The weekend vanished in a blur of clattering chips, shouting gamblers, and the constant pressure of running an illegal empire in a chaotic city. Skyfall Lounge thrived, too well. Money flowed like a river, but so did tension. Every night, Tae-min sat at the back office desk long after the others had gone home, his hair tied back, eyes fixed on ledgers but thinking far beyond numbers.
He was calculating.
Mapping.
Formulating.
He barely said a word the entire weekend.
Monday finally arrived, and with it an unusual calm, because Mondays and Tuesdays were Skyfall's rest days. Not for strategy, just because Sang-ho hated Mondays and Tuesdays and enforced the rule like gospel. In Haneul, where everyone lived on the edge, it was hilarious that this was the one tradition the three men refused to compromise on.
But this Monday wasn't peaceful.
This Monday, they expected a visit.
The Gapyeong Tigers hadn't shown up Saturday or Sunday. And people like Gang Du-ho never forgot money. They just came when it amused them most.
So the three prepared. Sang-ho smoked like a chimney, pacing back and forth. Soo-jin checked every camera angle, weapons location, and exit route. Tae-min sat silently near the bar counter, wrists resting on his knees, head lowered, deep in thought.
Then, footsteps outside.
Several of them.
And then...
BANG!
The front door swung open violently, slamming into the wall with a crack. Gang Du-ho strutted inside like the human embodiment of a fireworks display, loud, erratic, and impossible to ignore.
He threw his arms open.
"Your guests have arrived!" he roared, laughter echoing through the empty casino floor.
Behind him walked the ever-smiling Kim Ryeon-woo, chewing gum like he owned the place. And next to him was a tall, lean man no one had seen before, Du-ho's left-hand man.
You could tell instantly he wasn't Ryeon-woo.
Ryeon-woo was the type to grin while cutting someone.
But this man?
He radiated a quiet, simmering chaos, like a storm held together by sheer will. Thin frame, sharp jawline, glasses reflecting the dim lights of the lounge. A patient kind of danger.
His name was Lee Chan-il.
Not as flamboyant as Ryeon-woo, not as loud as Du-ho. But something about the stillness around him unnerved even Sang-ho.
Du-ho didn't notice the tension. He never did.
He marched toward the center of the empty casino, spinning in a circle like he was admiring a new apartment. "Aish, Mondays are so boring! Why do you guys close on Mondays? The party never ends!"
Then he paused. Squinted. Tilted his head.
"You know… I never realized how much you two," he pointed between Sang-ho and Tae-min, "look alike. You sure you're not long-lost brothers or some dramatic crap like that?"
Sang-ho scoffed. "If he was my brother, I'd have abandoned him at birth."
Tae-min didn't bother reacting.
Du-ho burst into laughter. "Ah! That's exactly why I like you people! You've got the guts to talk back!"
He wiped a tear of laughter and clapped once. "Alright, names. I didn't ask properly last time."
Sang-ho stepped forward before Tae-min or Soo-jin could speak. "Why the hell do our names matter? You're not family. You're not friends. You're here for your money. That's it. Take it and go."
Du-ho leaned in with a wide grin. "You're no fun. I came here to lighten the mood, but you?!" He poked Sang-ho's chest. "You're acting like a grumpy uncle!"
Soo-jin stepped between them subtly, just close enough that Du-ho noticed but didn't feel challenged.
Ryeon-woo wandered around the lounge, touching things, flipping chips in his hand, inspecting the walls like a curious kid. But everyone knew he wasn't harmless, he was looking for weaknesses.
Chan-il stood near the back, silent, eyes sharp behind his glasses.
After a few minutes of pointless banter, mostly Du-ho spewing jokes and Sang-ho shutting them down, Ryeon-woo joined in, tugging on Soo-jin's jacket sleeve.
"Hey, security guy. How much do you bench? You look weak. I bet you can't even lift a chair."
Soo-jin stared at him like staring at a fly.
Ryeon-woo grinned wider. "Oh! That's the look. The 'I want to punch him but I won't because it's a bad idea' look."
The tension rose.
Plastic.
Stretching.
Ready to snap.
That's when Chan-il stepped forward, voice calm and cold.
"Boss," he said, "we need to leave soon. Namgye is waiting."
His voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
Du-ho blinked. "Namgye? Already?"
Chan-il nodded, adjusting his glasses. "You promised to attend."
"Tch. Fine." Du-ho clicked his tongue, disappointed like a kid being dragged away from an arcade game. "Alright. Fun's over."
He snapped his fingers. Ryeon-woo tossed the collected payment bag over his shoulder casually.
Du-ho grinned at the trio. "Don't get too comfortable. I'll be back soon."
And with that, the Tigers left, loud, obnoxious, and chaotic all the way out the door.
The second the SUVs drove off, Sang-ho let out a frustrated groan and slapped the nearest table.
"That bastard is annoying," he muttered, mimicking Du-ho's voice with exaggerated movement. " 'Your guests have arrived!', I swear if he kicks that door open one more time I'll nail his foot to the floor."
Soo-jin chuckled under his breath. "At least he didn't start a fight."
"That's because he's keeping us around for entertainment," Sang-ho said. "Guys like him get bored easily. That's when they get dangerous."
Tae-min, who had remained mostly silent during the whole encounter, finally stood straight and spoke.
"I've got a plan."
Both men froze.
Because they knew:
When Tae-min said that, it meant something serious.
"What kind of plan?" Sang-ho asked.
"A dangerous one," Tae-min said plainly. "It won't work unless we get manpower. We need men in Haneul… and Namgye."
"Namgye?" Soo-jin frowned. "That's a whole other snake pit."
"That's exactly why," Tae-min replied. "Haneul gangs are chaotic. Namgye gangs are organized. If we can recruit from both, small groups, not big, we can create leverage."
Sang-ho raised an eyebrow. "Leverage for what?"
Tae-min looked at him.
"The Gapyeong Tigers rule because no one challenges their monopoly. They control violence, territory, and fear."
"And you want to break that," Soo-jin said slowly.
"No," Tae-min shook his head. "Not directly. Not yet." He leaned forward. "But we can turn their chaos against them. Du-ho's personality is volatile. Ryeon-woo is uncontrollable. And Chan-il… he's too cold. Too calculating. Those three types don't coexist peacefully."
Sang-ho blinked. "You want to create internal pressure."
"Yes," Tae-min answered. "Pressure that forces cracks to appear. Cracks we can exploit."
Soo-jin let out a long whistle. "That's… bold."
"It's stupid," Sang-ho corrected, though he was smiling. "Bold, stupid… dangerous. I like it."
Tae-min continued, "But before anything starts, we need to build a foundation. Fighters. Runners. Lookouts. Informants. Men who owe us something."
"And how exactly do we get those?" Soo-jin asked.
Sang-ho looked toward the dark windows of the closed lounge.
"Haneul is full of desperate men. Namgye is full of disciplined ones. Both are useful." He turned back to them. "Give me a week to set the groundwork."
"And after that?" Soo-jin asked.
Tae-min tightened his hair again, eyes cold and focused.
"After that," he said, "we start ripping the Tigers apart."