A Contracted Gangster Who Has to Die to Survive

Am I finally dead?

A faint, blurry light settled on the edges of my barely opened eyelids. Slowly, the droplets of light stretched into long, human-like shapes.

They resembled grim reapers from books or dramas.

Right. If I could fall into a book in the first place, I shouldn’t be surprised by the appearance of a grim reaper.

Though I was frightened, I closed my eyes, hoping to return to my original world.

Please, when I open my eyes, let me be back where I belong.

“Grim reaper, please send me back to where I was.”

Leaving behind what I thought were my last words, I let out a long sigh.

Admittedly, I felt a tinge of regret that I couldn’t share more conversations with Choi Taejoon. But oh well. I’ll just meet him again in the book.

And, thinking further, there was another regret: I hadn’t gotten to see the main protagonist, Park Ha Hyun.

I wanted to witness how someone could be so mesmerizing that Choi Taejoon would fall head over heels, even risking his life for them.

That’s when I heard murmurs brushing faintly against my ears.

“You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

“My apologies, Executive Director. This was a failure on our part.”

“We’ll catch that bastard and make him pay.”

The ongoing voices—what I thought were hallucinations—prompted me to wave my hand dismissively.

“Yes, I’m a bit sad I won’t get to see Choi Taejoon in person anymore, but it’s fine. I’ll just see him in the book. Now, please send me back to my world.”

After a short pause, a deep voice replied.

“…Has he suffered brain damage?”

Wait. That voice—it sounds like Choi Taejoon.

“We’ll need to observe him closely. We’ve been assured his life isn’t in danger,” Manager Kim added. Then Choi Taejoon’s voice followed again.

“Then why does he look like that? He’s been muttering nonsense ever since earlier.”

The voices were so vivid, so clear, that I doubted it was just a hallucination. It felt as though Choi Taejoon was right beside me. Could it be…?

“Patient.”

I snapped my eyes open.

A man in a white doctor’s coat was staring directly at me.

“Are you awake?”

I shot up into a sitting position. My head throbbed as if it would split, and my entire body ached like I’d just finished a grueling workout.

Where am I? Have I already returned to the real world?

This didn’t feel like a dream or an illusion, nor the afterlife. It seemed too… real.

“Patient, please don’t move so suddenly. You’ll strain yourself.”

“What is this? Where am I?”

Clutching the blanket tightly, I scanned my surroundings. What I thought were grim reapers in black were actually Choi Taejoon’s subordinates. The man in front of me was clearly a doctor.

And the place where I lay wasn’t my shabby accommodation but a hospital bed that reeked of antiseptic.

“…Wait. Don’t tell me—I’m still not dead?”

The doctor’s face stiffened at my words.

He didn’t even need to answer. I already knew. I wasn’t dead. Not even close.

“Do you remember what happened before you got here?” the doctor asked.

I slumped my shoulders as I listened to his brief explanation.

Yes, I know. I know all too well.

This wasn’t the afterlife or my original world. I was still stuck inside the novel Alcohol Swab.

“Unfortunately, you’ve been in a coma for the past 24 hours.”

“The real tragedy is that I’m still alive,” I muttered.

“….”

How sturdy was Hyun Woo Kyung’s body, anyway? To survive being hit by a car without much damage—was that even possible?

The doctor seemed ready to explain further but stopped himself. He looked down at me with a serious expression.

“Patient, you’re very lucky. Surviving an accident like that is nothing short of a miracle.”

“But I swear, when I hit the ground, I thought I heard the sound of bones breaking.”

The doctor pushed his glasses up his nose and glanced at Choi Taejoon.

“Sir, as his guardian, I must inform you that we’ll need to monitor him closely. Regular observation will be necessary.”

From the chair where he’d been sitting, Choi Taejoon spoke in a low voice.

“Regular observation and monitoring…”

Following the source of the voice, I turned to see him sitting beside Manager Kim, who was staring at me with a mix of suspicion and unease.

So the voices earlier weren’t hallucinations after all.

A strange mix of relief and frustration surged within me—relief that I’d get to see Choi Taejoon again, but despair at the realization that I was still trapped in the novel.

“…It’s really you, Executive Director,” I said.

“At least you seem mentally sound enough to recognize me,” Choi Taejoon replied dryly.

“Of course, I do. That’s Manager Kim next to you, and over there is the guy who kept calling me a thief.”

I continued gloomily, “This is a hospital, I’m Hyun Woo Kyung, and… ha, I’m completely screwed.”

So I really didn’t die. Not even this accident could kill me.

I’d flown through the air and hit the ground, yet here I was, alive and well. How?

“Is there any particular discomfort?” the doctor asked.

I raised my hand to my head. My arms, legs, back, and shoulders were fine, but my head throbbed painfully. It felt less like the car accident and more like the injuries from earlier had worsened.

“Looks like there was significant trauma to the head. Patient, please look straight into my eyes,” the doctor instructed.

Maybe I couldn’t die because things weren’t following the original story.

Perhaps I wasn’t allowed to die until I properly fulfilled Hyun Woo Kyung’s role.

All I wanted was to die painlessly and return to my world. Was that really too much to ask?

I didn’t wish to be rich or famous—just to go back home.

According to the original story, that night at the hotel was supposed to mark the beginning of Hyun Woo Kyung and Choi Taejoon’s relationship, with an R-rated romance unfolding from there.

So, does that mean the plot can only progress if the emotional bond between Hyun Woo Kyung and Choi Taejoon deepens?

“Patient, do you know what day it is today?” the doctor asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

While I’d been lost in my musings, the doctor had begun asking more questions.

“Patient?”

“I… don’t know.”

The date? I stared blankly at the calendar on the wall, but my blurry vision made it impossible to read the numbers clearly.

“…I think it’s still the 21st century.”

“Do you remember your age?”

“That too… not really.”

I had no idea how old Hyun Woo Kyung was supposed to be in Alcohol Swab. Before entering this world, I was 22 years old, but the novel never mentioned Hyun Woo Kyung’s age.

Besides, figuring out his age wasn’t my priority right now.

I shifted my gaze to Choi Taejoon, who sat on the sofa against the wall. A sense of urgency gnawed at me—should I start moving the story along already?

“What about your job? Do you remember what you were doing?”

“Idol. I was an entertainer.”

At my hazy response, the doctor’s expression darkened immediately.

“An… entertainer?”

Resigned, I continued, “I used to be. But now I’m part of a gang. Well, sort of… more like a contract worker.”

“Gang… contract worker… I see,” the doctor muttered, his gaze darting nervously. He quickly scribbled something into my chart, then turned to Choi Taejoon, lowering his voice.

“This could be a temporary issue caused by a concussion. However, if these symptoms persist, outpatient treatment may be necessary.”

Choi Taejoon’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Something like post-traumatic stress disorder brought on by stress,” the doctor explained further.

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Choi Taejoon rubbed his chest absentmindedly, as though searching for the cigarettes in his pocket.

“You’re not faking this, are you? Pretending to be crazy or something?”

“Hah. If I could, I’d like to.”

He placed an unlit cigarette between his lips, staring at me intently.

I’d never thought smoking was attractive—not once. But I had to admit, certain people, like Do Hyuntae or Choi Taejoon, made it look as though the cigarette belonged in their hand.

Choi Taejoon tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his expression hard to read.

The air in the room felt heavy, as if everyone was waiting for his next words.

“Everyone, leave.”

At his command, the others exited the room, leaving just the two of us.

The silence was deafening. The sudden stillness made my ears ring uncomfortably.

Why was he looking at me like that? Did he figure something out?

I hesitated before speaking.

“If you’re planning to say something like, ‘You’re my savior. Thank you for saving me,’ you don’t have to.”

“What’s your reason for always hanging around me?”

Before I realized it, he was standing right next to my bed, looming over me.

“I’m not hanging around you. We just keep meeting by ‘coincidence.’”

Though his tone was sharp, his expression betrayed a hint of confusion. He held his lighter up, close to my face.

“Have we met before?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know about this lighter?”

“That’s…”

“Don’t give me some half-baked excuse. Tell me the truth.”

Of course, he didn’t believe the lie I made up earlier.

No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation. In the end, I decided to just tell the truth.

“I read it in a book.”

“A book?”

His expression blanked for a moment, but his eyes quickly narrowed into a glare, hostility radiating from him.

“First it was a hidden camera, then an entertainer… now a book?”

The sharpness in his eyes cut through me like a blade, and before I knew it, he grabbed the remnants of my shirt, pulling me close.

“Ah! W-wait! Don’t treat your savior so roughly…!”

We were so close that our faces were nearly touching.

“A book? What, do you have some kind of gangster database or something?”

Did he think I had a book filled with details about gangsters’ preferences and pasts?

“No, nothing like that!”

“Then who are you?”

“Hyun Woo Kyung.”

“What’s your real identity?”

“My… identity?”

“What are you, and why do you keep spouting nonsense? What exactly do you want from me?”

His iron grip tightened, his fist pressing into my chest, making it hard to breathe. He gave me a few sharp shakes, and I gasped out a reply.

“A-all I want is to leave this place as soon as possible…”

“And where is ‘this place’? The organization?”

“No, Alcohol Swab…”

“For f***’s sake, there’s plenty of alcohol swabs here in the hospital.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“If you keep talking nonsense, I’ll kill you with my own hands.”

Yes! That’s it!

My eyes widened as I grabbed his hand. His knuckles, though covered in small scars and bruises, were surprisingly warm and soft.

“That’s it! That’s exactly what I want!”

“What?”

“It might hurt a lot since it’s my first time, but I want to die by your hands, Executive Director. I have to!”

For a moment, his face froze in disbelief. Then, as if unable to process what I’d just said, his ears and neck flushed red, the color creeping all the way up to his face.