novelraw Chapter 73 : Even for Revenge, This Was Too Much
Chapter 73 : Even for Revenge, This Was Too Much
Chapter 73: Even for Revenge, This Was Too Much
The back alleys of Myeong-dong and Jongno, where all kinds of brokers would normally slither in like snakes for secret dealings, were as silent as death.
The hammer of the currency reform had not only shattered the surface economy but had severed even the underground lifelines.
Into that perilous stillness, shadows darker than the night seeped in.
“Move in.”
From within the darkness, Chief Han Tae-seok’s low voice echoed, cold and sharp.
He was one of No Gi-tae’s most trusted subordinates. At his signal, dozens of KCIA agents and soldiers armed with batons silently poured in from both sides of the alley.
Their objective was singular—Han Sang-hoon, the kingpin of the Myeong-dong black market, and his illegal money changers.
“Break the door.”
A heavy hammer ripped through the firmly locked iron gate as if it were paper.
The burly men inside who resisted were struck down by merciless blows, unable even to scream properly.
“W-What the hell are you doing!”
“Argh! Aaaah!”
Screams and pleas filled the air, but the beating continued without a word of explanation.
The black market merchants, violent and domineering on ordinary days, were helpless before the overwhelming violence of the state.
Han Tae-seok watched the scene of chaos with an unreadable expression.
At that moment, one of his men rushed over.
“Sir, Han Sang-hoon is nowhere to be found.”
“What? Was there a leak? We confirmed he was in his office!”
“I don’t know. He vanished—like smoke.”
“Damn it. Arrest everyone else then. Don’t leave a single one standing.”
If they failed to catch Han Sang-hoon, the titan of Seoul’s black market, this entire operation would lose its meaning.
‘Where the hell did the information leak from?’
Han Tae-seok sighed deeply and pressed his forehead. The thought of the scolding he’d receive from No Gi-tae already gave him a headache.
At that very moment, Han Sang-hoon was quietly sipping tea on the second floor of an old building.
Then, a small warning light on his desk began to blink—a silent, ominous red glow flashing repeatedly.
It was his secret device, installed at the alley entrance to alert him to intruders.
‘So, it’s finally come.’
Han Sang-hoon wasn’t surprised. In fact, he seemed almost to have been waiting for it. He calmly set down his teacup.
He walked to the window and peered through a gap in the curtain. In the darkness, men in black suits and soldiers were flooding into the alley like a tide.
Han Sang-hoon clicked his tongue without thinking.
“Tsk, tsk. That bastard Kang Byung-woo finally drew his blade. Took a hit from Jeong Tae-soo, and now he’s venting his anger on poor street rats.”
Though the situation was urgent, he didn’t rush.
From his desk drawer, he only took a few crucial ledgers and a small pouch of money.
Once ready, he pushed aside the bookshelf in his office, revealing a hidden passageway.
“Gentlemen.”
He spoke softly to his subordinates, who had entered after hearing the alarm.
“I’ll be stepping out for some fresh air. Keep our guests entertained, will you? But don’t kill them.”
With those final words, Han Sang-hoon disappeared into the darkness without hesitation.
Moments later, the office door was smashed open, and KCIA agents stormed in.
But all they found was a half-finished teacup and the lingering scent of tea.
At the same time, in Jongno’s Pimatgol, at Ilshin Gold & Silver.
When the agents burst in, the elderly Hwang was calmly working at his bench, crafting gold.
“What brings you here at this late hour?”
“Mr. Hwang Man-geun, you’re under arrest for violating the National Security Law and the Emergency Financial Measures Act.”
Without surprise, the old man quietly set down his tools.
“Violating the National Security Law, you say…”
With a weary chuckle, Hwang held out his hands. Cold handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists.
That night, countless moguls who ruled over Seoul’s underground economy were dragged away without resistance.
The KCIA’s “Rat Hunt” operation—under Kang Byung-woo’s command, No Gi-tae’s blade had mercilessly struck the dark heart of Seoul.
News that the KCIA had drawn its blade against the black market wasn’t just another report.
It was a foreboding signal—that the future I knew was starting to veer in an unfamiliar direction.
‘What’s this? This never happened before.’
Never once had the military regime taken advantage of the currency reform’s chaos to so ruthlessly purge the black market.
They had always been too busy trying to stabilize the stock crash aftermath and soothe public sentiment. This was a definite anomaly.
I needed to check for myself.
“Asung, take me to the Tin Can Market.”
“Yes, sir!”
Following A-seong’s lead, I arrived at the Tin Can Market—but it was nothing like what I remembered, nor like the place familiar to A-seong.
Once overflowing with foreign goods leaked from U.S. military bases and packed with refugees’ struggles, the market’s former liveliness had vanished completely.
Shadows of unlit stalls stretched long across the darkness-covered booths, and only a few hanging lanterns dimly illuminated the desolate alleyways.
A-seong muttered in confusion.
“W-weird… Around this time, it should be packed with people buying American cigarettes or whiskey…”
As he said, the Tin Can Market—normally bustling with shouts haggling over U.S. military uniforms, C-rations, whiskey, or imported cigarettes—was silent, as if after a bombing.
Even the few shops still open were wary, half-lowered shutters barely revealing faint light from within. The shelves held little more than cheap American snacks and a few cans of food.
Then, from one corner, a faint commotion arose.
Approaching closer, I saw a middle-aged man pleading with a shop owner behind a half-lowered shutter. In his hand was a worn bundle of hwan.
“Please, boss, I’m begging you. My little girl’s sick—I need some foreign medicine, anything, please.”
But the shopkeeper shook his head firmly.
“Can’t do it. I’m not taking hwan anymore. You take that, and tomorrow it’s just paper scraps. You trying to bankrupt me?”
“Boss! Please! I’ll repay the favor, I swear!”
“Try somewhere else.”
With that, the shopkeeper slammed down the metal shutter. The man stood there for a while, staring blankly at the closed door, then clutched the bundle of bills to his chest and walked away in despair.
The weight of hopelessness settled heavily on his slumped shoulders.
It was the same everywhere.
The few remaining black market money changers had already flipped over their stalls and were lying on their mats, feigning indifference.
They hovered around them, desperate to get dollars, but the money changers didn’t even glance their way.
“Dollars are dried up now. Don’t even think about getting any — all of you go home.”
“I’ll pay double! Please, please get me some!”
“Double? Even if you paid ten times, there’s none. Don’t you know we’re risking our lives just running this business?”
I looked around a bit more, then turned. No matter how I scanned the scene, it was the same repeating sight.
“Let’s go, A-seong. There’s nothing more to see.”
Hardly had we stepped out toward the south alley of the Tin Can Market when a military truck roared up and slammed across the lane.
“Boss. Soldiers. Soldiers.”
At A-seong’s trembling voice, fully armed soldiers poured out of the truck.
They didn’t hesitate for a moment; they raised M1 rifles and began sealing off every entrance to the market.
With sharp cries, other military trucks appeared in the other alleys and cut off every escape route completely.
Literally, it was a siege with no gap for even a single rat to slip through.
“Boss.”
Seeing the multitude of soldiers, terrified A-seong gripped my sleeve hard. I hid his small body behind me and crouched behind a dark crate.
I watched silently, but I couldn’t hide my bewilderment. They weren’t quietly investigating under the surface — they were sealing the whole black market and rounding everyone up?
With shouts ripping through the darkness, KCIA agents swung batons as they emerged deeper in the alley.
“Don’t move! Hands on your heads!”
“Arrest every single one of them! Shoot anyone who resists!”
A jeep arrived late. The man who stepped out of it was a familiar face.
‘Chief O Chung-seong.’
The soldier commanding the scene saluted him.
“Chung-seong!”
O Chung-seong returned a perfunctory salute and then scanned the area.
“Make sure not a single ant gets away.”
“Yes, we sealed all alley entrances at once. Also—”
The commander reported to O Chung-seong. He nodded with a stern face as he looked toward the chaotic alleys.
The merchants who tried to run knelt before the soldiers’ muzzles, and those who resisted were struck by batons, falling bloodied.
Screams and wails split the night’s silence.
‘So No Gi-tae is in charge of the black market investigation.’
Of course — when it came to squeezing information, the black market yielded the most. Kang Byung-woo would rather entrust it to No Gi-tae, who worked quietly without favorites, than to the unreliable Jeong Tae-soo.
The merchants were bound with ropes and dragged out like beasts, thrown into military trucks like cargo.
I watched it all with cold eyes.
“Hyung, boss…”
A-seong, who hid behind me, shivered like a leaf. He seemed more scared to listen than to see.
I patted the shoulder of the one clinging to my leg.
“Let’s go back.”
The way things were unfolding felt strange. With soldiers and KCIA agents mobilized, they seemed determined to thoroughly sweep the black market.
But this was excessive. Opening Pandora’s box that involved all sorts of people.
I walked toward Chinatown, lost in thought.
‘Even if it’s retaliation for Jeong Tae-soo, this was over the top.’
No matter how much power Kang Byung-woo held, all of this would have been possible only with Chairman Han’s tacit approval.
Even Chairman Han, who seized power in a coup, would have struggled to maintain such vast authority without the military backing him.
Most of the black market’s goods came from U.S. military bases and supplies from the Korean army.
For a move supposedly aimed at stopping foreign exchange transactions, this was, by any measure, excessive.
“Are you back?”
The atmosphere in Chinatown wasn’t good either. The first-floor restaurant of Deokhwa Ru, usually noisy, sat in heavy silence.
A few Chinese-Korean merchants were gathered around President Wang with grave faces, discussing the situation.
“What’s happened?”
“Some of the town’s merchants were taken.”
President Wang’s gaze landed on A-seong, who was hiding behind me. Regret softened his face.
“A-seong’s uncle was taken too.”
“What? My uncle? What did my uncle do to be taken?” A-seong asked urgently, his face drained pale.
I steadied A-seong’s shoulders and asked.
“What are the exact charges?”
“They’re accused of delivering military supplies from the U.S. base to the black market. It’s what they usually did, so it will be hard to deny.”
President Wang answered with a deep sigh. His expression looked tense, as if his head ached.
“Are other merchants charged the same?”
“Yes. Similar charges. Many of the things we handled had ties to the black market.”
“There wasn’t any physical confrontation, was there?”
“If there had been, we would all be dead. They wouldn’t be lenient with people like us who aren’t even their citizens.”
“Well done. If you’d forced a confrontation, there would have been bloodshed. I went to the Tin Can Market — there was ruthless violence.”
“They raided the Tin Can Market too?”
President Wang asked, surprised.
“Yes. They took everyone. It seemed planned. They sealed three alley entrances and rounded people up like rat-hunting. I think things are worse than I expected.”
The more he spoke, the more A-seong’s small body trembled.
Now that I thought about it, I realized I didn’t know anything about A-seong’s family.
“Is A-seong’s uncle the only family he has?”
“Yes. His parents both died of illness, and his uncle took him in and raised him.”
I remembered my first meeting with A-seong: his poor condition and his small stature for his age.
“They weren’t very well off, then.”
“He had other mouths to feed besides A-seong. Still, his uncle tried to care for him. He wasn’t a bad man.”
The bitter answer came back. But from that, I could roughly understand the situation.
Although the uncle had taken him in, he probably had a family of his own and wasn’t in better circumstances than his wife and cousins.
I sighed and said,
“All right. Do you know where they were taken?”
“The soldiers dragged them off, so I think to the Logistics Command.”
“The Logistics Command… Fine. I need to make a call. Please look after A-seong.”
I handed A-seong over to President Wang and went into the innermost office.
I picked up the receiver and called Yang Sobo’s home.
Hello?
“This is Baek Min-woo. Zhang Wei.”
I was just about to contact you. Hold on a moment.
After a short while, Yang Sobo’s voice came over the line.