Why? First Time Seeing Cash?

Seo Jin-woo sat in the VIP box.

Beyond the bulletproof glass, the ring spread out below. Whiskey in one hand, a cigarette between his lips, his phone resting on his knee.

Today was Han Daewong's debut fight.

A match he'd arranged himself. The opponent: Jang Tae-seok.

There was a reason Seo Jin-woo had chosen Jang Tae-seok. In this business, Jang Tae-seok was one of the few who actually meant something. A former pro boxer who'd once cracked the East Asian rankings.

Gambling debt had dragged him under, but his skill hadn't died. Even after dropping into the underground, he'd won all seven of his fights clean.

Seo Jin-woo had deliberately thrown a guy like that at a rookie's first match. Because he wanted to see.

The man Han Daewong had stuffed into a vending machine yesterday wasn't a real sample. A drunk nobody — anyone could've sent him flying.

But Jang Tae-seok was different.

He had technique. He knew how to manage distance, how to throw counters, and above all, he knew how not to get hit. You only learned the truth by putting a guy like that in front of him. Whether Han Daewong was the real deal, or just a big rookie.

How well does Daewong's power work against someone with real skill?

The scenario was already laid out in Seo Jin-woo's head.

Jang Tae-seok would hold the distance, jabbing and toying with Daewong. Daewong would swing those heavy fists in frustration and keep missing. After getting walked around for a round or two, he'd finally land one and snatch the reverse win.

That painted the best picture.

A rookie who struggles, then flips the fight with raw power. Crowds love that stuff. Tension, reversal, catharsis. The three pillars of a good show.

If Jang Tae-seok worked Daewong over just enough, Daewong's exact value would settle in the process.

How many rounds he lasted. How many openings he showed against a skilled opponent. From that, you set the next match, price the purse, design the betting lines.

That was Seo Jin-woo's job. Growing a product, slowly.

"──And in the blue corner!! Making his ring debut tonight!! The mystery Kodiak!! Han! Dae! Wong!!"

Han Daewong walked out from the tunnel under the ring.

Even through the bulletproof glass, that frame was visible. The murmur of the crowd drifted up faintly. Jang Tae-seok's face hardening, the MC unconsciously taking a step back — Seo Jin-woo took a sip of whiskey.

…Alright. Show me. Show me what you're worth.

The referee raised his hand.

"Fight!"

Ding──!

The bell rang. Jang Tae-seok moved.

Clean footwork, light steps, a range-finding jab. Seo Jin-woo nodded with satisfaction.

Yeah. That. Toy with him just like that──

Thok.

Jang Tae-seok's jab landed on Daewong's chest. Daewong didn't dodge. Didn't block. He just took it.

…Huh?

Seo Jin-woo's eyebrow ticked up. Strange. A rookie just eats the first jab? Usually you flinch on instinct, raise a guard, or step back.

This guy didn't so much as twitch.

Like a bear that didn't even notice a mosquito landing on it.

And in that moment, Han Daewong moved.

Seo Jin-woo didn't see── the movement.

No. He saw it. He definitely saw it. He saw Daewong's right arm move. But it was so fast that by the time he registered it, it was already over.

KWAANG──!!

The sound carried even through the bulletproof glass. It sounded like an explosion. The instant Jang Tae-seok's head snapped back, something sprayed in every direction.

Blood.

Under the lights, a red arc painted the air. Along with it, a few small white things scattered across the mat. Teeth. He couldn't hear them from here, but Seo Jin-woo knew what they were. He'd watched this scene for twenty years.

Jang Tae-seok's body lifted. His feet left the floor, his body flew backward, slammed into the ropes, bounced off, and crashed onto the mat.

A brief silence.

Then—

"──KAY-OH!! It's a knockout!! One punch!! It ended in a single punch!!"

The announcer's cry erupted, and the crowd's roar exploded with it.

"One punch! He went down in one punch!!"

"Jang Tae-seok?! That Jang Tae-seok?!"

"People don't fly like that!!"

"He's a monster! A real monster!!"

"Hey, did you get that on video? Did you film it?!"

"That's a rookie?! Does that make any sense?!"

But Seo Jin-woo barely heard any of it. He was frozen with the whiskey glass still at his lips. The whiskey sat against his mouth, not going down.

…What the hell was that just now.

Seo Jin-woo's mind went blank white. Jang Tae-seok threw a jab. It touched Daewong's chest. Then Daewong swung once. That was all.

No technique. Nothing. No distance management, no counter, no footwork.

Everything Jang Tae-seok had spent a lifetime honing── one punch.

One single punch, and it all meant nothing. Seo Jin-woo had rolled through this business for twenty years. Watched ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠thousands of fights. Seen countless KOs. Seen fights end in one punch.

But never like that.

Hoo…

Only then did Seo Jin-woo swallow the whiskey. It burned down his throat. Harsher than usual. He looked at his hand. The hand gripping the whiskey glass was trembling.

…Again.

Yesterday too.

When Han Daewong had folded a vending machine in half. Hands that hadn't shaken in twenty years — not when a knife went in, not when a gun barrel pressed against his temple — those hands had shaken that day.

Today they were shaking again.

But the reason was different this time. Yesterday it had been fear.

Today…

Seo Jin-woo quietly looked inward at what he was feeling.

This wasn't fear. Then this was…

…Joy?

A laugh came out. Without meaning to, the corner of his mouth lifted.

A kind of laugh he hadn't worn in twenty years, maybe. Not the laugh of discovering a product.

He'd worn that one hundreds of times. When he found a good fighter, when he brought in a prospect who would make money — calculated smiles.

This wasn't that.

This was… the laugh of a man who'd just drawn a hand that might come once in a lifetime at the gambling table.

I had it wrong… I completely misread this…

He'd matched Jang Tae-seok to accurately measure Daewong's "value." To see how he held up against skill, then grow him carefully from there.

But there was nothing to measure. A rookie who one-punched a skilled pro.

That meant the three pillars of a good show weren't needed ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at all.

Tension? Reversal? Catharsis?

Unnecessary. That thing was a product all by itself.

The sight of a man destroying another man in a single blow. The raw, overwhelming violence that crowds craved at the most primal level.

This was a different class of merchandise entirely.

Seo Jin-woo slowly picked up the phone from his knee. He'd recorded the entire fight from start to finish. Habit. He always filmed a new fighter's debut.

For reference. For betting analysis. But this footage was… more than reference material.

Seo Jin-woo played the video back. On the small screen, the scene unfolded again. Jang Tae-seok's jab, Daewong not so much as flinching. And then…

KWAANG──!!

Jang Tae-seok went flying. Seo Jin-woo rewound that moment again and again. Every time he watched, a tingle ran through his fingertips.

…This is it.

This one video was enough.

No words needed. No explanation needed.

Because that ten-second clip had proven everything about the product called Han Daewong.

"…Han Daewong."

Through a veil of smoke, Seo Jin-woo slowly pronounced the name. The name of a product you couldn't casually put a price on.

"…You're the most expensive beast I've ever seen."

Down below the bulletproof glass, the crowd was chanting that name.

Han Daewong.

Listening to those roars, Seo Jin-woo slowly drained the rest of his whiskey.

The debut fight was over.

And inside Seo Jin-woo's head, a massive new business venture was just beginning to take shape.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

After the fight, I returned to the waiting room. I'd barely been inside a moment when the door opened. Park Do-hyun came in carrying an envelope.

"Han Daewong, my man~ Congrats on the debut~"

He grinned and held out the envelope.

"Fight money. Threw in a one-punch bonus, too. Boss must be in a real good mood."

I took the envelope. It was heavy. I opened the flap and looked inside.

…?

Cash. And a lot of it. Fifty-thousand-won bills bundled in stacks. One stack, two stacks… I stopped counting. It was thick enough that counting didn't matter.

…All of this is money?

My head went blank.

In my past life I'd been an ordinary office worker drowning in overtime. My salary showed up as a number in a bank account, and even that vanished into credit card bills. I'd never seen cash in stacks like this. And when I was a bear, forget about it. But now, in my hand… was a wad of cash the size of a human fist.