Keum Seongje hated losing.
Not because it hurt his pride.
Actually, yes. Mostly because it hurt his pride.
But also because people got annoying when they thought they had seen him lose. They started whispering. Started looking too long. Started smiling like they had witnessed something important instead of one stupid moment that did not even matter.
At least, that was what Seongje had been telling himself for the past three hours.
It did not matter that Yeon Sieun had made him look stupid in front of half a dozen Union members.
It did not matter that the Eunjang bastard had slipped through a situation Seongje had set up perfectly, like he had already read the ending before Seongje had even opened the first page.
It did not matter that Seongje had grabbed for him and caught nothing but air.
It did not matter that Sieun had looked back afterward.
That was the part that kept replaying.
Not the dodge. Not the way the others had reacted. Not even Dongha’s ugly laugh in the background.
Like Seongje was not dangerous.
Like Seongje was not worth being afraid of.
Like he was something mildly inconvenient that had gotten in the way of Sieun’s afternoon.
That expression had been pissing him off all day.
Which was why, when Seongje slammed the door open to the Union’s upstairs room, everyone already sitting inside immediately shut up.
The room smelled like cigarettes, dust, and cheap instant noodles. Someone had left a half-empty drink on the floor. Someone else had spilled ash across the table and made no effort to clean it up. A busted fan turned lazily in the corner, pushing warm air around like it had given up on doing its job properly.
Seongje walked in, tossed his jacket onto the couch, and dropped into the nearest chair with his legs spread and his head tilted back.
He opened one eye. “What?”
Dongha sat across the room, one arm thrown over the back of the sofa, looking far too pleased with himself.
Nothing good ever came from Dongha looking pleased.
“What?” Seongje repeated, sharper this time.
Dongha lasted exactly two seconds before laughing.
“You should’ve seen your face.”
The room immediately tensed.
A few people looked down. One idiot suddenly became very interested in the floor. Another slowly moved his cup away from the edge of the table like he expected it to become a weapon.
Dongha held both hands up, still grinning. “Relax. I’m just saying. That Eunjang kid really got under your skin.”
“He didn’t get under shit.”
Someone choked on a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough.
Seongje turned his head slowly.
“Then die quietly next time.”
Dongha, unfortunately, did not.
“Come on,” he said, leaning forward. “You can admit it. It was kind of impressive.”
Seongje scoffed. “What was impressive?”
“The way he made you chase him around like a dog after a ball.”
The room went so silent it almost became funny.
Dongha did not move, but his grin widened like he had been waiting for it.
Dongha tilted his head. “You heard me.”
Seongje took one step forward.
Dongha stayed seated, but the others shifted around them. Not to stop anything. No one here was stupid enough to put themselves between Seongje and a fight.
They just wanted a better view.
Before Seongje could get closer, the door opened again.
Baek Dongha’s timing had always been either perfect or suicidal. There was no middle.
A lower Union member stepped in, holding a folder against his chest. He froze when he felt the room’s mood and immediately looked like he regretted being born.
Seongje did not look away from Dongha. “What?”
The boy swallowed. “Baekjin-hyung said to leave this here. It’s about the Eunjang issue.”
That name cooled the room differently.
Seongje clicked his tongue and held out his hand.
The boy rushed forward, placed the folder into his palm, and backed away like Seongje might bite him.
Seongje opened the folder.
Inside were a few printed photos, messy notes, names, and routes written in someone’s ugly handwriting. Humin’s name appeared more than once. So did a few others from Eunjang.
Then, near the bottom of the page, one name was circled.
Dongha noticed, because Dongha had the survival instincts of a bug flying directly into a lamp.
“Oh,” he said. “There he is.”
Seongje closed the folder.
Dongha’s grin came back slowly. “You really do get a weird look when it’s him.”
“I’m going to break your mouth.”
“You keep saying that, but I’m still beautiful.”
“You were never beautiful.”
“See? This is why Yeon Sieun doesn’t like you.”
Then he laughed once under his breath.
The sound made a few people relax.
“Doesn’t like me?” Seongje repeated.
Dongha leaned back. “Does he?”
“Yeah, and from what I saw today, he plans to keep it that way.”
That should not have irritated him.
Seongje tossed the folder onto the table. The photos slid halfway out, one of them landing face-up.
It was blurry, probably taken from a distance.
Sieun stood near Eunjang’s side gate, one hand holding the strap of his bag, his head turned slightly like someone had called his name and he had already decided not to answer. His expression was the same as always. Cold. Unmoved. Bored enough to be insulting.
Someone near the table leaned over and squinted at the picture.
A second later, Seongje’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar.
The guy made a strangled sound as Seongje yanked him forward hard enough that his knees knocked against the table.
The guy’s eyes widened. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“He looks weak?” Seongje asked softly.
The room held its breath.
The guy shook his head quickly. “No, hyung. I just meant—he looks quiet.”
Seongje stared at him for another second before letting go.
The guy stumbled back and nearly fell.
Dongha made a thoughtful noise.
Seongje turned his glare on him. “What now?”
Dongha pointed at the guy Seongje had just threatened, then at the photo, then back at Seongje.
“I’m correcting stupidity.”
“You almost threw him across the room because he said your little Eunjang problem looks weak.”
Dongha’s smile turned evil.
“That stupid silence people make when they know they’re losing an argument.”
“I don’t lose arguments.”
Seongje was across the room before the sentence fully finished.
Dongha dodged the first swing, laughing as Seongje’s fist hit the wall behind him instead. The sound cracked through the room, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough to make the others flinch.
Dongha backed up, still grinning.
Seongje rolled his wrist once. “You’re really excited to die today.”
“Nah. I’m excited because I finally figured it out.”
Dongha pointed toward the photo on the table.
Seongje scoffed. “Obviously.”
“No, not like that.” Dongha’s eyes gleamed. “You can’t stand that he doesn’t care about you.”
Seongje hated that it landed.
“Why would I care what some Eunjang bastard thinks?”
“Because everyone cares what you do. Everyone reacts. People get scared, angry, stupid, loud. But he didn’t.” Dongha tilted his head. “He looked at you like you were wasting his time.”
“And now,” Dongha continued, voice light and cruel, “you’re obsessed.”
The room erupted instantly.
Not loud enough to be careless. No one wanted to be too loud around Seongje when he looked like that.
But there were snorts. Laughs. Someone muttered, “He kind of is,” and then immediately pretended he had not spoken.
Seongje turned toward them.
Seongje looked back at him. “Test what?”
“Whether you’re obsessed.”
“Then this should be easy.”
Seongje narrowed his eyes.
There were very few words in the world more dangerous to say to him than easy.
“What should be easy?” Seongje asked.
Dongha walked to the table and picked up Sieun’s photo between two fingers. He held it up, turning it slightly so the weak overhead light hit the glossy surface.
“Yeon Sieun,” he said. “Cold, quiet, Eunjang’s little genius. Acts like everyone around him is a headache. Doesn’t scare easy. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t seem to like people breathing near him.”
Dongha dropped the photo back down.
“Make him come to you first.”
Dongha spread his hands. “No threats. No dragging him. No Union orders. No using Humin as bait. No cornering him with five people behind you. Just you.”
The room started to wake up around them.
Someone leaned forward. Someone else muttered, “That’s impossible.”
Dongha heard it and smiled wider.
He knew it was a hook. He could see it shining right in front of him.
And still, his pride leaned toward it like an idiot.
Dongha shrugged. “I think he’d rather eat glass than willingly spend five minutes with you.”
A laugh broke out from the back.
Seongje did not look away from Dongha.
“If you do,” Dongha said, pulling money from his pocket and tossing it onto the table, “I’ll pay.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Dongha continued, “Before the month ends, Yeon Sieun has to come to you first. Not because he needs to fight. Not because he needs information. Not because someone makes him. He has to choose it.”
Seongje looked at the photo again.
Sieun’s face stared back at him, flat and uninterested even through the blur.
He thought of earlier that day.
The alley behind the closed arcade.
Union members blocking one side, Eunjang blocking the other. Humin ready to fight like always, loud enough for three people. Gotak tense at his shoulder. Juntae hovering behind, watching everyone.
Seongje remembered stepping toward him, smiling because the whole situation was finally about to get interesting.
“You’re Yeon Sieun, right?”
“That depends on why you’re asking.”
Then things had moved fast.
Not because Sieun fought like Humin. He didn’t. Humin hit like a storm. Sieun moved like a blade.
Small movements. Precise. Ugly in how efficient they were.
He had not beaten Seongje.
He had just refused to be caught, refused to play the role Seongje had assigned him, and somehow made Seongje look like the one who was reacting too much.
Then, when Baekjin’s name got mentioned, Sieun had stepped back, looked at the Union members, and said, “You’re loud for people who aren’t in control.”
As if Seongje would not remember that.
As if walking away was allowed.
Seongje reached for the photo.
He picked it up and looked at it for a long moment.
Dongha watched him with that smug expression that made Seongje want to kick his teeth in.
Outside, the evening was turning dark. A sign from the building across the street flickered red through the dirty window, cutting across the table in sharp little flashes.
Dongha’s eyebrows lifted. “Fine?”
“Fine,” Seongje repeated, dropping the photo back onto the table. “I’ll make him come to me.”
The room broke into noise.
Someone laughed. Someone swore. Someone slapped money onto the table beside Dongha’s like they were betting on a fight. More cash followed. A lighter. A pack of cigarettes. A silver ring one guy definitely stole from somewhere.
Seongje looked at the ring with disgust.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
The guy who said it immediately realized his mistake.
Dongha quickly stepped in, laughing. “Rules first.”
Seongje did not stop glaring at the guy. “Rules are for people who need help winning.”
“Rules are so you don’t cheat and call it charm.”
“You threatened three people in the last ten minutes.”
Dongha shook his head, still amused. “No threats. No forcing him. No using Eunjang. No using Suho.”
That last name was unfamiliar in the context, but the way Dongha said it made it sound important.
Dongha looked at him. “You don’t know?”
“Damn. You really are behind.”
Seongje’s patience thinned. “Dongha.”
Dongha raised both hands. “Ahn Suho. Eungjangs genius' side. Hospitalized. From what I heard, Yeon Sieun visits him a lot.”
Seongje glanced back at the photo.
Something about that felt like information he should not have been handed in the middle of a joke.
Dongha’s voice sharpened slightly.
“And I mean it. Don’t use that. If Sieun comes to you because you pushed that button, it doesn’t count.”
Dongha’s grin was still there, but there was something more serious underneath it now.
“I think you’ll use anything if you’re losing.”
Seongje’s smile came back.
Dongha held out his hand.
Seongje looked at it like it was diseased.
Dongha rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
“I don’t shake hands with ugly people.”
“Then you must be lonely.”
Seongje grabbed his hand hard enough that Dongha’s expression flickered.
“Before the month ends,” Dongha said.
Seongje’s smile sharpened.
Dongha leaned closer. “And if he doesn’t?”
Seongje squeezed his hand a little harder.
Dongha winced but did not pull away.
“If he doesn’t,” Seongje said, “then I’ll admit you were right.”
The whole room reacted like someone had thrown gasoline on a fire.
Seongje released Dongha’s hand and kicked the nearest chair hard enough that it slammed into the wall.
“Anyone records me,” he said calmly, “I’ll feed them their phone.”
Then Dongha, still rubbing his hand, muttered, “Romantic.”
Seongje ignored him and picked up the folder again.
He flipped through it, slower this time.
Eunjang routes. Names. Movement patterns. Notes on Humin, mostly. Some on Gotak and Juntae.
Barely anything on Sieun.
People like Sieun left less behind.
Dongha watched him. “You’re already thinking too hard.”
“I’m thinking exactly enough.”
“Careful. That’s how it starts.”
Dongha grinned. “You’ll start with strategy. Then you’ll start wondering what he’s doing. Then you’ll start waiting for him to react. Then one day you’ll realize you know what he likes from the convenience store and you’ll want to jump off a roof.”
“That was weirdly specific.”
“Maybe.” Dongha shrugged. “But I know you.”
“I know you hate being ignored.”
Seongje’s fingers tightened around the folder.
“And Yeon Sieun looks like he was born ignoring people.”
It was probably the first smart thing Dongha had said all day.
The door opened again, and this time Baekjin stepped in.
The room changed immediately.
The Union did not operate on something as simple as fear. It was more like gravity. Everyone felt the shift when Baekjin entered. Everyone adjusted without being told.
Baekjin’s gaze moved across the table, the money, the photo, Dongha’s pleased expression, then finally Seongje.
So naturally, Dongha did.
Dongha’s smile became slightly less confident.
Baekjin’s eyes lowered to the photo.
Seongje did not like how he said the name.
Calm. Measured. Like Sieun was not a person but a piece on a board.
That was how Baekjin said most names.
This time, it bothered him.
Baekjin picked up the photo, glanced at it, then placed it back down.
“He is connected to Humin.”
“Everyone’s connected to Humin,” Seongje said. “That bastard collects people like stray dogs.”
Baekjin’s gaze moved to him.
“Do not turn this into a mess.”
Seongje smiled. “When have I ever done that?”
The silence that followed was insulting.
Dongha coughed into his fist.
Seongje kicked him in the shin without looking.
Baekjin ignored both of them.
“Eunjang is already becoming inconvenient. If you approach Yeon Sieun, do it with a reason.”
Seongje leaned back, folder resting against his thigh.
Baekjin watched him for a long moment.
Then he said, “Your pride is not a reason.”
That should have annoyed him.
But Seongje only smiled wider.
Baekjin’s expression did not change.
A few people looked between them, waiting.
Finally, Baekjin reached toward the folder and tapped one page with two fingers.
“Yeon Sieun is observant. He has been near too many situations involving The Union. If he knows more than he should, find out.”
Dongha’s grin faded slightly.
Seongje looked at the page.
A reason that sounded better than because he looked at me like I was nothing and now I want to see what his face looks like when he can’t.
Seongje closed the folder.
Baekjin’s gaze stayed on him.
“Do not underestimate him.”
Softly at first, then louder.
“Don’t worry,” he said, standing up. “I’m not that stupid.”
Dongha muttered, “Debatable.”
Seongje threw the folder at him without turning.
It hit Dongha square in the chest.
Seongje grabbed his jacket from the couch and slung it over one shoulder.
Dongha called after him, “Where are you going?”
Seongje paused at the doorway.
He thought of Sieun’s face again.
That empty, unimpressed look.
The quiet way he had stepped out of reach.
The way his voice had sounded when he said, You’re loud for people who aren’t in control.
Seongje smiled to himself.
By the time Seongje reached the street, the sky had gone fully dark.
The air smelled like rain, though it had not started falling yet. Clouds crowded low over the buildings, turning the city heavy and grey. Students moved in clusters near the bus stops. Office workers rushed past with tired faces. Motorcycles cut between cars, horns snapping through traffic.
Seongje stood under the broken awning outside the building and pulled out a cigarette.
He did not light it right away.
Instead, he looked down the street toward the direction of Eunjang.
It was childish, insulting, and exactly the kind of thing he would usually get bored of after two days.
But Yeon Sieun had a way of making boredom feel impossible.
That made Seongje want to press down on every quiet part of him until something sharp came out.
Then he laughed, low and mean, and typed back:
He shoved the phone into his pocket, finally lit the cigarette, and took one slow drag.
This was curiosity. Pride. Entertainment.
Somewhere across the city, Yeon Sieun was probably walking with that same empty expression, not thinking about Seongje at all.
Seongje exhaled smoke into the damp evening air and smiled.
Before the month ended, Yeon Sieun would come to him first.
Not because of The Union.
And when that happened, Seongje would make sure every bastard in that room remembered who had won.
He flicked ash onto the pavement and started walking.
