The night was heavy with damp air, the kind that clung to your lungs and made the city streets smell of rust and gasoline.
Seong Min pulled his hood over his head, hands deep in his pockets, violet flicker hidden beneath lowered lashes. He walked without hurry, but every step carried a weight, a promise.
Dog Pound.
The name had been whispered all day—resentful, hungry, like cockroaches crawling out of the dark. He'd broken them once. He knew they wouldn't stay down. Trash never did.
If Charles is moving pieces already, I can't leave the board cluttered.
His phone buzzed once. A message from Gun.
Don't interfere unless necessary.
Seong Min smirked and shut it off. "Sorry, brother. This one's mine."
Crystal Choi's car rolled to a stop three streets away.
She didn't announce herself, didn't call for him. Instead, she slipped out into the night alone, heels clicking softly on the wet pavement.
She had seen his eyes once—the flicker of something unnatural, calculating, cold. Seong Min wasn't like the others. He didn't move for pride. He didn't fight for glory.
He fought like he was testing the world.
And that made him dangerous.
From the shadows, she followed.
The warehouse reeked of old sweat and iron. Graffiti stained the walls, chains hung from the beams, and broken bottles littered the floor.
Dog Pound had gathered here. Fifteen of them—bandaged from their last humiliation, but loud, desperate, masking fear with barked laughter.
Their leader, a tall, scarred boy with yellow teeth, spat on the ground. "He thinks he can walk over us? With Gun watching his back? Nah. Tonight, we end that kid."
The laughter rose, hollow and sharp. They clutched bats, pipes, even a dented crowbar. The smell of cheap cigarettes burned the air.
Then the metal doors screeched open.
Seong Min walked in alone.
No hesitation. No backup. Just him.
For a moment, the room froze.
Then the leader sneered. "You've got guts showing up here, freak."
Seong Min's violet gaze lifted, cold and unblinking. "No. I've got time. Let's not waste it."
The first thug rushed him with a pipe. The swing cut the air with a whistle—wild, desperate.
Seong Min stepped forward, inside the arc, and drove his elbow into the man's throat. A crunch. The thug collapsed, gagging, clutching at his windpipe, choking on his own spit.
The others roared and surged.
Crystal slipped inside quietly, unseen in the shadows of the second floor. Her eyes widened as the first body hit the ground, twitching.
He's not holding back.
A bat came down. Seong Min caught it mid-swing, twisted it free, and rammed the wooden length across the wielder's jaw. Teeth scattered like dice on the concrete. Blood sprayed.
Another thug grabbed him from behind. Seong Min slammed his head back, shattering the boy's nose, then hooked his arm and flung him over his shoulder into a pile of crates. The crash echoed, followed by a scream of pain.
The leader barked, "Kill him!"
The pack swarmed.
Seong Min moved like a predator in a pen of sheep. Every strike was deliberate, merciless. He didn't dodge to avoid damage—he slipped past just enough, letting fists glance off his jacket while his counters broke bones.
A knee to the ribs—crack.A stomp to the ankle—snap.A fist to the temple—thud, silence.
The floor slicked with spit and blood.
Crystal's nails dug into the railing. She had seen Gun fight, Goo fight, even her father's men fight. Violence in their world was normal.
But this—this was different.
Gun fought like an artist. Every move efficient, every strike clean, as if he was painting with precision.Goo fought like chaos itself, laughing through the blood.
But Seong Min?
He fought like he hated. Every strike carried venom, not just skill. He wasn't proving a point. He wasn't entertaining himself. He was dismantling them.
And yet his face stayed calm. Detached. Like a butcher cleaving meat.
The leader charged with the crowbar, screaming.
Seong Min didn't wait. He closed the gap, caught the crowbar mid-swing, and smashed his forehead into the boy's nose. Blood burst across both their faces.
The thug staggered. Seong Min ripped the crowbar free and swung it low—metal crunching into kneecaps. The leader's scream tore the air. He collapsed, clutching his ruined legs.
Seong Min stood over him, crowbar dripping with blood.
The rest of Dog Pound hesitated, broken, battered. None dared step forward now.
The violet flicker in his eye burned as he looked down at their leader. "You called yourselves dogs. But dogs know loyalty. You're worse than pests."
He dropped the crowbar. It clanged across the floor, echoing like a verdict.
Then, without another glance, he turned and walked out.
Crystal didn't move for several seconds. The air smelled of copper, of sweat, of defeat. The groans of the broken boys below filled the silence.
Her hands trembled before she forced them still.
He didn't just beat them. He erased them.
And the most terrifying part—he hadn't even lost his breath.
Crystal's eyes narrowed, thoughts racing.
Her father needed to know about this. But at the same time…
A slow, dangerous spark of curiosity twisted in her chest.
What are you really, Seong Min?
Outside, Seong Min pulled his hood lower, blending into the night. His fists still throbbed faintly from bone meeting bone.
He didn't care.
Let the whispers spread. Let the fear grow.
Dog Pound was finished.
And Crystal Choi had seen it all.
A darker smile ghosted his lips.
Good. Let her wonder.
Because the truth was simple—He wasn't playing the board anymore.He was breaking it.
End of Chapter 10 part 1