#juwon lee

And the motherfucker who had the audacity to contact him, just smiles serenely. It almost makes him throw the fucker out the window, because as much as he thought Manwol was a piece of shit that was going to get thrown out when the time comes, he had respected them.

Well, respected them enough.

It’s one of those things you have when the competition isn’t completely incompetent, and you sometimes work with them for mutual benefit until one side decides to conquer the other side.

Manwol was fine, really, Juwon doesn’t really care for it besides the fact the fucker in front of him was the reason why it fell. It personally offends him, because the motherfucker is a bitch.

He smiles civilly.

“Bastard, who the fuck do you think you are to call me over to you?”

Kenny Ji doesn’t flinch, as expected from the former executive; or was it arrogance? The fuck sure as hell can’t fight now, so it must be the arrogance that keeps him from flinching.

Probably.

Juwon makes himself comfortable on the chair across, assessing Kenny Ji who sits with his head held high for a fucker on a wheelchair, the brother to Jake Ji of the Union, and the single flaw to Manwol.

He had once used Kenny Ji to bait another fucker into fighting him more seriously, and he had lost. So it wasn’t respect, not really, that kept him civil.

But curiosity kept him civil.

And though he didn’t care much for Manwol, the fact that it fell to an insider means something to him. His loyalty to Changhui Han, to the Cheongang, was a bond forged with blood, and the fucker in front of him threw that away for what?

There’s tradition to be followed, and then there’s scum.

“…” Kenny glares back, but otherwise doesn’t jump to the bait, unlike the brother. “… I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the Cheongang still follows the old rules?”

Juwon pauses momentarily, he stares at the other and thinks. There are several ways this conversation could be going, and none of them are good. He straightens, pushing whatever contempt he had down until it’s buried.

If the bastard is asking about that, then it means something at leasty.

“Yes,” He says, “Always.”

Kenny nods.

The bastard accepts it as if it were expected, and it’s knowledge that one doesn’t need to call an executive of the Cheongang to confirm. No, no one ever calls on an executive relating to the rules unless—

“Good.” The bastard says, “Then you’ll be interested what I have to say.”

“Hey fucker.” And contempt and rage comes to him as easily as breathing, it comes at the words written between the lines, at the arrogance, at the audacity. “Why the hell would something like you have anything interesting to say to me?”

Kenny doesn’t flinch back, if anything, the fucker grinds his teeth together and forces himself to stop from making a good right hook to Juwon’s face.

Ah, Juwon thinks rather sardonically, looking down at the loss so apparent that he doesn't understand how he didn’t think of it before. It’s not that he won’t, it’s just that he can’t.

That’s more than enough reason to believe that something like Kenny Ji didn’t just call an executive of Cheongang for something pointless. The bastard may be a traitor to his gang, but he was also Manwol’s downfall.

Kenny Ji is scum, but not a fool.

“Young entertainment.” The bastard says, and—

Juwon sucks in a breath; anger curling into his gut, and it builds itself slowly. As if it were unsure of what to do between the sinking feeling and the feeling the makes him tense his muscles that prepare him for a fight.

“… In Mapo?”

And when the bastard nods his head without a single moment of hesitance, the fury comes in droves without a moment’s notice. It surges to the brink of an explosion, until there’s ringing in his ears and he’s starting to see red.

Because there are rules.

There is tradition.

And then there is scum.

The composure he crafted before is gone, replaced by him shooting out to grab the bastard by the neck and snarling:

“Explain.”

And Kenny Ji explains, after glaring and snarling back: “Let me the fuck go before you regret it.” He explains about how some group of soon to be dead men decided to fuck off from Yeongdeungpo and into Mapo because they couldn’t do their business anymore. The bastard says some names that Juwon recognizes, says some dates, brings out pictures of faces that he knows, solid proof and—

Then the realization hits.

And Juwon just might throw the fucker out the window, or perhaps, something worse. Because this information wasn’t something that could be stumbled upon, because one would have to know who to look at to see what what was—

He’s incandescent with rage, boiling in a fury that cannot stay contained.

“They started coming to Mapo after the downfall of Manwol.”

Kenny stays silent.

“I see.” Juwon says, and the blazing fury turns frigid, into a process he’s much more familiar with. Anger needs to be productive after all, rather than reckless, and there’s an issue that needs to be dealt with. “We’ll take care of it.”

There’s tradition, Juwon knows and thinks of the rules unwritten that every other gang must follow, and then there’s scum.