Sticky Omens of Incest ♪
I wandered leisurely around the neighborhood. Just like those punks had said earlier, it seemed the Monster Crew was pretty well-known.
The power balance that Kang Ji-hoon had built up until now has completely crumbled. I need to figure out who's who in this area.
It was a kind of neighborhood cleanup operation. There was no benefit to having scum like these around. Especially not for my women. So, I had to sweep them away.
As the future head of the household.
I stopped and leaned against the back of a bus stop. I searched online. Keywords: Gangnam, Gangnam-gu, Gangnam-gu crews. Something popped up again. It's amazing how this stuff always turns up.
I rubbed my chin, deep in thought. These were names I'd never heard of. I sighed. What the hell was what?
What's Jeonghyeop? What's Bilmae? Just the biggest groups around?
There was no mention of the Monster Crew anywhere. That probably meant what I thought it did.
Monster Crew's a newbie group, either total weaklings or some bigger outfit's underlings. Lackeys, basically.
That's why they weren't mentioned. But surprisingly, a lot of people were talking about these underworld punks. And that wasn't good, either. How bored do you have to be to care about that crap?
They should be trading crypto instead. Don't waste time on losers like that.
I searched a bit more. To properly scout places to smash. Make a plan. Execute it. Simple.
That's how you never lose.
There was no such thing as always winning in this world. Even the strongest eventually fall—to bad condition or age. But ways to avoid losing? Plenty.
I'm not gonna lose. No reason to!
I finished searching and moved on. Pulled up my hood. Caught my breath. Time to get moving.
To Gureum Park nearby.
The Monster Crew's temporary meeting spot. They said I'd find their fanboy losers there. I chuckled.
What kind of fantasy do people have about gangsters or school bullies?
I couldn't understand it. I thought it was outdated stupid thinking. But kids these days seemed to idolize it, too. Blame the media.
No proper adults to guide them right. They greenlight anything for profit. No wonder—politicians just hang banners and bicker all day.
The country's present and future couldn't help but look bleak. As I strolled along leisurely, I glanced at my stepmom's back account. I checked one of the photos I'd seen before.
Can't get enough no matter how many times I look.
I grinned and kept walking. With a deep sigh, I entered Gureum Park. A few guys were already there. Didn't look like a meeting.
Just chit-chat? Not everyone here yet?
Normally I'd watch longer, but hitting them before reinforcements arrived seemed smart. I smacked my lips and headed over. Taped up quick and slipped on thin gloves.
"Hey, kids, got a light? Lend me one."
I approached smiling. The losers snickered.
"What the hell, dude's got his hood up all shady."
"Yo, you homeless? No lighter?"
"Lmao, check this clown."
The three lined up, mocking me. I nodded slowly. Eyed the closest one. Threw a sudden light hook.
Crack!
"Gah."
A short yelp and he crumpled. As the others freaked, I spun a full turn. Roundhouse kick smashed the axe-head guy's face on the other side.
"Argh!"
"Die."
Followed with a soccer kick to knock him out. The last one scrambled up. Finally grasping the situation. Pathetic IQ.
"Y-you fuck! Who the hell are you? You crazy?"
"Crazy? How else do you succeed? Didn't they teach you that in school?"
Nah, they wouldn't teach that. Korean public education's a joke, we all know.
"Shut up!"
"Yeah, schools won't take trash like you anyway."
"You fucking dog!"
The punk pulled a knife from his pants pocket, pointing it. I just sighed. Where do they even see that shit? Carrying one around from the start.
Customs lets through tomahawks and crossbows but blocks sex dolls like the plague. Guns aside, anyone can carry weapons here.
I approached the punk.
"Hey, you ever stabbed anyone?"
"Y-yeah! Stabbed my parents!"
"Should've done it sooner, you little shit!"
"Huh?"
I yelled. His face went slack. I sighed and continued.
"If you'd stabbed before they popped out trash like you, we wouldn't be here!"
The punk froze for a second, then laughed nervously.
"What kinda psycho...?"
"Then die."
I threw a punch. He panicked and swung the knife wildly. Obvious amateur. I grinned, pulled the punch. Feint.
Whap!
Calf kick. He collapsed instantly.
"Aaaagh!"
"Like that?"
Knee to his sagging jaw. He spat blood and dropped. Kicked the knife from his hand, caught my breath. Fighting armed guys is insane.
Even pros say run.
But against rookies like this?
I could do it all day.
Level difference, plain and simple. Grabbed the punk's hair. Eyed the alley across the park. Empty, perfect.
"Let's have a talk."
"Ugh, aaagh!"
"Be good."
"No, let go! Help! Somebody!"
I chuckled. Punks who band up for thug life, begging strangers now.
Slammed his face into the ground.
Thud!
Knee on his neck, pressed hard. He thrashed.
"Guhk, kheeeek!"
"Don't wanna go nice? Then feel the pain. Pain's what makes youth, right?"
"Aaaah, s-sorry! Big bro, please!"
"Why the hell am I your bro?"
Absurd. Dragged him by the hair again. He sobbed quietly, snot and tears everywhere. Pitiful.
I smiled coldly.
"Tears, huh? That's the level of you wannabe thugs."
Fact-bombed him. Couldn't even argue. Utterly pathetic. Reached the alley, turned the corner, flung him down.
"Urk!"
"Now, let's chat easy. No pressure."
"B-big bro—no, boss. What do you wanna know?"
"Monster Crew."
His face flashed shock, then he shook his head frantically. Like he knew nothing.
"N-no, really, I don't know. I'm just a lowbie!"
"It's fine. I'll cut you slack. I'm not a total asshole."
I grinned. He looked baffled. Stroked his head... then slapped him hard.
Smack!
"Aak!"
"Know or not, doesn't matter. Don't know? Get hit. No answer? Get hit. That's it."
"Ugh, please. I'm just a grunt!"
"Yo, grunts wear luxury sneakers from Zombie Brown?"
This guy's clothes were pricey, oddly. Peeked his phone sticking from his puffer pocket—dual Chinese high-end model. Where's the cash from? The others I'd dropped were similar.
Something's up.
No way kids that age make real money in crime yet. Unless they're regime-backed, training vtubers or doing game boosting gigs. Rocking luxury at that age? Tough.
But if they can, someone's backing them.
Time to dig. Might learn something useful.
"Talk Monster Crew. Anything."
I glared. He burst into tears. Watched a sec, nodded. No choice.
"That's your answer?"
"N-no, really I don', ugh!"
Slap, slap! Crack!
Two slaps, then elbow to the jaw. He slammed into the wall, slid down. Wrecked just looking. But that's reality.
"Get up. Or I snap your ankle."
"Ugh, y-yes."
He staggered up. Felt like talking again. Patted his cheek, smiled.
"Now, spill on Monster Crew."
"Hic, uh, Monster Crew... our crew's just top dogs from nearby schools banded together."
"And?"
"N-no boss, hic, just three execs. They're the big shots."
"Names, looks, traits, hangouts. All of it."
"Huh?"
Why question that? Shrugged. Eyed his ankle. Skinny, untrained.
"Know why you got two ankles?"
"Uh..."
"One breaks, still good."
"I'll talk, boss, please! Hic."
"Spit it, fucker."
He knelt, begging. Thinks I'll pity him? Smiled easy, advised.
"No sob act. Just answer."
"Hic, okay."
"You think I'm a judge? Nah. Bullies don't get slaps on the wrist for bright futures or consistent stories."
Hope faded from his eyes. Reality bites. Looked down at him. Watched for lawyer bullshit. He spilled everything. I noted it all in my phone's memo app.
"...That's it. Really don't know more, swear."
Finished noting, tilted head. Rubbed chin.
Like that, huh? Search later.
He eyed me as he finished, overly cautious.
"B-boss, you lettin' me go now?"
"To hell?"
"Y-yes?!"
"Nah, won't kill ya. Murder's a crime."
Won't kill. Just torment legally. No murder. But one question popped up.
"Home base?"
"Changes randomly weekends. Sometimes near Yeouido."
"Huh. Fine."
Nodded slowly. I'd see myself. Now, what to do with him? Answer was set.
Eyed the punk, chin-jutted.
"Face the wall."
"Y-yes!"
High kick to his occiput as he turned. Hard enough not to kill. Dropped without a scream.
"Sleeping like that fixes crooked mouths."
Sneered and left. Decent haul.
Three execs—hunt 'em first. Hit schools if needed.
Smacked lips. Getting funner. No boredom till official matches. Heading to subway, phone buzzed like crazy.
"Hm? Huh?!"
Stunned seeing the caller. Unexpected.