The thug stepped forward, his cold eyes scanning the room.
"Where is the owner of this establishment?"
Silence. Everyone stared at him, stunned, frozen in place. No one moved. No one spoke.
He repeated himself, his voice harder this time. "Where is the owner of this establishment?"
A ripple of movement went through the room. People started shifting nervously, looking at each other, unsure what to do.
The manager stepped forward, his voice trembling but trying to sound authoritative. "Hey! Who are you people? This is a private venue. You're not allowed to be here. You better leave before I call the police."
The thug looked at him, unimpressed. "Who are you?"
"I'm the manager. I'm in charge of organizing everything here—the preparations for the show."
The thug started walking toward him, a cold grin spreading across his face. "I see. So, Mr. Manager."
He reached the manager, and without warning, drove his fist into the man's stomach. The manager doubled over, gasping, and then vomited onto the floor.
The thug grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head up. "We want to collect something from your boss. So you better tell us where he is, or you're all going to regret it."
He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
The manager, still gagging, raised a shaky hand. "Wait—wait! I'll tell you! He's not here. He's at his apartment."
"Apartment? Where is it?"
The manager gave an address somewhere in Busan.
The thug paused, thinking. "Tsk, that's deeper in Juhwang-pa territory. We can't go there."
The other thugs looked at him. "So, boss, what do we do? Should we leave?"
The leader thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. We're not leaving yet. If we go now, he'll just keep his distance from this place forever." He looked around at the workers. "Beat them up. So the operations have to be halted for some time."
The thugs nodded and advanced.
Chaos erupted.
One thug approached a worker carrying cables and punched him in the face. The man crumpled to the ground, and two more thugs started kicking him. Another thug grabbed a middle-aged woman who was testing some wires. She tried to back away, but he grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her to the floor. He punched her in the face, and she started crying, begging him to stop. He didn't.
The room filled with the sounds of violence—screaming, crying, the thuds of fists connecting with flesh.
On stage, Seo Ji-hoo watched in horror. His heart pounded. His breath quickened.
'This is insane. These people are insane.'
He started backing away from the edge of the stage. Song Chae-won did the same, her face pale with fear. Park Tae-oh followed, his expression grim.
The leader's eyes landed on them. He smiled.
"Ah, don't forget the little band singers. They're important for the message too."
The thugs turned their attention to the stage.
The three of them bolted.
Seo Ji-hoo grabbed Song Chae-won's arm and pulled her along. Park Tae-oh followed close behind. They ran off the stage, through a narrow backstage corridor, heading for the exit.
Song Chae-won's voice was panicked, breathless. "Ji-hoo! What's happening?! Who are those people?!"
"I don't know!" he shouted back. "I have no idea!"
Park Tae-oh spoke from behind. "They looked like gangsters. They were clearly gangsters."
"Gangsters?" Song Chae-won's voice cracked. "How do you know that?!"
Park Tae-oh shook his head. "I don't know, just—they looked like it!"
Seo Ji-hoo's mind raced. His father. His criminal contacts. This had to be connected somehow. But why? Why were they here?
---
They reached the end of the corridor—but a figure stepped in front of them, blocking the exit. A thug, grinning, cracking his knuckles.
Seo Ji-hoo acted fast.
He grabbed Song Chae-won and shoved her into a small storage room nearby. "Get in there! Both of you!"
Park Tae-oh followed, and Seo Ji-hoo slammed the door behind them. The thug reacted fast, reaching for the door and yanking it open.
In that moment, Seo Ji-hoo had already engineered a strategy. It was a bad plan, a weak plan, but it was the only thing he could come up with given the scraps they had in that situation.
He grabbed a spare microphone from a nearby stand by the cable and swung it around, bringing it down on the thug's head like a flail. The man cried out, clutching his face, stumbling backward, temporarily blinded. Professional microphones were heavier than they looked.
Right at the same moment, the second thug that was behind them appeared in the doorway.
Seo Ji-hoo swung the microphone again, hitting the second thug in the head. The man staggered, dazed.
Park Tae-oh lunged forward, tackling the second thug to the ground, pinning him down. Seo Ji-hoo swung the microphone again, faster this time, and brought it down on the second thug's face. The man covered his head, trying to block the blows while trying to grab Park Tae-oh, clawing at him.
Song Chae-won moved. She stepped forward, lifted her high heel, and drove the spiked heel into the second thug's hand. He screamed, letting go of Park Tae-oh. She stomped again, and again, her heel piercing his skin, drawing blood. He stopped fighting.
It was a very odd sight, because as the thug screamed, she also screamed—a mix of fear and frustration in her voice. Anyone hearing this without seeing the scene would actually think SHE was the one being constantly stabbed in the hand.
But then the first thug got back up, still dazed but recovering.
Seo Ji-hoo swung the microphone at him again, hitting him in the face. The man stumbled, trying to shield himself. Park Tae-oh, still on the ground, grabbed the first thug's ankle and yanked, pulling him off balance. The thug crashed to the floor.
Song Chae-won moved quickly, bringing her heel down on his hand. He screamed.
The two thugs were down.
Seo Ji-hoo stood, breathing hard. They had gotten lucky. The goons were weak by themselves, and honestly, the chances of that specific room having spare microphones or any kind of useful weapon was very low. The plan was terribly bad, but it had worked.
Being well aware of that, he looked towards the others and rushed them, not wanting to count on luck if more of the thugs showed up. "Let's go! Now!"
They ran for the exit, bursting through the door into the night air.
But someone was waiting for them.
A woman stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light. She was stunning—like a living painting, a perfect work of art brought to life. Her features were sharp, elegant, impossibly beautiful.
But her presence was cold. So cold their blood dropped in temperature. She looked like the angel of death had descended to earth.
She started walking toward them.
Behind them, a third thug stumbled out of the corridor, his voice nervous. "A-Ah! Cheon Seul-ah-nim!"
---
Cheon Seul-ah stepped forward, her eyes scanning the three people in front of her. She recognized the blond-haired guitarist immediately—the same one Ervin had spotted the other day.
She glanced at the two others—a girl and a bigger man. Then she looked past them, into the corridor, and saw the fallen bodies of the thugs.
She raised an eyebrow.
The third thug, the one who had stumbled out after them, spoke up nervously. "Ah, ma'am, the boss wasn't here, so we decided to make a bit of a mess to disrupt the show and see if he would show himself!"
Ervin, floating above, mentally slapped his own face.
'What? Why?! That's such a stupid solution! This is way too violent! Why did they do this?!'
He couldn't believe they hadn't thought of any other way to handle this. Wouldn't it have been more effective to just break the equipment or steal something? That would have been much better.
He understood that they probably hadn't gone after the owner because he was deeper in Juhwang-pa territory, and crossing into that territory could cause tensions. But still—why such a violent solution?
The truth was, Ervin had been planning to enter through the back door, hoping to make a dramatic entrance. He had also been looking for something valuable—leverage. Collateral. Something he could take as a guarantee to ensure the owner paid up. Maybe a luxury car, or some expensive equipment. He had also considered the possibility that the owner might have an office in the back, so infiltrating through the rear would have been smarter—especially since Cheon Seul-ah had Stealth.
But now he was stuck dealing with the aftermath of these buffoons' decision.
He looked at the thug behind her. 'Damn it. There's a witness. If I just let them go, will he tell Kang Dae-hyun? Wait, even if he does, will Kang Dae-hyun even care about the opinion of someone like him?'
He wasn't sure if he should risk it. This guy wasn't a high-ranking gangster, but he was definitely higher up than the workers at the Busan Credit Solutions office.
'What do I do? Should I... or shouldn't I?'
He looked at the three young people in front of him.
"Where is your boss?" she asked.
The three of them exchanged glances. Seo Ji-hoo spoke up. "The owner isn't here today."
She tilted her head. "Oh? Can you call him?"
Seo Ji-hoo shook his head. "No, we don't have his number. Only our agent has it."
She paused, thinking. "Would it take long for him to come here?"
Ervin considered the question in his own mind. 'No way he's coming here knowing what's going on. He'd probably call the police instead.'
Cheon Seul-ah let out a small sigh. "Actually, don't bother calling him. I don't think he'll come anyway. If you tell him there are gangsters here, he'll probably just call the police."
She looked at Seo Ji-hoo, stepping closer. She was shorter than him—about 1.60 meters—but her presence was commanding.
She didn't say anything more. Instead, Ervin spoke through her, his voice cold and calm.
"Well then," he said. "Let the show begin."
She swung her leg up, her foot arcing toward Seo Ji-hoo's head.