Chapter Text
It takes months for Gi-hun to pick up the pieces of his own shattered soul. One day at a time, he seems to find himself again.
He’s holed-up in a motel for the foreseeable future. The location is partly due to his fairly-acquired paranoia but mainly because he wants to be left alone. Gi-hun’s income is strictly limited to his work as a chauffeur; the blood money, as he’s deemed it, sits untouched.
Every day, Gi-hun pantomimes a normal life. In between driving customers around Seoul, he keeps in touch with his contacts, disappointed but resigned when they inform him that there are no signs of the Salesman.
The last thing Gi-hun will ever do is give up, but some days make him particularly weary. Like today.
Today, he runs into his old gambling buddy outside a convenience store.
“Is that you, Gi-hun?”
Having just bought a bottle of soju that he fully intends to drown himself in, Gi-hun mourns a peaceful night and turns to the voice.
With a slightly hurried pace, Jung-Bae waves to him. “You scoundrel, where have you been? My mother was worried, you know.”
Since they’ve known each other for so long, Gi-hun is aware that this translates to Jung-bae worrying for him too.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, knowing it’s never going to be enough. “I needed to go away while I paid my debt.”
Jung-bae’s face drops. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you out. What kind of friend am I, right?” The man pauses, but not long enough for Gi-hun to form a response in his downtrodden state. “So you’re not in debt anymore?”
Cautiously, Gi-hun replies, “No.”
Jung-bae pats his shoulder reassuringly, smiling like everything is okay. It must be. “That’s good to hear, brother. Good to hear.”
They sit in what feels like eerie silence for some time. Gi-hun fidgets with his bottle, looking down at his hands. If Jung-bae knew of the things he’d done, he surely wouldn’t smile at Gi-hun. He would be disgusted, or even afraid. After all, what type of man walked away from something as horrific as those games and continued on with their life?
Evidently, Jung-bae can read the room.
“I better get home,” he chuckles for seemingly no reason. “But you should keep in touch, Gi-hun. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my good luck charm.”
This is something Gi-hun has been dreading since he heard Jung-bae’s voice. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
He shouldn’t have been expecting anger, because Jung-bae’s reaction is only momentarily surprised. Jung-bae nudges his arm, chuckling again.
“You should’ve said! I could learn a thing or two from Gi-hun.” He retreats a step back, looking at Gi-hun in a new light. “Wow. Hey, are you still a chauffeur?”
A bemused nod is Gi-hun’s response.
Never dissuaded from conversing with a friend, Jung-bae tells him, “Tell me off if you don’t want to hear it, but I know a guy that’s been complaining about having to fire his last driver.”
“Where’s this?” Gi-hun questions.
“Don’t misunderstand!” Jung-bae’s quick to correct Gi-hun’s obvious preconceptions. “From what I can tell, he just watches the races. I’ve never seen him make a bet.”
Gi-hun feels obligated to keep listening. Jung-bae interprets his unwavering attention as permission to sell his story.
“He comes in wearing bespoke suits. It’s a jackpot waiting to happen, I can tell, Gi-hun! This is a perfect opportunity. Let me give him your contact information.”
Rolling his shoulders back, Gi-hun nods, at first hesitant and then sure. “I got a new phone,” he informs Jung-bae. His old friend doesn’t ask why.
Seemingly satisfied with having Gi-hun’s new contact information, Jung-bae wishes him well. With a final jest that Gi-hun’s a poor friend if he doesn’t take Jung-bae for soju, the two of them depart.
It’s interesting, Gi-hun thinks, that the universe would send him a hopeful sign when he’s technically no longer in a time of need. He is aware that it’s selfish to hope for developments from his other avenues, too. Imagining how incredible it would feel to get even a hint of the Salesman, and therefore closer to taking down the Front Man, is what keeps Gi-hun going.
Finishing his newly-bought soju sends Gi-hun to sleep that night.
- - - - -
At precisely four o’clock in the afternoon the following day, Gi-hun can be found still recovering from a head-pounding hangover and idling in a parking lot, thankful that the most excitement he’s experienced so far is a harried businesswoman late for work. She’d been furiously typing on her phone for the entirety of the drive, practically radiating the sense that she didn’t want to be disturbed. Gi-hun readily obliged her.
He’s rubbing soothing circles between his eyes when his phone rings. It’s an unmarked number, hurling Gi-hun to the past. He answers after a couple of seconds when he’s confident he can keep himself together.
“Hello.”
“Hello. Am I speaking to Seong Gi-hun?”
Gi-hun’s throat squeezes with fright. “Who’s asking?”
He does not anticipate a startled, confused laugh from the other end of the call. “Have you forgotten? I’m searching for a new chauffeur, and your friend recommended you.”
“Ah,” Gi-hun sighs, embarrassed with himself. It’s not like everyone who contacts him is his enemy. “I apologize, Sir. I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”
“No harm has been done,” the man dismisses him. “You must forgive me for failing to introduce myself. My name is Hwang In-ho. When are you free for an interview?”
Right to the point, then. This man seems to have no difficulties trusting Jung-bae’s likely exaggerated description of Gi-hun. It’s strange to be speaking to someone so foolish.
Gi-hun is picturing a man much like the Salesman, actually: someone whose greatest hardships in life extend only to how to spend their money. The tone of Hwang In-ho’s voice already points to the man being somewhat out of touch.
“Any time Friday, if that is okay with you.”
The man clicks his tongue. Gi-hun doesn’t like the action, presumptuous in a way. “Would tomorrow be too soon? I’ll send you details.”
Now, Gi-hun is being given no room for denial. He supposes that, if Jung-bae was correct about this man’s wealth, maybe the payment will make this treatment worth it.
Gi-hun resists ending the call and putting this all behind him. If he does want to leave the blood money intact, he still needs to make an income.
“As long as it’s after ten, that works for me.”
“I will see you tomorrow.” The smile in the man’s voice is audible. Gi-hun peers at his phone like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. He ends the call.