Morning in Haneul did not feel like morning anywhere else.
There was no sunrise, no soft glow, no sense of beginning.
Just a heavy gray sky and the echo of a city already awake and already angry.
Sang-ho was the first to rise. He stepped out onto the apartment balcony with a cup of cheap instant coffee and stared at the mess of tangled rooftops, flashing signs, and crooked alleys below. Somewhere in the distance, someone was yelling. Somewhere closer, a bottle shattered.
Haneul wasn't welcoming, but it was honest.
This was exactly the kind of place where their plan could work.
Inside, Tae-min dragged himself off the couch, hair falling loosely over his shoulders. Soo-jin was quietly washing dishes as if keeping the apartment clean would somehow stop the chaos outside from leaking in.
Sang-ho walked back in and clapped his hands once.
"Alright, boys. Time to build our empire."
Tae-min sat at the table, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "You sound too excited for someone who slept three hours."
"This is how businessmen talk," Sang-ho said proudly.
"We're not businessmen," Soo-jin muttered.
"We're about to be."
1. Finding a Place Nobody Wants
Haneul had no central ruler, no "big boss," no man-in-the-shadows pulling the strings. That meant two things:
opportunity and danger.
It also meant real estate agents were used to dealing with shady customers.
The agent they met, Mr. Bak, looked like he'd seen every illegal operation under the sun and didn't care about any of them. His sleek suit contrasted sharply with his exhausted eyes.
"So," Mr. Bak said, flipping through a binder, "you're looking for a property that is… what was your phrase again? 'Low traffic, structurally sound, and with a basement big enough to host community events.'"
Sang-ho smiled politely. "Exactly. Community events."
Mr. Bak's eye twitched, but he didn't ask questions. "I have a few listings. But I need to warn you, Haneul's older districts are… unpredictable."
"Unpredictable how?" Soo-jin asked carefully.
"Some gangs claim unofficial territory. Nothing formal. Just… boundaries."
"We don't mind boundaries," Sang-ho said. "We just need somewhere no one cares about."
Mr. Bak gave them a long look. Then he stood.
"I know just the place."
They followed him through the city, past crumbling blocks where stray cats owned the streets, past neon-cluttered districts with clubs stacked on top of pawn shops, past alleyways where people did business without using words.
Eventually, they reached a building wedged between an abandoned motel and a tire shop.
The front sign was half-broken, reading "MOONL----- H-LL" where the missing letters had fallen off.
The windows were dusty.
The paint peeled.
The building looked forgotten.
Perfect.
Inside smelled like mold and old smoke. The front room was empty except for a few broken chairs. Farther in, a small hallway led to a large storage area, and beneath that, an old basement.
"That's big," Sang-ho whispered, eyes lighting up.
The basement was rough, concrete floors and low ceiling, but spacious enough to shape into anything, especially the kind of thing they had in mind.
"This place has been vacant for five years," Mr. Bak explained. "Previous tenant ran a karaoke bar. Shut down due to… structural issues." He gestured vaguely. "Ignore that. It's safe now."
"Safe enough," Sang-ho corrected.
The four of them exchanged glances.
This wasn't a building.
It was a sanctuary.
A fortress.
A seed.
"We'll take it," Sang-ho said.
Just like that, the foundation of their operation was set.
2. Paperwork for the Perfect Front Man
While Sang-ho negotiated payment, Tae-min was dragged into the city office to start the permit process.
He hated government buildings, the white walls, the bored clerks, the smell of old toner. But he had a job now, and it involved pretending he was a responsible adult.
He tied his long hair back into a low ponytail, revealing a surprisingly clean face that none of the walls of Nampo would recognize.
The clerk, a middle-aged woman who clearly didn't care about anything beyond her paycheck, pushed a stack of forms toward him.
"You're applying to open a small leisure facility?" she asked without emotion.
"Yes," Tae-min said politely. "A recreational game lounge."
"What kind of games?"
"Uh… cards, pool tables, maybe darts."
She typed slowly, like each keystroke was a burden.
"And you'll be the sole owner?"
"Yes."
"Any previous business experience?"
"No."
"That's fine," she said immediately, stamping a form without looking. "Nobody in this district has experience."
Her indifference was a blessing.
Tae-min filled out form after form, name, address, the building they were renting, his ID number. Nothing suspicious. Nothing alarming. Just a clean slate with long hair.
When she finally finished stamping everything, she handed him the temporary permit.
"You'll need a fire safety inspection in two weeks," she said. "If the building doesn't collapse, you'll pass."
Tae-min bowed politely. "Thank you."
As he walked out, he couldn't help thinking:
So this is my job now… the face of a criminal enterprise.
The thought should've scared him.
It didn't.
Not anymore.
3. Cleaning What Used to Be a Ruin
The next week was spent turning their dump of a building into something workable.
They scrubbed floors, scraped mold, repainted walls, fixed lights, and threw away countless bags of trash left by the previous tenants.
The basement took the most work.
They replaced old fluorescent bulbs with stronger, cleaner lighting. Covered exposed pipes with panels. Reinforced the weak spots in the flooring. Built a temporary sound barrier along the walls.
Not for anything graphic, just to keep noise contained.
Haneul was noisy enough without adding more to the street.
Soo-jin handled most of the repairs; he worked quietly, sleeves rolled up, moving like someone who'd rebuilt his life more than once.
Sang-ho handled talking to suppliers, chairs, tables, card decks, pool cues, snacks. All legally obtained. The front had to look spotless.
Tae-min handled paperwork, permits, utilities, contracts. It was ironic, he'd been a criminal by association for months, but this was the first time he was doing anything that required organization.
Late one night, as they hammered up a final panel on the basement wall, Sang-ho stepped back and whistled.
"Damn. Look at that. From a moldy crypt to… well… a less moldy crypt."
"It's getting there," Soo-jin said.
"It'll be ready," Tae-min murmured, leaning on a broom handle. "Soon."
Their work was quiet, methodical.
They weren't building something flashy.
They were building something that could survive.
4. Whisper Networks and the Right Kind of People
A successful underground business couldn't just exist.
It had to be introduced.
Not loudly, not publicly.
Just whispered.
Mentioned in passing.
A shopkeeper here.
A bartender there.
A taxi driver who talked too much.
Sang-ho was a natural.
He didn't advertise, he simply let conversations drift in the right direction, letting curiosity spread like smoke.
"New place opening up, I heard."
"Card games. Private events."
"Owner's clean. No ties. No debt. Just wants business."
People in Haneul were suspicious, but opportunity-starved.
A new gambling spot was like blood in the water, but good blood. The kind predators wanted to chase.
Not enough to attract the big gangs yet.
But enough to make the city listen.
5. A Quiet Night Before the Storm
Two weeks later, the building was almost ready.
The lights worked.
The front room looked respectable.
The basement was clean and reinforced.
The permit was approved.
Everything was lined up like dominoes waiting to fall.
They sat together on the floor of their newly cleaned establishment, eating instant noodles straight from the pot.
It was the calm before chaos.
"So," Sang-ho said, sipping broth, "What do we call this place?"
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, Tae-min answered:
"Skyfall Lounge."
Soo-jin looked up. "Why Skyfall?"
"Because everything fell apart," Tae-min said simply. "And we're starting again under the sky."
Sang-ho smiled. "Dramatic. I like it."
And in that quiet, flickering room, the three of them realized something:
They weren't running anymore.
They weren't hiding.
They were building.
Risky, dangerous, stupid, but theirs.
Haneul might burn them alive or crown them kings.
But it would not ignore them.
Tomorrow, Skyfall Lounge would open its doors.