18 : The White Tiger Job Center (VI)
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Yuujin was still hanging in those fucking wires.
Chest heaving. Muscles twitching.
The pain had finally caught up.
He blinked hard, eyes scanning the room — or what was left of it. The walls were shattered, chunks of concrete strewn everywhere. The floor looked like a fucking war zone. Blood, rubble, dust... it reeked of violence and madness.
He saw Tom Lee, standing there.
Torn up. Bruised. Slashed. Bleeding from everywhere.
Yet grinning like a mad bastard.
"You awake?" Tom said, voice coarse and dry.
Yuujin coughed. Groaned. Then turned his head to Manager Kim, who was still holding the iron strings, knuckles raw and bleeding.
"...Can you let me down?"
Manager Kim hesitated. Eyes narrowing. But he finally sighed, loosened the wires, and let Yuujin drop.
Yuujin staggered.
His legs weren't listening.
But he got up. Limping, torned muscles, yet still proud — like a soldier refusing to kneel.
He walked up to Tom Lee, eye-to-eye.
"What the hell happened here?"
Tom looked around casually like he didn't just try to fucking kill someone minutes ago.
He smirked.
"Who do you think, did it all?"
Yuujin blinked. Looked around.
Then pointed a shaky finger at himself.
Tom nodded.
And then burst out laughing.
"Felt like fighting that 'Madman' ages ago, again for a moment there..." he muttered. Then paused. And locked eyes with Yuujin — dead serious now.
"You tell me. What should I do with you?"
Yuujin raised an eyebrow.
"The fuck does that mean?"
Tom smiled again, this time like a businessman — not a fighter.
"Should I hire you?"
Yuujin's head tilted slightly, caught off guard.
Tom continued, voice low and razor-sharp.
"You entered Flow Mode. Heat State. Whatever the fuck you wanna call it."
From the next room, Manager Kim was bandaging his blood-soaked fingers, listening silently.
Tom didn't stop.
"You went full berserk. You lost yourself. And you almost fucking killed me, kid. You remember anything?"
Yuujin clenched his jaw. Thought hard.
Everything was a blur. Just heat, rage, and instinct.
"I remember lying under the rubble… and then my body just... ignited. Like my insides were on fire. Like I was being burned alive. Then I grabbed the iron bar and—"
He grabbed his head. Eyes shut tight. Pain ripping through his skull.
"...Then I blacked the fuck out."
Tom kept watching.
Silent.
Waiting. For an understandable answer.
Then Yuujin looked up — expression flat, cold, direct.
He pointed his finger towards Tom Lee.
"...Weren't you trying to kill me too?"
Tom's eyes twitched. Surprise flickered across his face.
"...You cheeky little shit."
He chuckled.
Then sighed.
"Did you forget who owns this whole goddamn building?"
Yuujin didn't react.
Tom rubbed his temple. Then put his palms forward — one on each side, like a goddamn salesman.
"Here's the deal."
He tapped his right hand.
"You compensate for the damage with full interest—and join us on full pay."
Then tapped his left.
"Or... you work for us on minimum wage... until you pay off every last fucking crack on that wall."
Yuujin stood frozen.
He wasn't scared. Just... processing.
The first time in his life he'd faced something more terrifying than death: corporate negotiation.
He exhaled. Smirked a little.
Held up two fingers.
"Two Days..."
"Give me two days. I'll compensate with full fucking interest."
Tom's grin widened.
"Bet."
---
Meanwhile... Somewhere in Rural Japan
-2°C. Wind biting. Fog crawling.
James Lee stepped out of a luxury black sedan. Elegant. Deadly.
With him came Nobure and Crexa, both wrapped up in layers of thermal gear — but still shaking their asses off.
Crexa stammered through the cold, his teeth clacking like hammer on a nail.
"S-Sir... w-why are we even here?! It's fucking freezing—"
James Lee didn't even flinch.
He wore a custom-tailored black woolen coat, leather gloves, and a handmade scarf from Florence. Underneath, a pitch-black shirt and trousers, fitted to perfection. His boots clicked softly on the frozen ground.
He turned, grinning like a shark.
"Nobure didn't tell you?"
He stepped forward into the white fog, eyes sharp as blades.
"We're here to meet someone important. A son of a legend."
They kept walking.
Past dead trees. Over frostbitten grass. Until the fog gave way to—
A potato field.
Wide. Icy. Empty.
In the middle of it stood a small wooden house, smoke lazily drifting from the chimney. A place stuck in time.
They approached.
And on the porch—
A man.
He sat on a wooden plank.
One leg folded, one leg hanging lazily.
One hand tucked near his chest. The other holding a long, ancient cigar, smoke curling around his silhouette like a serpent.
He wore a faded red-and-green kimono, dusted with ash and time. The wind didn't touch him.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't blink.
He just... existed.
Looking out into the void.
James Lee smiled.
Switched to Japanese. Voice soft.
"Tadaima."
("We're here.")
The man turned his head.
His face, hidden in the smoke.
But something in the air changed.
It was no longer cold.
It was ominous.
As if something dangerous had just woken up.
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