The atmosphere at Jung Kok's gang headquarters that night was somber. Dim neon lights flickered, casting shadows on weary but alert faces. Min sat before a large board covered in notes and photographs — a web of information they had gathered over recent days.
At the center hung a red symbol — an eye with a blood-colored iris.
"We need to find out who's pulling the strings," Min finally said, breaking the silence. Jung Kok only nodded slowly. His eyes were locked on the board, as if trying to decipher a hidden message.
"I don't think this thing is new. Father used to mention the 'blood-eyed one' when I was a kid," Jung Kok said quietly, recalling whispers from their secret-filled household.
Min stood up. He pulled on his black hoodie and grabbed his motorcycle keys.
"Give me one night. I want to check out the old training dojo — the one our father used to train his men. There might be something left behind."
Jung Kok said nothing. He knew Min was more than just a friend. He was his shadow — and at times, a reflection of the side of him that remained hidden.
Elsewhere in the city, in a grand house now serving as Jung Joon's new base, the mood was strikingly different. Bright lights. Soft music. But the tension inside was heavier than anywhere else.
Jung Joon lounged on a black leather sofa, his face brimming with confidence… until Hwang entered the room.
"Father," Jung Joon greeted with a mocking tone. "Didn't think you'd bother coming here."
Hwang stood tall, a black cane in hand — not because of weakness, but because it symbolized his authority.
"I'm not here to argue. I came to give you a warning," he said calmly.
"A warning? For what? I'm only claiming what should've been mine."
"Not all legacies are meant to be inherited. Some are meant to be buried." Hwang's voice deepened. "Do you know who Choi Dae-gun is?"
Jung Joon swallowed. A flicker of unease crossed his face.
"I destroyed him once. But now… a shadow just like his is returning. Are you sure the path you're chasing won't open doors to enemies far crueler?"
Jung Joon said nothing. For the first time, the ego within him faltered.
That night, Min crept cautiously into the old dojo. The wooden walls were decayed, dust thick in the air. Yet the memories remained clear — this place had once echoed with screams, drills, and blood.
Beneath a hidden floor panel, he found a small safe. After opening it, he uncovered old documents — Hwang's notes on a secret organization known as "The Red Eye." Much of it had been blacked out… but the name stood clear on the yellowed paper.
Suddenly, a scraping sound.
Min spun around.
A figure in a black mask leapt from the shadows and attacked. The assault was swift and silent — clearly not just some petty thief. Min blocked with his arm and countered with a kick, sending the assailant stumbling back.
The fight was brief but fierce. The dojo floor creaked with each blow. Eventually, the attacker fled into the darkness. Min gave chase but only managed to snatch a fragment of a rusted iron badge — etched with the symbol of the blood-red eye.
The next morning, Jung Kok found a strange note slipped under his door.
A worn paper. Sharp handwriting.
> "It's not just your brother who bleeds."
His heart pounded. Not because of the threat — but because of who might know… what he was hiding.
Somewhere far away, in a dark room lit only by a computer screen, a man sat reclined. His face remained in shadow.
He chuckled softly while speaking on the phone.
> "Let them destroy each other. All we need to do… is wait, until the legacy collapses from within."