Mapo Station at 9 p.m. was a neon-lit circus, all flickering signs and salarymen stumbling out of soju bars. The air smelled of grilled meat and exhaust, the kind of mix that reminded me of late-night deals in Itaewon's back alleys. Except now, I was a scrawny kid in a hoodie, dodging ajummas with shopping bags and trying not to trip over my own sneakers. Kang Min-jae, the White Dragon, reduced to sneaking out past curfew. If my old crew could see me now, they'd choke on their whiskey.
I'd told Sun-hee I was "studying at a friend's house," which earned me a skeptical squint but no follow-up. She was too busy nagging me about her hospital appointment tomorrow to dig deeper. Good. The less she knew about my night job, the better. Those texts—Stay dead, or the kid gets it—still burned in my head. Someone was watching, and they knew about Sun-hee. That meant this wasn't just about me anymore. Whoever it was—Jin-woo or some new player—they'd made it personal.
I leaned against a pillar near the station's exit, scanning the crowd. Bulldog was late, which wasn't new. The man could bench press a car but couldn't read a clock to save his life. I checked my burner phone: no new texts, just the two from earlier, taunting me like a bad hangover. I needed answers, and Bulldog was my best shot. He'd been my enforcer, my shadow, the guy who'd once punched through a wall because I said "make an impression." If anyone knew what happened after I got shot, it was him.
A shadow loomed, and there he was—Jang Ki-bum, all six-foot-something of him, lumbering through the crowd like a bear in a tracksuit. No neon vest, thank God, but he'd swapped it for a black jacket and sunglasses. At night. Subtle as a sledgehammer. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Ki-bum, I said low profile."
He grinned, teeth glinting under the station lights. "Boss, this is low profile. I left the gold chain at home." He paused, squinting at me. "No offense, but you look like you got kicked out of a boy band."
"Hilarious," I deadpanned, pulling him into a quieter alley off the main drag. The alley smelled like stale beer and regret, perfect for this conversation. "What's the word on the street? Who's running things since I… took a nap?"
Bulldog's grin faded, and he scratched his neck, a telltale sign he was nervous. "It's Jin-woo, Boss. After you went down at the docks, he moved fast. Rebranded the crew as the Black Crane Syndicate, took over your routes, your contacts, everything. Guy's paranoid as hell now, though. Thinks you're still out there, haunting him."
I smirked. Good. Let Jin-woo sweat. "He should. What else? Any word on who pulled the trigger?"
Bulldog shrugged, his jacket creaking. "Nobody talks. Jin-woo's got everyone scared—cops, gangs, even the old families. But there's whispers. Some new player in Mapo, moving small but smart. Nobody knows who."
A chill ran through me. Mapo. That was too close to home, too close to Sun-hee. "Keep your ears open," I said. "And my accounts—any sign Jin-woo's sniffing around them?"
"Not yet, but he's got hackers now. Fancy ones. You know I'm no good with that tech stuff, Boss." He looked sheepish, like a puppy who'd chewed the wrong shoe.
I sighed. "Fine. Start digging, quietly. And for the love of God, stop dressing like a K-drama thug." I handed him a slip of paper with a dead-drop location—a locker in a Gangnam bathhouse where I'd stashed an old burner phone. "Check this tomorrow. It's got contacts I need. Don't screw it up."
Bulldog nodded, pocketing the note like it was a sacred relic. "You got it, Boss. Man, it's good to have you back, even if you're… fun-sized."
I glared. "Call me that again, and I'll make you eat that jacket." He laughed, but I was already turning away, my mind racing. Jin-woo's paranoia was an advantage, but this "new player" in Mapo was trouble. And those texts? Someone was watching me, someone who knew too much.
The next morning, I was back in hell—Hong Middle School, to be precise. Sun-hee had dragged me out of bed at dawn, muttering about her hospital visit and my "lazy butt." I'd barely slept, replaying Bulldog's intel and plotting my next move. Jin-woo had my empire, but I had my brain. And Lee Do-hyun, math prodigy, was about to become the ultimate cover.
In homeroom, Kim Hae-rin was at it again, handing out flyers for the upcoming school festival. "Do-hyun, you're on the planning committee," she said, slapping a flyer on my desk. "Don't flake."
I groaned. "What is it with you and extra work? You secretly a sadist or something?"
She didn't smile, but her eyes glinted.
"You're good at math. We need a budget manager. Unless you'd rather scrub floors?"
I leaned back, smirking. "Careful, princess. Keep bossing me around, and I'll start thinking you like me."
The class ooohed like we were in a rom-com, and Hae-rin's cheeks went pink. She recovered fast, though, tossing her hair. "Dream on, Lee Do-hyun. Just show up."
As she walked away, I caught her glancing back, that same calculating look from yesterday. She'd seen me with Bulldog, I was sure of it. Was she just a nosy class president, or did her "shady family" ties run deeper? I needed to dig into her background, but subtly. My old contacts weren't exactly kid-friendly.
Lunch was a brief escape, until a group of buzzcut wannabe thugs cornered me near the vending machines. The same kid from yesterday, with his crumpled note, was back, flanked by two bigger guys. "You think you're funny, nerd?" he sneered. "Hand over your lunch money, or we'll rearrange your face."
I sighed, my White Dragon instincts itching. In my old life, these punks would've been spitting teeth in ten seconds. Now? I was half their size. But brains beat brawn. "You want money?" I said, stepping closer. "Fine. But I know you're cheating on the history test next week. Sloppy work, by the way. Keep it up, and Teacher Park'll have you expelled."
Buzzcut blinked, thrown off. "W-what? How'd you—"
"I see things," I cut in, lowering my voice. "Like how you're too dumb to pull this off without me. Want my help? Or want detention for the rest of the year?"
His goons shifted, unsure. Buzzcut swallowed, then muttered, "We'll talk later." They slunk off, and I let out a breath. Small victories. But as I turned, I saw Sun-hee watching from across the courtyard, her frail frame tense. She'd seen the whole thing.
"Oppa, what was that?" she asked, jogging over. "You're acting weird again."
"Just handling business," I said, forcing a grin. "Go eat, kid. You're skin and bones."
She huffed but didn't push. As she walked away, my phone buzzed. Another text: Nice trick with the kids, Dragon. Won't help you tonight. My grip tightened. Tonight. They were making a move, and I was running out of time.