Hwang Yang-jung deboned the sea bream with practiced ease. After slicing the final piece with surgical precision, he handed the knife to his kitchen assistant.
"Finish the rest."
The assistant nodded, startled into action. "Oh, yes, sir. On it."
As the assistant pulled the fish toward him to begin cleaning, Yang-jung stripped off his apron and set aside his chef's cap. The assistant paused, looking up as Yang-jung headed for the door.
"Sir."
Yang-jung turned back. "Yeah?"
"I'm coming with you."
Yang-jung shook his head dismissively. "You stay here."
"I want to help, sir. I can't just let you go alone."
The assistant's voice was firm, but Yang-jung's rebuttal was ironclad.
"Min-dong. I take care of my own business. You just focus on living your life."
"But... I owe you so much. I really want to be of use."
Yang-jung stepped closer and gave Min-dong a heavy pat on the shoulder.
"Look, if I come back and find this restaurant in shambles, that's a bigger problem. Keep the registers running. That's how you help me."
"But still, sir..."
Yang-jung took a sharp, final breath. "Stay."
With that single word, he turned and walked out of the restaurant without looking back.
A short while later, Yang-jung arrived at a quiet street corner. After a brief wait, a black sports bike glided to a stop nearby. The man who removed his helmet was the same biker who had silently aided Hyeon-ju's group at Gaehwa Station the night before.
The man's face broke into a broad grin the moment he spotted Yang-jung. He rushed over, pulling him into a boisterous hug.
"Hwang Yang-jung! God, how long has it been? You bastard, why haven't you stayed in touch?"
Yang-jung smiled, returning the embrace with equal warmth. "Life just got in the way."
The two men sat down on a nearby bench. The biker was Lee Du-yeong. Du-yeong studied Yang-jung's face for a moment before clicking his tongue.
"Man, what happened to that handsome face of yours? You've aged a lifetime."
"You think making an honest living is easy?"
Yang-jung's dry humor elicited a loud chuckle from Du-yeong. "Fair point. Living honestly is the hardest job there is, isn't it?"
The laughter faded into a comfortable silence, until Du-yeong spoke again, his tone turning serious. "It's really good to see you, Yang-jung."
"You too."
"I had Su-cheol and Min-su do some digging. This situation... it's bigger than we thought. These guys aren't just your run-of-the-mill loan sharks."
Yang-jung nodded, exhaling a heavy cloud of breath. "Thank you."
"A contact in Yeouido overheard that the Iil Group purchased an unfinished hotel building in Gangnam. Word is, they got the liquid cash from Smile Capital."
"Kim Myeong-gil's outfit, right?"
"Exactly."
Yang-jung's eyes narrowed. "But why would a corporate titan borrow from a bottom-feeder like Kim Myeong-gil? It doesn't add up."
"Myeong-gil probably spun a web and lured them in."
Yang-jung stood up, his gaze hardening.
"Let's go find out for ourselves."
Du-yeong rose with him, letting out a long, weary sigh. "Finally. A chance to avenge our boys."
"Let's end this. Mr. Choi gave us the green light."
Du-yeong pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. The wallpaper showed a woman with a prominent baby bump. He lingered on the image for a heartbeat before clicking the screen off and nodding with grim resolve.
"Yeah. Let's go."
---
The dawn air bit sharply into their skin. Along the trail near President Choi's safehouse, the rhythm of three sets of footsteps shattered the morning silence.
"Hey, Kim Geon-woo... aren't you seriously... tired yet?"
Woo-jin wheezed out the question, his t-shirt already heavy and translucent with sweat.
"I'm tired. But I feel like if I stop now, it'll hurt even more."
Geon-woo didn't look back; he kept his eyes locked on the road ahead. A grim, singular determination burned in his gaze. Trailing behind them, maintaining a casual, effortless pace, Joe spoke up.
"If you have the breath to gossip, put that energy into your legs. We're only at the ten-kilometer mark."
The moment the run ended, the training shifted directly to the heavy bags. Joe set his cane aside and stood before Geon-woo.
"Geon-woo, you're honest. In the ring, that's a virtue. In a war, it's a death sentence. Relax your shoulders when you throw. Don't let the enemy read your rhythm."
Joe flicked a jab. It stopped a fraction of an inch from Geon-woo's nose, so fluid it didn't even make a sound.
"I'm looking right at it, and I still can't see it coming..."
Woo-jin muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Joe turned his attention to him next.
"Woo-jin, you need to kill those street-brawler habits. You hunt for that one big swing, and you leave a door wide open for a counter. Keep your guard up. That is, if you plan on staying alive."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Coach."
Woo-jin grumbled, but he snapped his guard up tight.
Then came the sparring. Joe stood with both hands at his sides, neutralizing every attack from the two boys using nothing but the subtle sway of his head and torso.
"Is that all? Keep your feet moving!"
Geon-woo's sharp straight right grazed Joe's cheek. Joe's eyes flickered with a predatory light.
'His reaction time is peaking. He's absorbing everything like a sponge.'
Joe didn't miss the micro-second opening. He delivered a stinging jab right into Geon-woo's solar plexus.
THUD.
"H-hurrk...!"
Geon-woo dropped to one knee. Joe's voice remained cold and clinical.
"I told you never to lose focus. Get back up."
Woo-jin, watching from the side, cried out in a panic. "Whoa, man! Don't you think that's a bit much? You're gonna kill the kid!"
"If you have time to talk, you have time to fight. Two-on-one. Come at me."
Provoked, Woo-jin tightened his gloves, abandoning the pipe for the fist.
"Fine! Let's see if we can at least touch this guy today!"
The training ground on into the dead of night. Shadowboxing, weighted push-ups, core conditioning—the schedule was relentless. Under the crushing weight of the drills, Woo-jin eventually collapsed spread-eagle on the floor.
"That's it... I'm done. Any more and I'm a corpse."
Geon-woo, however, was still moving. Gasping for air, he dragged himself back to the mirror. With trembling hands, he raised his guard and threw another punch into the empty air.
'Not enough. I have to be faster. Faster, so I can protect them.'
Joe stood in the corner, wiping sweat with a towel as he watched. The hand gripping his cane trembled slightly, but a satisfied smile played on his lips.
"Woo-jin, stop playing dead and get up. Don't you see him?"
Woo-jin managed to crack one eye open to look at Geon-woo.
"That guy... he's not human. He's a monster."
Woo-jin grumbled, but he forced his body up anyway. The look in his eyes had changed—the casual defiance replaced by a hard, battle-ready edge.
"Fine. Let's go. Straight to the bottom of hell!"