Somewhere in Seoul, Kitae Kim jolted awake. The sudden movement sent a sharp, dull ache radiating through his chest. Both of his forearms were encased in thick plaster—the price he had paid for trying to force a block against Baki's Mach Punch.
"Ah!"
The private nurse checking his vitals gasped, nearly dropping her tray.
Kitae narrowed his eyes, his gaze cutting through her like a blade. "Where am I?"
Terrified by the raw killing intent radiating from him, the nurse stammered, "I-I..."
Before she could squeeze out an answer, the door clicked open. James Lee walked in, looking slick in a tailored suit. He offered the nurse a polite, practiced smile. "It's alright. You can leave now."
The nurse bowed hurriedly and bolted from the room as if escaping a predator.
A heavy silence settled in the ward. Kitae swung his legs off the bed and stood up. Looking down at the plaster around his arms, a flash of annoyance crossed his face. He simply flexed his muscles; with a violent crack, the heavy casts shattered into pieces and fell to the floor like gravel.
"How long was I out?" Kitae asked, rotating his aching wrists.
"Not long. About four hours," James answered, leaning casually against the window frame.
Kitae's eyes darkened. "What about Busan?"
"Busan is off-limits for now," James replied with a shrug. "I originally planned to fabricate a clash between the Jinrang Gang and the local police to clean things up, but that's been shelved. The scale of the fight was too large; the eyes from above are watching."
Kitae nodded, his expression grim. "Then what about that guy? Baki Hanma."
James shook his head. "I didn't expect him to come for you personally. Someone is likely helping him—someone who knows exactly who you are and what your goal is. And I have a strong suspicion I know who that is."
James paused, his voice dropping an octave. "I thought our side was strong enough to sweep the board, but it seems I've underestimated the opposition. We need an ally. A heavy hitter. There's someone in Incheon, but he's a bit... difficult to handle. I'm hoping you can take care of it."
Kitae looked James Lee dead in the eye. "Incheon? I thought you already had a dog over there?"
James Lee let out a thin, self-deprecating smile. "True. But it seems that dog no longer recognizes its owner."
Kitae gave a predatory smirk, a trace of bloodlust returning to his eyes. "Fine. I'll handle it. And I'll handle Baki Hanma, too. I wasn't prepared this time; his techniques are unconventional. But there won't be a next time."
James Lee nodded, turning toward the door. "I hope so."
---
Inside a dimly lit warehouse in Busan, the air was thick with the scent of engine oil and sea salt.
Baki was sprawled in a wide back chair, his long legs resting carelessly atop the office desk. He looked as though he were drifting off to sleep.
Sitting on the other side of the desk, Choi Bongpal looked anything but relaxed. She stared at Baki's bandaged forearm, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you absolutely sure you don't need a doctor? I saw that fight with Kitae Kim. That wasn't a battle for humans."
Baki cracked one eye open, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "I know my own body better than anyone. When I say I'm fine, I mean it."
Bongpal let out a sharp snort and stood up. She leaned over the table, reached out, and gave Baki's forearm a sharp, playful flick with her finger.
"Agh—!"
A jolt of pure, unadulterated pain shot through him. Caught off balance, Baki flipped backward, chair and all, slamming onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud.
"Hey! Hey! What are you doing?!" Baki yelled as he scrambled up, rubbing his arm frantically. "That hurts!"
Bongpal broke into a smile, her eyes curving into beautiful crescents. She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a giggle. "My, my... and here I thought someone said he was 'fine'."
Baki patted the dust off his clothes, giving her a mock glare. "Even so, that doesn't give you the right to assault a wounded man."
Bongpal's smile faded, replaced by a look of dead seriousness. She looked Baki straight in the eye. "I know we live in a world where fighting is unavoidable. But I truly hope you can start taking better care of yourself."
Baki felt a surge of warmth at her earnestness. He took a step forward, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her against him.
"Why? You worried about me?" Baki asked with a mischievous smirk.
Bongpal's face flushed crimson. She tried to push him away. "Get over yourself. Let go."
Baki didn't budge. He winced exaggeratedly and muttered, "Ow, that hurts. You know, we could be a lot closer if you'd ever just listen to me for once."
Their faces were inches apart, close enough to feel the warmth of each other's breath. Just as the tension peaked and Bongpal's gaze began to waver, the door swung open with a bang.
"Boss! The new shipment—"
A subordinate burst in, only to freeze like a statue at the scene before him.
Startled, Bongpal shoved Baki away with every ounce of her strength. Her face was bright red as she stammered, "I—we—Damnit! Who gave you permission to enter without knocking?!"
The subordinate turned pale and immediately dropped into a ninety-degree bow. "I'm sorry, Boss! I have failed! I deserve a thousand lashes!"
Bongpal clicked her tongue in annoyance, smoothing out her clothes as she marched toward the door. "Forget it. Let's go to the docks. And listen—if a single word about what you saw in here leaks out, I'll hang you upside down from a ship's mast to dry in the wind!"
"Not a word, Boss!" the man shouted.
Baki watched her retreating figure, rubbing the spot where she'd pushed him with a wide grin. Just before she reached the exit, Bongpal stopped and glanced back.
Their eyes locked for a fleeting second. She quickly turned away and vanished into the hallway.
Baki chuckled to himself, patting his chest. "It hurts, but man... it feels good."