The night air outside the old factory was heavy with the scent of rust and oil.
Engines idled in the distance — a dozen cars parked in the shadows, headlights off, only the faint glow of cigarettes marking where men stood waiting.
Sang-ho stepped out of his car, his shoes crunching on gravel. He adjusted his coat, eyes calm but sharp. Behind him, Do Jin followed quietly, hands tucked in his pockets.
This wasn't the kind of meeting one could skip.
Every month, the organization gathered here — the only place far enough from both the small town and the big city to keep things quiet. It was their neutral ground. A graveyard of industry, and tonight, a council of crime.
As they walked toward the factory entrance, a few men whispered among themselves.
"Is that him?"
"Yeah. Sang-ho of the Loan Division."
"Used to be in Assault, right?"
"They say he broke a guy's spine with a crowbar once."
"Don't make eye contact."
Sang-ho ignored them. He didn't need fear — he commanded it.
Inside, twelve chairs were arranged in a wide circle under a flickering light. Six crew leaders from the Loan Division sat on one side, and six from the Assault Division sat on the other.
At the far end of the room, two men sat slightly elevated — the Heads.
One was Chairman Seo, the old leader of the Loan Division — white hair, neatly combed back, wearing a brown leather coat that looked older than most of the men there. His eyes were steady, filled with the weight of experience and the kind of calm that could stop a fight before it started.
The other was Gwon Tae-sik, head of the Assault Division — thick arms, tattoos creeping up his neck, a voice like gravel. He was known for settling problems with fists, not words.
When Sang-ho entered, both looked up.
"You're late," Gwon grunted.
"I was busy cleaning up after my crew got framed," Sang-ho replied evenly, pulling out a chair.
A few of the other captains exchanged glances. No one else dared talk to Gwon that way.
The meeting began.
Chairman Seo spoke first, his voice low but commanding.
"There's been trouble in the small town again. Two rival gangs — The Red Pins and Black Runners — both expanding their reach. We've received reports of cops taking bribes."
Murmurs spread through the room.
Sang-ho raised a hand. "One of my men was arrested because of it. False charges. Assault, extortion, even drug possession. All fake. The Red Pins paid the police off."
Gwon leaned forward, a smirk twisting his scarred face. "Maybe your man's just an idiot who got caught. You always think someone's out to get you."
Sang-ho's jaw flexed, but he stayed composed. "You always think with your fists. That's why your men end up in body bags."
Chairs creaked. A few captains tensed, ready to step between them if needed.
But Chairman Seo raised a hand — and silence fell instantly.
"Enough," he said softly. "We deal with facts, not pride."
He turned to Sang-ho. "Who was arrested?"
"The European," Sang-ho said. "One of my top men."
That got everyone's attention. The European — a foreign enforcer known for his brutality — was infamous even outside the syndicate. The Assault Division had used him once before, but he'd chosen to work for Sang-ho later.
Gwon's expression darkened. "That foreigner was a liability. He drew too much attention. The cops didn't need bribes — they just needed an excuse."
Sang-ho leaned forward, eyes locked on him. "You always cover for the cops, Gwon. Funny, for a man who claims to hate authority."
"Watch your mouth."
"Make me."
The air turned heavy. Even the sound of the flickering bulb above them felt too loud.
Then, Chairman Seo spoke again, his tone calm but cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Both of you are right in your own way," he said. "But arguing won't help. Whether the cops were bribed or not, our men are being targeted. Which means war is coming."
Everyone went silent.
Seo continued, "We prepare — quietly. Gather funds, strengthen alliances. No rash moves until I say so."
The captains nodded in agreement. Even Gwon didn't argue.
"Meeting dismissed," Seo said finally.
Outside, the night had grown colder.
As the leaders filed out of the factory, Sang-ho lingered by his car, lighting a cigarette. The flame briefly illuminated his face — sharp, unreadable.
"Rough meeting, huh?"
He turned to see Han Soo-jin, another crew leader from the Loan Division. Younger than Sang-ho by a few years, but respected. A calm man with kind eyes — the kind who smiled even in bad weather.
His story was well-known: son of a cop who was killed by other cops. Since then, Soo-jin had despised law enforcement, though he never let the hatred consume him. He'd joined the syndicate to dig out corruption from the inside — or so he said.
"I heard about your guy," Soo-jin said, stepping closer. "The European. My condolences. I had a man arrested too. Same story — false charges."
Sang-ho exhaled smoke. "So what?"
"I'm saying, I stand with you. Maybe we should team up. Fight back together."
Sang-ho turned his head slightly, his eyes cold. "You think I need allies?"
"No. But everyone needs someone they can trust."
That earned a short, humorless laugh. "Trust. In this business?"
Soo-jin didn't reply. He just smiled softly. "Maybe you've forgotten what that means."
Sang-ho's expression hardened. "You talk too much, Han."
"Maybe. But you listen too little."
Sang-ho flicked his cigarette away, the ember dying in the dirt. "I don't care what you think. Stay out of my way."
He opened the car door and slammed it shut, the sound echoing across the lot.
As he drove through the empty highway, rain began to fall — thin at first, then heavier. The rhythmic tapping on the windshield filled the silence.
His hands tightened on the wheel.
"Two gangs," he muttered to himself. "Red Pins. Black Runners."
His mind worked fast, dissecting every move made in the past two years — every deal, every death, every arrest.
The puzzle fit together slowly. The two rival gangs had never fought each other. Never even competed for the same turf.
And now, both were bribing cops. Both moving quietly. Both waiting for something.
"They're working together," he said under his breath.
The thought burned hotter the more he turned it over.
If the Red Pins and Black Runners had truly joined forces, they weren't just targeting his crew — they were targeting him.
Sang-ho's lips curled into a grim smile as lightning flashed across the sky.
"Fine," he whispered. "If they want a war…"
He pressed harder on the accelerator, eyes locked on the dark road ahead.
"…I'll give them one."