A minute later, Taek Jung returned. His face was stony, but fury could be read in his eyes.
"Your money is on its way," he said, turning to the crowd with a shrug. "And you, our esteemed spectators, please forgive us for this... little scene. We truly made a mistake, and this will never happen again. Next time, your betting winnings will be increased by fifteen percent!"
The people froze, evaluating. Some nodded, others started whispering.
And then, Ming You raised his hand again:
"Hey, wait! You still haven't seen them pay me my winnings. Did you really fall for the trick that your winnings will be increased when they haven't even paid me my money?"
The crowd fell silent again.
"He's right..." someone said aloud. "How can they increase our winnings if they haven't even paid him?"
Taek Jung felt as if the ground was burning under his feet. He slowly turned to Ming You, and his gaze held a promise of retribution. But for the crowd, he put on a calm face:
"Alright, friends. To avoid any suspicion of our... inability to pay, you can stay and witness us handing over the winnings with compensation."
People stirred. Some plopped down on the benches, others left, shrugging their shoulders. But many stayed – this show was becoming far too interesting.
The silence of the night was suddenly torn apart by the low roar of an engine. From the darkness, kicking up clouds of choking dust, a black jeep with deeply tinted windows rolled into the square – silent and massive, like a materialized shadow. It stopped, and for a moment, a new, tense silence reigned, broken by the sharp screech of the front door swinging open.
The bodyguard appeared first. He tumbled out of the cabin like a moving mountain of muscle squeezed into a black leather jacket. The dull, heavy thud of his boots on the asphalt echoed in the night's silence. His gaze, cold and appraising, slid over the gathered people, after which he sharply turned and opened the rear door.
Tae Hwan stepped out of the car. He was not tall but solidly built, with gray glinting in his close-cropped hair. His eyes, devoid of any warmth, resembled those of an old, wise, and ruthless wolf. Following him, unhurriedly, appeared his nephew. He was the complete opposite of his uncle – tall, with dark hair flowing over his shoulders. If the cold in Tae Hwan's gaze was icy and bottomless, Tae Sagi's cold eyes shone with calm, unshakeable confidence. A slight, almost casual smile played on his lips, one that seemed never to leave his face.
Their very appearance made the air thicken, become tangible and heavy. Instantly, without a single command, the gangsters lined up in a neat row, respectfully bowing their heads before the two figures.
"Boss... Sagi-nim..." Taek Jung, with his head lowered, took a step forward. "There's this matter..."
He fell silent, gathering his courage. Every word came to him with difficulty, as if he were pulling out burning coals from within himself.
"We have to pay out five million dollars," Taek Jung finally exhaled. "And we have no way to refuse."
Tae Sagi slowly straightened up, his thin lips stretching into a wider smile than before, which, as always, held not a drop of warmth – only cold, predatory curiosity.
"Well, well," he drawled, and his voice sounded like a snake's hiss. "Seems you managed to royally fuck over my uncle..."
His gaze slid over the pale, sweaty faces of his subordinates, then moved to Ming You, who was standing a little apart. Sincere, almost childlike surprise flashed in Tae Sagi's eyes.
"Impressive, impressive," he muttered, shaking his head. Then he turned to his uncle, and a playful note appeared in his tone. "What shall we do, Uncle Hwan?"
Tae Hwan froze. It seemed time had stopped around him. He didn't move, didn't breathe. His broad, once-confident face became a mask of wax, frozen in a mix of rage and humiliation. His gaze, heavy and slow like a rusty mechanism, tore itself away from the frightened faces of Taek Jung and Sung Wo. It crawled across the square, catching on familiar outlines – the basketball hoop, the tattered net, graffiti on the fence – as if searching for any point of support in a crumbling world.
And finally, it stopped on Ming You.
On this kid. On this insolent pup in a worn school uniform, with an "innocent" smile and eyes as cold as the depths of a winter lake. The one who had already won large sums from him before and now had brought him to the brink of destruction.
"This... This..." burst out of Tae Hwan in a hoarse whisper. The words stuck in his throat, powerless and empty.
And in his head, a real storm raged.
"This schoolboy really has become a threat. What the fuck! How the hell!"
His mind, honed by years of underhanded deals and intrigue, desperately searched for a way out, sorting through options like chess pieces. He imagined a board. Himself – the black king, surrounded by his pawns and knights: Taek Jung, Sung Wo, the rest of the gang. And opposite – Ming You, a lone white piece, but one that controlled the entire field.
A logical chain formed in his head with inexorable, painful clarity.
"If I don't give him the money, I'll lose my reputation and no one will place bets anymore, but on the other hand..."
A terrible, all-consuming emptiness opened up inside him.
"I don't have that kind of money!!! He beat me!"
A dead-end situation unfolded before his mind's eye. In his thoughts, Ming You was no longer a schoolboy. He was a grandmaster, cold and calculating, who foresaw his every move ten steps ahead. In the imagined chess game, there were no hidden maneuvers left, no loopholes, not even a chance to sacrifice a piece to save the king. Only inevitable, slow, humiliating collapse.
In his imagination, Ming You delivered checkmate. The last black piece – his own pride – fell with a dull thud. The board was empty, and the game was lost.
"Hey, Uncle Hwan, you there?" Tae Sagi's voice, like a whip crack, brought him back to reality.
Tae Hwan shuddered. Slowly, as if all his joints were creaking, he turned his head. No rage or calculation remained in his eyes. Only a tired, bitter emptiness.
He walked around his nephew, his steps on the dusty asphalt heavy and lifeless. He stopped in front of Ming You, within arm's reach. He seemed to have aged ten years in those few minutes.
"You won... I admit defeat," Tae Hwan raised his head, and his eyes met Ming You's. "You really are a wolf in sheep's clothing."
Ming You feigned wide-eyed surprise, putting on a mask of naive, almost childish bewilderment. He even tilted his head slightly to the side, like a curious puppy:
"And where is my winnings, since you've admitted defeat in front of everyone?"
Tae Hwan lowered his head again. His shoulders visibly shuddered slightly. His fingers, hidden in the pockets of expensive black trousers, clenched into fists with such force that his nails dug deep into his calloused palms. The pain was sharp, clear, the only real thing in this nightmare. He tasted the salty tang of blood on his tongue – he had bitten the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.
"We..." Tae Hwan took a deep, ragged breath, as if the air had become heavy and viscous. "We don't have that kind of money."
"We..." Tae Hwan's voice broke. He breathed in again, forcing himself to speak. "From today, we are your debtors."
"Uncle Hwan," Tae Sagi theatrically recoiled as if struck. His elegant, mocking face twisted in amazement. "I respect you unconditionally and all that, but... have you gone fucking nuts?"
Tae Hwan didn't even look at him. His gaze was fixed on Ming You.
"We have no other choice," he muttered.
And then, Ming You stopped pretending. His face transformed. The false naivety evaporated like morning mist. A smile bloomed on his lips – slow, wide, unrestrained, and chillingly cold.
Slowly, almost casually, he took a step forward, reducing the distance to Tae Hwan to a minimum. Then he leaned in, as if about to share a secret. His lips were close to Tae Hwan's ear, but his voice, quiet and clear, was meant for everyone.
"In that case, I have a condition."
"What?" Tae Hwan forced out, raising his gaze.
Ming You straightened up, but his smile grew even wider, almost caricatured, revealing even teeth.
"You will submit to me completely." He made a theatrical pause, letting the words sink into everyone's consciousness. "Bow your heads."
And before Tae Hwan's brain could fully comprehend the order, before any of his men could react, Ming You acted.
His hand grabbed the back of Tae Hwan's head, his thick, well-groomed hair. The movement wasn't just strong – it was deliberate, demonstrative, emphasizing absolute, physical dominance. With a crunch that echoed in the bones, Ming You forcefully pushed the head of the once formidable boss down, forcing him into a deep, humiliating bow.
The reaction was instantaneous and eloquent.
Taek Jung jerked forward as if struck by an electric shock. His massive body tensed, his fists clenched, ready to tear the offender apart. But he froze halfway – stunned, paralyzed by the sight. His face turned crimson with impotent rage.
Sung Wo gritted his teeth so hard that a grinding sound was heard. All blood drained from his face, leaving his skin deathly pale, like a drowned man's. His eyes, wide open, were filled with silent horror – not for himself, but for what had become of his boss, of the one he had considered an unshakeable rock.
The other gangsters froze like stone statues. Their muscles were tense to the point of trembling, eyes bulging, mouths slightly agape in soundless screams. No laughter, no shouts, not even an outraged whisper. Only a tomb-like silence, stretched taut like a string, shattered by this one, deafening gesture of humiliation.
Even the spectators held their breath. Their whispering cut off mid-word. The air in the square thickened, became heavy and sticky, as if before a lightning strike.
And Tae Sagi...
Ming You, for now, continued speaking:
"As soon as your debts are repaid, I will recognize your authority, and you can consider this never happened." He released Tae Hwan and swept his gaze over the entire gang. "But until then, do as I say..."
BANG!
The sound of a gunshot tore through the silence, sharp, dry, and incredibly loud in the night. It wasn't like movie gunshots – it was real, deafening, making the air shudder.