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Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, Seoul sparkled with neon lights, resembling a massive spider web enveloping the city. Li Zhenghao stood before the window, swirling a glass filled with amber liquid in his hand, a cold smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Park Bucheng, did you think you won? The game has just begun.
On the other side, Park Bucheng returned to the hideout. The place was in disarray, the air thick with the acrid scent of blood that churned his stomach. Damn it, East District Gang! Those bastards! He gritted his teeth, a glint of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes. This debt will be settled sooner or later! A subordinate stumbled over, clutching a bleeding arm, his face pale as paper. "Brother Cheng, the others... they..." "What? Speak!" Park Bucheng barked, his voice trembling slightly with anger. The subordinate's voice quivered as he stammered, "They... they’re all dead! Only a few of us are left!" A chill shot through Park Bucheng’s heart, creeping from his feet to the top of his head. Dead? So many brothers gone overnight? He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. This wasn’t the time for sorrow; he needed to survive first to seek revenge! “Notify all the brothers who can still move, grab your weapons and follow me!” Park Bucheng led the remaining few out of the blood-soaked hideout, disappearing into the heavy night of Seoul.
The next day, Park Bucheng’s phone buzzed; it was Li Zhenghao calling him to a meeting at headquarters. Damn it, that old fox—what scheme is he plotting now? Park Bucheng cursed inwardly but steeled himself to go. Li Zhenghao's office was extravagantly luxurious. Genuine leather sofas, priceless calligraphy and paintings, and crystal chandeliers all showcased his power. Li Zhenghao sat behind his desk, holding a cigar and exhaling smoke like a true boss. “Bucheng, you’ve been performing well lately,” Li Zhenghao said with narrowed eyes, his tone inscrutable. Park Bucheng sneered inwardly; this old fox was putting on an act again. “Thank you for your praise, brother Hao; it’s all thanks to my brothers’ hard work.” “Hmm, you handled the East District Gang situation well,” Li Zhenghao continued, flicking ash from his cigar. “I’ve decided to promote you to Deputy Chief of West District.” Park Bucheng felt a surge of joy—West District! That was a lucrative position! But he maintained an impassive facade. “Thank you for your support, brother Hao.” “Do well; West District will be under your care from now on.” Li Zhenghao’s gaze lingered on Park Bucheng like a sharp knife, as if trying to see through him.
Leaving the office, Park Bucheng felt a mix of emotions. Getting promoted was good news but also meant greater responsibility and risk. West District had always been Li Zhenghao’s thorn in his side; placing him there was clearly pushing him into the spotlight. Damn it, he wants me to be cannon fodder! Park Bucheng cursed silently but realized he could only take it one step at a time.
Back in West District, Park Bucheng immediately gathered his subordinates to announce his promotion. They congratulated him enthusiastically, but he keenly sensed that some of the older members harbored resentment and jealousy in their eyes. Especially that guy named Choi Dong-wook; he had always been second-in-command in West District and was ambitious—Park Bucheng's promotion undoubtedly severed his path upward. “Brother Cheng, congratulations!” Choi Dong-wook said with a forced smile that barely concealed his disdain. Park Bucheng narrowed his eyes at Choi Dong-wook, cold laughter echoing in his heart. This guy will be trouble sooner or later. “From now on we’re all brothers; let’s work hard together,” Park Bucheng said lightly but with an undertone of warning as if asserting his authority.
In the following days, Park Bucheng began reorganizing West District, eliminating dissenters and solidifying his position. His decisive methods instilled both respect and fear among his subordinates. He also started recruiting new talent, particularly skilled fighters; he knew that West District was fraught with danger and without sufficient strength one could not stand firm. One man named Kim Jeong-soo caught his attention—he was tall and robust and reportedly had been part of an elite special forces unit; he was one of Park Bucheng's new recruits.
One night, while studying maps in his office—walls covered with markings representing various power distributions in West District—someone knocked on the door. “Come in.” It was Kim Jeong-soo. “Brother Cheng, I need to talk to you about something,” Kim Jeong-soo said hesitantly as if holding back something significant. “What is it?” Park Bucheng set down the map and looked up at him. “I think our recent actions have been too aggressive,” Kim Jeong-soo frowned and said. “If we keep this up, we’ll attract attention from other gangs and end up surrounded.” Park Bucheng paused; he knew Kim Jeong-soo had a point. His recent actions had indeed been reckless but there was no choice—he needed to consolidate power quickly to face upcoming challenges. “I understand what you mean,” Park Bucheng sighed. “But we don’t have time to take it slow. Li Zhenghao won’t give us much time; he’d love for us to clash with other gangs so he can reap the benefits.” Kim Jeong-soo wanted to say more but ultimately held back; he understood that Park Bucheng had made up his mind.
At that moment, Park Bucheng's phone rang sharply, breaking the silence in the office—it was Li Zhenghao calling again. “Bucheng, I have an important task for you,” Li Zhenghao’s voice sounded serious without a hint of jest. “What task?” Park Bucheng felt a tightening in his chest; he sensed something ominous approaching. “I need you to assassinate a chaebol.” At those words, shock coursed through Park Bucheng’s heart—assassinating a chaebol? That was an extremely dangerous mission; one misstep could lead to utter ruin. “Why me?” His voice came out hoarse. “Because I believe in your abilities,” Li Zhenghao replied coolly with an undeniable authority in his tone. Park Bucheng fell silent; he knew there was no room for refusal—this was Li Zhenghao testing him and also an opportunity for him to solidify his position or perhaps fall into a trap altogether. “When do we act?” His voice regained its calmness as if the earlier shock had been merely fleeting confusion. “Tomorrow night,” Li Zhenghao replied before hanging up.
Park Bucheng set down his phone and fell into deep thought—assassinating a chaebol was like holding a hot potato; failure would have dire consequences. He looked out at the darkening night sky which mirrored his troubled thoughts—he realized he had already sunk deep into this whirlpool without hope of escape. Tomorrow night awaited him with uncertainty ahead; he narrowed his eyes as determination flickered within them—no matter what happened, he had to survive! For himself and for those fallen brothers!
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