The Tae Clan:
[Tae Sagi in a patterned white shirt 1]
[Tae Sagi in a patterned white shirt 2]
[Tae Sagi in a patterned white shirt 3]
[Tae Sagi in a black jacket]
[Tae Sagi in a black leather jacket]
A 24-year-old man born on September 19, 1996. He is the embodiment of dangerous, serpentine elegance. Height around 185 cm, his build is not massive like a bodybuilder's, but lean, wiry, and incredibly flexible, like that of a professional dancer or fighter. His face could be called handsome — high cheekbones, a straight nose, thin lips always slightly curved in a half-smile. But this beauty is cold and detached. His dark chestnut hair is long, falling in soft waves almost to his shoulder blades, with the front bangs swept back, revealing a high forehead. His face features a neatly trimmed, short beard and mustache, adding intellectual charisma to his image.
But the main thing is his eyes. Light brown, almost amber, they emit a penetrating, analytical coldness. There is not a drop of warmth in them, only a lively, predatory interest in everything around him and a constant, undying mockery. In these eyes lives a mind that sees everything, sorts everything into shelves, and considers everything a game.
He dresses with provocative, almost dandyish flair. His signature element is white shirts (often long-sleeved) with intricate black patterns resembling spiderwebs or cracks in porcelain. He pairs them with perfectly tailored black jeans or expensive trousers, leather jackets, or stylish bombers. Everything fits him impeccably, every detail is thought out. Even when he looks casual, it's an expensive, calculated casualness. Through his shirt, the contours of complex tattoos are sometimes discernible on his forearms.
His profession is the heir and tactician of the Tae criminal clan. He is not a simple thug; he is a strategist, negotiator, master of intrigue, and psychological operations. His "position" is that of a shadow manager, the right hand and the brain. He prefers to solve problems not with brute force (although he is a master of it), but with elegant, multi-step combinations that break the opponent's will from within.
His goal is to restore and strengthen the Tae family's power after his prison term, purging it of unreliable elements (like Chanrat) and subjugating everything to his control. He sees Ming You simultaneously as a threat to this new, ordered system and a phenomenally interesting, dangerous resource. His deep-seated need is intellectual superiority and absolute control over the game, whatever it may be — criminal or psychological.
His quirks lie in theatricality and a love for the game. He speaks verbosely, with pauses, hints, and sarcasm, turning any dialogue into a performance. He adores metaphors and riddles. In a state of concentration or when contemplating a move, he might theatrically rub his chin or cover his mouth with his hand, feigning thoughtfulness, though in reality, everything is already decided. His smile is always a mask behind which it is impossible to discern true intentions. He is utterly impassive, impossible to provoke with insults, which makes him especially dangerous.
In food, he is as much a connoisseur as in clothing. Prefers exquisite dishes: marble beef steaks, fresh oysters, expensive fish, truffles. Adores whiskey. Eats slowly, savoring each bite as if every meal is a ritual. His dwelling is furnished in a minimalist style with expensive accents: designer furniture, modern technology, a collection of cold weapons behind glass, an excellent library where works on strategy sit next to classic literature. He sleeps little, often working or planning at night; his dreams are likely as complex and layered as his plans.
…
[Tae Hwan in a black suit]
[Tae Hwan in a leather coat]
A 45-year-old man born on May 28, 1975. He is an old wolf of the criminal world, whose time is passing. Average height, but with a powerful, stocky build, heavy bones, and developed muscles that are beginning to give way under the onslaught of years and the good life. His face is broad, with a heavy jaw and a large nose. His eyes are small, dark, and piercing, burning with a mixture of worldly wisdom, cruelty, and growing fatigue. His short-cropped hair is thickly streaked with gray, which he wears with dignity, as a mark of experience.
He dresses conservatively and expensively: dark, perfectly fitting suits, black shirts, good leather coats, a massive watch. He looks like a successful old-school businessman, which isn't far from the truth — his business just operates in the shadow of the law. A massive gold chain with a cross is often visible on his neck — a symbol of faith or penitence, or perhaps just a status attribute.
His role is that of the patriarch, the boss of the Tae family. He built his empire on a mix of intelligence, cruelty, and understanding of people. However, his methods are outdated; he has become too predictable, too emotional (his rage is a weakness), and too confident in the inviolability of his position. He is used to crushing with authority and fear but is unprepared for opponents like Ming You, who doesn't play by his rules.
His goal is to preserve power, wealth, and respect. He wants to hand over the ongoing business to his nephew, Tae Sagi, but doesn't want to appear weak or detached.
His quirks are his hot temper and the habit of solving problems with force or money as a first resort. When angry, his face turns crimson, and a vein pulses on his forehead. In moments of contemplation, he gloomily pours himself a whiskey and drinks it in one gulp. He is superstitious in his own way — he never starts important business on Fridays and always touches that gold cross before making a risky decision.
In food, he is unpretentious but loves abundant, masculine feasts: fried meat, strong alcohol, spicy snacks. Eats with appetite, slurping loudly, unashamedly. His office is furnished with ostentatious luxury: mahogany, leather furniture, a mini-bar, expensive carpets, trophies. He sleeps restlessly, often tormented by nightmares of falling from a great height.
…
[Taek Jung in a leather jacket]
[Taek Jung in a sport suit]
A 24-year-old man born on March 23, 1996. He is a mountain of muscle and rage. Height around 180 cm, a bodybuilder's physique with hypertrophied shoulders, pectoral muscles, and arms that look like tree trunks. His face is square, with a low forehead, a heavy chin, and a flattened nose broken in fights more than once. Short dark hair. His brown eyes are small, deeply set. You rarely see anything in them besides excitement or malice.
He dresses accordingly — in black leather jackets that barely meet over his chest, muscle shirts, baggy sweatpants, or rough jeans. Everything about him screams crude, primitive strength.
He is the main enforcer, the "muscle" branch of the Tae family. Responsible for organizing street games, debt collection, intimidation.
His goal is to maintain his position as the boss's "right hand," to be indispensable due to his intimidating appearance and readiness for any dirty work.
His quirks are a lack of subtlety. He growls when angry and grunts when thinking. Loves to demonstrate strength by breaking things with his hands. In food, he is the complete opposite of refinement: eats everything, huge portions, preferring fatty, fried, salty foods. Drinks unfiltered beer. Lives in a simple, cluttered apartment; the main decorations are a kettlebell and a punching bag.
...
[Sung Wo in a black leather jacket]
[Sung Wo in a black jacket]
A 26-year-old man born on October 22, 1994. Tall and skinny as a rail. His figure is angular and awkward. His face is long, with prominent cheekbones and a large, bony nose. Dark hair cut short. His eyes are restless, darting, always looking for a threat or a chance to curry favor. He looks like a perpetual sycophant and a nervous functionary.
He dresses trying to imitate his superiors, but it comes off as cheap and unconvincing: ill-fitting jackets, crooked ties.
He is an opportunist, a minor middleman and "manager" of the street games. His role is to be a liaison, a referee on the courts, to keep an eye on the bets. He is cunning and ready to do anything for money and his own safety. His loyalty is to whoever is stronger at the moment and brings more money.
His only goal is money. Lots of money. He hates Ming You for dragging him into his dangerous games and constantly putting him in awkward positions in front of Tae Sagi.
His quirks are nervous tics, the habit of rubbing his neck when lying, and an obsequious smile. In food, he is indiscriminate, eating on the go, whatever is available.
...
Thai Mafia:
[Chanrat in an expensive silk shirt]
A 42-year-old man born on September 12, 1978. A former criminal authority of Thai origin, whose influence extended over an entire immigrant neighborhood and further into the spheres of illegal arms and money laundering. Chanrat's appearance was a carefully cultivated image of a successful, seasoned businessman, behind which hid the panic of a paranoid. Average height, his physique was once sturdy but has softened from a sedentary life and lavish meals. His face is round, with wide cheekbones, full cheeks, and moist, always somewhat tired eyes the color of dark honey. But the main detail that shatters the image of well-being is a rough, whitish scar crossing his left eyebrow and descending to his cheekbone, like a long-ago seal of violence. His hair, thick and black with gray, is slicked back and meticulously oiled.
He dressed with emphasized, almost gaudy luxury, trying to prove his status: bright silk shirts with exotic patterns, expensive suits of light wool, massive gold rings on plump fingers, diamond-studded watches. He smelled of expensive perfume, which couldn't mask the scent of sweat from constant anxiety.
His role in the ecosystem was that of a supplier and middleman. He controlled several channels for importing weapons (mostly from Southeast Asian regions), had a network of legal and semi-legal establishments (massage parlors, restaurants) through which money was laundered. The alliance with the Tae family was a mutually beneficial coexistence for him, thanks to the "don": he supplied them with "hardware" and received protection and access to a broader market. However, his ambition and stupid greed outweighed caution. Fearing the growing influence of the young and unpredictable Tae Sagi even before his imprisonment, Chanrat took the fatal step — he turned him over to the police, hoping to remove a dangerous competitor and strengthen his own position in dealing with the more "understandable" and old-fashioned Tae Hwan.
His goal was simple and shabby: to preserve and increase his fortune, secure a comfortable old age in Thailand, where he dreamed of returning as a "big man." He wanted the respect he always lacked and the fear that would compensate for his inner cowardice. In the end, he received only a public and brutal exposure, a bullet in the knee, and an order to disband everything he had built for years. His final goal was reduced to survival and escape.
Chanrat's quirks were those of a man playing a role not his own. In stressful situations, he would nervously bite the inside of his cheek, making his speech sometimes slurred. He adored expensive cigars but smoked them carelessly, unable to truly appreciate them, merely for show. In his office, decorated with cheap gold-look plastic and gaudy Thai silk, loud, sentimental Thai pop music was always playing, which he turned on to drown out the silence and his own paranoia. In food, he was an unpretentious glutton, preferring copious, fatty dishes of Thai and Korean cuisine, washing them down with sweets and strong whiskey. He slept poorly, under guard, and his dreams were full of falls from the high steps of his own imaginary palace.
…
[Chalerm in a red muscle shirt]
A 31-year-old man born on May 3, 1989. Chanrat's personal bodyguard and chief "force manager." If Chanrat was the brain, Chalerm was his fist. Height around 185 cm, the typical "muscle-head" physique — massive, hypertrophied musculature pumped to the limit at the expense of flexibility and endurance. His body was a gallery of cheap, garish tattoos: a cobra writhing on his neck, tigers on his chest, Thai hieroglyphs symbolizing "strength" and "aura" on his biceps. His face was high-cheekboned, with a flattened nose, small, close-set eyes in which the fire of unmotivated aggression constantly burned. Hair short, bristly.
He dressed according to his role: tight muscle shirts showcasing his physique (often red or black), combat pants, heavy army boots. His entire appearance screamed: "I'm dangerous, don't come near."
Chalerm's role was extremely simple — physical intimidation, security, carrying out orders that didn't require thought. He was the perfect soldier for a commander like Chanrat: strong and loyal. When Tae Sagi appeared at the door, Chalerm acted according to the script: threat -> application of force. He failed to assess the level of danger, didn't recognize the lethal professional in the elegant man in the white shirt. His reaction was instantaneous and incorrect, which led to his quick and absurd end — he was the first one Tae Sagi killed in that shootout, a crude warning to the others.
His life goals were primitive: money, power over the weak, respect through fear, women. He dreamed of one day becoming a small boss himself, having his own "spot."
In food, he was unpretentious, consuming huge amounts of protein — eggs, chicken breasts, protein shakes, generously seasoned with hot sauce. Slept like a log, heavily and with snoring; his dreams were likely simple and bloody.