ALRIGHT-bet
CHAPTER 4 — SHADOW MEETING
A single bulb flickered above a giant wooden table, its weak light swallowed by the darkness surrounding it. Shadows clung to the walls like curtains. Only three people were visible.
Sung-Jay sat casually on one end, legs crossed, cigarette between his fingers, glasses reflecting the dim light.
Na Wen leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, bandages still wrapped around his shoulder from the fight with Ryan.
Everyone else remained hidden — silhouettes swallowed by darkness.
At the head of the table stood a man in his mid-30s, sharp cheekbones, cold eyes.
Gwan Nin.
He stared directly at Sung-Jay.
"Your appearance at Choi High… made the police involved," Gwan Nin said, voice low and pointed.
Sung-Jay smirked, slipping his glasses back on.
"Don't worry about the cops," he said, lighting his cigarette. "I think our real threat is a lot more dangerous than we assumed."
Gwan Nin clicked his tongue. The sound echoed across the table.
He turned his head toward one of the figures hidden in the shadows.
The man stepped forward.
A missing eye.
Metal teeth.
A smile like a broken zipper.
"Yes, boss?" the one-eyed man asked.
Gwan Nin didn't look away.
"Prepare your boys," he said slowly. "We're going to beat him down."
---
LATER THAT DAY
Ryan stepped into an empty club room, sunlight cutting through the windows.
Someone was sitting backwards on a chair, humming loudly.
Jun.
Ryan's best friend.
Chaotic.
Funny.
And, honestly, kind of stupid in the best possible way.
Jun turned around immediately.
"Yooo, Ryan! What happened, dawg?!"
Ryan took a seat with a tired sigh.
"You know who Sung-Jay is, right?"
Jun squinted dramatically.
"Ohhh yeah. That guy from the Union or something. Looks like he moisturizes every day."
Ryan stared at him.
"…Anyway. There's a guy selling drugs to Choi High students. I need you to stop him."
Jun perked up.
"Say less. Anything for justice!"
"I'll buy you McDonald's."
Before Ryan finished the sentence, Jun was already gone.
Ryan blinked.
"…This guy will do anything for McDonald's."
---
NIGHTTIME — THE PARTY SPOT
A group of hoodie-wearing students stood outside a run-down party building.
Inside, eight gang members lounged around — one massive guy and seven others — smoking despite the huge NO SMOKING sign right behind them.
The boss flicked his cigarette to the floor.
"You got the money?" he asked.
One of the students stepped forward.
"Before that… you guys are the Han Gang, right?"
The boss snorted.
"Tch. Who else would we be?"
He grabbed the cash and tossed over the bag of drugs.
Then—
The doors swung open.
Jun walked in, earbuds blasting music so loud the gang could hear the bass vibrating.
"Heeeellooooooooooooo!" Jun shouted.
Everyone froze.
Jun pointed at the bag.
"You know drugs are bad, right?"
The students immediately bolted out of the building.
The boss rose to his feet.
"Oh my god… kill this f××ker."
---
THE FIGHT
One thug charged first, throwing a wild punch.
Jun dipped under it. Weave.
Left hook. Right hook.
The guy dropped instantly.
Another rushed him.
Jun twisted the man's arm, jumped off the wall, wrapped his arm around the neck, knee—CRACK— the man hit the ground.
A third swung a pipe.
Jun ducked, grabbed the attacker by the arm, twisted him mid-air, and slammed him onto the concrete.
A fourth tried to sucker-punch him.
Jun blocked, kicked the man's shin, shoved him onto a parked car, slammed his head onto the hood, grabbed a bat, and cracked it against his jaw.
Jun moved like someone who had trained under Ryan — precise, explosive, unorthodox.
Another thug grabbed him from behind.
Jun elbowed him, grabbed his neck, punched his ribs twice, and stomped his head into the ground.
Soon all seven were unconscious.
Smoke drifted past as the boss slowly clapped.
"Not bad," he muttered, stepping forward.
He lunged — fast for a big guy.
Jun dodged the first kick, weaving left, but the boss caught his arm and hammered it with a heavy blow.
Jun slid back, shaking off the pain.
"Alright… my turn."
He copied the boss' earlier movement, grabbing his arm and striking it repeatedly — ten clean hits — before the boss roared, grabbed Jun by the waist, and threw him across the room.
Jun slammed into the wall, groaning.
But he stood.
Ran forward—
Jump kick to the chest!
Another kick to the ribs.
A punch to the sternum.
A clean cross to the jaw.
Then he leaped again, foot smashing into the boss's face—
BOOM.
The big man collapsed.
Out cold.
Jun spat blood, picked up the bag of drugs, and tossed it into a trash bin.
He lit it on fire with a stolen lighter.
As the flames rose, Jun dusted his hands.
"Kids these days," he muttered. Then he smiled. "I'm lovin' it."
He walked away casually, hands in pockets, music blasting again.