©WebNovelPub
Substitute-Chapter 30
Just then, the Crew 1 members dressed in police uniforms, having finished their meal, walked into the lobby holding cups of coffee.
"They’re scary."
Park Gunwoo glanced at them and said indifferently.
"They shouldn’t be wearing police uniforms—they should be wearing prison uniforms."
At that, Lee Woojoo blinked and said, "Prison uniforms?"
"Why else? There are criminals among them."
"Really? Seriously?"
Lee Woojoo widened his eyes and made a big fuss.
"Yeah. I know one of them."
"Really? What did that person go to prison for?"
Because two guys in police uniforms sat nearby, Lee Woojoo lowered his voice.
"Why do you think? Committed a crime, obviously."
"No, I mean, what crime? There must be a charge." ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
"Murder."
Park Gunwoo said it as casually as if he were naming [N O V E L I G H T] a lunch menu.
Lee Woojoo gasped and clapped both hands over his mouth.
"He killed his old man when he was fifteen or sixteen.
He was a juvenile offender, then got transferred to prison, but he probably didn’t serve that much time.
His family’s rich too."
Park Gunwoo waved in a friendly way at the supposed murderer, showing off.
Jiwon and Lee Woojoo glanced at him almost simultaneously.
The guy in the police uniform, labeled with the tag 44ga0826-2, looked a little rough but didn’t exactly scream violent criminal.
Above all, he was strikingly handsome.
"Wow, he’s really handsome."
Lee Woojoo muttered in admiration.
Then he added, lowering his voice, "Wait, hold on. If he killed his old man, was he some kind of gangster boss?"
"Nah, dumbass. He killed his own father."
"Ah... his dad."
Parricide.
Jiwon looked at the guy in the police uniform again.
To think he would end up living with a murderer.
He didn’t know if they were this desperate for participants in the sex parties, or if they were deliberately selecting people like that—there was no telling what their standards were.
Especially since he himself had been picked.
He doubted anyone would actually kill someone here, but there was no harm in being careful.
Before long, most of the Crew had gathered in the lobby.
The ones wearing muzzles were all tall, well-built, and dressed so provocatively that they drew everyone’s attention.
When they stood near the police-uniformed guys, it looked almost like police dogs standing next to their handlers.
In contrast, the sailor suits looked like something out of a kid’s costume party.
They were the weakest-looking, no question about it.
"You guys are cute."
Someone in leather pants shouted toward the sailor-suit group.
Laughter erupted all around.
The sailors became the target of other Crews’ teasing and jokes.
"Come sit on oppa’s lap."
A burly man grabbed Sailor 6’s wrist and tugged.
Sailor 6 hopped into his arms without showing any sign of reluctance.
That set off another round of laughter.
What the fuck is this?
Jiwon and Park Gunwoo frowned at the same time.
Their eyes met, and they felt a flash of solidarity.
"I kinda like you, kid."
Park Gunwoo gave Jiwon a thumbs-up.
Meanwhile, Lee Woojoo had drifted off and was now chatting with that bastard he had made eyes at in the cafeteria.
"You not interested in that kind of thing?"
Park Gunwoo asked, jerking his chin toward Lee Woojoo and the bastard.
"Not really."
"Straight?"
"Sorry?"
"I’m asking if you’re straight."
"Oh, no. I’m bisexual."
"Knew it."
Park Gunwoo said as he stood up.
Seeing that even Lee Woojoo was gone, Jiwon figured Park Gunwoo had no more reason to stick around and timed his farewell—but that wasn’t it.
"Yo, Killer. Long time no see."
Suddenly, a police uniform stood in front of him.
It was the same guy Park Gunwoo had said killed his father.
The one with the number ending in 2.
He bumped fists with Park Gunwoo and touched shoulders in a casual greeting.
"Heard your café went under."
The murderer said.
"News travels fast."
"What are you doing now?"
"Nothing."
"Living the dream, huh?"
When the murderer smiled, it felt like the whole place brightened.
The police uniform suited him well, but up close, his good looks were even more striking.
Especially the big double-lidded eyes under the police cap—they were mesmerizing.
"Introduce yourself. This is Kim Jiwon. Twenty-eight years old."
Jiwon, whose name had been suddenly called, awkwardly stood up, looked up at the murderer, and said, "Hello."
The murderer held out his right hand.
"I’m Son Gunwoo. Twenty-five years old.
You’re older than me, so feel free to speak casually."
"Since we’ve got the same name, we call ourselves Park Gun and Son Gun."
Park Gunwoo added in a cheerful voice.
Park Gun and Son Gun.
Standing side by side, they looked like contestants in some pretty-boy contest.
Park Gunwoo was more of a flower-boy type, while Son Gunwoo had a rugged masculinity.
"This guy’s a for-sure bisexual, by the way. Same as me."
Park Gunwoo loudly announced Jiwon’s sexuality.
At that, Son Gunwoo winked and said, "I’m a definitely-gay guy who looks straight."
"Yeah, right, you fucking liar.
Anyone can tell you’re gay."
Park Gunwoo teased him playfully.
And indeed, unlike Lee Woojoo, Son Gunwoo didn’t give off any gay vibes at all.
Same with that kid.
Even if he had lived, Jiwon thought he might never have realized that kid was gay unless he heard it directly.
Even if he had shown hints, both he and the people around him were so thoroughly normal that no one would’ve even suspected it.
Maybe it was because of this strange place, but after sharing names and ages, everyone openly stated their sexuality and preferences.
It didn’t seem that important—after all, it was a sex party with nothing but men, and everyone here was bound to get fucked no matter what.
Big or small, they were all stuck on the same sinking ship.
Brothers in T-backs.
Thinking about the T-back underwear made the last traces of fear dissolve completely.
He almost laughed.
"But you guys are way too normal-looking."
Park Gunwoo said, picking a fight.
"You’re one to talk. You’re not showing anything either."
Son Gunwoo said, giving Jiwon a once-over with his eyes.
"Well, as you can see."
Park Gunwoo playfully spun around in front of Son Gunwoo.
Beeeep—
An ear-splitting electronic sound rang out, and the lobby fell silent in an instant.
[Break time is over. Break time is over. All Crew members must assemble in the main auditorium.
Repeating: All Crew members must assemble in the main auditorium within ten minutes.]
They had only been sipping coffee and chatting a bit, but thirty minutes had already passed.
It had only felt like fifteen minutes, but without any clocks, the Crew had no choice but to trust the announcements.
Everyone got up from their seats.
Since they had been given ten minutes, there was no need to rush.
They finished the rest of their coffee and kept chatting with whoever they had been talking to.
Jiwon ended up moving along with the two Gunwoos.
Park Gunwoo and Son Gunwoo, excited to meet each other here by chance, started chatting about old times.
The two had become friends after growing up next door to each other, but they had separated when Son Gunwoo killed his father at fifteen and was sent to prison.
After that, Park Gunwoo’s family had emigrated to America.
Apparently, they had reunited two years ago when Park Gunwoo, having failed to settle abroad, returned alone and happened to meet Son Gunwoo, who had just been released.
They playfully blamed each other for the nearly two years they had fallen out of touch.
"Hey, just a heads-up, don’t mess around too much—our team’s dangerous."
Son Gunwoo offered the warning like it was a piece of advice.
He even turned to Jiwon and said, "You too, hyung, keep that in mind."
"What, is there another murderer besides you?"
Park Gunwoo joked.
"Looks like it.
That guy up there supposedly beat someone to death."
Son Gunwoo jerked his chin toward the big guy walking ahead.
Among the ones wearing police uniforms, he was noticeably larger than the others.
"Really? Bet he’s got a tiny dick."
Park Gunwoo joked, raising his pinky finger.
Son Gunwoo snorted.
"Still the same.
Watch yourself.
You’ll get your ass kicked if you run your mouth."
Son Gunwoo said sarcastically, and Park Gunwoo flipped him off before heading toward where their team members were gathering.
Inside the main auditorium, they regrouped by team.
What followed was nearly three hours of mind-numbing etiquette training.
The main focus was bullshit about the attitude and mindset to have when welcoming guests.
They gave a few sample lessons about basic serving techniques and table settings that they would start learning tomorrow, but even that was painfully old-fashioned and boring.
Everyone kept yawning and nodding off from food comas.
The torturous morning training finally ended.
They had been sitting all day right after breakfast, so they weren’t even hungry anymore.
Still, skipping a meal wasn’t an option.
That was the rule: unless you had a stomachache, you had to eat three meals a day.
It was supposedly to prevent muscle loss.
What else could they do but obey?
Jiwon walked to the cafeteria alongside Park Gunwoo and Lee Woojoo.
The two cursed and grumbled about how they couldn’t believe they had to study even here.
"We’re not seriously gonna have another round of lectures this afternoon, are we?"
Lee Woojoo asked with a worried look.
"They said we'd be checking our bank accounts this afternoon."
Jiwon repeated what the instructor had said, and Lee Woojoo sighed in huge relief.
Park Gunwoo laughed, muttering about how they came up with the dumbest shit.
"What the fuck is this.
I dropped out of high school because I hated studying, and now this.
No wonder they pay so much. Ugh."
Lee Woojoo whined like a little kid.
"Fuck, if it were even a little fun, I wouldn’t complain.
Those bastards are getting paid too, huh?"
Park Gunwoo clicked his tongue.
Honestly, it really had been boring.
Jiwon, having had to sit through many similarly pointless work trainings in his previous jobs, fully sympathized with their frustration.
Still, unlike them, he didn’t find it completely unbearable.
But he didn’t dare say anything defending the instructors.
He just laughed it off.
He had thought he wasn’t hungry, but as soon as he stepped into the cafeteria, the smell of food hit his stomach hard.
Once again, the electronic beep rang at the scheduled time, the team leaders entered, and the doors were locked.
The teams gathered and began their meal.
There were Korean, Western, Japanese, Chinese dishes—and even snacks.
Mostly high-protein meals, but plenty of refined carbs were available too.
The guys who were already body-conscious picked only protein dishes, but Jiwon, without hesitation, loaded his plate with whatever he wanted.
After nearly eight months of surviving on convenience store triangle kimbap and goshiwon garbage food, the cafeteria meals looked like a royal banquet.
Honestly, it even tasted amazing.
By now, Crew Zero members were familiar enough after seeing each other yesterday and today and having introduced themselves during training.
The atmosphere was much more relaxed.
They chatted casually, mostly about the food, and the mood stayed mild and friendly.
The only one who dared to chat with the Captain was Park Gunwoo.
Surprisingly, Park Gunwoo was pretty sociable.
And the Captain wasn’t the kind of guy to act stiff—he answered Park Gunwoo’s questions and even asked some back.
While Crew Zero was having a cheerful meal, Team 2, the ones wearing muzzles, was practically a military unit.
No one lifted a spoon without orders from the team leader.
They wouldn’t even drink water without permission.
Not that they didn’t talk at all, but even that required the team leader’s approval.
Team 1, dressed in police uniforms, was a wasteland of silence.
They didn’t just avoid talking to the Captain—they didn’t even seem interested in talking to each other.
If Son Gunwoo was right, there were more criminals among them, and usually when criminals gathered, the first thing they did was brag about what crime they committed and how long they served.
The worse the crime, the more they liked to brag.
Chances were, they were still feeling each other out.
Jiwon chewed slowly, trying hard to memorize the team leaders’ features.
If he got lucky and made it out of here, he wanted to be able to sketch them from memory.
Carefully, discreetly.