The White Tiger Job Center didn't feel like any other building in Seoul.
It wasn't the modern glass towers of Gangnam, polished for show. Nor was it the grimy back alleys where thugs scraped for dominance. This place had a different aura — raw, pragmatic, alive. The walls bore faint cracks, the floor scuffed and scarred, each mark a memory of someone being tested and broken here.
And now, it was Seong Min's turn.
The hum of conversation died the instant he entered the lobby. Agents in suits froze mid-step. Trainees stopped sparring mid-movement. Dozens of eyes turned toward him — sharp, predatory, measuring. It was the silence of wolves when a new challenger entered their territory.
Crystal Choi walked behind him, her usual air of control unshaken. But Seong Min noticed the faint tension in the corner of her mouth, the way her hand brushed her phone like it was both shield and leash.
She leaned in just enough for him to hear. "Don't underestimate this place. Charles only sends pieces here when he's ready to see if they're worth moving further up the board."
Seong Min didn't reply. His violet gaze swept over the room, absorbing the weight of stares without so much as a blink.
When the elevator doors opened, Crystal stepped aside. "From here, it's your show."
The floor above was bare — just concrete walls, fluorescent lights, and silence thick enough to choke on. And in the center stood Tom Lee.
Tom was… enormous.
His sheer size bent the perspective of the room. Wide shoulders stretched his shirt near to tearing. His legs were pillars, planted as if the earth itself would give way before he did. And despite his bulk, there was a coiled readiness in him, a predator's spring disguised in a man's casual stance.
He looked up when Seong Min entered, a grin spreading across his scarred face. "Well, well. So this is Charles's latest toy."
Laughter rippled faintly from the onlookers — mostly White Tiger trainees and operatives called in to witness.
Seong Min walked forward until he stood within striking distance. Hands still in his pockets. Calm. Unflinching.
Tom tilted his head. "Silent, huh? Hm. Figures. Charles always did like his pets with attitude."
Still nothing.
That grin widened. "But silence won't save you here. You ready to be tested, kid?"
Finally, Seong Min spoke. "Enough talk."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Tom's eyes narrowed, then crinkled with amusement. "Heh. Reminds me of someone else I know." He flexed his knuckles, joints cracking like gunshots. "Alright then. Let's dance."
The world blurred.
Tom moved with speed no mountain-sized man should possess. His fist came forward like a piston, aiming to cave in Seong Min's skull.
Seong Min tilted his head by a hair's breadth. The punch ripped through air, grazing his cheek with the force of a bullet.
But Tom wasn't done. His other arm swung in a brutal backhand. This time, Seong Min caught it on his forearm. The impact rattled through his bones, jolting his teeth, forcing his feet to skid back across the floor. Concrete dust scattered under his shoes before he ground to a stop.
Gasps rang out. Some of the newer trainees whispered:
"He blocked it?""No way…"
Tom chuckled. "Didn't fall flat, huh? Not bad."
Without warning, his leg shot up — a knee strike aimed square at Seong Min's ribs.
Seong Min twisted. Pain flared as the knee clipped his side, but he turned with the momentum, catching Tom's wrist mid-swing and wrenching it. The larger man's weight shifted unexpectedly.
Seong Min's fist snapped forward, precise as a spear. It sank into Tom's ribs with a sound like a hammer striking meat.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Tom actually took a step back. His eyes flickered, just for a second, with surprise. Then — laughter. Deep, booming, rolling laughter that echoed off the bare walls.
"Ohhh, I see it now," Tom said, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip where a tooth had grazed the skin. "Charles wasn't feeding me scraps this time."
He rolled his shoulders, the easy grin fading into something hungrier. "Good. I was getting bored of crushing kids."
The pressure shifted.
Every veteran agent in the room felt it. Tom wasn't joking anymore.
He launched forward again, faster than before. His hand chopped down like a cleaver, missing Seong Min's neck by inches as the boy ducked. The air itself cracked from the force.
Seong Min countered with a low sweep at Tom's legs, but Tom jumped — the ground shook when his foot landed. He lunged, seizing Seong Min by the collar, and hurled him like a ragdoll.
Seong Min twisted mid-air, slamming into the floor shoulder-first and rolling to his feet in one fluid motion. His jaw clenched, but his expression never broke.
The trainees erupted with murmurs:
"He survived that throw?!""Anyone else would've been out cold!"
Tom licked his teeth, grinning wider. "Resilient. I like it."
Then he blurred forward again.
This time, Seong Min didn't retreat. He surged forward too, their fists colliding mid-strike. The shockwave rattled the glass observation window, scattering cracks across it.
Tom laughed even as blood trickled from his knuckles. "Not bad, kid! Not bad at all!"
Seong Min's violet eyes burned. "You'll need more than brute force."
He lashed out — jab, hook, knee, elbow. Each strike clean, sharp, economical. Tom blocked some, absorbed others, grunted once when a knee dug into his stomach.
But then Tom's hand shot out like lightning, catching Seong Min's punch in his palm.
The older man's grin widened. "But brute force works just fine."
He yanked, dragging Seong Min off balance, then slammed his forehead down.
The headbutt cracked against Seong Min's skull. The younger fighter staggered, vision flashing white for an instant. Before he could recover, Tom's elbow crashed down into his shoulder, nearly driving him to his knees.
The crowd roared in approval.
But Seong Min didn't fall. His legs shook, but he forced them to lock, his teeth gritted against the wave of pain. Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood trickled down his temple. His eyes, however, were still steady.
And he smirked.
It wasn't a cocky grin. It was colder, sharper — the expression of a predator who had just tasted his prey's strength and wanted more.
Tom blinked. Then he laughed again, shaking his head. "Hah! Even Manager Kim would have to think twice about you."
The name sent ripples through the room. Even the veteran operatives stiffened at it. Manager Kim. The black-ops ghost who had left scars in governments and syndicates alike. If Tom was putting Seong Min in the same breath as him…
Then this wasn't just a test anymore.
This was recognition.
Tom rolled his shoulders, his grin turning feral. "Alright, boy. Let's stop playing."
His stance shifted — low, balanced, lethal. Gone was the lazy giant. What stood before Seong Min now was a predator honed by decades of blood.
The crowd fell silent.
Seong Min exhaled, steadying himself. His own posture sharpened, eyes narrowing. Every muscle coiled like a drawn bowstring.
This wasn't about winning anymore.
It was about surviving the storm of a man who stood just beneath the throne of the First Generation kings.
And proving to Charles Choi — to White Tiger — that he belonged here.
[End of Chapter 35 – White Tiger's Test (Part 1)]