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I look at them and find myself deeply agitated that, once again, Monroe Ross has weaseled her way out of death. Unknowingly on her part but frustrating just the same.

The girl just may be the luckiest person in Busan without even realizing it.

I show up to Kim Jae-hyun’s office inside the Claw Lounge. The lounge is for members of the Baekho Pa only, along with some of the unsavory characters we often associate with. Which means it’s not uncommon for trouble to arise inside its confines.

The only time I tend to visit is when I’m coming by for another tattoo from Do-shik, or when I’m reporting updates to Jae-hyun about my operation.

As soon as the door to his office opens and I step inside, I know it’s one ofthosenights for him.

The lights are dimmed. The massive flat-screen TV plays another graphic adult film with some bleach-blonde woman being pounded by two men. She lies on top of one while the other lies on top of her, both holes plugged. The sound of her theatrical moans fills the room.

Jae-hyun, the Baekho-je, sits sprawled out in his comfy leather chair, clearly enjoying the entertainment. He has another girl massaging him tonight, her tiny emerald-green dress matching the gem-toned streaks in her otherwise dark hair.

The air is thick with smoke as Jae-hyun alternates between a cigar and his glass of soju. He’s more bleary-eyed than the last time I saw him, shooting me a grin as I enter.

“Ya, Jin-tae! Finally you show your face,” he bellows louder than necessary. “Come in, come in! Sit your uptight ass down and drink with me.”

He gestures to the coffee table where a bottle of soju waits—and beside it, a long case of Cuban cigars.

“I had them flown in,” he boasts, winking at me. “Cost twenty million won for the case. Importing fees and all that shit. But worth every won. You ever had a real Cuban, eh?”

I take the bottle of soju and pour myself a glass instead. “I’ll pass on the cigar.”

“Tch, your loss,” he grumbles, tossing back more soju.

I remain standing as Jae-hyun alternates between the clear alcohol and the cigar he’s puffing on. A beat of silence passes between us, filled only by the fake moans from the porn actress. She never shuts up.

Tolerance low for this environment, I prompt him along by mentioning the update he requested.

“You wanted an update on the gambling debts.”

Jae-hyun grins wide, showing off a mouth of crooked, crowded teeth. “Always so damn proper, Jin-tae. One day I will get you to loosen up. Go on. Tell me what you’ve collected.”

“We’ve settled them all except one. My enforcers tracked down the highest offenders.”

“You mean the fool who tried to run? What’s his name… uh…”

“Shin Dae-il.”

“Tch, yes! That asshole tried to board the KTX out of town like a coward. He thought we wouldn’t notice? Tell me you severed the bastard’s toe.”

“Three of them,” I correct. “He has five days to come up with the other sixty-seven-million won. Or the rest go too.”

Jae-hyun bursts into abrasive laughter so loud that it startles the girl massaging his shoulders. He and the porn actress shouldcompete for most theatrical performance the way he laughs ’til his face is red and smacks his hand down on the table, making his glass jump.

“HA, HA, HA!” he laughs, practically choking on his own spit. “That’s the Baekho way. Make them crawl, Jin-tae. Make them suffer.”

I remain silent and disciplined, showing no reaction to his outburst. I haven’t even sipped on his stupid soju.

If the code of the Baekho Pa meant nothing to me, I would’ve run Jae-hyun through with my knife a long time ago for his sheer stupidity.

Nothing angers me faster than a person who basks in being loud and dumb. Two descriptors that fit Jae-hyun well.

But though I am a ruthless gangster, a killer with no mercy and no heart, I am a man of honor. I value the oath I took when I was initiated into the Baekho, and I will die by the vow I made to always adhere by it.

Jae-hyun is slovenly, undignified, stupid, and a slave to his vices. But he is also Baekho-je, which means he is the head of the brotherhood.

When he finally grows tired of his theatrical laughter, he settles down long enough to puff more on his cigar.