damp room beneath Incheon's Chinatown reeked of blood and cigarette smoke. Crocodiles floated lazily in a large tank nearby, their eyes glowing in the dim light, as if waiting to be fed.
Mugak Wang, the No. 2 of the Dark Crocodile Society, sat casually on a chair, legs spread wide, his bulk leaning forward. In one hand, he twirled a knife; in the other, he held the collar of a trembling Speed Faction foot soldier.
The man's face was swollen from repeated blows, blood dripping down onto the concrete. He spat, but his defiance trembled under Mugak's heavy presence.
Mugak grinned, speaking in Mandarin first, his deep voice echoing in the room.
"你以为你能骗我? (You think you can lie to me?)"
Then he switched to Korean, his tone sharp.
"Where is your nest? Where is Jaegyeon hiding? Tell me, and maybe I'll let you live."
The soldier shook his head. "I-I don't know! We move constantly. We don't stay in one place!"
Mugak's grin widened. He slammed the man against the wall so hard the concrete cracked.
"Don't insult me. I know you rats are burrowed somewhere. If you don't talk, I'll cut you into pieces and feed you to my pets."
The crocodiles in the tank stirred as if responding to his words.
The soldier's breath quickened, his eyes darting toward the tank. His courage wavered.
Suddenly, the door opened. Jaun Ryu, calm as ever, stepped inside. His sharp eyes took in the scene before speaking.
"Mugak. Don't kill him yet. Fear makes men talk better than pain."
Mugak spat to the side but released his grip slightly, glaring at the battered soldier.
"You heard him. Talk. Or next time, I won't stop at the wall."
The prisoner swallowed, his fear now overwhelming.
---
Daniel – Hotel Room
In a modest hotel room not far from the war-torn heart of Incheon, Daniel sat by the window, the dim city lights casting shadows across his disguised face. His formal shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his jacket draped across the chair.
He lit a cigarette, watching the smoke curl lazily into the air, his expression unreadable.
"Dark Crocodile Society…" he muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes narrowing.
"They'll move soon. They already know I'm here—or at least, they suspect. I don't have much time."
His thoughts replayed the meeting with Jaegyeon Na. The Half-Assed King's aura was undeniable, his rage controlled but deadly. Daniel had felt it clearly—Jaegyeon was no fool. But his faction was fragile. Weakened. Desperate.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, exhaling smoke.
"Tomorrow, he'll give me his answer. Alliance… or rejection."
He smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with quiet calculation.
"If he accepts, we strike with force enough to shake Incheon's underworld. If he refuses…" Daniel's smirk hardened into a cold expression. "…then I'll make my own path. With or without them."
The sound of footsteps echoed faintly outside his door, but they faded quickly. Daniel's hand had already reached for the knife hidden under his pillow, reflex sharp as ever. He let go, relaxing again.
The city outside groaned with chaos—broken streets, desperate civilians, gangs in shadows. Incheon was a land of kings, but also a land of war.
Daniel muttered, almost to himself, his tone quiet but edged with steel:
"This city is already rotting. I just need to decide whether I'll burn it down… or rebuild it."
He closed his eyes, preparing for tomorrow.
---