A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 106

“What are you looking for?”

Choi Taejoon asked.

“Hm? Oh, I found it!”

Thankfully or maybe unfortunately, there was no song titled Short-Lived on the list.

Instead, I picked a song I used to enjoy singing and started.

In my previous life, no matter how hard I tried, things never went the way I wanted. It felt like some invisible force was constantly working against me, throwing obstacles in my path.

But no matter how frustrating things got, my love for singing never faded.

It was one of the few things I genuinely enjoyed, outside of work or obligations.

Now, as I stood here, the feeling of doing something I truly loved welled up from deep within me—something I had forgotten in this new life.

“…Wookyung.”

The instrumental had ended, yet I remained standing there in a daze.

It was his voice that pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Look.”

He pointed at the screen.

‘Congratulations! A new singing champion is born!’

The words flashed brightly, lighting up the dim room.

For a moment, with the glowing screen reflecting in his eyes, it almost looked like his gaze was sparkling.

…Wait.

Is he actually happy about my perfect score?

The expression on his face was almost… proud.

As if he had just witnessed someone win an audition show.

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Because it’s cute.”

“…What is?”

His gaze sharpened slightly as he narrowed his eyes.

“…Y-your… f-finger is cute.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

He followed my gaze down to his own hand.

Realizing that his finger was still pointing at the screen, he slowly curled it, letting out a dry chuckle—like even he found this whole situation absurd.

“Were you really that happy I got a perfect score?”

“I was just surprised. Considering how incompetent you are at everything else, at least you can sing.”

What the hell?

He partially acknowledged my skills, but the backhanded insult nearly made me choke.

“When have I ever been incompetent?”

“A guy who keeps throwing himself at death isn’t exactly in his right mind, is he?”

His words were harsh.

But the way he said them—his gaze, his tone—was far too gentle.

“…I’m trying to find another way now, so let’s not talk about that anymore.”

“Another way? What kind of reckless thing are you planning this time?”

Damn it.

His expression had turned dead serious again.

I needed to change the subject. Fast.

“…Executive Director, you’ve never sung at a karaoke before, have you?”

“Who hasn’t been to karaoke before?”

“No, I mean… have you ever actually sung in front of people? Or are you tone-deaf?”

“Me?”

“Yes! Now that I think about it, even in Jeju, I never heard you sing. Not even once.”

The only time I had heard anything close was when he had hummed softly in a café.

But that didn’t really count.

“If you’re planning to make me sing, give up now. I don’t sing in front of people.”

“…Because you’re embarrassed?”

I shot him a mischievous smile.

He didn’t respond.

Instead, he just sat there, silent.

“…Oh my god. You really are too shy to sing.”

Seriously?

This was the same man who walked around with an entourage of goons and had an entire room full of people bowing at a 167-degree angle whenever he entered.

And this was what embarrassed him?

Well… I guess everyone has their limits. Maybe singing just isn’t his thing.

I nodded in understanding.

Then suddenly—a memory hit me.

Whenever I saw his more human side, it always came with a price.

Because at the same time, I would recall the other version of him—the one from <Alcohol Swab>.

Even there, karaoke existed.

But it was in a private room at a high-end bar, used for entertaining business clients.

In one scene, Park Ha hyun was brought along to a particularly violent gathering.

A corrupt police official tried to make a move on him, failing to read the room.

And Choi Taejoon?

He beat that man into a bloody pulp.

Then, as if he needed a way to vent his leftover rage, he dragged Park Ha Hyun into another room.

The memory sent a shiver down my spine.

“…Why do you suddenly look like that?”

His voice snapped me back to reality.

“…Ah, n-no reason. Just… being here made me think of something.”

I had almost blurted it out.

I was thinking about you and Park Ha Hyun together.

I forced myself to push aside the explicit images surfacing in my mind and quickly changed the topic.

“You know how in gangster movies, they always have brawls in karaoke rooms?”

His brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

“…What?”

“Never mind. Let’s just go.”

Whenever I remembered the cruel side of him from <Alcohol Swab>, I felt an odd sense of relief—relief that I wasn’t Park Ha Hyun in this world.

And yet…

Now, things felt different.

“I’m not done. You only sang one song.”

“I don’t want to sing anymore.”

A strange discomfort bubbled inside me.

For some reason, I suddenly felt uneasy—like I needed to get out of here, now.

I placed the microphone back in its stand and started tidying up the songbook.

Meanwhile, he remained seated, his expression unreadable as he stared at the now-dark screen.

“…So, because I’m a gangster, I made you uncomfortable.”

“Ah.”

“What song were you looking for?”

Choi Taejoon asked.

“Hm? Oh, I found one.”

Luckily—or maybe unluckily—Short-Lived wasn’t available.

Instead, I picked another song I frequently sang and started.

In my past life, no matter how frustrating things got, I always loved singing.

It was one of the few things I did purely because I enjoyed it, not because I had to.

That feeling—the joy of doing something I genuinely loved—was bubbling up again, deep inside me.

“…Wookyung.”

The backing track had long since ended, yet I remained standing there, lost in thought.

His voice pulled me back to the present.

“Look.”

He pointed to the screen.

‘Congratulations! A new singing champion is born!’

The flashing message lit up the dim room.

For a second, the reflection of the lights in his eyes made them look like they were sparkling.

…Wait.

Is he actually happy about my perfect score?

His expression was oddly… proud.

Like he was watching someone win a grand competition.

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Because it’s cute.”

“…What is?”

His gaze sharpened slightly.

“…Y-your… f-finger is cute.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?”

He followed my gaze down to his hand.

Realizing he was still pointing at the screen, he slowly curled his finger, letting out a dry chuckle—like even he found this whole situation ridiculous.

“You were really that happy I got a perfect score?”

“I was just surprised. Considering how incompetent you are at everything else, at least you can sing.”

Excuse me?

That was half a compliment at best.

“When have I ever been incompetent?”

“A guy who keeps throwing himself at death isn’t exactly in his right mind, is he?”

His words were blunt.

But his tone, his gaze—were too gentle.

“…I’m trying to find another way now, so let’s not talk about that anymore.”

“Another way? What kind of reckless thing are you planning this time?”

Damn it.

His expression turned dead serious.

I needed to change the subject. Fast.

“…Executive Director, you’ve never sung at a karaoke before, have you?”

“Who hasn’t been to karaoke before?”

“No, I mean… have you ever actually sung in front of people? Or are you tone-deaf?”

“Me?”

“Yes! Now that I think about it, I’ve never heard you sing. Not once.”

The only time he had come close was when he had hummed softly in a café.

But that didn’t count.

“If you’re planning to make me sing, give up now. I don’t sing in front of people.”

“…Because you’re embarrassed?”

I shot him a mischievous smile.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he just sat there.

“…Oh my god. You really are too shy to sing.”

Seriously?

This was the same man who walked around with an entourage of goons and had an entire room full of people bowing at a 167-degree angle whenever he entered.

And this was what embarrassed him?

I nodded in understanding.

Then suddenly—a memory hit me.

Whenever I saw his more human side, it always came with a price.

Because at the same time, I would recall the other version of him—the one from <Alcohol Swab>.

Even there, karaoke existed.

But it was in a private room at a high-end bar, used for entertaining business clients.

In one scene, Park Ha Hyun was brought along to a particularly violent gathering.

A corrupt police official tried to make a move on him, failing to read the room.

And Choi Taejoon?

He beat that man into a bloody pulp.

Then, as if he needed a way to vent his leftover rage, he dragged Park Ha Hyun into another room.

The memory sent a shiver down my spine.

“…Why do you suddenly look like that?”

His voice snapped me back to reality.

“…Ah, n-no reason. Just… being here made me think of something.”

I had almost blurted it out.

I was thinking about you and Park Ha Hyun together.

I forced myself to push aside the explicit images surfacing in my mind and quickly changed the topic.

“You know how in gangster movies, they always have brawls in karaoke rooms?”

His brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across his face.

“…What?”

“Never mind. Let’s just go.”

Whenever I remembered the cruel side of him from <Alcohol Swab>, I felt an odd sense of relief—relief that I wasn’t Park Ha Hyun in this world.

And yet…

Now, things felt different.

“I’m not done. You only sang one song.”

“I don’t want to sing anymore.”

A strange discomfort bubbled inside me.

For some reason, I suddenly felt uneasy—like I needed to get out of here, now.

I placed the microphone back in its stand and started tidying up the songbook.

Meanwhile, he remained seated, his expression unreadable as he stared at the now-dark screen.

“…So, because I’m a gangster, I made you uncomfortable.”

“Ah.”