The hallway was empty, sunlight bleeding through the cracked windows in long golden stripes. The last echoes of class chatter had already faded, leaving only the groan of pipes in the walls and the faint squeak of shoes from some distant corner.
Seong Min walked slowly, hands in his pockets, the snapped pen still warm against his palm.
His mind replayed the rooftop again—the clash of monsters, the cold authority of Crystal's voice, the way her gaze lingered on him just a fraction too long.
That wasn't nothing.That was a move.
And moves always meant something.
"Oi. You."
The voice cut through his thoughts.
From the far end of the hall, a cluster of students leaned against the lockers—faces bruised, arms in slings. Dog Pound. What was left of them. Alpha Dog wasn't here, but his underlings were, their pride still bleeding.
The leader of the group spat on the floor, blood still crusted along his lip. "Think you're hot shit 'cause you dropped us once? Without Gun standing behind you, you're nothing."
Their laughter rang hollow. Forced. But anger made them reckless.
Seong Min stopped, his shadow cutting across the floor. He didn't even bother activating his Insight yet. Their tells were obvious: shaking hands, darting eyes, weight shifted wrong. Fear dressed up as courage.
"Move," he said flatly.
That made them laugh harder. One stepped forward, a metal pipe clutched tight. His knuckles were white with strain.
"You don't get it, do you? Dog Pound's not done. We've got backers. Real ones. You'll see."
Backers.
That word made Seong Min's eyes flicker violet. For a second, the world slowed—their heart rates, their posture, the tremor of fear under their bravado. They weren't lying. Someone bigger was pulling their leash.
Interesting.
He let the glow fade, then sighed. "You should've stayed down."
The first swing came wild, desperate. The pipe cut through the air with a sharp whistle. Seong Min stepped past it, grabbed the arm, and twisted. A pop and a scream filled the hallway, the pipe clattering to the tiles.
The others froze, too slow, too predictable. Seong Min shoved their friend into them like dead weight. They stumbled, cursing, but none dared swing again.
He didn't even look back as he walked past. By the time they scrambled to their feet again, he was gone, his footsteps already fading into the stairwell.
But the thought stayed with him. Backers. That meant another piece was entering the board.
And that meant things were about to get noisy.
The day bled into evening. The sky outside was streaked with orange and red, painting the city like fire. When Seong Min left through the school gates, the black car was waiting again.
This time, Charles wasn't inside.
Crystal was.
Her presence filled the cabin like frost. Two attendants flanked her, stiff and silent, but they might as well have been furniture. The real weight in the car came from the girl in the center—perfect posture, sharp eyes, her aura colder than the glass city towers outside.
"Get in," she said simply.
Seong Min slid in beside her, calm as ever. Gun wasn't here. Goo wasn't either. Just him, Crystal, and the silence of tinted glass.
The door shut with a heavy click. The engine purred.
For a while, she didn't speak. She just studied him, her gaze cutting over his features like a scalpel. The hum of the engine, the faint scent of leather—it felt less like a car ride and more like a courtroom.
Finally, she said, "You're not like the others."
Seong Min tilted his head. "Because I don't flinch?"
"Because you don't pretend." Her voice was low, deliberate. "Gun and Goo—everything they do is a performance. Violence, loyalty, pride. Masks. You, on the other hand…" She leaned in just slightly, her perfume sharp and cold. "You watch. You calculate. That's rarer than strength."
Seong Min didn't react outwardly, but his Insight flickered again. Her pulse was steady. No hesitation. She wasn't trying to flatter him. She was probing. Testing.
"And what do you think that makes me?" he asked quietly.
Crystal's lips curved, not into a smile, but into something more dangerous. "A piece worth moving."
The car turned, city lights flickering past the tinted windows.
For the first time, Seong Min felt it—the shift. Crystal wasn't just curious anymore. She was interested. Not in him as a fighter, but as something else. A potential player.
Which made her dangerous.
He leaned back in his seat, his violet eye dimming, his expression unreadable. "Then move me carefully."
Crystal's gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating. For a fraction of a second, he thought he saw a spark—approval, or maybe amusement.
But then her tone dropped lower, colder. "Tell me something, Seong Min. If Dog Pound comes back with their so-called 'backers'… will you stand alone? Or will you hide behind Gun again?"
A test.
Seong Min's eyes narrowed faintly. "If they come, I'll read them. And then I'll break them."
Crystal studied him, searching for cracks in his composure. She found none.
At last, she sat back, her expression smooth once more. "Good. Father doesn't waste time with fragile pieces. If you're going to stand on the board, prove you're worth the space you take."
The car slowed, headlights washing the pavement ahead.
Seong Min touched the snapped pen in his pocket, the faintest smirk ghosting his lips.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "Fragile pieces don't last long around me."
The silence that followed wasn't empty.It was loaded.
A new countdown had begun.
End of Chapter 8