The market was buried so deep underground that even regret wouldn't come looking for you here.
Flickering yellow lights hung from cracked ceilings. Stalls were packed close together—guns, fake passports, antique watches—things that definitely didn't belong in museums anymore. The air smelled like metal, sweat, and secrets.
Junseo hated it.
I tolerated it.
Byung loved it.
Our old friend sat behind a narrow counter, hunched forward with a magnifying glass pressed to one eye. The diamond rested in his palm, catching the light like it was mocking the place.
He hummed softly as he inspected it. Too softly.
"That's a clean cut," Byung muttered. "No fractures. No internal damage."
Junseo leaned both elbows on the counter.
"So? Say the number already."
Byung finally looked up.
"This," he said calmly, "is the price I'm offering."
He slid a piece of paper forward.
Junseo glanced at it—and nearly exploded.
"What?!"
He slapped the counter. "Are you serious right now? Do you know what we went through to get that thing? Security, dogs, alarms—jackass, add more zeroes and we're done."
Byung scoffed, pushing the magnifying glass aside.
"Kid," he said, unimpressed, "only I'm offering you this deal. No one else will give you even half."
Junseo opened his mouth again, but Byung cut him off.
"My boy, you know the kind of work we're in. Clean jobs don't exist. And clean money?" He laughed. "That's a fantasy."
I stayed quiet the whole time.
Then I stood up.
Byung's eyes followed me as I reached over, picked up the diamond, and closed my fist around it.
"Okay," I said calmly. "Then we'll hold onto it."
Byung's hand shot out.
"Whoa—oh—Seolwol," he said quickly, grabbing my wrist before I could pull back. "You're my old friend. Why this, huh? Why act like this?"
I met his gaze. Steady. Unmoved.
"If that's your final offer," I said, "it's not worth our trouble."
Silence.
Byung clicked his tongue and sighed dramatically, like I'd personally wounded him.
"Fine. Fine," he muttered. "I'll give you more than what you want. Happy?"
Junseo grinned instantly.
"See? Was that so hard?"
Byung shot him a glare and slid the updated amount across the counter.
I released the diamond.
Junseo grabbed the money, flipping through the stacks like he was counting candy.
"Pleasure doing business," he said cheerfully. "As always."
We didn't stay.
We never stayed.
The moment the money was secured, we turned and walked out of the market, blending back into the maze of shadows and flickering lights.
Only when we were outside—air colder, quieter—did Junseo finally exhale.
"Hyung," he said, hugging the bag, "tell me again why we don't retire rich and peaceful?"
I glanced over my shoulder.
Something felt… off.
"Because," I replied, eyes scanning the dark street, "peace never lasts."
Behind us, somewhere in the crowd, footsteps slowed.
Matched ours.
My spine tightened.
I leaned closer to Junseo and murmured, "Someone's tailing us."
His shoulders stiffened. "Don't look?"
"Don't look."
Junseo swallowed. "You think they're after the money… or the diamond?"
I didn't answer right away.
"We're about to find out."
We kept walking like nothing was wrong. Same pace. Same lazy confidence. Just two guys disappearing into the city after another dirty deal.
The crowd thickened—vendors shouting, people brushing past, noise swallowing intent.
And then—
We vanished.
The men following us stopped short, eyes scanning wildly.
"What the—where'd they go?" one hissed.
Confusion rippled through them.
That's when Junseo stepped out from a side lane, loud and obvious.
"Yah," he muttered just loudly enough, adjusting his jacket. "I swear this bag's heavier every time."
Hook taken.
They followed him.
I stayed hidden.
Junseo moved fast, weaving through alley mouths and side streets until the group split—two after him, one hesitating behind.
That was my cue.
The last man turned—
—and walked straight into me.
I grabbed his collar and slammed him against the brick wall, knocking the air out of his lungs.
"Looks like we've got company," I said calmly.
The other two rushed back.
No more pretending.
One swung first.
I ducked, the punch grazing air, and twisted his arm just enough to send pain shooting through it—not breaking it. Not yet.
"Who sent you?" I asked, dodging another strike.
No answer.
Junseo appeared behind one of them, hooking an arm around his neck.
"Hyung," he said cheerfully, "they're rude. Not even a hello."
The man elbowed Junseo hard. He stumbled back, coughing.
That snapped something in me.
I hate violence.
Always have.
But some people earn it.
I stepped forward, movements sharp and controlled.
A kick to the knee.
A palm to the throat—not enough to crush, just enough to drop him gasping.
The last one came at me wild.
I caught his fist mid-swing.
"Wrong night," I said quietly, and slammed his head into the wall.
He slid down, unconscious.
Silence fell heavy in the alley.
Junseo bent over, hands on his knees. "Aish… hyung. You okay?"
I nodded, breathing steady.
"They didn't talk," he added. "Just attacked."
Which meant one thing.
"They weren't freelancers," I said. "They were sent."
Junseo's joking tone faded. "Byung?"
"No." I shook my head. "Too sloppy."
We stood there for a moment, the city noise creeping back in like nothing had happened.
Junseo adjusted his jacket, trying to smile.
"You know… for a guy who hates hitting people, you're terrifying when you start."
"Don't spread rumors," I replied, already moving. "Let's go."
We left the alley before anyone could come looking.
Behind us, the bodies stayed still.
And somewhere deeper in the city, someone was already reporting back—
That the Kim brothers were faster than expected.