The system's voice echoed faintly in Airen's head.
[Will we now teach those Hansung Capital dogs a lesson?]
Airen exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.
"I really don't want to do this… but it looks like I don't have any other choice. And as for their black money…" He smirked faintly. "I'll just take it."
Two men stumbled down the stairs, barely able to walk. Their faces were swollen and bruised—the punishment from moment ago still fresh on their skin. When their eyes met Airen's, they froze mid-step. Fear etched across their faces.
"Come here," Airen ordered coldly.
They hesitated, stuck in the middle of the staircase.
Airen's voice thundered like a whip. "I said come down, you bastards!"
The two flinched and shuffled down, trembling.
Airen's gaze was sharp. I just need to know where more of these rats are hiding.
"You said there are more people dealing illegal loans like you. Give me their addresses."
One thug stammered, "W-we don't know about everyone… but we know four places."
"Fine," Airen snapped. "Then give me those four."
The other thug nodded quickly. "There's one in Seongnam, a paint shop… boss is Kang Dae-Ho. Another in Guro, a karaoke bar… run by Min Sung-Chul. Third in Mapo, a car repair garage… Jung Woo-Sik runs that one. And the last… in Incheon, a warehouse. Boss is Choi Byung-Ho."
Airen crossed his arms. "Good. Write them down before I forget."
They looked around helplessly. "W-we don't have any paper…"
Airen's glare darkened, his expression like a demon about to snap. Neither dared say another word. Within minutes, they scrambled to find a torn notebook page and scribbled the names and addresses with shaking hands.
Airen took the note, a thin smile tugging at his lips.
"Good job," he said flatly. The words were kind, but his tone made their spines freeze.
Without another glance, he left.
Seongnam – Paint Shop
Airen unfolded the note outside.
"Mm… the first place is just a few kilometers away. Should I take a taxi? … No. Better to run. My body could use some fatigue."
He dashed down the streets, cutting through alleys. Yet even after kilometers passed, his breathing was steady.
"Even after running this far, I don't feel anything…" he thought, marveling at the strength coursing through him.
Soon, the neighborhood of Seongnam came into view—narrow streets packed with old shops and houses, the air heavy with the smell of food stalls and motor oil. He asked a street vendor, "Do you know where Kang Dae-Ho is?"
The man nodded warily. "That guy? You'll find him at the paint shop on the corner."
Airen's eyes followed his finger. A small, unimpressive shop with faded blue paint and rusty shutters. To anyone else, it looked like a struggling family business.
"So this is the house of rats," Airen muttered, stepping inside.
The air smelled of thinner and dust. Only two men were present. One was tall and fit, standing like a guard. The other—a fat man—sat lazily on a bench, chewing something and spitting into a cup.
The tall one frowned. "Why are you here?"
"I want a loan," Airen said casually.
The man sneered. "We don't give loans here. This is a paint shop."
Airen's eyes narrowed. Did that bastard lie to me?
But the tall man suddenly leaned closer and whispered, "Follow me."
He led Airen into a back room with a bench and a chair. A moment later, the fat man waddled in and sat down, his lazy posture gone, replaced with a hard stare. His voice was low and intimidating.
"If you want a loan here, the rate is 50% interest. Every month. So… how much do you want?"
Airen tilted his head. So this is how they play it.
He smirked, his eyes gleaming like a devil. "I want every penny you have."
The fat man's expression darkened. "…We have eighty million won."
Airen blinked. Wait, that worked? I was just trying to intimidate him.
The tall man brought out a heavy bag and dropped it on the desk. But before Airen could touch it, the fat man raised his hand.
"Not so fast. First, give us your ID, your parents' IDs, and your house documents."
Airen chuckled coldly. "I don't have parents. I don't have a house. And I sure as hell won't give you my ID."
The tall man's face hardened. He gripped Airen's shoulder tightly. "Then you're not getting anything. Get lost."
Airen's hand shot up, grabbing the man's hair. With a brutal motion, he slammed his head into the bench. CRACK! The wood shattered under the impact.
The fat man's eyes widened in shock—but before he could react, Airen seized him by the hair and drove his knee into the man's face. Bone crunched, teeth scattered, blood gushed from his nose and mouth as he collapsed to the floor, groaning.
Both lay broken and helpless.
Airen casually zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder.
"That was easier than I thought."
He stepped out of the paint shop into the street, the cool air hitting his face. A menacing grin spread across his lips.
"One down… three to go."
Airen unfolded the crumpled note again, his eyes scanning the next name.
"Guro Karaoke Bar…" he murmured.
He frowned. "I don't even know where this place is."
Pulling out his phone, he searched it up. The map loaded quickly.
"Mm. Just a few hundred meters away."
Airen broke into a run. His feet pounded against the pavement, his body moving effortlessly through the streets. By the time he reached the location, not even a drop of sweat clung to him.
But as he came to a stop, his expression hardened.
In front of him stood not a dingy corner shop like before, but a massive seven-story building glowing with neon lights. The sign read 'Guro Starlight'—a luxury karaoke bar, nightclub, restaurant, and hotel all fused into one. Expensive cars lined the front, and music thumped faintly from inside.
Airen narrowed his eyes, taking in the scale of the place.
"…So this is it. Doesn't look like the kind of place that gives illegal loans."
His jaw tightened. But if the thugs weren't lying… then somewhere inside this palace of glitter, rats are still hiding.
He adjusted the bag of money on his shoulder and walked toward the glowing doors, his mind already calculating.