If You Need to Kill
"If..."
Se-gun leaned his sweat-soaked body into the corner and looked up at the sky. Not that it was much of a sky—just a gray concrete ceiling, and the fluorescent lights hanging from it that soothed the dark with their feeble glow.
"What is it?"
Deok-yeon wiped his head with a towel as he changed clothes.
"If there's a need to kill someone... how should I act?"
"Kill them."
Deok-yeon answered the instant Se-gun finished speaking. Se-gun lifted his head, looking puzzled.
"If the premise is that you need to kill a person, there's nothing left to think about. Though I have no idea in what situations you'd actually need to kill someone."
"...I see."
Se-gun said it while staring up at the fluorescent light. The shadows made it hard to see clearly, but his mouth was smiling.
Heh... heh heh heh heh...
In the underground parking garage of Hanshin Securities, a group of rough-looking men who seemed a long way from anything involving stocks had gathered. Every one of them was under the influence of the Sangdong-pa, and they had come together for today's transaction.
To be precise, it was less a transaction and more of a reprisal. After having their faces ground into the dirt by Se-gun the day before, this was the only way they could salvage any pride.
That was why six of them were already waiting in the garage. The trading floor was a public place, so they couldn't deal with Se-gun there—but somewhere like this, they didn't even have to care that their target was a minor.
"This is just ridiculous. We're all gathered here because of one underage punk?"
"Hell if I know. Senior Cheon said to do it this way, so we do it."
Cheon Yeong-hu had run into complications and could only send his subordinates; he couldn't show up himself. He had to go down to the police station to clean up the mess Se-gun had made the day before.
Given that the Sangdong-pa already dealt in firearms, drugs, and other headaches, the fact that it had ended this lightly was actually lucky for them.
"Anyway, this bastard's late."
One of them flipped open his phone, checked the time, and muttered it under his breath.
Inside a bluish black-and-white monitor, a man in a black suit lifted a cell phone. The phone's screen lit up the desaturated world of the display.
"These idiots—how the hell do they make a living as gangsters? Planning to trade guns right in front of the CCTV? Not that they brought the goods, of course."
The person watching the monitor muttered it to himself. Naturally, he was Han Se-gun—the very man who had arranged today's deal.
"So Cheon Yeong-hu didn't show. Looks a lot smarter than he looks. You bastards should count yourselves lucky. I'll keep you out of a cell for now."
Se-gun muttered as he pressed the eject button on the CCTV unit. The system was ancient; a Super Beta videotape slid out. He caught the tape, set it on the table, and looked down at the security guard lying face-down nearby.
He had soaked the man with enough chloroform to put him under cold. The guard looked exactly like the frogs Se-gun used to dissect back in middle school. Even if someone actually cut him open right now, he probably wouldn't feel a thing.
He felt a little sorry for the man who would almost certainly be fired or dismissed over this, but Se-gun himself was about to fight for his life. He didn't have the luxury of worrying about someone else's job.
As a weak substitute for an apology, he left the chloroform bottle on the table. Of course he left no fingerprints.
"All right. Time to go."
Se-gun murmured it, carefully closed the security office door, and stepped outside.
Six gangsters were waiting for Se-gun in the underground parking garage. Four sat inside a car; two stood outside, scanning the surroundings. When Se-gun failed to appear, their impatience became impossible to hide.
"This bastard—he's not coming, is he?"
"What, then we're the only ones screwed?"
The ones outside grumbled and checked the garage entrance again. They hadn't brought the guns for the deal anyway, so that wasn't the issue—but if Se-gun didn't show, they were the ones in trouble.
"What was that?"
A threatening voice came from inside the sedan. Most of the other thugs flinched and straightened up at once.
"N-nothing, sir. Don't worry about it."
"Yes, he'll definitely show. Just wait a little longer..."
While they were talking, the high, sharp whine of a motorcycle engine cut through the air. Every head snapped toward the entrance.
"Huh? Is that him?"
They stared at the motorcycle and its rider silhouetted at the mouth of the ramp. Something long was slung diagonally across the rider's back, but the shadows made it impossible to tell what.
Vrooooom!
The man on the bike twisted the throttle and looked down at them. The helmet hid his eyes, but they could tell on pure instinct that he had no intention of solving this with conversation.
"That son of a bitch—!"
The gangsters bristled at the open hostility, but in the next breath the motorcycle charged. It came roaring down the ramp from the garage entrance with a murderous momentum that left no room for doubt.
Thud!
Without a word, Se-gun slammed into one of the thugs. Even though the RX-125 he rode was light for a motorcycle, getting hit by it was still nothing anyone walked away from clean. The gangster was a massive man over ninety kilos, yet one impact sent him flying into the van behind him.
The van, incongruously fitted with an alarm, immediately began to shriek—beeeeep, beeeeep—filling the garage with noise.
"You little shit!"
The other thug still outside yanked a pistol from his coat. Se-gun was wearing a racing suit—tough material that a knife would barely scratch. That was why the man went for the gun. But at that exact moment a scream erupted from inside the car.
"You fucking idiot! This is the middle of Yeouido, you psycho!"
Almost at the same instant Se-gun completed his turn. Still pinning the throttle, he swept the spinning rear tire across the remaining thug's legs. It was a power slide, pure and simple, and it dropped the man in a single strike. The sound of bone snapping was lost under the roar of the exhaust.
"Aaaargh!"
"Y-you crazy bastard!"
The men inside the car cursed and tried to shove the doors open. Parking tight against the wall had been their fatal mistake. The doors could only open toward the motorcycle—and Se-gun was already waiting there, killing intent rolling off him in waves.
Vrooooom!
Se-gun wrenched the throttle wide open and lifted the front wheel. Then, like an axe splitting firewood, he brought the front tire down on the side mirror.
With a sharp crack the mirror sheared clean off. At the same moment the rear wheel of the RX-125 rose into the air. The front tire hit the ground, the front brake locked, and Se-gun kicked off the concrete, launching the rear end sideways.
Wham!
The rear tire smashed into the side window like a sledgehammer. The thugs who had been about to climb out were thrown back into the car by the impact.
"Gyaaah!"
The safety glass spiderwebbed. The motorcycle's rear tire, buried in the shattered pane, spun like a chainsaw—vraaaang—chewing glass into powder.
Crrrash!
The window exploded inward, raining shards through the cabin. The gangsters swore but didn't dare sit up. In that brief window Se-gun scraped along the side of the car, dropped the rear tire, swung around to the front, and rode straight up onto the hood.
"What the—!"
While the men inside gaped, the RX-125 crumpled the hood in a single charge and slammed into the windshield.
He lifted the front wheel and brought it down again. The glass shattered, spraying fragments into the car. The thugs clutched their heads and screamed. Se-gun rode all the way up onto the roof, then pivoted and dropped off the side.
Thud!
The heavy bike slid down the crumpled roof and hit the ground. The doors were so mangled they would never open again. That one motorcycle had dismantled their car with terrifying efficiency; the gangsters could barely believe what they were seeing.
Vroooom!
Se-gun gunned the engine and shot forward. The moment the bike left their immediate field of view, the thugs let out shaky breaths of relief. In the space of a few heartbeats the car had been reduced to twisted scrap.
"Ghk—!"
"Huh? What?"
One of them saw a comrade's face contort as if he had bitten through his own tongue and cautiously raised his head. The tension was so thick it felt like sticking your head out of a trench in a war zone—and the sight that greeted him was the absolute worst.
Se-gun had yanked a fire extinguisher off a pillar with one hand, spun it smoothly, and was already racing back toward the car.
"Crazy bastard!"
"You son of a bitch!"
The exact words differed, but the feeling was identical. Se-gun put the motorcycle's full speed behind the throw. The extinguisher became a red artillery shell.
Kraaash!
The red cylinder smashed through the last remaining glass and vanished inside the car. The impact hit like a mortar round; most of the thugs blacked out on the spot. Yet one of them, still conscious, caught the extinguisher with a single hand.
Even a mid-size extinguisher was nothing a human should be able to stop—yet he had stopped it with one arm.
A cold spike of dread ran down Se-gun's spine.
"You little fuck! You wanna die?!"
The thug snarled and kicked the door open. The panel tore free as if it had been blown off by explosives. Whether from pure rage or something else, his fingers crushed the extinguisher like tin; white powder erupted in a violent cloud.
No human strength could do that. It simply wasn't possible. Even Se-gun, who had lived on growth hormones and murderous training regimens, couldn't crush a fire extinguisher. Especially not with grip strength alone.
"Ha! So... you're finally showing your true colors?"
Se-gun's voice trembled inside the helmet. It wasn't fear. It was the feeling of finally closing your hand around something you had only dreamed of—pure exhilaration.
Found you.
He roared it inside his mind. Everything he had pieced together from the scraps Deok-yeon had let slip, every reckless step that had driven the Sangdong-pa into this corner, had been worth it. The ones who had slaughtered Se-gun's family were vampires of the Sangdong-pa. That was why he had thrown himself at them with such suicidal methods.
"I'll kill you!"
While the vampire thug was still blinded by the powder cloud, Se-gun ripped the cloth wrapping from his back and drew the sword. It was a massive tachi a full 140 centimeters long. Nothing but stainless steel—an unremarkable blade—but more than enough to kill a man.
"Ghk—!"
Whether because its VT was low or simply because the powder had blinded it, the vampire took the first cut far too easily. Se-gun rode past and slammed the edge across its neck in a single fluid motion. The vampire threw up an arm and blocked.
Crack!
Bone snapped on the first strike and blood sprayed. Still, one-handed and swinging from a moving bike, the blade lacked the force to sever the arm completely.
"You little—!"
The vampire didn't even flinch at a half-severed arm. Worse, a motorcycle required the right hand on the throttle to keep moving; it was a terrible platform for sword work.
"Shit!"
Se-gun vaulted off the bike and swung the tachi sideways. The vampire raised a leg and blocked again.
Snap!
The sound of the leg breaking was accompanied by a spray of blood. Se-gun gripped the sword with both hands, twisted his body, and reverse-swung into the vampire's abdomen. With no bone to stop it the blade tore through guts and sank deep—only for the steel to snap clean through.
"Had your fun, you little blood bag?!"
The vampire laughed as if the sword buried in its stomach was the funniest thing in the world. In that same instant Se-gun reversed his grip on the broken hilt, spun the opposite way, and drove the jagged steel into the vampire's throat.
"Kuaaak!"
"Less talking, more moving!"
Se-gun snapped the words and hauled the fallen motorcycle upright. It was the RX-125 his older brother had treasured, and Se-gun himself had treated it carefully—yet the tumble had left ugly scars on the cover and main frame.
There was no time to care. He was facing a vampire. He kicked the bike into gear and roared toward the exit.
"Y-you bastard!"
The vampire ripped the broken tachi from its neck, flung it aside, and lunged after him. Se-gun simply rode the motorcycle up the ramp and slipped past the attack.
Damn it! Breaking that easily—fucking stainless steel!
He cursed inwardly, locked the front brake, and lifted the rear wheel. He was halfway up the slope, intending to bring the spinning tire down like a hammer, but even a newly turned vampire had reaction speed that was no joke.
"Kwaaak!"
The creature vaulted upward in a single leap, claws raking for Se-gun's back. Se-gun simply leaned forward and the strike whistled over him.
"Die!"
The vampire hung from a ceiling pipe with one hand and lashed out at Se-gun below. In that instant Se-gun twisted the lifted rear wheel sideways, spun the bike in place, and laid his upper body almost horizontal, sliding clean under the attack.