It Wasn't a Teddy Bear
It wasn't a teddy bear.
When Seo Jin-woo looked at a person, he saw three things.
First: how much they could be bought for.
Second: how much they could be sold for.
Third: how long their shelf life ran.
Human or beast, it made no difference. Everything in this world had a price, and anything with a price was a product. Seo Jin-woo had known that since he was very young.
VIP seats. Second floor of the Underground Arena. A perch with a full view of the stands below. Beyond the bulletproof glass, the ring was visible, and the roar of the crowd drifted up in a muffled haze. Seo Jin-woo sat on the sofa and sipped his whiskey.
What he was here to watch tonight was Seo-yeon's match.
"Golden Cat…"
Of all the products he owned, the one with the highest rate of return. Small, fragile-looking, and a woman. Under ordinary circumstances, those were the last traits that would draw a crowd's interest. And yet she won. She won while taking hits. She won while bleeding.
The audience loved that. They loved watching the weak beat the strong — and, at the same time, they loved watching the weak bleed. A contradiction. But human beings were walking bundles of contradiction to begin with. Seo Jin-woo sold that contradiction and made his money off it.
In the ring, Seo-yeon dropped her opponent. Thirteen straight wins. The crowd erupted. Seo Jin-woo's expression didn't change by so much as a flicker.
Thirteen wins. The number looked good. But more important than the number was lifespan. Seo-yeon's body was small, and a style built on winning while absorbing punishment stacked damage into the flesh.
Sooner or later a limit would arrive. How much of that lifespan was left? Three years at the outside? One year if she was unlucky? When that day came, he would need a new product.
Turning those thoughts over, Seo Jin-woo swept his gaze across the stands. Habit. The habit of hunting the next product among the spectators. Fighter hopefuls sometimes came to watch. Among the gamblers, there were always a few ready to climb into the ring to pay off a debt. Picking those ones out was Seo Jin-woo's job.
Then his eyes stopped.
One side of the stands. Something stood among the people.
…What is that?
It was a person. A person, yes — but simply by standing there, he was different from everything around him. Big. A full head taller than the spectators nearby. Shoulders as wide as two men standing side by side. And it wasn't only the size. Seo Jin-woo had spent more than ten years watching fighters in this world.
He'd seen heavyweights. He'd seen monsters inflated on drugs. This was different from those. He couldn't pin down exactly what set it apart. The feeling was different. Just by standing there, the man pressed down on the air around him. The spectators beside him had unconsciously edged a step away — without even realizing it. As if…
…Like a beast.
The corner of Seo Jin-woo's mouth twitched, barely. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in ten years. Not the sensation of discovering a product. The sensation of meeting a predator in the wild. Interesting.
Seo Jin-woo set down his whiskey and made a call.
"Do-hyun."
"Yes, hyung-nim."
"Audience right side. See the big one?"
A brief silence.
"…Ah. You mean the friend Seo-yeon brought along?"
"Seo-yeon brought him?"
"Yes. Name's Han Daewong. Says he's Seo-yeon's friend."
"Han Daewong."
Seo Jin-woo rolled the name around in his mouth. Ordinary enough. But the name wasn't what mattered.
"What's his deal?"
"Well… he hasn't got an identity."
"No identity?"
"Yes. Rescued as a trafficking victim, but the background check comes up completely empty. No fingerprints, no face match, no records."
"…"
No identity. No records. A human being who did not exist. Seo Jin-woo's eyes narrowed. A human who didn't exist was the best kind of product. If he vanished, no one would look. If he broke, it wouldn't be a problem.
"Fighting experience?"
"Says he hasn't got any."
"With that body?"
"I can't believe it either, but that's what he claims."
Seo Jin-woo looked back at Han Daewong in the stands. No fighting experience. With that build? With that presence? It could be a lie. But whether it was a lie or the truth didn't matter. Only one thing mattered. How much money that man would make standing in the ring. The moment that bulk climbed through the ropes, the crowd would go wild.
If he hit someone, they'd go wilder. If an opponent went flying, they'd lose their minds. A different kind of product from Seo-yeon. If Seo-yeon was the thrill of the weak winning, this one was the thrill of overwhelming violence. The most primitive thing human beings raved for. Absolute power.
Seo Jin-woo took out a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"…Check him out."
"…Check him out?"
"Whether that one is merchandise or not."
On the other end of the line, Park Do-hyun went silent. He'd understood the meaning.
"…How, exactly?"
"Pick a fight with Seo-yeon."
"…With Seo-yeon?"
"You said he's her friend. Start something with his friend and see how he reacts."
"Hyung-nim, but that…"
"What's the problem?"
Seo Jin-woo's voice stayed quiet. He wasn't angry. He wasn't threatening. He was simply asking what the problem was. Through the phone, he could feel Park Do-hyun swallow a sigh.
"…Understood."
"Don't go too hard. If Seo-yeon gets hurt, that's inconvenient. She's a thirteen-win product."
Seo Jin-woo hung up. If she got hurt, it was inconvenient. Damage a product and the value dropped. It wasn't concern for Seo-yeon. It was inventory management. To Seo Jin-woo, people were products. Seo-yeon, Han Daewong, Park Do-hyun. It wasn't malice. That was simply how the world worked. People could be bought and sold. Violence had demand. Where there was demand, there was supply. Seo Jin-woo was merely a supplier. If he didn't do it, someone else would. That was humanity.
Seo Jin-woo switched on the monitor. The CCTV feed locked onto the stands. Seo-yeon was coming down from the ring. Han Daewong was looking at her. A man with fists like artillery shells, watching a small woman on a screen. The provocation would start soon. How that man reacted would set his price. Through a veil of cigarette smoke, Seo Jin-woo watched the monitor and waited quietly — like a hunter waiting for a beast to step into the trap.
Park Do-hyun stepped away to take the call.
"Ah~ hang on a sec, gonna grab this call~"
The two of them were left alone. Seo-yeon sat on the bench and drank some water. Han Daewong stood beside her. Just standing there, he cast a shadow over her.
"…Doesn't it hurt?"
He asked again.
"I told you it doesn't."
"You're bleeding from your forehead."
"It's already dried."
"Your cheek's swollen, too."
"I always look like this."
"You don't always look like that."
…Why does this guy notice every little thing?
She had lived in this world for more than ten years. No one had ever asked whether Seo-yeon was hurting. Winning was enough. Surviving was enough. Whether she bled or broke a bone, that was her problem. But this man asked. Said her forehead was bleeding. Said her cheek was swollen. Over nothing at all…
Han Daewong pulled a tissue from his pocket. With a hand the size of a manhole cover, he folded it. That enormous hand came toward Seo-yeon's forehead — carefully. Incredibly carefully. A fist that looked like it could send a person flying in one blow was moving as if it were touching glass.
…What is this.
A laugh slipped out of her. It looked like a giant teddy bear trying to put on a bandage.
"What's with that hand. You don't have to be that careful — I'm not going to break."
"…I have to be careful."
"Am I made of glass?"
"You're smaller than glass."
"…What?"
Seo-yeon smacked his hand away and snatched the tissue.
"I'll do it myself, idiot."
Wiping her forehead herself, she looked up. Gentle eyes. When this man watched a fighter in the ring, his eyes changed — living eyes. But when he looked at her, they were this soft.
…Teddy bear.
Big, gentle, warm — exactly like a real teddy bear. Strange enough that something this soft had rolled down into a place this low.
"Hey, you got some on you."
Her blood was smeared on Han Daewong's arm.
"Where?"
The moment he lifted his arm, a mischievous impulse took over. She pressed the bloodied tissue to his nose.
"Here."
"…!!"
That massive man recoiled from a single tissue. Seo-yeon giggled and asked,
"You're scared of a tissue with blood on it?"
"I'm not scared—"
"Wait, don't run."
She chased him with the tissue, and Han Daewong dodged. A man built like a one-ton bear, fleeing from a small young woman. It had been a long time. Laughing like this. Laughing out loud. Laughing together with someone, here, at the bottom of everything.
She was laughing and chasing him when—
Thud.
She collided with someone.
"Ah—"
Staggering, she looked up. A man was standing there. Fairly big, with dull eyes. He smelled of liquor. The man looked down at his clothes. Blood from Seo-yeon's forehead had smeared across them.
"…Hey."
His face twisted.
…Ah. This again.
She knew the type. This situation. The ones who sized her up as easy and picked a fight.
"You fucking got blood on my clothes."
"I'm sorry. It was an accident…"
Crack—!
Before she could finish, a slap whipped her head sideways. The place Hayul had hit her earlier split open again. The taste of blood filled her mouth.
…That hurts.
But it didn't matter. Taking hits was familiar. She had lived her whole life taking hits. So this much was nothing—
The moment Seo-yeon turned her head and looked at Han Daewong, her heart stopped.
It wasn't a teddy bear.
Those gentle eyes that had been fleeing from a single tissue moments ago were gone. A bear's eyes. The eyes of a real bear.
Han Daewong flicked out a light punch.
BOOM—!!
The man's face caved in. Teeth flew, his body launched, and he slammed into a vending machine. The machine crumpled, cans spilled out, blood sprayed. In an instant, everything around them went quiet.
Seo-yeon looked at Han Daewong. Their eyes met. Her breath stopped. Those were not a person's eyes. The eyes of a beast staring down something that had touched what was his. Her legs trembled. Like a cat standing before a bear.
Ah…
The man who ran from a tissue. The man who wiped my forehead like he was touching glass. That man could have eyes like this…?
Then Han Daewong's gaze brushed across Seo-yeon. In that fleeting instant, worry flickered through the wild animal's eyes.
…Is he checking if I'm okay?
With the same eyes that had just driven a man into a vending machine, he was worried about her. The instant passed, and his gaze swung back to the man. Han Daewong walked toward the vending machine. Seo-yeon watched his back. The back she had thought belonged to a teddy bear.
…No.
It wasn't a teddy bear.
It was a real bear.