The bullet, fired from the Glock in Tae Sagi's hand, wasn't aimed directly at Ming You. It ripped through the air so close to his leg that it tore a black, scorched line on his gray school trousers and ripped off a piece of fabric. Ming You felt not pain, but a sudden, searing heat right next to the skin of his calf, as if someone had run a red-hot rod over it. The smell of burnt fabric and gunpowder hit his nostrils.
Everyone froze in a new, even more deadly shock.
But Ming You only grinned even wider at this. He slowly turned his head, addressing not the gangsters, but the people on the benches who sat holding their breath, or stood pressed against the wall, their eyes filled with horror and burning curiosity. His voice sounded loud, clear, with feigned naivety:
"Hey, spectator-witnesses, you all saw that, right? Is this how you solve problems when there's no money, huh? Maybe we should call the police?"
The words hung in the air, sharp as a razor. Several people in the back rows involuntarily reached for their pockets, but no one dared to move.
"N-nephew, have you gone fucking nuts shooting in front of witnesses, do you even know what you've done!?" Tae Hwan's voice sounded hoarse, choked, forcing its way through the humiliation.
Tae Sagi, still holding the Glock at arm's length, merely raised an eyebrow. A strange, almost cheerful smile played on his face.
"Who said I fired a real gun?"
Ming You leaned in a bit lower, but spoke while looking at Tae Sagi:
"Then how do you explain the bullet mark on my trousers?"
"Well," Tae Sagi said with a theatrical sigh, "just for the remaining spectators, I'll explain this trick."
With a smooth, almost circus-like movement, he tucked the Glock into the pocket of his jeans with one hand, and with the other pulled out a bright balloon from the same pocket. Then, with a magician's dexterity, he pulled an object from his other pocket, indistinguishable in appearance from the gun he had just put away, but now everyone could see – it was a massive lighter shaped like a gun.
"This is not a real gun," Tae Sagi announced, holding it on his palm, "it's a gun-shaped lighter." He pulled the trigger, and a tall tongue of blue flame shot out of the "barrel" with a hissing sound. "And the gunshot sound... heh-heh, that's the sound of a popped balloon, watch."
He blew up the balloon, stretching it with a nasty squeak. Then, holding the balloon in his left hand, he moved it behind his back, and with his right hand aimed the lighter at Ming You's leg again.
"Attention to my 'shot'," he smirked.
He pulled the trigger. The flame flashed. And at the same moment, synchronized with the flash, a deafening, dry pop sounded from behind his back – Tae Sagi had popped the balloon. The sound was surprisingly similar to a real gunshot, echoing off the walls of nearby houses. Several spectators flinched and screamed.
"Everyone see?" asked Tae Sagi, spreading his hands like an illusionist after a successful trick.
Ming You watched this performance without blinking. His smile didn't waver.
"That doesn't explain the bullet mark on my trousers."
"Oh, right," Tae Sagi tapped his forehead, feigning forgetfulness, "your pompous schoolboy 'diligent student' trousers. Look at the other side of your trousers, there's exactly the same mark right after my fake shot, as there was before."
Ming You threw a quick glance at the opposite calf. There indeed was a similar, fresh scorch mark and a black streak on the fabric. Cold, silent understanding flashed in his eyes for a moment:
"You son of a bitch..."
Tae Sagi, catching this look, smirked triumphantly, as if reading his thoughts.
"Exactly! You finally noticed the stone I kicked accurately towards your trousers, right? That created the illusion of a realistic shot, but if you all still don't believe me, then watch how I pulled this off without a shot."
He lowered his gaze, found another small, sharp pebble on the asphalt. With the tip of his expensive leather shoe, he flicked it, rolled it towards himself, and with a light, almost careless swing, kicked it towards Ming You. The stone, spinning, flew low over the ground and hit him right on the calves. A short sound of tearing fabric was heard – a second, symmetrical hole appeared on the trousers. But this time, the sharp edges of the stone cut the skin. A thin red scratch appeared on Ming You's calf, from which a drop of blood slowly welled up.
"Oops," Tae Sagi said without a hint of regret, "didn't calculate it as accurately this time, so sorry for the scratch on your leg, but you know you'll be compensated for this anyway, right?"
The tension in the square reached its limit again. Taek Jung let out a low growl. Sung Wo, pale as a sheet, seemed about to collapse. The spectators froze, mesmerized by this strange, dangerous game.
Ming You looked at the scratch, then back at Tae Sagi. His smile finally changed – not cold and pleased, but bared, almost bestial.
"Are you going to keep stalling?" asked Ming You, and his voice lost all playfulness. "I'm waiting for my 'legally won' money. But since you don't have that kind of money, I'm waiting for the final acknowledgment of your debt to me."
These words, spoken clearly and loudly, made all the present gangsters, except Tae Sagi, grit their teeth to the point of crunching. A wave of silent, boiling rage swept through their ranks. Every single one of them wanted to lunge at this insolent pup, trample him, tear him to pieces. But they felt the dozens of pairs of eyes from the spectators on them. Those eyes were their cage. They could only stand there, clenching their fists until it hurt, and fantasize about the retribution that was about to burst from their lips in the form of a scream but got stuck in their throats.
Ming You slowly looked around at them, savoring their powerlessness.
"So what? Bow your heads?"
"Y-you...!!!" Tae Hwan, red with rage and humiliation, took a step forward, but was stopped by his nephew's gesture.
Tae Sagi deftly stepped between his uncle and Ming You, turning his back to the latter.
"Wait just a second, buddy," he threw over his shoulder at Ming You, "we need to have a quick word with my uncle."
Ming You crossed his arms over his chest, expressing skepticism with his whole demeanor.
"And what is it?"
Tae Sagi, now addressing his uncle, lowered his voice, but so Ming You could still hear:
"Oh, just discussing which girls to take to the sauna, we'll be quick."
Ming You remained silent, his gaze growing heavy and impatient.
"This is no time for jokes, nephew!" Tae Hwan hissed, still shaking with anger.
"Calm down, please, let's play it out like this," Tae Sagi quickly whispered, leaning close to his uncle's ear. "All his winnings are only valid in this underground streetball, therefore, it's Taek Jung's fuck-up, but I don't blame him."
Tae Hwan recoiled, looking at his nephew with incomprehension.
"You want to pin it all on Taek Jung!? But he's quite useful!"
"Let me explain differently," Tae Sagi spoke quickly, clearly, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of a new gambit. "In the other affairs of the Tae family, he's not involved, therefore, that part can simply ignore him."
Tae Hwan looked at him gloomily, his brain desperately trying to grasp the essence.
"You think we just need to get rid of the underground streetball betting?"
"Missed again, Uncle Hwan," Tae Sagi smirked. "We'll do something even better: we'll pretend he's now our 'new boss'."
"Huh?"
"Hey, are you planning to discuss girls for long?" came Ming You's icy voice.
Tae Sagi turned to him with the most carefree smile.
"Also about boys, give us literally half a minute."
"..."
A tomb-like silence fell around. Even the spectators stopped whispering. Everyone: the gangsters, Taek Jung, Sung Wo, Tae Hwan himself – stared at Tae Sagi with a silent question and horror.
Tae Sagi, ignoring all the looks, leaned close to his uncle's ear again, now very quietly, but from the movement of his lips it was clear he was in a hurry:
"In short, Uncle Hwan, let's play a scene. Pretend he's now the 'boss'. Say it to everyone."
"Kh, fuck..." Tae Hwan exhaled, opening his eyes. Rage burned in them, but now controlled, directed. "If that's the only way out..."
"How long am I supposed to wait for you, fags?" Ming You said this loudly, with open contempt, challenging their patience and dignity.
Tae Sagi turned to face him fully. A wide smirk played on his face again.
And Tae Hwan... trembled all over, every muscle tensed from uncontrollable rage. Before his eyes, like film reel, cruel scenes of retribution played out: he squeezed Ming You's throat, feeling the artery pulsing under his fingers, imagined his nails digging into the flesh, tearing the skin, exposing bloody muscles and tendons. In his imagination, he was already pressing his dirty boot onto Ming You's face, grinding it into the dirty asphalt, hearing the crunch of bones and a hoarse groan.
But... reality was different. Gritting his teeth until they hurt, until his jaw creaked, he suppressed this thirst for revenge – for now. The heat of humiliation burned under his skin, but his nephew's cold, calculating whisper sounded in his ears louder than his own furious pulse.