even pay attention to the cries, either. Those debtors who couldn't honor the interest would often get dragged in here and get beaten to a pulp, after all.

"...What the hell? What is that f*cker doing?"

"Kang boy is getting his sh*t beaten up."

A hooked-nose Yangahchi sitting on a metal folding chair and looking around, and a cigarette-sucking thug with mismatched ears resting his feet on the coffee table finally discovered the sudden change in the situation.

"Deal with that bastard!"

The mismatched ears drew a line below his chin. Letting an insolent young punk like that leave here in one piece was simply asking for more trouble in the future. But it'd be the end of said trouble by killing him and dumping his body to the bottom of the Geumho River.

The hooked nose shot up to his feet while yanking out a sashimi knife.

Whoosh-!

Almost at the same time, a nickel ashtray found on Kang Min-Seok's coffee table seemingly teleported through space.

SMACK-!

And then, the noise of a gourd bowl shattering resounded out in the room.

"Kaku-ah!" The hooked nose clutched his forehead as he toppled over to the side. The whites of his eyes were showing.

Mu Ssang muttered. "These punks, all they know is to pull out weapons the first chance they get. How bloody scary. And then, this idiot just begs for more punishment, doesn't he?"

Slap-!

Kang Min-Seok crumbled after getting slapped around. He felt the grip behind his neck weaken and that's why he tried to slip away, but too bad for him, it was not possible to fool Mu Ssang.

"What are you all doing? Go f*ck him up!" The mismatched ears pulled out an adorable-looking tomahawk from somewhere under his jacket and loudly yelled at his colleagues.

"What's that?!"

"Holy sh*t! That little punk f*cked up our brother Kang!"

Only then did the Yangahchis figure out what's going on and hurriedly yank out their tools of the trade - a steel pipe, a baseball bat, a piece of lumber from a construction site with bits of cement still stuck to it, and even a pick axe... Although they were called 'tools', they were more like items meant to threaten the tardy debtors.

Mu Ssang cocked his eyebrow. That's because he spotted traces of blood on those shabby-looking 'tools'. All those poor debtors getting dragged in here to get beaten up like dogs... Just what would've been on their minds while getting beaten up like that!

Cold light flickered in his eyes as he glared at the Yangahchis rushing at him.

Whoosh-

A tomahawk came flying in first. The ax's blade about half the size of an adult's palm accurately flew in at Mu Ssang's chest.

Snap-

However, the blade got caught between his thumb and index finger.

Swish-!

Yet another tomahawk came swinging in. The technique to diagonally strike down at Mu Ssang's throat definitely didn't belong to an amateur.

He tilted his neck almost ninety degrees out of the way. The moment his palm tapped on the elbow holding the tomahawk, the weapon left the Yangahchi's grip to end up in Mu Ssang's hand. The weapon spun around.

Smack-!

The broadside of the ax's blade smashed into the mismatched ears' cheek. He couldn't even scream as he went down for the count. Several small white objects flew out of his mouth just then.

Mu Ssang's figure seemed to shift elusively like a shadow wavering under a street lamp. It was as if the pipe and other weapons were deliberately avoiding him; the weapons brushed past him and took swipes at the empty air.

Splat, splat, splat, splat-!

Strange wet noises rang out exactly four times. Those noises were the Pungguk gang recreating the history of the Sashimi gang forcibly getting expelled out of existence.

"Aaaahk!"

"Kuhuk!"

A rich, cacophony of variations of screaming and cries rang out, shattering the dull, placid nightscape. Four Yangahchis struck down by the ax's flat surface were now resting nicely on the floor. With their cheekbones and jaws shattered, it'd be at least six months before they could even think about eating solid food again.

"Fuu-wu..."

Nupchi let out a long sigh.