45: Incheon [20]- The First Confrontation [1/2]
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Few minutes later
The air inside the tunnel was heavy enough to choke on. Every breath came out cold, white, and sharp. Jaegyeon stood straight, then bent slightly forward, his hands on his knees, exhaling a cloud of tired steam. The others mirrored him — Daniel, Vasco, Zack — all of them arching their backs downward, the silence between them louder than any words.
When Jaegyeon finally spoke, his voice echoed through the dripping walls.
"As you all go confront your opponents," he said, his tone steady, "we will begin our run."
Vasco, Zack, and Daniel nodded wordlessly. Each had the same grim expression carved into their faces — a silent understanding that what lay ahead wasn't a fight, it was survival.
Jaegyeon reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver watch. Its cracked glass caught the dim light from the tunnel lamps as the second hand ticked.
Tick. Tick.
The faint sound sliced through the silence, making Daniel exhale sharply. The tension was unbearable. Then, with a sudden clap of his palm on the map board, Jaegyeon shouted, "Let's go!"
Speed — still bandaged, still injured — pushed himself off the wall and stood. Jake rose too, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the tunnel floor. Sung Jegal stepped forward to help carry Lineman, but Jake didn't respond. He simply adjusted Lineman's limp arm over his shoulder.
"This man…" Sung Jegal thought, watching Jake's cold eyes. There was no emotion in them, no hesitation either.
Vasco, Jay, and Zack took their positions, ready to move out. Zack opened his mouth, about to say something to Vasco — but the sound of a phone interrupted him.
Tring. Ring.
Everyone froze. The echo of the ringtone bounced through the steel pipes above. Slowly, every eye turned toward the sound.
Jake Kim pulled his phone from his pocket. His expression didn't change as he answered, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Are you here?" Jake's voice was low, deep — drained of all optimism.
On the other end came a calm voice. "(I am here, Jake.)"
Jake's eyes narrowed slightly. "Here in Incheon?" he asked.
"(No...)," said the voice, calm but filled with quiet menace.
A bald man was standing before a massive iron gate, circular and engraved with golden lines that shimmered like veins of fire in the dark.
"(I'm in front of his lair.)"
Jake's eyes widened slightly. The corners of his mouth curled upward into a smile — a small, eerie one that made even Samuel shift.
"Well done, Jerry," Jake said, his voice carrying both respect and something darker beneath.
Everyone — Samuel, Zack, Daniel, Vasco, Jay, Jaegyeon, even the Speed faction — looked at him in surprise.
On the other end, Jerry adjusted his gloves, staring at the massive door before him. "(What you told me worked. Pressing the eye of the Crocodile…)" he said, his tone grimly satisfied.
Jake didn't reply, but his eyes gleamed faintly under the dim light.
Jerry's voice came again, calm but final. "Don't worry, Jake. I'll get the revenge."
The call ended. The phone's screen went black. Jerry lowered it, staring at the golden-lined door with quiet determination. He muttered under his breath, "I came here leaving the cassette. Let's see… who is Paecheon Jo."
The door creaked as he stepped forward, vanishing into the darkness beyond.
Back in the tunnel, Jake's eerie smile lingered for a moment. Samuel noticed it and couldn't help but exhale through his nose — a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He flicked the ash from his cigarette and said quietly, "We should go."
Jaegyeon nodded once and the rest followed.
Jake adjusted Lineman's weight on his shoulder. For the first time in hours, a faint light flickered in his eyes — not hope, but something close.
Without another word, Jaegyeon, Jake, and the remnants of the Speed Faction turned and began running — deeper into the tunnels, towards the pitch-black heart of Incheon's underground. Their footsteps echoed like gunfire as they vanished into the dark.
The others stayed behind for a moment, bathed in the flickering yellow light near the tunnel exit. Then, one by one, they stepped out into the open — into the cold daylight that waited above.
Samuel took the lead, cigarette between his lips, the smoke curling upward. Vasco followed, rolling his shoulders and tightening his gloves. Zack and Jay moved next, silent but ready.
Daniel lingered at the back. The small Daniel crouched, adjusting Big Daniel's limp body over his back. His face was pale but resolute.
He looked once toward the direction Jake had gone — the deep black of the tunnels — then turned away, choosing a different path. The air grew colder the further he walked. His footsteps splashed in the puddles beneath the old concrete.
He was heading toward the Incheon Chinatown Fort — where Paecheon Jo rested.
---
15 Minutes Later
The sky above Incheon had turned into a sheet of dull grey. Clouds smothered the light, swallowing the sun whole. The air felt thick—cold and silent, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
The place was a graveyard, but not one for the dead. Rusted cars stood in heaps like corpses piled in forgotten rows, stacked hundreds of feet high. Their shattered windows gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the smell of oil and rust mixed with something sharper—blood.
In the center of that mechanical wasteland sat a man. Blond hair brushed across his eyes, his chin resting lazily on his palm, his elbow balanced on his knee. He wasn't sitting on the ground. He was sitting on a man.
Beneath him lay Juhyuk Eun—the King of Uijeongbu. His head was tilted to the side, face beaten, body limp. All around him, the members of his gang, Skeleton, were sprawled in different directions. They looked more like broken dolls than fighters—slashed, bruised, unconscious.
The man sitting atop the fallen king looked bored. His other hand rested loosely on the hilt of a sheathed katana lying against his leg.
From afar, a voice broke through the silence.
"Come on, talk to me! Like you do with Daniel!"
"...."
"Come on, man… huh… how are we a team when we just can't communicate?" the voice grew closer—irritated, rough.
Two silhouettes appeared through the maze of broken cars. One tall, broad-shouldered, walking with heavy impatience. The other slim, silent, and deliberate.
"Come on! We're a team, right? Talk, you bastard!"
It was Zack Lee—his tone sharp, his steps loud against the metal ground.
The other man didn't answer. Blond hair fell over both his eyes, and his hands stayed hidden behind his back. He was Jay Hong.
Zack grumbled and tilted his head upward, scanning the towers of wrecked vehicles. They rose like grave markers, reaching two hundred feet into the foggy air.
"Ohh, it's beautiful," Zack muttered, half in awe and half in irritation. "But did Jaegyeon Na give us the right location, or did he sell us out again? That's why I—"
He stopped mid-sentence when Jay silently pointed forward, his finger slicing through the air.
Zack's gaze followed—and there, sitting amidst the carnage, was the blond man in the yellow shirt with white stripes, black trousers, and boots. His head was still lowered, his eyes closed.
It was Joongoo Kim.
"Hmm," Zack said under his breath, his tone shifting from sarcasm to focus. "Looks like Jaegyeon didn't sell us out this time."
He stepped forward cautiously. The air around them seemed to grow denser.
Suddenly!
Joongoo's hand slipped from his face.
"Ahh," he murmured softly, stretching.
Zack flinched, instinctively stepping back. "Ahh!" he blurted, startled by the sudden movement.
Joongoo yawned, his voice carrying across the empty yard. His eyes blinked open, watery from sleep.
"Yah," he muttered, brushing his hair back. "I was having a nice dream."
He rose slowly, the leather of his boots creaking as he stood atop Juhyuk Eun's unconscious body. He reached down, picking up his katana, letting it rest on his shoulder. Then, looking up at the sky, he spoke in a tone that was colder than the air itself, while yawning and rubbing his eyes.
"So, why are you here? Gongseop Ji's disciple, Zack Lee… and the H-Group CEO's second son, Jay Hong?"
Zack smirked. He took a step closer, loosening his tie, the faint sound of the knot sliding echoing softly. "You probably know, Joongoo Kim."
Joongoo tilted his head, smiling faintly. "What do you mean? I don't know that you're here…" He rested the katana casually against his shoulder and sighed, his tone carrying a lazy smile. "…fight."
Zack's grin sharpened. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and said, "If you don't know, shall I tell you?"
He clenched his fists tight, his knuckles whitening. His eyes narrowed into a cutting glare.
"We are here to fight."
Joongoo exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering in his expression. He looked up toward the dim sky. "Ohh...I thought you were going to say, you are here to entertain me." he muttered softly. "Well, You can try to entertain me..."
The next second, Zack shifted his stance. His right shoulder turned forward, slightly raised; his head tilted just enough to keep his line of sight sharp; his left side angled back. His feet slid against the cracked ground as he began throwing short one-twos into the air—his trademark sideways stance.
"Get ready, Jay," Zack said, his voice firm.
Jay didn't answer. He just slid one foot forward, lowering his center of gravity, his eyes hidden behind his hair but focused like a blade ready to draw.
Joongoo watched them, expression unreadable. His fingers lightly drummed on the handle of his katana, each tap echoing faintly in the still air.
Above them, the clouds twisted. The faint rumble of thunder rolled through the sky, low and threatening. Wind stirred the dust, sending it spiraling between the mountains of rusted cars.
For a long, tense second, no one moved. The world seemed frozen—the air, the light, even the sound of breath. Only the quiet hum of tension filled the air.
Then, in that charged silence, Joongoo's lips curved into a half-smile.
"Come on then, I am ready to be entertained.," he said quietly, the blade sliding from its sheath with a smooth, metallic whisper.
The tip of his katana caught the faintest glint of light from the overcast sky. Zack tightened his fists. Jay raised his head.
⟨Incheon West — Zack Lee and Jay Hong vs. Joongoo⟩
---
Somewhere in South-West Incheon.
The night was heavy — too heavy for a city that never truly slept. The air felt stale, thick with the weight of something unseen. The narrow alleyways were veiled in darkness, suffocated by tall apartment buildings that swallowed any trace of the moonlight. Above, the sky was just a smear of black, no stars, no glow — only silence broken by the flickering hum of a single streetlight.
Under that pale, trembling light stood a man.
A huge figure, built like a moving wall. He wasn't standing tall — not yet. He sat there, legs bent, elbows resting on his knees, one massive hand dangling loosely while the other stayed firm on his thigh. The faint light carved shadows across his face, revealing a hollow-eyed man whose stillness radiated something far more terrifying than movement ever could.
At his feet lay a body.
The man on the ground was breathing — barely. His chest rose and fell in small, ragged intervals, each breath sharp and wet, as though his lungs were drowning from the inside. Blood had already soaked through his clothes, pooling beneath him and painting the concrete red. His body trembled faintly, but it wasn't fear. It was his body clinging to the last spark of life it could manage to hold on to.
"Inesperado…" the man sitting above muttered, his voice deep and dry — not out of exhaustion, but disappointment. His words felt cold enough to freeze the air itself. He tilted his head slightly, his hollow eyes studying the dying man before him. "He is…"
The light flickered again, snapping to life for a second — just long enough to reveal his face. A chiseled jawline, shadows under the eyes, and hair perfectly kept despite the dirt and blood that painted his surroundings. He looked down with the indifference of someone observing a failed experiment.
"He is supposed to be a Regional King? I had more fun with that Snake years ago."
The light blinked again — and this time, his full face showed.
Kitae Kim.
The son of a legend, but something darker than his bloodline lingered in his gaze — something hollow, feral, and detached.
"Decepcionado," he murmured in his heavy tone, rolling the word like a blade. Kitae rose slightly, his knees cracking quietly as he pulled his axe — thick, sharp, and drenched in dark red — from the limp hand of the man lying below him.
"King of Daejeon, Jaemin Noh," he said, his tone shifting from disgust to dull amusement. "Looks like it is no need to take to Daejeon."
The wind brushed through the tight alley, carrying the scent of rust and blood. The faint hum of the streetlight filled the silence. Kitae remained crouched for a while longer, staring at the broken body beneath him — then exhaled a slow breath through his nose.
His voice, when it came next, was colder than before.
"But there is a thing I don't understand…"
He raised his head slightly. The light trembled. The shadows under his eyes deepened, showing the marks of sleepless nights — dark circles that hollowed his face even more. His tone sharpened, heavy with instinctive menace.
"What are you doing here…"
He turned his gaze toward the wall, his neck cracking softly as he did. His voice dropped to a near whisper.
"Samuel Seo."
For a second, nothing moved. Then, from behind the shadows, a figure stepped out — the sound of shoes crushing glass echoing faintly. A man in a white suit, now blotched with crimson stains, walked into the edge of the flickering light. His hair was slick, and a calm defiance sat on his face. Between his fingers, a cigarette glowed faintly — its ember cutting through the dark.
It was Samuel Seo.
He lit it with a flick, and for a brief instant, the flame painted both faces in orange. Samuel inhaled, then exhaled, his breath forming a faint mist in the cold air. The smoke mixed with the stench of blood, thick and acrid.
Kitae stood up slowly. The sound of his boots scraping against the concrete echoed — each step heavy, measured, deliberate. He walked toward Samuel until the light framed both of them in one pale circle.
Now that they were close, the size difference was clear. Kitae towered over Samuel, his shadow swallowing him whole. Yet Samuel didn't step back, better he didn't even flinched. He just looked up, eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
"What a pleasant surprise," Kitae said, his voice carrying a strange, mocking warmth. "One of Joongoo's secret friends, Samuel Seo."
He smiled faintly, though the expression never reached his eyes. It looked wrong — like a mask that cracked halfway through.
Samuel exhaled again, letting the smoke drift between them. His tone was steady, calm, but edged with something darker.
"You killed King of Daejeon? It is too mu—"
Before he could finish, Kitae interrupted, his tone sharp and intrusive.
"I like these glasses."
In one swift motion, he leaned down, his movement smooth but unnervingly fast. His fingers — rough, scarred, stained — pinched Samuel's glasses by the edge and lifted them cleanly off his face. The gesture wasn't just mocking; it was invasive — a violation disguised as curiosity.
Samuel's jaw tightened. His pupils, now visible without the glass barrier, locked onto Kitae's. His voice dropped lower, quieter, but every syllable was wrapped in threat.
"Don't interrupt me, you fucker."
The air changed.
The flickering light above buzzed harder. The tension became physical — thick, suffocating. It felt like the whole alley was shrinking, the shadows pressing in tighter around them. Kitae's smile widened slightly, his teeth faintly visible under the trembling light.
He looked down at the glasses hanging from his hand, then back at Samuel. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his axe closer to his face, dragging the flat side slowly across his tongue. The metal gleamed wetly under the light as he licked it, leaving a dark streak on the blade.
When he spoke, his voice was no longer cold — it was void,
flat, detached and predatory.
"Those eyes…"
He took a step closer, his tone dropping to a whisper that still echoed through the narrow space.
"You are going to be tastier than Busan."
The cigarette in Samuel's hand burned shorter, the ash trembling at the tip.The streetlight flickered one last time — then went out.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but the hum of the city far away and the faint scrape of metal against the ground.
Then, silence.
The kind that only exists right before a storm breaks.
⟨Incheon South-West — Samuel Seo Vs. Kitae Kim⟩
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Next Chapter:- The First Confrontation [2/2]