A City That Stinks
Goo hated days like this.
The kind where the sun barely rose above the skyline and already his inbox was stacked with numbers that didn't add up. Crews whispering excuses. Affiliates whining about "expenses." Little rats trying to skim off the top like Charles Choi didn't own their souls.
And of course—who got to clean it up?
Not Gun.
Not the boss.
Him.
Goo.
He kicked open the door to a rundown pool hall, tossing a crumpled ledger into the face of some greasy lieutenant. "Short again," Goo sang, voice bright and sharp like glass. "And you thought I wouldn't notice?"
The man stammered, sweat pouring down his temple. "G-Goo-ssi, it's just the market, you know, with inflation—"
CRACK.
The cue stick in Goo's hand snapped clean in half against the man's jaw. He didn't even look at the mess, just sighed, twirling the splintered end like a conductor's baton.
"Market, inflation, excuses, excuses." Goo tilted his head, his smile wide and cruel. "Say that again and I'll make sure you never eat at a market again. Ever."
The room froze. The crew swallowed their terror, scrambling to gather stacks of bills, phones, anything that could be liquidated into cash. Goo pocketed it all with a little bow.
"Good boys. Now remember I'm just the friendly delivery man."
By the time he stepped back into the neon-lit streets, Goo was already bored.
"This city stinks," he muttered, "And we're babysitting idiots."
The office was quiet when he walked in, except for the sound of a knife scraping against an apple.
Gun Park sat at the desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled, slicing thin wedges from the fruit with clinical precision. The blade never faltered. His eyes never looked up.
"You're late," Gun said flatly.
Goo flopped into the chair across from him, tossing the wad of collected cash onto the desk. "Yeah, yeah. You try squeezing money out of worms. Takes time."
Gun didn't respond. He just cut another slice, chewing slowly.
"So," Goo drawled, leaning back, "you hear about Jake Kim?"
Gun's knife paused for half a second before resuming. "He broke the rules."
"Ohhh, broke the rules," Goo mocked lightly. "You say it like he spilled a drink instead of running dirty money through Big Deal's networks."
Gun didn't even blink. He sliced another clean wedge of apple, the blade gliding smooth. "A leader doesn't get excuses. He gets results. Jake failed Charles once. There won't be a second time."
Goo snorted, flicking ash onto the carpet just to annoy him. "You make it sound so clean, so simple. Like Big Deal's just gonna roll over without their golden boy."
Gun's eyes finally lifted. Cold. Sharp. "They won't roll over. They'll wait."
The certainty in his tone made Goo grin. "Heh. That's what I love about you, Gun. Always so sure, always so… boring." He leaned forward, chin resting on his palm. "Loyalty's cute, though. Puppies sitting at the door, tails wagging, waiting for master to come home. Almost makes you want to kick them."
Gun's expression didn't change, but the air thickened anyway.
Goo just laughed, throwing his hands up. "Relax. I'm not touching your toys. But you and I both know Big Deal's patience is a weakness. They'll waste years waiting for a man rotting in a cell. Meanwhile…" His grin stretched. "The board keeps shifting."
Gun finally set the knife down, the sound of steel against wood sharp in the silence. "You talk too much."
"Mm. And you talk too little." Goo's grin widened. "That's why we work.
Goo tipped his chair back, balancing dangerously on two legs, smoke curling lazily from his lips. "Speaking of toys on the board… your little brother."
Gun didn't move.
"Oh, don't give me that look," Goo continued, grin sharp. "The brat went toe-to-toe with Tom Lee. Then had the nerve to still drag his busted body into an alley and trade fists with a First Gen King. You know what normal people call that?"
Gun sliced another apple wedge, silent.
"Suicide." Goo laughed, snapping his fingers for emphasis. "And yet—he didn't fold. Not against Tom, not against Jinyong. Hell, he walked away. Wobbly, bleeding, ribs cracked to hell… but he walked. Even I've gotta admit, that's not nothing."
Gun finally spoke, his voice flat as stone. "He shouldn't have been able to."
"That's the fun part." Goo leaned forward, chair legs slamming back onto the floor. His eyes glinted, violet and wild. "Your baby brother's not just tanking hits. He's learning while he breaks. Tom crushed his body, Jinyong tested his will—and somehow, he keeps climbing."
Gun's knife stilled, resting against the cutting board. "He's not their equal yet."
"Yet," Goo echoed, lips curling. "But you saw it too, didn't you? That ugly little spark. Give him time to heal, and the next time he stands in front of a King, it won't be survival."
Gun's gaze hardened. "It'll be victory."
The word dropped like lead.
Goo barked a laugh, clapping once. "Knew you were thinking it! Cold, ruthless Gun, finally admitting the brat's got fangs. Makes me wonder, though…" He tilted his head, smirk widening. "…how long until those fangs turn on even you?"
Gun didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence was heavier than any threat.
Goo just grinned wider, loving the tension.
Goo's smirk didn't fade, even as Gun's silence pressed like a blade. He leaned back again, chair creaking, letting the tension stretch.
Finally, Gun spoke."He's already past the level of the mid-tier Kings."
Goo's brows shot up, but the grin stayed. "Past them, huh? That's a hell of a promotion for a kid who still coughs up blood when he breathes too hard."
"He bleeds," Gun said flatly. "But he learns. Faster than most. Faster than almost anyone."
He sliced another wedge, the knife whispering against the board. "Jinyong Go is no weakling. A First Gen King—even low-tier—carries weight most men can't lift. And Seong Min, with broken ribs from Tom, still stood his ground. Still forced him back."
Goo chuckled, wagging the cigarette between his fingers. "Not equal. Not yet. But you're saying given time, he'll eat someone like Jinyong alive."
Gun's eyes didn't flicker. "Yes."
"Then what about Tom?"
The room cooled with the question.
Gun didn't answer right away. He set the knife down, steepling his fingers as though weighing the words. "Tom Lee is a wall," he said at last. "For Seong Min… still too high. Too strong."
He glanced at Goo, eyes sharp. "But walls don't last forever. When the brat climbs again, Tom won't be untouchable."
Goo whistled low, lips curving. "Oh, that's rich. Sooner or later, the puppy might bite the tiger. You sound almost… proud."
Gun ignored the jab. His gaze turned distant, cold calculation running behind dark eyes. "He needs time. He needs the White Tiger to sharpen him. And when he comes out…"
The corner of Gun's mouth twitched, almost a smirk. "The Kings won't be enough."
Goo leaned back with a laugh, smoke curling above him. "Ah, I love it. The brat's not even done healing, and already you're plotting him against the monsters."
He flicked his ash into the tray, violet eyes gleaming with amusement. "This is gonna be fun."