Unearned Pride
"Today's training will focus primarily on close-quarters combat and subduing an opponent. Ready?"
"Yes, sir!"
Our team gathered at the sparring ring inside the training center.
"Dong-hyeon, Mun-yong, you two go first," Team Leader Bae Hyeon-seok ordered.
At his command, Assistant Manager Jeong Dong-hyeon and Park Mun-yong stepped forward. The two traded light blows, clearly accustomed to this routine. Their attacks were straightforward, and their defenses were textbook. Watching from the sidelines, it looked less like a real fight and more like a choreographed dance. There were no lethal strikes, and with no real threat behind the attacks, no one got hurt.
After five minutes, the team leader called a halt. To me, it looked as effortless as a light stroll in the park, yet both men were drenched in sweat, panting heavily.
"Next up, In-bae and Ji-bin."
The moment my name and Section Chief An Ji-bin's were called, the atmosphere in the training center shifted. It grew sharp, tense.
I can't stand him.
Gong In-bae, was it? Twenty-four years old? Fuck, what was I even doing at twenty-four? I hadn't even finished my military service yet. Or had I just discharged? Whatever. It doesn't matter. What matters is that he's a wet-behind-the-ears brat.
I can't bear to watch this clueless bastard strutting around as the Deputy Team Leader just because he parachuted into the position.
Come to think of it, he's a bizarre guy. He doesn't even own a house, so he lives in the company dormitory. He doesn't have a car, so he takes the bus. Yet, he walks around wearing Dior. What pisses me off even more is that he doesn't wear it to show off. Throughout the entire Macau project, he treated those clothes like overalls. He didn't care at all if they got wrinkled or dirty. And the worst part is, they looked so damn good on him that I actually caught myself thinking about buying a Dior suit for myself... No, focus.
Anyway, the Deputy Team Leader position should have been mine. I've spent four years with Alpha Team. I joined this team, and I've stuck with it ever since. I did all the dirty work. So naturally, when the deputy position opened up, I should have been the one to fill it. Not some green kid.
Maybe the Team Leader noticed how I felt, because he gave me this opportunity. A chance to grind that little brat into the dirt. This is training. If something gets broken, don't blame me. Accidents happen all the time during training.
Not to brag, but I'm 180 centimeters tall and weigh 100 kilograms. Physically, I'm not someone who gets pushed around. This overwhelming physique of mine was already fully developed back in high school. No one ever dared to mess with me. On the rare occasion some punk tried, I introduced his face to the asphalt. With this build, I went to physical education college and picked up MMA and Jiu-Jitsu as hobbies. Even within our team, I'm hands down the best fighter. Once I get my hands on you, it's over.
The Team Leader throwing Gong In-bae to me like this... it's a silent command to chew him up and spit him out.
Don't mind if I do.
What is wrong with this guy?
His eyes look completely unhinged. The moment the sparring match began, he lunged at me with a bizarre, crazed look in his eyes. It wasn't even like he was looking at me—it felt like he was staring at something right behind me. For a second, I thought he was seeing a ghost. I almost offered him a fortune-telling fee.
Whatever it was he wanted to prove, his entire body was incredibly tense. That's a rookie mistake. When you're that stiff, you can't deliver a truly powerful strike. I easily slipped his punch—which was so straightforward it was practically rigid—just like the textbook dodges I'd seen earlier. Nice.
But Section Chief An Ji-bin didn't seem satisfied. He began pouring on the attacks even more aggressively, completely throwing caution to the wind. He threw punches, mixed in kicks, and even tried to transition into grappling. Some of his combinations were surprisingly creative. But none of those attacks could actually land a clean hit on me.
His attacks being too honest, too tense, and too predictable were technical issues. But there was a far more fundamental problem.
His intent.
There was no real intent behind An Ji-bin's strikes. He lacked the raw, cold determination of 'I am going to kill this bastard.' His movements were bloated with nothing but a desperate desire to show off. That was why his attacks could never touch me.
We aren't MMA fighters, UFC contenders, or WWE superstars. We are bodyguards. We are the people responsible for our clients' lives and safety. If I spend a long time locked in combat with an assailant, our client will be left vulnerable and terrified for that entire duration. Therefore, we must neutralize the threat as quickly and brutally as possible.
But An Ji-bin's approach was completely wrong. He was just putting on a show. He wanted to display how good his Jiu-Jitsu was, how polished his MMA skills were.
Fine. Then I would show him how I subdued rebels on the actual battlefield.
The best, fastest, and most convenient method would be to pull out a pistol and put a bullet in him, but obviously, I couldn't pull a gun during a friendly sparring session.
An Ji-bin lunged forward, aiming for my collar. Since none of his punches had connected, he seemed to have decided to switch from striking to grappling. He kept flicking his hands out, trying to snag a grip on my shirt.
But those hands...
If you fail to secure a grip, shouldn't you immediately pull your arm back to guard your body? Is it really okay to leave your arm dangling out there in such an awkward, exposed position?
When his hand shot forward to grab my collar again and missed, leaving his arm suspended in midair, I didn't back away. Instead, I lunged straight into his guard.
An Ji-bin's eyes widened in sheer panic, completely caught off guard by my sudden advance.
Don't just stand there looking shocked. Defend yourself. Or attack.
I trapped his dangling arm under my right armpit, then used my forearm to violently lever his shoulder joint upward.
Crack!
His shoulder was definitely dislocated. He wouldn't be using that right arm anytime soon. Without pausing, I swept his calf with a low kick, sending his massive frame crashing backward.
Thud!
I cocked my fist, ready to drive it straight into his face—
But I stopped it just inches from his nose.
An Ji-bin's face was a mask of utter bewilderment and terror. With a look of pure disbelief, his eyes darted back and forth between my frozen fist and my face.
Team Leader Bae Hyeon-seok looked stunned, and the rest of the team watched in absolute horror. This was the undisputed champion of hand-to-hand combat in Alpha Team. None of them had expected him to be neutralized so effortlessly.
"Aaargh..."
Only when An Ji-bin let out a pathetic groan did his lackeys snap out of their daze. They rushed to his side to check on him.
"Hey! Don't touch me! It hurts!"
"I said it hurts!"
An Ji-bin couldn't move his right shoulder at all. Well, obviously. His arm was out of its socket; of course he couldn't move it. The others hovered over him, completely lost and stamping their feet in panic. When someone mentioned starting up the car to take him to the hospital, I stepped in.
"Can none of you pop a shoulder back in?"
No one answered. I quietly walked over to An Ji-bin, grabbed his arm, and shoved it back into place.
Extremely painfully.
"AAAAAAARGH!!!"
An Ji-bin's bloodcurdling shriek echoed through the training center.
Macau. The Golden Lotus.
This was the very club where Gong In-bae had met La Fei. Today, however, the club was thick with an unusual, suffocating tension.
The reason was simple: tonight was the night of the decisive battle.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes, Boss!"
"We are the true masters of Macau. Not those bastards who crossed over from Hong Kong, and certainly not the ones who crawled in from the mainland. None of them deserve to rule this city. Only we, who were born and raised in Macau, are its rightful masters!"
"That's right!"
"Today is the day we take back Macau. If we succeed tonight, this city is ours. Don't get careless, stay alive, and I'll see you all on the other side."
"Yes, Boss!"
Kai Hong roared the rallying cry, and the owner of The Golden Lotus—no, the head of the Geumryeon-bang triad, La Fei—watched the scene with a deeply satisfied expression.
The Geumryeon-bang.
Today, it was one of the largest criminal syndicates in Macau, but its origins were remarkably humble. It had started as a simple association of local Macau residents. Dockworkers, casino cleaners, truck drivers, small business owners, and even local gangsters running underground gambling dens had all joined the Geumryeon-bang. They had coexisted, helping one another through hard times.
In truth, there had been dozens of similar associations in Macau. While these groups occasionally competed and clashed, they all shared one fundamental bond: they were all Macau natives.
However, everything changed after Macau was handed over to mainland China in 1999. Massive mega-casinos began to sprout up. Astronomical amounts of money started flowing through the tiny island. And where money flowed, outsiders inevitably followed.
Most notably, powerful competitors began pouring in. Gangsters backed by the Chinese Communist Party crossed over from the mainland. Armed with overwhelming numbers, vast financial resources, and deep political connections, they grew at a terrifying pace. Triads from Hong Kong also crossed the water, bringing established international smuggling routes and deep pockets.
In the blink of an eye, the numerous local organizations built by Macau natives were dismantled, stripped of their territory. To survive, the remaining local groups had no choice but to unite.
That coalition was the Geumryeon-bang—the Golden Lotus.
The Geumryeon-bang fought desperately to protect Macau's local interests, but reality was harsh. The mainland factions used state authority and corrupt police to suppress them, while the Hong Kong triads systematically choked out the Geumryeon-bang's smuggling routes.
A crisis loomed. Many members abandoned the Geumryeon-bang, defecting to the Hong Kong or mainland syndicates. Yet, the loyal core refused to let their home crumble. They fought to reclaim their stolen territory, engaging in brutal turf wars. But with every clash, the Geumryeon-bang suffered heavy casualties. Still, they couldn't afford to stop fighting.
Then came the turning point. During a raid on a Hong Kong faction's headquarters, the Geumryeon-bang was met not with machetes and pipes, but with firearms. They were forced to flee without even swinging a blade.
After that humiliating defeat, the Geumryeon-bang searched high and low to acquire guns of their own, but every attempt failed. Inexplicably, at the final stage of every shipment, the weapons would get seized by customs or run into some fatal complication. There was clearly a shadow hand sabotaging them.
At this rate, the Geumryeon-bang was doomed to extinction. Against a bullet, no amount of courage mattered.
Just when despair was at its peak, Candy Boy appeared.
And he brought guns.
It wasn't just a few pistols, either. He handed over military-grade assault rifles, complete with a massive supply of magazines and ammunition. A cache of that scale was nearly impossible to acquire, and smuggling it into Macau was even more difficult. Yet, he sold these hard-to-get weapons at an incredibly reasonable price, as if he had absolutely no attachment to them.
She was deeply curious about him. She wanted to know who Candy Boy really was. But digging into a business partner's background was an amateur move. If she got caught, it would only sour their relationship.
She had to wait. She had to get to know him slowly. She would wait for him to reveal himself without her ever asking. If she waited, the right moment would come.
She didn't know what kind of man Candy Boy was, but one thing was certain: he was someone she needed to keep close for a very, very long time. Her instincts told her he was indispensable. That was why she had given him the black card, the highest tier of membership at The Golden Lotus. It was an invitation to become true partners.
From this day forward, the Geumryeon-bang would become the undisputed rulers of Macau. No, they would become a global syndicate. To achieve that, collaboration with Candy Boy was absolutely essential.
Today was the day that grand plan began. Tonight, they would take Macau.
"Let's go!"
"Our next project has been finalized," Team Leader Bae announced.
"What? Already?"
"Isn't it a bit too soon?"
"Well, the last project was cut short," Bae replied.
"Yeah, but we went through hell! We had to take drug tests, and the mental toll was insane."
"Cut the whining. This project is for an idol group..."
"Whoa!"
"Oh ho!"
"We finally get to guard idols!"
"You guys are that excited about guarding idols?"
"Of course! It's the best!"
"Keep in mind, idol security is incredibly exhausting," Team Leader Bae warned. "First of all, the fans aren't enemies. You have to be polite to them. But there will definitely be fans who constantly cross the line. If you react irritably, you'll end up on the front page of YouTube instantly."
"Don't worry, Boss. Aren't we professionals at handling that kind of stuff?"
"The schedule is packed, and there are a lot of members, so managing them will be a nightmare. You still want in?"
"Absolutely!"
The atmosphere of the team meeting was lively. The team leader gave a brief overview of the assignment while I listened quietly, and the rest of the guys cheered.
Only An Ji-bin sat in the corner, glaring at me with a thoroughly disgruntled expression.