A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive

Taejoon had been too busy before, but judging by his actions since early this morning, I had a feeling something was brewing—something inevitable.

“Hyun Woo Kyung, does rain mess with your head instead of just making you sluggish?”

Taejoon placed his untouched coffee cup back on the table and lightly tapped the surface, his sharp gaze locking onto me.

“Meeting, cohabitation, luxury shopping, a fancy meal… the next step is that, isn’t it?”

“Who told you that?”

“People. From here and there.”

“You really have a knack for catching people off guard.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No. Not at all.”

Taejoon’s hand wandered to his chest, searching for something—likely his cigarettes. Finding nothing, he clicked his tongue in frustration and took a sip of the hot coffee instead.

“Then why are you being so kind to me?”

“Should I take it back?”

The chill in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.

“No! That’s not what I meant.”

“Then leave my house if you don’t like it.”

The bite of sandwich I had taken suddenly felt stuck in my throat. Brown sauce dripped onto my chin, leaving a trail down to my neck, while the cutlet seemed to block my airway. I wiped the sauce hastily and shook my head frantically.

“No! I don’t dislike it. I just… can’t leave.”

Going back to that dingy boarding house would be unbearable—like returning to a moldy prison.

“For someone who was talking about ‘high-value organs,’ you’re quick to complain over so little.”

“Then why did you assign me as a bodyguard? Isn’t it just an excuse to keep me around, dragging me between cars and offices, day and night—”

“What kind of garbage are you watching that’s filled your head with this nonsense?” Taejoon cut me off, his expression exasperated.

“You said you wanted to die.”

“W-what?”

“You asked me to kill you. What better way than putting you in a job with guaranteed danger?”

Come to think of it, being Taejoon’s bodyguard was one of the riskiest positions imaginable. His plan seemed clear now—keeping me in constant peril, so I could eventually meet my end.

So that’s what he’d been planning all along.

“Ah, I see now! I didn’t realize that’s what you meant.”

“Or was your ‘I want to die’ plea just another lie?” Taejoon’s lips curled into a mocking smirk.

“No, it wasn’t a lie.”

“Then stop spouting nonsense and just tell me what you actually want.”

I hadn’t lied about wanting to die, but I hadn’t exactly shared the whole truth either.

“Director, what do you want from me? Why are you doing all this for me with no strings attached? It doesn’t make sense.”

If there was one thing I’d learned through years of hardship, it was this: nothing in this world comes without a cost.

“What do I want?” Taejoon repeated.

He unscrewed a water bottle, took a few sips, and slammed it back onto the table with a loud thud.

“For you to shut up and finish that damn sandwich.”

His voice was sharp and cutting, and I instinctively clamped my mouth shut. Taejoon stood up, looking as though he’d just dealt with an annoyance.

“If you’re not going to eat, let’s leave.”

He paused, glancing back at me, as if reconsidering his tone.

“I don’t want anything from you. Just keep eating, sleeping, and…” He trailed off, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

“Don’t get sick.”

For a moment, I froze, stunned. Hearing something like that from Taejoon felt completely out of character.

“W-what did you just say? Did you tell me not to get sick? Wait, Director! Are you worried about me?”

While I sat there in shock, Taejoon was already walking out of the café.

“Director, are you actually worried that I might get sick?”

Taejoon turned back briefly, answering in an annoyed tone, “Yeah. If you lose your mind any further, I won’t be able to handle it.”

“Oh…”

Right. Of course, he thought I was crazy. That made much more sense.

Outside, the rain had started pouring heavily again, a torrential downpour that made stepping outside without an umbrella impossible.

Mud and water rushed down the slopes, gaining speed as they flowed. The heavy rain pounded the ground like arrows, carving craters into the earth. The sky rumbled ominously, like a wounded beast in agony.

“Wow. Did a hole open up in the sky or something?”

Just then, through the rain, I saw Secretary Kim running toward us. It seemed he was the one Taejoon had been messaging earlier.

Kim approached cautiously, clearly trying to gauge Taejoon’s mood.

“Apologies for the delay. The roads were bad, but I hurried as much as I could…”

“And the other team?” Taejoon asked.

“They left Seongbuk about twenty minutes ago.”

Taejoon let out a long breath, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a cigarette case. Lighting one, he glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

“Hyun Woo Kyung.”

“Yes?”

I turned to him, only to flinch as the thick cigarette smoke curled through the humid air, clinging heavily to my skin. It felt suffocating, much like the way Taejoon’s gaze lingered on me—intense, unsettling, and difficult to decipher.

Before I could figure out what that look meant, Taejoon took the umbrella Kim handed him and unfolded it over my head.

“Go home.”

“…Oh. Okay.”

I stood there, frozen, as his smoky eyes remained fixed on me, both protective and unsettling. Whatever Taejoon was thinking, it was a mystery I couldn’t solve.

“Take it.”

The surrounding noise seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of raindrops tapping against the umbrella, echoing like a steady heartbeat.

After finishing his cigarette, Taejoon’s earlier agitation seemed to have subsided. His usual composed expression was back in place.

When I didn’t move, frozen in place, he hooked the umbrella onto my shoulder.

“I said take it.”

For a brief moment, through the gap in the umbrella, I thought I saw a hint of tenderness in Taejoon’s eyes. But I quickly dismissed the thought—it had to be a mistake.

Tenderness? That word didn’t suit Taejoon in the slightest.

Only after I took hold of the umbrella handle did Secretary Kim’s voice blend into the sound of the rain.

“Director, would you like to head to your car, or…?”

Kim opened a fresh umbrella and held it over Taejoon.

“I’ll take my car. Use the one you brought to drop Hyun Woo Kyung at his place.”

“Yes, sir,” Kim replied, gesturing to someone nearby. He pointed toward me, likely giving instructions to escort me home. From his expression, it was clear he thought, Get this troublesome guy home quickly.

After navigating the winding Namsan roads, we found ourselves stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

“This traffic is ridiculous,” muttered the man at the wheel, who had introduced himself as Manager Yoon. He fiddled with the GPS and checked traffic updates, but there didn’t seem to be any solutions.

“You can drop me off at the nearest subway station. I’ll take the train home,” I suggested.

Yoon didn’t reply, his focus seemingly fixed on following Kim’s strict orders to ensure I got home safely.

I considered insisting but shut my mouth instead. Looking down at my belongings—a phone and the boxed sandwich from the café—I realized I didn’t even have enough cash for a subway ticket. Getting out here would mean asking a stranger for money.

Resigned, I leaned back against the seat.

But the combination of my rain-soaked thin t-shirt and the car’s air conditioning sent chills down my spine. My teeth began to chatter as goosebumps spread across my skin. My cheeks and ears, however, burned like they were pressed against a hot pack.

I wasn’t feeling normal—something was definitely off.

“Could you turn down the air conditioning a bit?” I asked softly.

Without hesitation, the air conditioning clicked off. “Thank you,” I murmured, leaning back into my seat again.

From the driver’s seat, Yoon glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his tone slightly annoyed.

“You know, if you’d spoken up earlier, we wouldn’t have had that misunderstanding. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Misunderstanding?” I frowned, confused. “What misunderstanding?”

“The other day… with the lighter.”

It clicked. He was the guy who had accused me of stealing Taejoon’s lighter and beaten me up for it.

“Oh, you mean when you called me a thief and roughed me up?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Yoon scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Now that I noticed, the bite mark I had left on his hand was still faintly visible.

“Well, if you’d just said you were the Director’s relative, none of that would’ve happened. You showed up out of nowhere and started snooping around. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Apparently, word had spread—or assumptions had been made—that I was Taejoon’s relative.

I guessed that was the only logical way to explain my presence in Taejoon’s house and on his security team. There wasn’t a better story that fit.

“Ah, yes… a relative,” I muttered.

If this had been before I “possessed” this body, I might have tried to concoct some distant family connection, maybe some shared lineage if you traced back far enough. But now, I knew there wasn’t a single drop of shared blood between us.

Hoping to change the topic, I pointed to his hand. “How’s your hand? Is it okay?”

“This? It’s fine,” Yoon replied with a shrug.

We exchanged a few more meaningless comments before the conversation trailed off into silence.

The air grew awkward. Normally, I’d have been curious and asked questions, but today, I didn’t feel like it.

The roads in Myeongdong were a mess, jammed with cars during rush hour, and the endless rain had made everything even more miserable.

Yoon muttered something under his breath, and as I was about to rest my head against the seat, the umbrella propped at an angle beside me slid down, brushing against my leg.

The long umbrella, still soaked from the rain, dampened my calf. It was the same one Taejoon had handed me earlier.

“……”

Would Taejoon really give someone an umbrella?

Images of Taejoon flashed through my mind—the way he handed me the umbrella, our shopping trip at the department store, and his odd kindness at the café.

I picked up the fallen umbrella and set it on the floor. Pressing my fingers to my temples, I closed my eyes.

My head hurt.

Rainy days never agreed with me.

Even with my eyes shut, Taejoon’s face crept into my mind.

Taejoon, of all people.

Why was he being so kind? Why was he acting so uncharacteristically gentle?

Suddenly, my entire body felt as though it had been plunged into hot water. My head spun, and my thoughts grew chaotic.

He was cold one moment, then kind the next. Harsh, then soft.

Taejoon’s unpredictable behavior was as confusing as the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.