Give a Little, Take a Lot
Midnight. The abandoned factory base lay shrouded in darkness.
They had been indiscriminately raiding nearby survivors, simultaneously replenishing their ranks and securing food, and their faction had settled into a fairly stable stretch. Of course, the one who had made that possible was no one else—only a single old man and his skill alone. But by now, even that fact no longer particularly mattered to the convicts.
They simply drooled over the increased stores of food and the handful of women dragged back from the club a few days prior, watching carefully for their chance. No longer did they entertain the futile notion of seizing influence inside the factory to claim it all for themselves—nor did they act on it.
Once the number of squad leaders who had been carved up, perforated, or left barely alive as crippled examples approached double digits, even these men who normally saw nothing but their own desires finally understood. No matter what they tried, they could never escape this monstrous old man's control.
So what else could they do? Accept it, bow their heads, and hope for whatever scraps fell their way. Even if such behavior was a humiliation utterly intolerable to the lives they had lived, there was no choice. The old man's skill as a butcher of men, as they had witnessed so far, was at a level where even the most notorious convicts—men who had once been somebody—couldn't so much as touch a hair on his head even if they all rushed him at once.
A few hours earlier, when one man driven by pure spite had tried a surprise attack—no joke, in the literal blink of an eye both arms had their skin and muscle peeled away, bone laid bare—and after that, the abandoned factory completely accepted the old man's dominion.
Shhhk— shhk—!
With one hand he flicked the blood-dripping blade so fast it whistled through the air, cleaning it off, then spoke indifferently.
"Boring. Every last one of them is a pathetic weakling. And here I'd been hoping for a little something."
"You've worked hard, Elder."
"From now on, you manage them, Dogyeong. I'm growing tired of wasting my hand on this."
"Still, it made for a bit of diversion, didn't it?"
"Not at all. Not a scrap of technique among them, no strength either, and their grit is the worst of all."
Crrk—
He slowly crushed the neck of the man silently screaming beneath his foot.
"Ughghgh... ghk!"
The man tried to open his mouth wider and scream, but his crushed vocal cords, mercilessly stomped flat, made it impossible. Looking down at him with those emotionless, chilling eyes, the old man spoke.
"Watching these wretched specimens, I can imagine how Korea's nights have changed while I was enjoying my retirement in prison."
"Aside from you, Elder, they were all nothing but prideful blowhards."
"Still, a few of them had the qualifications to back it up. Whether they're still alive, though... I doubt mere corpses could have eaten them, but who knows."
"Do you miss them?"
At Shin Dogyeong's words, Gu Sunchang thought for a moment before speaking.
"Hardly. I have no need of those bastards anymore. These days I live just for the pleasure of watching Jimin."
"She'd be delighted to hear that."
"Heh. Or she might find it disgusting and make a face."
Then all the men in the factory, gathered in one place and watching the old man's mood, met his eyes.
"I control only two things among you. Keep those well, and you won't have your arms cut off like this."
"Food. And women. The supply and distribution of food goes solely through this one here. And for anything related to women, go to Jimin."
At Gu Sunchang's words, the men's expressions turned ambiguous. When he spoke of food, they had half expected it, so there was little reaction. But the second matter made no sense to them at all. Yet something about the old man's blank face and those gleaming eyes meant that these convicts and gangsters—men who had seen every ugly thing there was—couldn't raise a single question.
But wherever people gather, there is always a lunatic, and that law held even among criminal gangs.
"Mind if I ask just one question?"
A big frame, narrow eyes, and a mouth with a faintly smiling curl—his very face announced him as a perfect criminal. The way he quietly raised his hand and waited for Gu Sunchang's word would have looked extremely awkward to an outsider. Like watching a predator daintily wipe its mouth after tearing into meat.
When Gu Sunchang nodded, the man stepped forward, glanced at Shin Dogyeong, and opened his mouth.
"I get the old man's skills well enough, so even if handing food management to that one feels a bit iffy, I can accept it. But when it comes to the women—I just can't wrap my head around it."
"...So. You have a complaint?"
Under that staring gaze, Shin Dogyeong pushed up his glasses and asked quietly. The man grinned.
"Not saying I'm going to rebel, of course. Just hoping we can come to an understanding. I've been pretty damn hungry, you see."
"Hmm. I wonder if you're even qualified to say such things."
Shin Dogyeong spoke in the old man's place as he merely watched. The man shot back a question of his own.
"If I am, can I take just one woman right now? I won't lay a finger on that Han Jimin girl, I swear."
At that, both Shin Dogyeong and Gu Sunchang couldn't help but snort with laughter.
"You wouldn't be able to touch her anyway."
"What?"
"You. Do you think I'm playing favorites right now?"
Gu Sunchang asked quietly, glancing toward where she was playing with the women, and smiled again.
"You're mistaken. As I said before, this factory runs on pure logic of power. And that child is no exception."
"You saying I'm weaker than that girl?"
"Of course."
The old man rose from where he had been sitting, straightened his back, and looked at the man.
"Can't accept it? Then prove it. Prove our guess is wrong. I'll arrange the stage for you."
"...For real?"
"But if you lose, the price is left to that child."
Without a doubt, it would be far more horrific than following my judgment.
Looking at the dumbfounded man, Gu Sunchang's eyes already held no more interest than if he were looking at a corpse.
A short while later, the man loosened up here and there, waiting for the woman to arrive.
Christ. There's a limit to how much you can look down on someone... Fine, the old bastard's one thing, but that glasses-wearing son of a bitch—
The way he looked at him like some kind of microorganism was pure shit. If his patience had been even a little lower, he'd have thrown a punch right then.
Then from the entrance, a woman walked in alongside Shin Dogyeong.
"Just play with that man over there."
"...Really?"
"The Elder has permitted it."
She looked at the warmly smiling Gu Sunchang with a startled face, then turned back to Shin Dogyeong and said timidly.
"Still... I shouldn't go too hard, right?"
"He said all disposition is left to you. Play as you like."
"Um... well, then..."
Watching her shuffle forward hesitantly, Shin Dogyeong still couldn't quite get used to it. She was so lively and bright with the Elder, yet so timid and careful with everyone else, including himself. But thinking of the reason, it wasn't entirely incomprehensible. Not that that meant he empathized, of course.
The man swallowed dryly at the approaching Jimin. That sly gaze appraising her figure while trying not to let the old man notice. Jimin, standing before him, lowered her head slightly as if embarrassed.
Heh heh. The way she acts is as appetizing as that body.
Desperately holding back an erection, he fidgeted, then looked at the old man with a "when do we start" expression. Ignoring the man, Gu Sunchang looked at Jimin with warm eyes and asked.
"Well? Do you like him?"
"...Yes."
"I'm glad to hear it."
While the man was bewildered by those cryptic words, Shin Dogyeong spoke from beside him.
"Begin. Wounding her is fine—if you can just subdue that child, you win."
If you can, that is.
The man grinned and drew a kitchen knife at the same moment the woman drew one of her own.
"You know how to swing that thing?"
"Yes... it's fine. You don't need to worry too much."
"...?"
More meaningless words. Feeling something off, the man furrowed his brow and tested the waters—only for her to start approaching him timidly instead. As the distance closed, he glanced at her arms, trying to stay a little wary—
Thuk—
A chilling sound came from his side.
"...Huh?"
And as if to prove it wasn't a hallucination, a kitchen knife was planted precisely beneath his ribs. Impossible. He hadn't even seen her close the distance. How?
He looked up at Jimin in shock—and for some reason, the knife was back in her hand. Dripping blood.
Am I seeing things?
Thuk—!
Then the sound of something embedding again. This time short and heavy.
"...Y-you shouldn't move around too vigorously."
I'll take some precautions first. So I can play with you more easily.
Thuk thuk thuk thuk—!
Starting from the outside of his thigh, one of his legs was riddled with holes before he could even step back on survival instinct. And still, the distance between man and woman remained the same. He saw nothing. Not the arm approaching. Not the stab. Not the knife being withdrawn.
Jimin, still faintly blushing, fiddled with the tip of the blood-reddened kitchen knife and said bashfully.
"Would it be all right if I opened up the inside of your ribcage a little?"
The man felt every nerve in his body stand on end as alarm bells rang in his brain.
I'm going to die.