The interior of the luxury karaoke room pulsed with flickering neon lights. Kim Myeong-gil sat deep in the plush sofa, a relaxed smile masking the predator beneath.
His wife, Park Min-jung, clung to his left arm, while Kim Jun-min and Im Jang-do sat across from him, their postures rigid. Jun-min, still reeling from his recent failure, looked like a man sitting on a bed of needles.
But Myeong-gil's previous fury had vanished. In its place was a strange, haunting air of amusement.
The heavy door swung open, and a titan of a man stepped in. It was Kang In-beom. With a casual flick of his wrist, Myeong-gil signaled for the music to be cut. The hostesses scattered like a receding tide, leaving only Min-jung behind.
"Boss, you called?" In-beom rumbled.
Myeong-gil gestured to the seat beside him. "Sit."
Myeong-gil drained his glass in one go and turned his gaze toward Jun-min.
"Jun-min. You said three kids showed up, right?"
"Yes, sir. And a girl joined them at the very end."
Myeong-gil shifted his eyes to Jang-do. "What did your investigation turn up?"
Jang-do opened a folder and began. "Boss, you already know one of the boys, Kim Geon-woo. The other is a rookie boxer called Hong Woo-jin. They met during a championship. As for the third one called Joe, he's a retired pro from Japan who moved back to Korea. I sent my men to capture him, but it turned out to be a failure. But that's not the highlight. Boss, do you remember Jae-myeong?"
Myeong-gil nodded. "I heard he went missing. What about him?"
"Months before he joined us, Jae-myeong took a loan from a private lender. I tracked that trail and found an address—a bookstore. I sent men to check it out, but it was closed. However, we found something better."
Jang-do slid several photos across the table. In the center of the frames was a man in a wheelchair: President Choi. Next to him was the same girl from the subway, Hyeon-ju.
Myeong-gil's eyes narrowed instantly. "Well, well. Look at this."
He picked up a photo, his voice dropping to a low, reminiscent growl.
"Back in the day, I worked for someone name Choi Tae-Ho. President Choi had five 'knifers' working for him. Back then, he lent money to major corporations, and he often had tens of billions in uncollected debt. Construction companies always have gangs looking out for them, so whenever a debt went unpaid, Choi sent in his knifers. They would obliterate an entire organization in a single day."
A flicker of memory crossed Myeong-gil's eyes.
"Even the biggest syndicates were terrified of President Choi's knifers. When I finally forced Choi out, the first thing Beom and I did was hunt those knifers down."
His gaze pierced Jun-min. "Do you know why we did that?"
"Uh... no, sir."
"Because I was scared as fuck, too."
The room erupted in laughter. Min-jung asked curiously, "Did you and In-beom take them all out yourselves?"
Myeong-gil shook his head. "No. We sent the Sindang-dong and Yeongdeungpo gangs in as a single unit. We only pulled it off because they weren't together at the time. If they'd been in the same room, it would have been impossible."
"Wow. That's incredible, Boss," Jun-min stammered.
Myeong-gil's gaze sharpened into ice. "But in the end, I couldn't get rid of the two most important ones: Lee Du-yeong and Hwang Yang-jung. President Choi's left and right hands."
He toyed with his empty glass. "When I was just a bottom-tier lackey for Choi, I saw Lee Du-yeong once. Handsome kid. One time, a rival boss was stuck in traffic, smoking with his window down. He heard a motorcycle approaching and turned his head. Lee Du-yeong rode past and carved the man's face open with a sashimi knife. His lip was flapping in the wind, blood everywhere. It was a hell of a sight."
"Shit... then who is Hwang Yang-jung?"
"They say he once crippled twenty gang members by severing their Achilles tendons—solo. I've heard he uses two blades at once and can land a hundred stabs in a minute. A complete psycho."
Myeong-gil let out a dry chuckle. "If that bookstore belongs to Choi, it all makes sense. That senile old fuck must have crawled out of the shadows to save his 'pups.'"
He laughed again, a cold, booming sound.
"Do you know how much money President Choi has? I'd wager at least fifty billion in cold, hard cash."
"Fifty billion?!" Jun-min gasped. "Boss, that would cover our shortfall in one shot."
Myeong-gil nodded with satisfaction. "Exactly. It seems someone upstairs is looking out for us."
His laughter died, replaced by a deadly command as he looked at Jang-do and In-beom.
"Jang-do, Beom. I want you to stake out that bookstore. Bring me everything."