The President Lives
Punk!
The waist of the bastard groping Anna bent vertically.
His eyes bulged like they were about to pop out, and a guttural groan burst from his mouth.
It was a critical hit.
Anna's shin had kicked him squarely between the legs.
No matter how tough a guy was, a blow to the nuts left him defenseless.
That was why fights between men banned attacks there.
It was a ruthless strike that allowed no resistance or counter.
As the guy crumpled to the ground, the others spat curses and grabbed Anna by the hair.
Right then.
The wrist gripping her hair twisted in an instant.
"Aaaagh! Let go! Won't let go?"
It was Kang Youngman's hand.
Youngman, who had wrenched the wrist, shoved the guy away.
In that brief moment, a deep handprint—like a tattoo—marred the wrist.
Incredible grip strength.
But these weren't the types to cower.
"This old fart lost his marbles? Craving incense?"
"You punks are taking the piss. In this mess, who the hell's gonna burn incense for my funeral?"
"Save that lame-ass joke for behind a screen!"
One of them swung a fist.
Punk!
The punch landed squarely on Youngman's face.
But the problem was, his head didn't turn.
The guy pushed harder, over and over, but it didn't budge an inch.
"A real man takes responsibility for his actions."
Youngman shoved the fist off his face and shot his hand out at light speed.
His fingertips struck the throat dead-on.
Gurk!
With a spray of spit, the guy clutched his neck and staggered back.
But that was just the start.
A shin kick sent the hand from his throat downward.
Throat strike again.
"Keurk!"
The guys nearby froze at Youngman's lightning-fast assault.
But only for a moment.
He was just one old man, after all.
"Worked out a bit, huh? Still, no match for a gang-up."
"Kill him!"
They all rushed Youngman at once.
One even charged with a brick in hand.
Youngman caught the lead kick, twisted the ankle.
A scream echoed as the guy rolled on the ground, followed by fists flying from both sides.
But one fist vanished before reaching Youngman.
The guy who rolled several times clutched his side and barely stood.
A tall man now stood before Youngman and Anna.
Lee Beom-sik.
But seeing Beom-sik crack his neck and roll his shoulders, the thugs freaked out one after another.
And from their mouths came the last words anyone expected.
"Hyungnim?"
Beom-sik's head tilted slightly.
As his furrowed brow relaxed, one dropped to his knees in panic.
"Hyungnim! You're alive!"
One knelt and yelled, and the rest followed like they'd been waiting.
"Who'd think they're filming a movie."
Anna shook her head at the childishness.
"Know 'em?"
"Just... some little brothers."
Beom-sik sighed in answer to Youngman's question.
Then he looked down at them with utter disdain.
That unfamiliar contempt froze the four grown men solid.
"Get up. People are watching."
"Yes, hyungnim."
As the tattooed guys scrambled up, Beom-sik stepped closer and murmured.
"Know who that woman is?"
"Didn't know. Had no idea she was connected to you, hyungnim."
Shivering like mice before a cat, Anna thought.
'No, rabbits before a tiger?'
The attitude switch was lightning-fast.
"You touched someone you shouldn't have. Anna, which one groped you?"
"Forget it. Look at 'em—they won't do it again. They'd jump in the Han if you said so. Don't wanna make a fuss. Let 'em go."
The tattoo crew's eyes sparkled at Anna's magnanimous reply.
But...
"As expected of sis-in-law!"
"What?"
Anna's face hardened.
"Thank you, sis-in-law!"
"Just kill 'em. That fucker just called me sis-in-law."
"Gasp! N-no... sis-in-law, what's wrong?"
"Quick! Kill him now!"
Anna's shrill scream pierced their ears.
Beom-sik's face darkened too.
Sis-in-law out of nowhere.
Way off base.
Beom-sik rubbed his face wearily.
"Sigh, why'd you spout that useless shit..."
"Sorry, hyungnim."
"You sinned, so pay up first, right?"
"Y-y-yes, hyungnim."
The guy's jaw trembled wildly.
His ashen face looked like he'd seen the grim reaper—totally spaced out.
How terrifying was Lee Beom-sik to provoke this?
"Listen up. From this moment, that woman dies before you do. Got it?"
"Yes, hyungnim!"
The four roared in unison like reciting an oath.
"I trust you. And no more thug bullshit. Get caught, I'll make you eunuchs."
"Yes, hyungnim!"
"Answers short and quiet."
"Yes."
They clamped mouths like folding fans.
Unbelievable charisma—you had to see it.
People who'd pegged Beom-sik as just a tall, pale suit whispered in relief.
The bald guy who'd cut in line especially.
The boundary zone had no restrictions outside work shifts—fights and quarrels daily.
So the Work Leader's solution after much thought: ship all involved—aggressor, victim, anyone—to the soldiers.
No other way to manage.
Too many people, too few overseers.
Soldiers' stress was no joke either.
"What? Who fought?"
The Work Leader showed up with his cronies.
Probably watched from afar.
"You?"
One crony asked.
But Beom-sik ignored him, bumping shoulders as he left the scene.
Furious, the Work Leader gnashed teeth and turned.
"Hey, stop. Wanna get dragged?"
"Try me."
"What?"
Beom-sik's casual taunt twisted the Work Leader's face like crumpled paper.
He'd expected this someday.
All because of his idiots' mishandling.
Time to make an example.
Even if it meant crippling one.
"This crazy fuck, who you calling a pushover."
Spitting curses, the Work Leader drew his baton from his belt and strode forward boldly.
Very aware of the crowd.
But...
Four burly guys blocked his path in a flash.
The tattooed ones who'd knelt before Beom-sik moments ago.
The Work Leader couldn't process it.
Too far to hear talk, but he'd seen the fight, figured they'd lost.
Now protecting him?
"Move."
"Know who you just cursed?"
"None of your—"
"Must have armor on that gut. Figures—saw you stuffing your face, too greasy to pierce."
The guy who'd called Anna sis-in-law poked the Work Leader's belly with a stick tip, glancing back.
The others chimed in.
"Can't pierce? Slice sideways, fuck! Try dragging hyungnim or us. But prepare—we don't die alone."
"Drop the stick, punk. Don't wanna get dog-beaten."
"Hey, forget it—bury him now. Or toss outside the wall. Talk won't work on these. Saw it days ago—little spat, calls in the vets, drags 'em off. Haven't returned. Gonna get hauled anyway, end it."
"And you don't look like a pushover. Look like a retard pushover. Hate armband-wearing old farts most."
Each took a turn, then the stick-poker soothed.
"We'll treat you like before in public. Pretend this didn't happen."
"Or what?"
Work Leader wasn't ordinary.
Eyes steady.
"Look like I'm negotiating? It's a heads-up. Don't overreach and die alone. No one riots over one corpse."
Glancing at cronies, he nodded decisively and backed off.
Then, for the crowd: "Misunderstanding this time, but listen—cause trouble, no mercy, all dragged same. Once soldiers take you, no knowing where. None back yet. Maybe tossed out."
The crowd paled and scattered.
"So respect each other and live well!"
With that, all returned to spots.
Only the Work Leader stood, glaring murder at Beom-sik and crew departing.
Back at the tent, Beom-sik circled Anna silently.
His unusual closeness while eating irked her.
"What? Why?"
Youngman and Hyun-soo nearby eyed them warily at her snappish tone.
"What'd I do?"
"Stop hovering—eat over there. What's up?"
"No, I..."
"Sorry? That why?"
Beom-sik just kept eating instead of answering.
Couldn't say it, but seemed like apologizing for his boys.
His uncharacteristic vibe?
Anna dropped the attitude, focused on food.
Hyun-soo, watching quietly, checked Youngman's face.
"But uncle, face okay?"
"Face? Why?"
"Got hit earlier."
"Oh, fine. Mosquito bite hurts more."
Youngman rubbed his swollen cheekbone.
Obviously puffed, yet mosquito worse.
"Pfft! Uncle, subtle show-off."
"Show-off? Call it composure."
"Really no pain? Need ointment?"
"Eat. Short on food? Take mine."
"I'm good. Tasteless, no heavy work. But why they like that?"
Hyun-soo pointed: Beom-sik's crew sat in a line eating.
Like sentries blocking passage to the group.
"Guarding Beom-sik and Anna, looks like. Wagging tails like pets before master—not funny at all. Thought they were just trash."
"Yeah... earlier was trashy."
"Still, hard for a man to follow another. Especially bowing in respect—even harder."
"Nah, too much. Gangsters all same. Respect? Please."
Youngman chuckled at Hyun-soo.
"You're young, don't get it. Saw their eyes—odd feeling. Fear the fear, but real respect. Admiration. Rare sight. I know from experience."
"Experience?"
"Gangsters, soldiers, organizations—all same. People gather for a goal, ranks control. Punish deserters. Their world is human too. Not saying it's right. But not all wrong either."
"Still wrong. Hurting others to live—gangster style. Parasites."
"Age blurs lines. Young think old wiser, clearer right/wrong. Not me. All perspective. That view? Never friends with them. Knowing people never hurts. People are wealth. Life: born through people, meet, part, end."
"I see..."
Hyun-soo nodded thoughtfully.
Oblivious to the venomous glare from afar.
Infected People