Don't Touch What's Mine
Blue Ocean Pocha.
A hunting bar targeting young people with decent snacks and reasonably priced drinks. Few knew that this spot, perfectly located in a bustling area and turned into a playground for Busan university students, was actually owned by the Haemu Guild.
And something was happening here.
“So, this is…”
The manager of the first branch trailed off as he examined the small plastic bottle. It looked just like a yogurt drink—so much so that if you stuck a straw in it, no one would bat an eye if you called it yogurt.
“You want me to give this to the customers?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Yes?? That’s it? You should at least tell me what it is, where it came from, and what it’s for.”
The manager shot the man a suspicious look. The burly guy exhaled cigarette smoke and shrugged.
“I told you. It’s an energy drink, a caffeine beverage. One bottle and you’ll have an unforgettable night!”
“Ah~ A caffeine drink.”
“Yeah, a caffeine drink.”
“Fuck, are you going to keep talking nonsense?”
A caffeine drink? Nothing special about that. Convenience stores were full of them, and the manager drank them often. But making it themselves was another story entirely.
Setting that aside, how could a bunch of people running a watering hole possibly have the technology or equipment to produce something like this?
The burly man scratched his head awkwardly as the manager stared at him.
“Ah, hyung-nim, have you already lost your edge? Just do what you’re told, yeah?”
“What, you cocky little shit.”
“It came from above.”
“……!!”
The manager’s body trembled as if struck by lightning at the word “above.”
If it was from above, then it was that man. The masked figure whose name no one knew.
The man who had completely subjugated Busan’s underworld. His brutality was legendary. The Busan shadows had split into two groups: those who submitted to him, and those who were torn apart.
The manager, once the head of the Namyang faction, belonged to the former. That was how he’d been allowed to keep running this business.
He rubbed his shin, the same one that man had crushed years ago. More than a decade had passed, but the memory lingered.
These days, the so-called “MZ gangsters” like the burly man in front of him ran the show, but that man’s influence still permeated every corner of Busan’s underworld.
And now the burly man was saying that the long-silent figure had returned.
“The organizations are gathering. Just like the old days. Anyone who took money from above will be consolidated. Those who didn’t…”
“Will get torn apart.”
“Honestly, things have been too quiet. Busan’s coming back to life, so we need to stick together. That way we can at least get some scraps. We’re Busan citizens too, aren’t we?”
“Sounds pretty serious.”
“That’s why I’m busy. I’ve got to distribute these at the pocha and check out real estate too.”
“……Real estate? What’s that about?”
“Ah, shit, I wasn’t supposed to say anything… but since it’s you, hyung-nim, keep it to yourself. Those Mir kids are doing well, right? So land prices down here have gone through the roof.”
“Is there anyone in Busan who doesn’t know that?”
Yeongdo, south of the city center, was practically a dragon’s nest. Residents didn’t need Mir season tickets—on game days, the entire area was nothing but Mir matches.
And the revenue? On rivalry days it doubled at minimum. When the ever-popular “Jeonggong” matches happened, the whole week felt like a festival.
“My assignment is houses.”
“Houses? Gambling dens?”
“Aish, so old-fashioned. Is that all you think about, hyung-nim? I mean actual homes. Places people live.”
Meanwhile, rumors were quietly spreading through Busan’s underworld. Word was that Lee Shin was preparing something big—something that would shake the industry as much as the Choi Family Medicine Association incident.
“They’re calling it some kind of education program, but I don’t know the details. If you’ve got time, hyung-nim, you should move too. Whether it’s a shop or a house, buy something and you won’t lose out.”
I’m off.
After the burly man left, the manager remained seated, unable to stand.
Something enormous was happening.
* * *
Busan’s underworld organizations had begun full-scale operations. From north to south across the city center, the pressure was so intense that the groups jokingly called it the “North-South War.”
But their methods were closer to fraud than actual warfare.
“Who’s still doing protection rackets these days? Make them get hooked naturally. Slip them some drugs, introduce them to gambling dens.”
“I’m thinking used cars. Changing the registration is a piece of cake. Once the job’s done, ship them off to Russia and we’re golden.”
“Telegram is a godsend. No cops can trace anything. Take payment in crypto, run all the illegal gambling sites that way.”
That was the nature of these so-called MZ gangsters. The old organizations had made money through violence and extortion. They’d demanded loyalty and romanticized their brutality.
But now there was no pretense. It was purely about money. Whoever had money was the boss. They did whatever made money, and they were vicious enough to make even the devil shake his head.
“Boss, I’ve got a really big deal this time. Have you heard of ‘coins’? We’re making our own coin…”
“This is who I am. Winter’s coming. Don’t sleep on the streets—lend me your name and I’ll send you money every month and set you up with a warm place to stay…”
Crypto scams, jeonse scams, illegal online gambling, even selling drugs to minors. They scraped together money by any means necessary.
People’s blood and tears funded their omakase dinners and sports cars.
And then—
They flaunted it on social media, which in turn helped them commit more crimes. Their prime targets were teenagers.
Posts like that drew DMs: “Respect, hyung-nim,” “I want to drive a Porsche like that too.” It wasn’t a joke—it was real.
Take them for a drive, buy them meat, and they became useful errand boys.
Just like now.
“Hyung-nim, that’s the kid.”
“Hmm, really?”
Two men stood by a pillar. One was a student in uniform. The other was a young man in a Balenciaga T-shirt holding a Gucci clutch. The tight shirt revealed an irezumi tattoo that stood out clearly.
They hid behind the pillar, watching a short student eating tteokbokki with a friend.
“That’s the building owner’s son? He doesn’t look like much.”
“Don’t let the looks fool you—he’s loaded. The crazy bastard even took the whole class to a hotel buffet when he became class president.”
“Hmm…?”
“Ah, his mom’s been feeding him Woongjindan to make him a hunter. They say if he awakens, he has to get training, so they bought a place in Yeongdo this time.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah! The other kids in class went to see it.”
These days, Yeongdo wasn’t a place you could enter just because you had some money. The land prices were one thing, but most of the property belonged to the Mir Guild and Lee Shin.
So if they really bought a house in Yeongdo, then he was definitely the real deal.
The man pulled a small plastic bottle from his clutch. It looked like a yogurt drink.
“Hey, can you get him to drink this?”
“Huh?”
“Do it and I’ll let you take your girlfriend for a drive this weekend. You can borrow my car.”
“……Your car?!”
“Can you do it or not?”
The student hesitated, then nodded with determination. He took the bottle and walked over.
The man smirked. Kids were kids—getting worked up over a car.
They were just overgrown brats who thought they were adults because they were taller than their parents. Pathetic, really.
Using naive kids who had no real-world experience was child’s play.
“……If he breaks, I can always use him as a discardable pawn.”
That was when it happened.
“So this is how it is these days. Even using kids who still smell like milk.”
“!!”
A crushing weight landed on his shoulder. The man couldn’t turn his head—partly from shock, partly because a forearm the size of a log was pinning him down.
Meanwhile, a bald white man snatched the plastic bottle from the student and slapped him across the face.
Smack!!
The student collapsed without even making a sound. The white man hoisted the fallen boy over his shoulder and walked over, ignoring the stunned onlookers. A wolf tattoo on his bald head bared its fangs menacingly.
“Representative Lee, that nose of yours is sharp after all. Smells like shit wandering around. Is that him?”
“……Th-that, there must be some misunderstanding.”
“How strange. Even shit can talk?”
Crack—
The man’s pinky finger bent backward. As a scream tore from his throat, a massive hand clamped over his mouth.
“Mmph—!!”
“The worst thing I’ve ever seen was the battlefield. Screams, blood, the stench of gunpowder. No rules, just looting every day. Just standing there makes you hate being human.”
“Mmph mmph mmph.”
“But even on a battlefield like that, only two types of people lay hands on kids.”
Religious fanatics.
Drug addicts.
“They’re the kind of humans I hate the most. So what happened to them?”
The man’s face was forced to turn. Their eyes met.
“I killed them all. Every last one.”
Only then did the man recognize who was holding him down. A massive Russian with shaggy hair. On his chest was a name tag that read “Jang Antonton, President of Brothers Outsourcing.”
“Don’t worry. This is safe Korea, after all. I won’t kill you.”
Our Brothers Outsourcing is a government-recognized business. We follow the law.
When Jang Antonton grinned, the man’s pants grew wet.
* * *
Around the same time, in an officetel somewhere in Busan.
A crowd was in chaos.
“Fuck! Don’t push, hold them back!!”
“Run!!”
Tattooed thugs trying to escape.
“Come on, you punk bastards.”
“Oi, put those cute little hands down before hyung crushes them.”
The Russians were so massive that even the burly thugs looked “cute” by comparison. Well, they were Korean nationals wearing Brothers Outsourcing work uniforms, so technically they were outsourcing employees.
Crack! Crash! ◎#◎#%!!&!!
Help me! I was wrong!#%!◎#^!!
You didn’t do anything wrong! Crawl, you worm%$#!!
Scamming punks versus former mercenaries who had walked through real battlefields. It wasn’t a fight. It was a one-sided beating.
The gang members crumpled without a word. The outsourcing employees swung their fists with glee, savoring the long-missed sensation.
Amid the blood and broken bones, a brown-curly-haired woman strode toward the basement. Her eyes were fiercely narrowed in anger.
“Shit, why am I the only one left out? Why don’t I get any opponents? Shit.”
The boss had to be the strongest. That was why she, as the boss, would take on the strong ones. That was her idea of fun. That was Jang Ji-na’s—whose Korean name was Jang Ji-na—common sense. So she’d left her little sister and the others outside and entered the building alone…
“These shitheads ran away?”
Even on a battlefield with bullets flying, Jang Ji-na had retrieved her brothers’ bodies. Cowards without loyalty weren’t human. She had just passed judgment.
“You’re all dead.”
She’d originally planned to beat them just enough to knock them out, but now contempt had been added to the charges.
She’d leave them barely breathing.
Following the scent of humans, she descended to the fourth basement floor. Jang Ji-na flung open the iron door, snorting with rage.
At that moment—
“Die!!”
Screeeech!! The sound of tires spinning echoed as a sports car accelerated violently. Its target was Jang Ji-na, standing in the doorway.
The red Porsche slammed straight into her. Several gang members hiding nearby cheered.
“He did it!”
“Success!”
“That bitch. Die already!”
But.
But then.
The Porsche had clearly hit her, yet the car was on one side and the human on the other. Why wasn’t the car moving forward?
“Shit……”
The silhouette in the dust grew larger. Shoulders broadened, forearms swelled. Fur sprouted, a snout emerged, and beastly eyes flashed.
A mad grizzly bear.
A predator starved for violence had awakened.
“This is it!!”
A moment later, the Porsche was flying through the air, engulfed in flames.
* * *
“……That concludes my investigation into this matter.”
Lee Shin placed photographs on the table. A medicine bottle resembling a yogurt drink. A student kneeling with hands raised, and a man with his knees bent backward. A crushed Porsche and crushed men.
Haemu Guild Master Han Jin-chol glanced at the photos and spoke casually.
“So that happened. I didn’t know.”
“Ah…… So you really didn’t know.”
Lee Shin smiled as if he’d expected this.
“Then I suppose you don’t know about the masked man of the underworld either? The tyrant who brought Busan’s organizations to their knees with violence. They say he dumped over thirty bodies into the sea off Busan.”
“……”
“How can a person kill other people like that? I think it was a side effect of the forbidden arts. He couldn’t control his emotions. That’s plausible, isn’t it?”
“……”
“Interestingly, it coincides with the year our dear Han Jin-chol became the Haemu Guild Master.”
A brief silence.
The two men stared at each other.
“Why are you provoking me?”
“Ah…… Hold on. Let’s get the facts straight.”
Lee Shin crossed his legs on the table, leaned back, and put a cigarette in his mouth.
Then, looking down at Han Jin-chol with contempt, he spoke.
“You touched what’s mine first.”
Busan.
This city.
“Why did you lay your hands on what’s mine, you drug addict bastard.”