Chapter 83: Promise, Price, Power
Min pushed back from the table, stomach full, breath leaving her in a long, ragged sigh. It had been a long time since she'd tasted food like that.
"Told you."
Seo-jin smirked like he'd just won a bet.
"Best flapjacks you've ever had, huh?"
He watched her wipe the plate clean, eyes glowing with the stupid pride of a man who thought feeding someone counted as victory. He couldn't help it. After the story she'd just told, watching her eat felt like proof she'd survived.
Her tale had rattled him more than he let on. A spar turned bloodbath, her shard flaring, battle-lust swallowing her whole. She hadn't stopped until her sister's skull caved under her fists. By the time she came back to herself, it was too late.
Tragic, sure. But Seo-jin only saw the strength underneath. In front of him sat raw steel, a warrior that only needed shaping.
"Alright."
He pushed back from his chair.
"You're fed. Now let's get your shard connected."
The warmth in her chest curdled. Taboo or not, the thought of linking into the Network clawed at her insides. She swallowed it down, stood, and followed.
By the door, the old woman who ran the place lounged in the sunbeam, hand absently scratching the thick black dog at her side. Sixties, maybe older. Her dress plain, her face carved with lines, eyes sharp as razors.
"Thanks for the grub, Bubby. Next time, make those cakes I like. You know I'm hooked."
Her lip curled, voice flat.
"Eat what I put in front of you, brat. Be grateful."
"A good business listens to its customers. Maybe that's why you've got none. Make the cakes, granny, or no tip next time!"
He vanished outside, leaving Min rooted there, embarrassed by the exchange. She bowed low.
"Thank you for the food. It was… wonderful."
The old woman's hand caught her sleeve. Her face hadn't shifted, but her tone softened.
"Come back anytime. Watching someone eat like that—it's good for the heart."
Min's throat tightened. She bowed again, deeper this time.
"I will. Thank you."
She stepped out into the light. Her stomach was full, but her chest felt lighter too, if only for a moment. The sun burned down on her face, warm and steady, and she let herself smile before trailing after Seo-jin.
"So besides buying shit, what else does connecting get me?"
"Everything. Dungeon drops, Network quests, world events. Lets you form parties, send direct messages. It's how humans stay connected. Not being registered is just stupid."
She listened, pulse quickening. Off the island, nothing mattered more than strength. She had to climb. She had to learn everything she could.
"What's a world event?"
His grin soured at that. She caught it.
"World events are quests for everyone. They drop when the Network can't seal a bleed."
Her silence gave her away. He nodded, spelling it out.
"Bleeds happen when another realm pushes into ours. Streets turn into warzones. Usually ends with a raid boss the size of a city block."
Her brows rose.
"No shit. You ever fight in one?"
"Hell no. B-ranks die like flies in those. You don't touch a world event unless you're A-rank at least. Freeland Users tend to sit them out."
The walk had been calm until then. Empty streets, nothing but wind through broken glass. She opened her mouth to press another question...then stopped. He did too. Both turned, eyes fixed on the sky.
The clouds twisted, black and heavy. Purple lightning cracked across them, spreading outward in veins.
Seo-jin's face hardened. He watched, jaw tight, then sighed through his teeth.
"Shit."
Min's eyes widened.
"Is that… a dungeon?"
The sky split. A cube the size of a fortress dropped slow, violet fire bleeding from its edges.
"Yeah, but don't get excited. It's not for us."
Her head whipped toward him.
"Why not? It's close enough—"
"Wrong. That's an A-rank drop. You can tell by the crawl. Weaker cubes fall fast. Strong fall slow. Weak to strong. That thing's poison for us."
He spat, shaking his head.
"And even if we were strong enough, it wouldn't matter. Anything B or higher belongs to Woon Corporation."
She replayed the drunks' talk from last night, gangs, cults, syndicates, all clawing at each other for cubes. Territory meant life. No territory meant a grave.
If a dungeon dropped in your zone, it was yours by claim. In theory. In reality, blood always tested the borders. That's why everyone belonged to something here. Walking alone in Shatterbay was suicide.
Her earlier excitement about "growing wings" to level felt like a bad joke now. Chicken wings. Useless.
"But dungeons don't drop all the time, right?"
"Depends. Sometimes you get three in a day. Sometimes nothing for weeks."
The answer sat like cold iron in her gut. Even seeing the Dead Hands' block ahead, she wondered if she'd made a mistake.
"Don't look so butthurt. You're not gonna find better. And if you did, you'd have to crawl into a King's territory. Good luck with that."
Her brow knotted. Her lack of world knowledge was starting to get embarrassing.
"You really don't know shit, do you? What'd they teach you on that island besides hating men?"
He flicked a glance at her and kept walking.
"If you want into a King's territory, first you have to make it there alive. Then convince them you're not a spy. Even then, each King's got their own brand of hell."
His tone hardened. Something about the Kings lived under his skin.
"They're free of wild rifts, sure. Random dungeons won't eat their kids in the street. But me? I'd rather bleed here than kneel there."
He turned and pinned her with his eyes.
"You at least know about the Kings, right?"
"Yes. We were taught."
He snorted.
"Then you know the stories. Die once and get back up as a meat puppet for eternity. Live under one and end up an NPC in your own life. Every King's a lunatic with a throne. In their zones, strength isn't just law—it's gospel."
He spat into the gutter, fists tight at his sides.
"At least here we get to choose. Yeah, we fight for every scrap, but no one owns me."
She was starting to see another side of him. Up until now, even when serious, he carried a strange lightness. But now his words hit with weight.
"But what's different? It sounds fine for now, but what about when you're stronger? What're you gonna do then?"
He smirked at her, teeth showing.
"It's all a long game. As long as I don't piss off the wrong people, I can pay my way and keep climbing."
She opened her mouth, then stopped. He cut her off anyway.
"It's fine. My shard's only A rank. Not much use in the long run. That's what you were gonna say, right?"
Her sigh answered him.
"Unless this Woon Corporation is a joke. Unless you land a better shard. You'll still be under someone's boot. Wouldn't it be better to live somewhere… safer?"
He halted at the first plank of their dock, eyes scanning the Dead Hands' turf. His voice hardened.
"I've already started something here. I intend to see it through."
A chill ran up her spine.
"The Dead Hands will grow. Shatterbay will be ours. Every gang, the Woons, they're just rungs on the ladder."
"For what?"
"To become a King."
The chill broke into laughter. She thought he had to be joking.
"Funny. You almost had me. For a second I thought you were serious."
"I am."
He turned, and his eyes glowed faintly in the gray light. His face left no room for humor. She couldn't laugh under that stare.
"I'll take Shatterbay. Then I'll build an army strong enough to reach the World Dungeon."
The name alone set her pulse racing. Even with scraps of knowledge, she knew the stories. The only dungeon that never closed. A black island that rose from the Pacific during the Convergence. The only place known to hold S, S+, even King-rank shards.
The word hit her like a struck bell, the cold inside her burst into flame.
"Promise me two things, Wohan Seo-jin."
He cocked an eyebrow; the shift in her tone matched his own now, steel for steel.
"If I can."
"If I help you get there, you'll take me to the World Dungeon when the time comes."
"Done."
"And swear this — if I help you become a King, you'll help me go back home."
His face tightened. Vows were easy to give; keeping them was another animal. He'd already guessed she'd be hard to let walk away. Still, the promise was simple enough to say.
"Tell me why first."
She'd carried shame like a stone all morning, but he'd noticed there was something else under it, a slow, hot hatred. When she spoke, the voice came out edged.
"They banished me. Tore every bond away. They're the ones that taught me to fight, fuckin' praised me for it. I killed my sister, but they turned on me like I was the beast. My family…"
Her fists clenched until the knuckles blanched; she showed him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"I want to go back and cut them open the way they cut me. If you become a King, help me do it."
He let out a breath he didn't bother to hide. Helping a stranger wreck the people who raised her was not a moral problem for him, vengeance was everyday here, but he wouldn't build her into a weapon and watch her vanish either.
"Deal. I'll help you take your revenge."
Relief softened something in her; she breathed deeper, a small, wolfish easing. They turned toward the warehouse and he added one more condition like a last coin on the table.
"Promise me one thing too. If I die, keep the Dead Hands alive. Help Gregor keep this going. Do what you want with them, but don't abandon these bastards. This is the one thing that's actually ours."
She looked up. A mural crawled across the warehouse wall — a crude, angry thing one of their own had been painting. Men shuffled in the yard: a couple painting, another hauling boxes toward the docks, others still rubbing sleep from their eyes. They called when they saw Seo-jin; a ragged, familial chorus.
Something she'd thought forever burned out flickered back. Min laughed, short and raw, the sound of a wound scabbing.
"I'll just have to make sure you don't die. Fine. I promise."
They slipped through the warehouse mouth and into the warm stink of oil and old blood, shoulders nearly touching in that new, crooked kind of companionship; shutters clacked, a dog barked somewhere, men glanced up and went back to their work, and the light swallowed them as the door thudded shut behind.
Too bad, neither could have known: Min would try to keep him breathing, but she would fail.