A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive - Chapter 86

“No.”

Choi Taejoon murmured in a lazy voice.

“It’s your birthday.”

So, what if it is?

“I-I didn’t even know it was my birthday.”

“And?”

“Ugh… I don’t need any physical celebration.”

Even as we spoke, his hand continued to slide down subtly.

“What do you mean by a physical celebration? Are there different types of celebrations?”

“Y-yes! There are physical, mental, material, rational, emotional… There are so many different kinds of celebrations.”

Desperate to escape the awkwardness, I started rambling nonsense.

“So what you’re saying is, there’s a different kind of celebration you’d prefer me to give you.”

“Y-yes! Until recently, there was one thing I wanted more than anything else.”

Please kill me. Quickly, painlessly, accurately, and decisively.

Choi Taejoon smirked, as if he could read my mind. Then, as if the mood had been ruined, he leaned back slightly, his expression turning somewhat disappointed.

“I thought you were just messing around when you suddenly asked me to kill you. I didn’t think you actually meant it….”

“You’re the weird one for misunderstanding it in an R-rated way.”

“And you’re not the weird one for asking to be killed?”

“Well… I guess that’s true.”

I admitted it without much resistance, offering a small smile. Then, as he remained far too close for comfort, I tried to push him away, forcing myself to recall Alcohol Swab’s version of Choi Taejoon.

The cruel, selfish man who spat venomous words like a snake every time he took what he wanted, caring only about satisfying his own desires.

The countless scenes of his ruthless, unfeeling nature flashed through my mind like still frames, only to dissolve just as quickly. Because the Choi Taejoon in front of me now felt like an entirely different person.

There were moments when I glimpsed that cold, merciless gaze, the one from Alcohol Swab, but otherwise, he didn’t resemble that man at all.

The moment his hand, resting at my waist, shifted slightly, my scattered thoughts snapped back into place. I straightened my posture.

“I just remembered! My birthday gift. Instead of anything else, could you give me something I actually need?”

“What is it?”

I swallowed dryly before responding.

“M-money.”

“…Money?”

His widened eyes searched my expression, as if unsure whether I was being serious or just joking.

“I don’t need much. I just want enough to make sure I don’t go hungry if I ever get kicked out again….”

“You don’t make enough from your salary to feed yourself?”

“You— No, I mean, Director Kim blocked my card and account when I got thrown out! Not that you did it, but… still! I need to be prepared for situations like that, so I want some cash on hand.”

Choi Taejoon remained silent, staring down at me.

Was asking for money as a birthday gift too shameless? The way he just stood there, looking at me without a word, made me feel like a total scoundrel.

No matter how brazen someone is, this was too much.

I had to fix this.

“Th-then I can do housework or take on a part-time job—”

“Director Kim, that bastard….”

“…….”

“You’re telling me… you were struggling so much you almost starved?”

His twisted smirk carried a terrifying undertone, as if he was contemplating tearing Director Kim apart.

“W-well, yeah? If I hadn’t gone to Park Ha-hyun’s place, I might’ve, y-you know… died.”

“…Died?”

I subtly emphasized that I had stayed at Park Ha-hyun’s house because I had no other choice.

This way, he wouldn’t hound me with questions about why I went there or anything like that ever again.

Apparently, it hadn’t even crossed his mind that I had been backed into a corner to the point of actual starvation.

“Well then… I’ll just be going now….”

Sensing an opportunity, I tried to slip away. But just as I turned toward my room—

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Huh?”

“What are your plans for the weekend?”

His question sounded casual, but he subtly curled his lips, lifting one corner before quickly lowering it again.

What was I doing this weekend?

Waiting around in this house, staring at the front door, hoping for his return.

“…Why?”

“Let’s go out and get some fresh air.”

“Oh… I can’t this weekend.”

His brow furrowed slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that answer.

“Why not?”

“I already have plans.”

It was rare for Choi Taejoon to be the one watching me so intently, searching for my reaction.

Something about it made me want to tease him a little.

Seeing his doubtful expression, I twisted the knife.

“I’m busy. …Did you think I had nothing better to do?”

“Plans? With who?”

Technically, it wasn’t a lie. I had planned to go shopping with Park Ha-hyun this weekend.

Of course, that plan had naturally fallen through now, but…

I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

The moment I mentioned having plans, his expression turned dark—so dark it looked like he might personally bomb the location if I told him where I was going.

Since I kept my mouth shut, his face only grew more shadowed as he muttered,

“You’re not going anywhere unless it’s with me.”

“…Wow. That’s unfair.”

“If you want to go out, you’re going with me.”

“W-we’re going together?”

Was he suggesting that I, Choi Taejoon, and Park Ha-hyun all meet up?

I imagined the three of us walking side by side through a shopping mall. If awkwardness could kill, this would be the perfect scenario.

“N-no, I’ll just stay home quietly.”

“Good decision.”

Thankfully, he didn’t press the matter any further. It seemed he wasn’t too concerned, probably because he had plenty of ways to prevent me from meeting anyone if he wanted to.

“Well then, I’ll really go to bed now. Have a good night, Director Choi.”

I deliberately bowed deeply, nearly to my waist, as a show of exaggerated politeness.

He looked like he wanted to say something—his lips parted slightly—but before he could, I turned and practically bolted into my room.

Click—

Closing the door quietly, I pressed my ear against it.

I could hear his footsteps retreating. He was heading back to his own room.

“Ugh….”

Once I was sure he was gone, I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face into my pillow.

And then I let out an internal scream.

I kissed him. No—he kissed me!

Flailing my arms and legs, I suddenly lifted my head and stared at the door.

“I don’t need a physical celebration.”

How embarrassing…

I wanted to die just thinking about the nonsense I had blurted out. What was I even saying back there?

I groaned and thrashed around some more before finally letting out a long breath.

And then there was the fact that I outright asked for money.

He asked what I wanted for my birthday, and I said money?

“Just die, Woo Kyung… Just go outside and die.”

I bit down on my pillow, kicked my legs, and repeatedly smacked my mattress.

After a while, my frustration subsided—until I felt a sharp sting in my foot.

Flipping my sole up, I saw that the wound had reopened, fresh blood seeping through.

“What now…?”

I grabbed another bandage and firmly pressed it over the cut.

Then, absentmindedly, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring into the full-length mirror.

“…….”

The reflection was a mess—flushed cheeks, unfocused eyes.

Had I looked this stupid when I was face-to-face with Choi Taejoon?

I traced my lips with my fingertips and murmured,

“…I didn’t hate it.”

A sigh escaped—one I wasn’t sure was relief or regret.

My thoughts were spinning, completely tangled, with no clear resolution in sight.

To make matters worse, every spot his lips had touched still burned as if they had been set on fire.

Pressing a hand over my racing heart, I flopped back onto the bed.

Choi Taejoon wasn’t the kind of man to waste time staring at ceilings or idling away in thought.

Even if he appeared relaxed on the surface, his mind was always calculating, always working.

Someone once joked that he had probably been conspiring with his own internal organs while still in the womb.

He had scowled at the ridiculous remark, but his subordinates had struggled to hold back their laughter.

Sure, maybe as a newborn—when he was powerless—he had spent time unproductively.

But from the moment he had developed a sense of awareness, he had never once let a single moment slip by.

Chairman Gil, an old drinking companion, used to repeat the same warning like a mantra:

“The moment you show weakness, the ones lurking in the shadows will pounce. If you fall, there won’t be a second chance. Always stay sharp. Always be ready.”

Choi Taejoon knew those words weren’t just paranoia. He had seen it happen, experienced it firsthand, and even done it himself.

Not because he had some noble sense of duty toward his subordinates or those under his care—he wasn’t that sentimental.

It was about ambition, greed, and an unwavering resolve to never let anything be taken from him.

In a world where you either cut first or get cut down, survival meant deception and power.

That was the kind of ruthless environment that had shaped him.

But what set him apart from the average gangsters and propelled him to his current position wasn’t just brute strength or cunning—it was consistency.

Even after securing his place, he had never once allowed himself to slip.

As if even a moment’s hesitation could send him spiraling into an abyss he would never return from, he had always maintained unwavering discipline.

And yet—somewhere along the way, that consistency had cracked.

Because of Woo Kyung.

The truth was, the crack had formed long ago.

The way he had lost his mind and rushed to Park Ha-hyun’s house upon hearing that Woo Kyung was staying there had been ridiculous.

The way he had tried to push Woo Kyung away, only to fail—completely unlike himself.

What did they call this?

An extreme loss of control.

And yet, despite that, his heart raced from the feeling.

“…Hah.”

Lying in bed, he slowly rubbed a hand over his chest.

This unfamiliar sensation—it wasn’t quite lethargy, but it wasn’t energy either.

It was fresh and unsettling, like the first sprout of a new season, yet it weighed down on him like a heavy stone.

It was like trying to comprehend a square circle.

Even in the midst of this confusion, he couldn’t forget the warmth of Woo Kyung’s lips.

Pressing his palm against his rapidly beating heart, he let himself sink into the mattress.

For the first time, his thoughts were clouded—not by careful strategy or precise calculations, but by something much simpler.

Woo Kyung.

Support A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive