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The first time Goo met Gun was on a frigid winter day, around the time he turned 15. He had just been kicked out of juvie – homeless, friendless, and scraping by as a hired thug and bodyguard for pathetically weak, filthy-rich kids.
Goo had quickly sensed the heavy breathing and silent footsteps trailing him into a deserted park. The guy was wearing a brown turtleneck under a thick black coat, with a frayed blue scarf wrapped around his neck. His pale cheeks were flushed red from the cold, and his glossy black hair was slicked back tight against his scalp. But the thing that particularly caught Goo’s attention was his eyes: the sclerae were as black as ink, while the pupils were stark white, glowing intensely in the chilly air.
"Your eyes are freaking gross. Better let me gouge them out and replace them with my pretty ones, don’t you think?"
"If you can manage it, be my guest."
They exchanged a few more words before the guy lunged at him, throwing a flurry of punches.
Though he didn't want to admit it, the guy was really, really, really, really strong. The punches made him clearly hear a crack in his ribs. Every kick felt like it was trying to spill his guts and lungs out.
But clearly, this guy wasn't Goo's match just yet.
He swung a bicycle chain he had just swiped, lashing it hard against his opponent, leaving long gashes across his chest and stomach. Blood dripped steadily onto the pavement.
And it was as if the blood only made the mysterious guy more thrilled. He ripped off his shirt, his eyes lighting up with a bizarre expression of ecstasy, ready to pounce and tear into him like a wild beast.
"Are you a pervert or something?" Goo asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Stop talking. Let's kill each other."
It wasn't until a red-haired guy in a dapper suit, sucking on a lollipop, stepped up and warned them that the guy finally stopped, looking thoroughly displeased.
The two of them led him to a dilapidated house deep in the slums, where a one-armed man was already waiting inside.
Through their conversation, Goo roughly gathered that the man wanted them to work under him. He and the pervert would have to establish four crews in the East, West, South, and North, and collect money from them every month. Which included fighting, of course.
Goo didn't care. As long as he smelled a profit, he was willing to do anything. He agreed, after laying down his conditions and tossing a threat at the one-armed man.
"I'm heading back. You guys do whatever you want." The red-haired guy waved his hand and strolled out toward the main street. He seemed strong, but Goo couldn't gauge his true power since he hadn't made a move.
He turned back to look at his earlier opponent. Covered in blood, half-naked, with sweat-drenched hair falling over his forehead. No longer manic like during the fight, the guy was now calm and indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
Goo turned on his phone camera to check his own face. One cheek was bruised, an eye was swollen, and blood from his nose was smeared all over.
"Hey," he called out, making the guy turn around, slightly startled. "Wanna go get something to eat?"
The guy followed Goo to a small eatery tucked deep inside an alley, though of course, only after they had bandaged and treated their wounds. Since the guy had torn his turtleneck and his outer coat was soaked in blood, Goo had to lend him his jacket. An ash-gray sukajan with a massive tiger motif on the back. Seeing him wear it, his face scowling, Goo couldn't hold back a laugh. He actually looked pretty good in it, though.
"Here you go." The owner set the food down, trying to avoid their gaze. It seemed the two of them really did look pathetic right now.
On the table were two steaming portions of Tteokbokki, complete with boiled eggs, fish cakes, and a bit of kimchi. The thick red broth and the rising spicy aroma made Goo's mouth water.
"잘 먹을게요." He picked up a large piece and popped it into his mouth. The rice cake was soft, the spice numbing the tip of his tongue. "Freaking delicious!"
The other guy still hadn't touched his chopsticks.
"Don't worry, it's on me. I can tell just by looking at you that you're broke. Eat up," Goo said.
The guy remained completely still.
"You too good for this? Broke but still acting snobby?" he grumbled.
"No. It's just... I've never eaten this before," the guy confessed honestly, after a moment of silence.
"Never had Tteokbokki!? Are you from the Stone Age? Yup, you're definitely not Korean."
"My mother is Korean."
"Father?"
"Japanese."
"Does he make anime?"
"Shut up."
"Rude." Goo pouted. "Anyway, give it a try. Tteokbokki is just rice cakes and broth. But it's really good." He pushed the bowl closer.
The guy hesitated, then finally picked up a piece. His demeanor was neat, precise, and polite. A complete contrast to his barbaric nature during the fight. Goo found himself amused by this, his eyes eagerly waiting for the reaction.
The white pupils dilated. His cheeks flushed red. He kept chewing, picking up the pace. Then he swallowed with a hard gulp.
"How is it? Good, you pervert?"
"It's decent. And I'm not a pervert."
"You really looked like one when we were fighting."
"I just like people who are a bit stronger than average."
"Thanks, I'm flattered."
"Weirdo."
"I can't beat you at that, pervert."
"I told you, I'm not a pervert."
"Then what are you?" Goo still didn't know the guy's name.
"Park Jonggeon. People usually call me Gun."
"What a weird name. Sounds like a pervert's name to me." Goo giggled.
"And what's yours?"
"Goo. Kim Joongoo."
"Isn’t any better. The pot calling the kettle black." Gun clicked his tongue.
"I like it that way. What're you gonna do about it?" Goo stuck out his tongue.
"I don't think I'll be able to work efficiently with a nutjob like you."
"But you still have to. I only care about the money. Whatever you do is your business."
"Just like the rumors say, you really are obsessed with money."
"And you really are a pervert."
"Shut up."
"No, you shut up. Mouths are made for talking, yet you're always telling me to shut up."
"Mister, give us a bottle of Soju!" Goo suddenly called out.
"I heard you were incredibly stingy," Gun asked, looking quite surprised.
"Who spread such a mean rumor? I'm very generous. Besides, if I made you pay, we'd probably be stuck here washing dishes."
The guy didn't reply.
When the liquor arrived, Goo poured two cups and handed one to Gun.
"Cheers?" His lips curled into a smirk.
"I don't like alcohol."
"You’re so boring."
"Leave me alone."
"Just one cup, alright? We're going to be stuck with each other for a long time, anyway."
"Sakazukigoto?"
"Come again?"
"A Japanese Yakuza tradition. When two people drink from the same cup, it means they’ll walk the same path. No breaking promises, no betraying each other, no matter what happens."
Gun looked at him, his black eyes deep and bottomless.
Those eyes made it impossible for Goo to look away.
"Scary stuff. Is your dad a Yakuza?"
"He used to be."
Goo fell silent. He faintly realized he had just touched upon something he shouldn't have.
"Just drink it. No oaths or vows here. Let's just consider it a celebration of our new partnership." He raised his cup.
Gun picked his up as well. The two drank together.
"Ever had Soju before?"
"No."
"How's your first time?"
"Too sweet. And weak."
"If you like strong liquor, earn some money and buy it yourself later."
"I already told you I don't like drinking."
Goo glanced at Gun's plate. It’s spotless. Even the broth had been wiped clean.
"Thought you didn't like it?"
"I was hungry."
"Want some more? My treat, you can pay me back when you get rich."
"Who'd want to be in your debt?"
"Just kidding. We're partners now, anyway. No need to be polite."
"Who'd want to be your partner?"
Gun said that, but he ended up ordering another portion anyway. He rolled up the sleeves of Goo's jacket, ducked his head, and ate, his cheeks flushing slightly from the heat.
Goo burst out laughing. Right now, the guy looked so much more approachable and simple compared to when they first met.
The air had warmed up a bit. The snow was slowly melting. The sunset dyed the entire space red, the slanting evening light resembling a smoldering fire.
He realized that he was no longer alone.
And maybe... that wasn't so bad after all.