The sun hung high over the city, but the streets felt cold.
The death of Min Jae had shaken the city's underbelly. Whispers spread like wildfire — a corpse found mangled beyond recognition, fingers crushed to powder, face turned to pulp. Yet, most dismissed it as underworld business.
But Han Dae Su wasn't finished.
Today, his sights were set on Lee Jones, son of one of the city's wealthiest CEOs. The arrogant brat who once spat on Dae Su's bloodied face, laughing with his pack of wolves.
A bustling open plaza, packed with workers on their lunch breaks, vendors shouting over each other. A perfect stage.
Lee Jones lounged by a fountain, four bulky bodyguards circling him as he laughed with a few girls, sunglasses shielding his smug face. He lived like a prince. Untouchable. The world spun around him.
Then the air shifted.
People felt it before they saw it — a suffocating pressure settling over the plaza. Conversations faltered, and an uneasy chill ran through the crowd.
Han Dae Su stepped into the open.
His towering frame cast a long, jagged shadow. Dark clothes clung to his scarred body, muscles coiled tight like a predator about to strike. His eyes, those hollow pits of hatred, locked onto Lee Jones.
One of the bodyguards moved.
"Hey, buddy—"
He didn't finish the sentence. Dae Su's hand shot out, grabbing the man's throat and lifting him clean off the ground. The guard struggled for air, legs kicking.
Crunch.
The neck snapped like a twig.
The other guards drew their batons and tasers, faces pale.
Dae Su moved like a phantom. A fist shattered one guard's ribs, sending him sprawling. Another swung his baton, only to have his wrist grabbed and bent backward until bone tore through flesh.
Screams erupted as the plaza descended into panic.
People ran, trampling over one another, phones recording. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Lee Jones tried to bolt.
Too late.
Dae Su caught him by the collar, dragging him into the air like a rag doll. The smug prince was gone, replaced by a sobbing, begging coward.
"P-Please, Dae Su… I was just a kid… it was a joke, man…"
Dae Su's expression didn't flicker.
"I told you. I'm taking you all."
And then he crushed his throat with one hand.
A sickening, wet crack.
Blood trickled down Lee Jones' lips as his head lolled lifelessly. The crowd gasped, frozen between horror and disbelief.
Police cars screeched to a halt. Armed officers stormed in.
"Put your hands up! Stay where you are!"
A police negotiator pushed forward.
"Han Dae Su! What do you want? We can talk about this! What's your demand?!"
Dae Su stepped forward, Lee Jones' corpse dropping at his feet like discarded garbage. His voice carried over the terrified plaza.
"Ten. I will take ten heads. for every year you let them walk free. One for every scar they left on me. There's no deal. No mercy."
Then he vanished into the chaos before the police could react.
News helicopters buzzed overhead. The city was on fire.
Meanwhile, in a luxury penthouse, Lee Sang-Ho, CEO of Jones Global, slammed his glass against the wall.
"You useless bastards! Find him! Kill him!"
In the mayor's office, grim faces gathered.
"This isn't random violence. This is a massacre in motion," one officer whispered.
And in a hidden estate, the father of Min Jae — a high government official — stared at his son's funeral portrait, rage burning in his eyes.
"Bring me that bastard's head."
But none of them knew the storm they had awakened.
Han Dae Su was only getting started.