Late at night, after the victory, Ming You and his team left the streetball court, stepping onto a deserted sidewalk. The streetlights cast long shadows, and a weary silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of the city. Ming You, stretching his lips into an unnatural smile, slowly raised his hand, calling for attention.
"Guys, I have great news for you."
Lu Shen, still excited from the game, turned sharply:
"Is there anything better than today's victory? Come on, spill it!"
The others froze in anticipation, their eyebrows raised, their eyes narrowed with curiosity. Ming You leisurely pulled out four thick bundles of banknotes from his backpack, each bound with a paper strip. The bills crinkled in his fingers.
"Besides winning and paying off our debts, we also earned some money. Here's your share. Keep following my lead, and your miserable school lives will change for the better."
He tossed 20 million won onto the sidewalk. Four neat stacks of five million each – each stack small enough to be covered entirely by a single palm.
The team was stunned. Jung Ho froze with his mouth half-open, his fingers twitching involuntarily, as if checking the reality of the situation. Haru Lin slowly licked his parched lips. Lu Shen didn't know what emotion to feign.
"Uh... This is..." Jung Ho managed to squeeze out. Ming You phlegmatically waved his hand:
"What are you waiting for? Take it."
They took it. Awkwardly, almost guiltily, as if afraid the money would evaporate at their touch.
"We don't even know how to thank you..." Haru muttered, tightly gripping his stack.
"No thanks needed. You earned this. Just keep winning." Ming You's voice sounded even, but a cold calculation could be read in his eyes.
"But that's not all," he abruptly changed his expression, putting on the mask of friendliness again. "Shouldn't we celebrate the victory?"
"I hope there will be more victories like this," Lu Shen chuckled hoarsely.
"Well then, let's go."
Ming You turned around and strode forward, without a doubt that they would follow him. And so they did. They walked, exchanging jokes, recalling key moments of the game, but now a new note sounded in their voices – greed, excitement, devotion.
…
The air in the establishment was thick and sweetish, smelling of cheap perfume, tobacco smoke, and alcohol. The crimson light of scarlet lamps licked the walls, reflected in the glass of the bar counter, and slid over the bare shoulders of girls who pressed against the bar, trying to catch the eye of potential clients. The noise of voices and muffled music created an illusion of fun, but in a corner, away from everyone's attention, a different, tense atmosphere reigned.
There, behind a massive table made of dark wood, sat two groups of men, whose postures and gazes betrayed them as anything but casual visitors. On one side were people clad in uniform black leather jackets, their faces stony and impenetrable. Opposite them, as if in deliberate contrast, sat sturdy men with tanned skin, dressed in beige shirts, the fabric of which contrasted with their swarthiness.
"Listen, Mr. Chanrat," began Tae Hwan, carefully choosing his words. "We simply cannot be involved in such a large-scale weapons theft. Disarming almost all of your men... it's simply impossible."
Sung Wo, sitting next to him, a man with intelligent, cunning eyes, nodded, crossing his arms on his chest:
"And that's not to mention that it's not beneficial for either of us," he added, spreading his hands. "Why would we cut the branch we're sitting on?"
Chanrat smirked, but there wasn't a trace of mirth in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers together, remarking sarcastically:
"Speaking of your capabilities, I might indeed be overestimating them, but as for benefit... you, more than anyone else, would benefit the most from making us look unreliable in front of the Don!"
"But these losses could affect us too. A chain reaction, so to speak. That's why I still don't see any reason why anyone from my people could have done such a thing," Tae Hwan replied impassively.
Suddenly, Chanrat's calm shattered. He slammed his palm on the table, making the glasses rattle. His face twisted with rage, and his voice rose to a shout:
"Then explain to me, what the hell, after one man! One!" – he jabbed his index finger in the air – "disarmed almost all of my men practically with his bare hands, stole our weapons, and used my own man to force him to come here and wait for him right at this table, where we held our last negotiations?!"
"How is that possible...?" Sung Wo whispered, more to himself.
At that moment, a shadow fell behind Chanrat. Out of the semi-darkness, as if from nowhere, emerged a sturdy, tall man. His dark chestnut hair fell slightly below his shoulder blades in the back and just below his eyes in the front, and his face was framed by a well-groomed mustache and a small beard. He wore black jeans and a white shirt with many small black patterns, its sleeves carelessly rolled up to the elbows. His exposed forearms were covered in a web of tattoos, barely concealing old, faded scars.
In his hand, moving with murderous smoothness, was a black Glock, its barrel confidently pressed against the back of Chanrat's head. The stranger smiled, and there wasn't a trace of warmth in that smile:
"Sawasdee, my talkative friend."
A deathly silence fell. Everyone present froze, as if struck by paralysis. The music and laughter from the bar counter now seemed to be coming from another dimension.
Chanrat slowly, with difficulty, turned his head, the knuckles of his fingers white from how hard he was gripping the table.
"T-Tae Sagi?" his voice trembled and broke into a hoarse rasp. "Y-you...!?"
Tae Hwan, sitting opposite, laughed. It was a joyless, dry sound, resembling a caw.
"Heh-heh-heh, long time no see, nephew."
"And hello to you too, Uncle Hwan," he nodded politely towards his uncle, without taking his eyes off Chanrat.
Chanrat, in turn, recovering from the shock, shot a glance towards his men in beige shirts, who sat motionless:
"What are you sitting so still for!?" he hissed, his face turning crimson. "Shoot!"
"You talking to me?" asked Tae Sagi with feigned surprise. "Do you really want to end yourself so badly? I haven't even taken the safety off yet."
"Gh...!"
"Oh, or were you talking to 'your' guys?" continued Tae Sagi, and his smile grew wider and colder. "Well, they might listen to you, in a way."
He snapped his fingers. The sound wasn't loud, but it acted like a trigger. The guys in beige shirts abruptly, almost synchronously, jumped to their feet. However, the barrels of their pistols were aimed not at Tae Sagi or the men in leather jackets, but at their own boss – Chanrat. Their faces were empty and emotionless, as if they were performing the most mundane task.
Chanrat struggled to shift his gaze from the gun barrel at the back of his head to his own men, whose barrels were still aimed at him. His eyes swirled with a mixture of unbearable pain, rage, and utter bewilderment.
"Y-you..." his voice broke, turning into a hoarse whisper. "You're all on his side!?"
Tae Hwan, sitting opposite, heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if tired of the unfolding spectacle:
"Hey, hey, maybe slow down? Even though we have our conflicts, we still need him alive for now."
"I understand perfectly well, Uncle, that if I kill him, the Don will immediately suspect us," he said, and his voice was laced with mockery. "But the problem is, our friend Chanrat is far too talkative. And talkative people, as a rule, don't live long."
With his free hand, Tae Sagi made a calm but authoritative gesture with two fingers towards the men in beige shirts. As if by magic, they lowered their weapons and sat back down in their places, but this time they moved away from Chanrat, distancing themselves from him.
"What kind of bullshit are you spouting?" Chanrat blurted out.
"Nephew, you'd better explain to me too, what was that all about? Our entire dialogue just went off the rails," Tae Hwan shook his head, his gaze at his nephew a mixture of approval and anxiety.
Sung Wo, who had been silently observing all this time, skeptically raised an eyebrow:
"Your games again, Sagi?"
Tae Sagi turned his head towards him, and his smile widened slightly:
"Aptly noted, Sung Wo. But let's get down to business," he looked back at Chanrat, "you don't need those weapons right now, Chanrat, because it's peacetime, isn't it? Why stockpile iron if you're not planning a war?"
"You bastard!" Chanrat rasped, trying to suppress a groan.
"Shhh," Tae Sagi put a finger to his lips. "Aren't you more concerned about the fact that your own men betrayed you, rather than the missing weapons? Now that, in my opinion, is far more interesting."
Chanrat froze, his eyes widening from this new blow.
"How did you...!"
"Ah, now we're getting to the heart of the matter," Tae Sagi's voice became quieter and more dangerous. "Look at the situation – no one likes snitches, am I right, guys?" He glanced around at everyone present, and even his own comrades in leather jackets nodded in response.
"And what does that have to do with me!?" Chanrat tried to break free, but panic was already audible in his voice.
"It has everything to do with you, because a couple of weeks before my release from prison, I learned something from a man you yourself set up," Tae Sagi leaned closer to his ear, lowering his voice to a venomous whisper. "He told me this... actually, you know what, why don't you tell me what he could have told me, huh? Refresh your memory."
"How should I know!?" Chanrat almost howled in despair and pain. "What are you even talking about!?"
"Oh," Tae Sagi sighed with feigned sadness, "it seems your tequila-soaked brain can't activate the memory. But no matter, perhaps I have a motivator for you. Either I say it in front of everyone," he paused, letting the words sink in, "or I tell only you alone, and you admit defeat and leave quietly. Your choice."
Chanrat fell silent. His heavy, ragged breathing was the only sound he made. Sweat trickled down his temples. Tae Hwan, watching this scene, frowned. His fingers tightened on the edge of the table.
"Chanrat, is there something we don't know?" he asked, and his voice took on steely notes. "Judging by your reaction, you really are a snitch!?"
Sung Wo chuckled softly, rubbing his hands.
"Oh, the Don is not going to like this one bit, ha-ha."
"Your damn nephew doesn't know how to conduct business!" Chanrat shouted, looking at Tae Hwan. "So anyone from your side could have ratted him out!"
The response was a sharp, short blow to the back of the head with the grip of the Glock. Chanrat gasped and his head jerked forward.
"Hey, hey, don't ignore my presence," Tae Sagi's voice sounded right at his ear, icy and calm. "I can hear everything."
"Gh..." Chanrat struggled to sit up straight, dark spots swimming in his eyes.
"Here's what we're going to do," Tae Sagi announced, returning to his previous tone as if he had just been discussing the weather. "Your outfit will no longer have access to weapons. And you yourself will step down, quietly and peacefully. Be thankful that these are peaceful times and a single shot in the air attracts a lot of attention. Otherwise, this conversation would have been much shorter."
"If a single shot in the air attracts so much attention, then why the hell did you kill Chalerrm!?" Chanrat hissed, remembering one of his men, found recently with a bullet in his head.
Tae Sagi tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness.
"Since your perceptiveness is that of a five-year-old, I'll tell you – it was a last resort. Which means that if you don't step down, the same will happen to you. And I'm even willing to go back to prison for it. Consider it my investment in the family's peace."
"You bastard!"
Tae Hwan spread his hands, his face expressing businesslike confidence:
"Well, it's clear to everyone now that you're the snitch here. If the Don finds out, you won't get off easily."
"What do you want from me?!" Chanrat shouted, a final, desperate note in his voice.
Tae Sagi smirked.
"Heh, now that's your first correct thought, finally. You need to disband all the Thais. Your entire crew. They have nothing more to catch here."
Everyone present:
"...Huh?"
Chanrat looked at him as if he had grown three heads.
"Th-that's... IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Well, there's another option," Tae Sagi said impassively, pressing the gun barrel against the back of his head again.
Chanrat tried to bluff, looking into the empty eyes of his former subordinates.
"Heh, you won't shoot..."
BANG!
A deafening gunshot tore through the air. Chanrat screamed wildly, clutching his leg, from which blood was beginning to gush.
"AAA! You fucking psycho!"
"The next shot will be in the other leg, then the thighs, then the arms, ears, cheeks... In short, you'll be alive, but walking is another question."
"Khh!!!" Chanrat, with his last strength, tried to suppress a roar, his body convulsing from shock and pain.
Tae Hwan looked at his nephew with concern:
"Nephew, be a bit more careful, will you... No need to turn the whole floor into a carpet."
"Don't worry, Uncle Hwan. Chanrat has clearly learned his lesson and understands what needs to be done, right?" He squatted down to be at eye level with Chanrat's face.
The latter, rolling his eyes in pain, whispered something inaudibly.
"Louder!" commanded Tae Sagi.
"Y-yes..." Chanrat exhaled, and the sound was one of surrender.
"Well then," Tae Sagi stood up, brushing non-existent dust from his shirt sleeve. "Now get out of here. Your guys, or rather, my guys now, will keep an eye on you. But don't worry," he added with mocking politeness, "they won't bother you while you jerk off."
Chanrat, with the help of two of his former underlings, who now looked at him with complete disinterest, somehow managed to get up on one leg.
"Khh... bastard!"
Tae Sagi gave a light, mocking bow:
"You're pleasant company too, but sorry, I'm not gay."
Chanrat muttered something incoherent and was dragged, almost unconscious, towards the exit.
Tae Hwan laughed loudly, leaning back in his chair with relief.
"Ha-ha-ha! Always the cheeky one, nephew! Nothing you can do about it."
The door slammed shut behind Chanrat and his escorts, leaving a heavy, but now different, tension in the club's crimson gloom. Sung Wo was the first to break the silence, his practical mind already switching to the next tasks. He took a sip from his glass before asking:
"But what do we do with the rest of the Thais? There are too many of them to just ignore."
"That's Uncle Hwan's concern now," declared Tae Sagi, nodding towards the family head. "So, Uncle Hwan, consider them under your control. But, to keep the Don from suspecting we're breaking away, one of our men will be at the head of it."
Tae Hwan snorted, and his face broke into a wide, approving grin. He slapped his nephew hard on the shoulder.
"Heh-heh, you cunning bastard! Let's have a drink at least, to celebrate your return!"
"It's hard to refuse you, as always, Uncle Hwan."
"Sit down, come on," Tae Hwan heavily dropped into his chair and pointed to the spot next to him. "And put that piece away. Relax already."
"Hm? Did I forget to put my pants on?" he asked with feigned innocence.
Tae Hwan snorted and laughed even louder:
"Damn pervert! I'm talking about the gun, ha-ha!"
"Oops," Tae Sagi, with light, almost theatrical grace, finally put the Glock out of sight.
A moment later, Tae Sagi, Tae Hwan, and Sung Wo raised their glasses in unison, and the latter two shouted loudly, almost brotherly:
"To your return!"
They downed their drinks in a single motion. Tae Hwan slammed his glass onto the table with force, exhaling with satisfaction.
"Alright, guys, I need to step out for a bit," he stood up, rubbing the small of his back. "Tomorrow there's a gathering in your honor, nephew. You two have fun here for now, I'm a bit too old for nights like these, heh."
Tae Sagi looked up, a mocking smile touching his lips.
"Come on, Uncle Hwan, I'd never believe you can't handle a couple of ladies."
"Ah, get lost!" Tae Hwan waved him off, already moving away from the table, but the set of his back showed he was smiling.
"Bye-bye, Uncle Hwan!"