Chapter 116…
The Chasers
“I don’t even know what I’m doing right now…”
“Up ahead—turn left! Left!”
“Got it.”
Director Park Yoo-cheon turned the steering wheel left at Woo Soo-han’s command.
Evening had fallen completely; the dim twilight had long faded into night.
Normally, only Soo-han and the company staff would ride in the van, but today, Lee Kyung-woo, Shin Na-ra, and the “Puppy-Kitty” PD and crew were all aboard as well.
“Doesn’t this feel like we’re shooting a spy movie?”
Someone joked, and Yoo-cheon couldn’t help agreeing.
The road was deserted.
Now that it was dark, following the target vehicle was getting harder.
Their van was too conspicuous, and if they kept trailing on the same route, the other party would surely notice.
Then the TV producer came up with an idea:
“What if we use a drone to track them and guide you remotely?”
Since there were few other vehicles, that plan worked easily.
They just needed to follow the drone’s lights; there was little chance of confusion.
Thanks to that, Soo-han’s team could track the vehicle live on a tablet screen.
“Wow, the station’s drone is really something!”
Kyung-woo marveled, watching the drone following high above.
“Uh—looks like they’re stopping. But this place is kinda…”
The target vehicle had halted—apparently at its destination.
But a problem arose:
Up to now they’d been safe keeping their distance, but if they kept approaching while the vehicle was stationary, their headlights would surely give them away.
“Someone’s gotta… put on the vest—”
“Hey, come on!”
“Tch. Then who’s gonna do it?”
Suddenly Soo-han started moving quickly, and Yoo-cheon’s chest tightened again.
He’d gone along with this much, but Soo-han personally getting involved was another matter entirely.
“We should wait until the police get here—”
Na-ra’s voice trembled with worry.
But Soo-han shook his head.
“Didn’t you ever watch movies, noona?”
“Huh?”
“In movies, the cops always show up after it’s all over. That’s like… a universal law.”
“….”
Na-ra sighed but couldn’t help nodding.
It wasn’t that she really agreed—it was just that they were in such a remote area that the police would definitely take time to arrive.
“Put this on… and here’s a body cam.”
“Okay.”
Inside the cramped van, the crew hurriedly strapped a vest and body camera on Soo-han.
Trainer Park Sun-woo also changed into less noticeable clothes.
“Should I go too? If we get caught, maybe I can pretend to be Soo-han’s girlfriend—”
“Na-ra, you’ve really watched too many spy movies. You’ve been saying that all evening.”
“Uh… you think that’s weird, senior?”
“Very weird. Na-ra, this is a rural mountainside. Couples don’t hang out here. Even hiking clubs don’t come this far.”
Kyung-woo cut in dryly:
“If you want to act like locals, you’d need to be at least in your sixties.”
“…Guess I’m too young for that.”
It was true—seeing young people out here would be suspicious.
“It might get dangerous, so the two of us will go. Everyone else, wait until the police arrive.”
“Got it!”
Everyone nodded at Trainer Park’s order.
The infiltration team consisted of Soo-han, Trainer Park, and one cameraman with a handycam.
More people would draw attention.
Soo-han, now wearing a cap for disguise, quietly opened the van door and slipped outside.
Seeing him hurry off, Yoo-cheon called out anxiously:
“Why are you rushing?”
“I can smell something.”
“What…?”
The word smell made everyone frown in confusion.
Soo-han’s face turned grim.
“Blood. I smell blood.”
“……”
Everyone fell silent, their faces tightening.
Trainer Park finally spoke, his tone grim.
“Many small farms also do their own slaughtering.”
“There’s no separate slaughterhouse?”
“No. There aren’t any specific regulations for that. It’s a legal blind spot. Some use goat slaughterhouses, but those are illegal too. Still, before laws were established, it was tolerated.”
Everyone’s expressions darkened.
Meanwhile
“Hey, President Park.”
“Oh, come on, boss, don’t call me that, haha.”
“Jong-soo, you are the president, aren’t you?”
“Yeah right. A puppet president, maybe. How long do we have to keep doing this anyway?”
Woo Beom-cheon clicked his tongue.
“Just hold on. We’ll wrap this up within a year. We’re attracting too much attention.”
“Recently, some group or association came by, giving us hell…”
“And?”
“So I gave them the business card you gave me, said we’re on hold till closure.”
Beom-cheon chuckled.
People who came snooping could usually be fooled with that line.
The “shelter” he mentioned was supposed to be an animal rescue facility—a fake one under Beom-cheon’s name, officially registered but never actually operating.
When inspectors called, they’d say the animals were being transferred there, and to avoid agitating the “owner.”
That usually ended with the inspectors apologizing, even bringing snacks or dog food as gifts.
“Funny, isn’t it? They rescue them just to put them down a few days later.”
“Forget it. Supply’s getting short.”
“Then prices go up, right? Heh.”
As they talked, workers unloaded cages from a truck and bowed to Jong-soo.
“Good work, boss.”
“Yeah.”
“Just one more year. We’ll move a couple more times and then we’re done.”
“Heh, got it.”
Jong-soo grinned, showing yellowed teeth.
“Were you in the middle of a job?”
“Yes.”
Beom-cheon glanced over and frowned slightly.
A few dogs already lay dead.
“Can’t you just use electricity?”
“If you don’t drain the blood right away, the meat gets bad.”
“Tch.”
On small farms, there were two methods: electrocution until death, or stunning and then slitting the throat to bleed out.
The second gave better meat, but required a strong stomach.
“Well, at least keep your skills sharp, huh?”
Jong-soo just smirked.
Yelp! Whine!
Suddenly, the dogs in the cages started thrashing.
Their muzzles muffled the noise, but they were strong—nearly thirty kilos each—so the handlers stumbled.
“Hey! Hold it tight!”
“Ah—!”
One cage slipped and crashed to the ground—
Bang!
The latch broke loose, and a dog bolted out.
“Catch it!”
“Damn it!”
Chaos erupted.
But a panicked dog was nearly impossible to grab.
The escapee ran toward a stack of firewood and started whining.
One of the men following called out nervously,
“Wh-who’s there?”
If you ask who—
“Just a passerby.”
…Ah, that sounded like a line from a period drama.
My head spun.
How was I supposed to know the dog would run straight to me?
The trembling creature clung to my leg.
You again—Constipation. (Yeah, that’s what I called him.)
He looked terrified, tears welling up—so pitiful now.
“What the—who are you?”
“Hey, mister, where’d you come from? You know this is private property, right?”
Sigh. This is bad.
A few of them had already surrounded me.
Luckily, Trainer Park and the cameraman were still some distance away.
Then two more men approached—one holding a metal rod, the other smiling way too kindly.
“You from some association?”
“Uh…”
The guy with the rod asked, and I lowered my head, scrunching my face.
Alright, trust my variety-show disguise skills one more time.
“Haha, tough job you guys have. I heard you sell dogs here.”
“Wait, you’re that guy from the filming site earlier!”
“…What?”
What? Caught that fast?
So much for my legendary disguise skills.
It was the smiling man who recognized me.
He shone a flashlight at my outfit.
“Borrowed that vest and hat, huh? But those shoes—”
Oh no. Sponsored gear. Fancy stuff.
“I knew that brand’s new release right away. And those pants too.”
The light slid up from my shoes to my vest.
“You’re wearing the exact same outfit. Hah… and you followed us here?”
He looked half-amused, half-annoyed.
Honestly, I usually care about fashion too much—guess that’s what got me caught.
“Isn’t this that bum guy?”
“Ex-bum. I’m learning now.”
“Yeah, you’re that bum bastard.”
“….”
Haven’t heard that word in a while, and for some reason it stung.
Maybe I really had moved up in life.
Then the man with the rod spoke again.
“You alone?”
“Uh, si—”
“Don’t say single. Tired of that joke yet?”
“…I mean… serene?”
“Psycho.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have done the cutesy flower-pose.
I lowered my hands and grinned.
“How about an autograph?”
“No.”
Deal failed instantly.
This was tricky.
If they’d just rushed me like the last guy did, I could’ve reacted—but this?
“Didn’t you say you were taking the dogs to a pet café? This doesn’t look like one.”
“It’s temporary boarding.”
The man with the rod grinned.
“Ah, I see.”
I smiled back—and then turned to the friendly-looking one.
“Sir, don’t you smell something?”
“Smell what?”
“The stench of blood—it’s thick.”
He scratched his head awkwardly.
Now that I was close, even a normal nose could smell it.
“This is a problem,” he said with a laugh—
but it wasn’t a friendly laugh anymore.
Then the rod-man spoke, voice turning vicious.
“Problem? Nah. Let’s strip him, take some pictures. Maybe stab his arm and make some art—take proof shots. He’s a celebrity, after all.”
“…In the arm? With that?”
I stared at his long iron rod, dumbfounded, while the others snickered.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got smaller, cuter ones. Makes you feel real good when you take it.”
“…Then maybe you and your friend should share that nice feeling instead of giving it to me?”
Yeah. Definitely drugs.
Damn it—dog traffickers with narcotics?
So much for Korea being a drug-free country.
“You’re mouthy. Maybe we should start by giving you a taste.”
Bzzzzzt!
A strange crackle burst from the rod, blue sparks flying.
What the hell—! That thing looked terrifying!
