The Talk of the Town

At the same time, a murky, dark object flew at me even as it split my vision—and the moment it landed on my body, it cinched tight around me in one swift motion.

"A net?"

Memories engraved deep in my cells stirred awake all at once. Among the gladiators, there had been a class called the retiarius—the fisherman-fighters. They fought by casting a net and skewering their prey with a trident over two meters long, and they had been a genuine nightmare to face.

And now, from a distance of two meters, a man stood aiming not a trident but a spray canister. My eyes read the direction of the nozzle reflexively.

Psshhht!

The instant the liquid jetted out in a straight stream, I dropped to one knee and swept the ground, launching into a tackle. But the net, already slithering down over me, snagged my leg and brought me up short. Rather than fight it, I dropped onto my shoulder to roll across the floor—and right then:

"Ah, damn it!"

"Just fry him!"

The gap closed in a heartbeat, and two of the three rushed me, each clutching some crude piece of self-defense gear.

The closer one swung a stun gun at me. I snatched his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wrist and wrenched it toward me while pressing my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠net-wrapped head against his side and shoving in a single direction. At the same time, I hooked the back of his other knee, collapsed his balance, and flung the man draped over my shoulders hard into the ground.

THUD!

"Kgh!"

I had to stay tangled up with him—only then would the spray lose its target—so I tried to keep moving. But I felt something at my back.

Tat-tat-tat—

A jolt of pain several times fiercer than static electricity. My muscles locked rigid for an instant, but thanks to the net, it wasn't fatal.

As I twisted my body, the one who'd used the three-pronged stun baton had his eyes rolled back—and I hooked one arm behind his knee, wrapped both legs around his thighs, and spun like a whirlwind. Faced with this out-of-nowhere Imanari Roll, the man who had no idea how to defend it crumpled helplessly.

CRASH!

I caught his knee with my thigh, built a grip with my arms, and rolled while locking his ankle, releasing the leg caught in the heel hook. From inside an electrocution, I'd taken one of his legs with minimal movement.

"Aaaagh!"

The man tried to push himself up off the floor, couldn't get his foot under him, and collapsed in a heap. His face was full of terror. I watched him already regretting this moment as I shook off the net. The second I rose, a liquid spray hissed at me—and I slipped sideways, dodging it.

"F-fuck."

He kept pressing the nozzle, but nothing came out anymore. I advanced on the retreating man and asked,

"You came awfully well prepared. Now I'm going to ask you some questions, and if your answers don't satisfy me, I'll break every limb you have. And if I'm still not happy with you after that, I'll kill your brain so you can't even think. You'll be regretting this moment for the rest of your life."

For the first time in a very long while, killing intent boiled up inside me. My heart wanted to slaughter all three of them on the spot—but what a wonderful world we lived in. In a world like this, a scared dog always barks louder.

"Fuck! You're the one who's going to regret this. You're on your way up, and now you're headed straight for the gutter! You want to end up in prison?"

"Isn't that why I picked this place? So I wouldn't?"

I stopped walking at an unhurried pace and looked around as I spoke. In this secluded park clearing, not a single CCTV camera was visible.

"We know who you are."

"Don't care."

I knew exactly how to deal with this kind of trash. I'd handled countless men far rougher and filthier than these three.

"If I cripple you all right here, it's self-defense."

"You're insane. You think that'd actually fly?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"The law here sides with whoever got hurt worse. With us."

"Nice to know you know the law so well."

When I stepped closer again, the man backed away once more.

"Shit."

"Criminals like you always seem to know the law better than anyone."

I asked, grumbling,

"So why'd you run off like that just now?"

"······!"

"Doesn't matter one bit. Let's all just die together."

"You lunatic!"

The man hurled the spray canister at me, spun on his heel, and bolted.

But I closed the distance in an instant, seized the back of his neck, and kicked his legs out from under him.

THUD!

I climbed on top of him as he sprawled dazed on the ground and immediately went for the kimura. He defended it—whether he'd actually trained jiu-jitsu or not, his arm wouldn't peel free—and the technique I'd watched the night before flashed into my mind.

So I speared one arm between his arms, threaded it behind his back, and pinned him down with both my legs. Using my own arm as a lever, I bent his arm against the load.

"Ughk!"

Having finished the submission with the tarikoplata, I lounged in style, using my free hand to pluck the cap off the head of the man pinned beneath me.

"You're live right now. Smile."

"······!"

I reached out, picked up the phone that had fallen on the ground nearby, and then—

I stared at the exploding chat in silence, then turned the screen and held it up to the face of the man pinned under me. His cap gone, barely one mask left to hide his face, he panicked. When I reached for that mask too—

"Stop······!"

the man shouted.

"N-no! Don't!"

"Why? I haven't even taken one of your arms yet."

Had he finally sensed that I meant every word?

The man pleaded desperately.

"Please, don't······ Ask me whatever you want. You haven't even asked anything yet."

"Why did you target me?"

"We bet money on you."

"Money?"

"······Illegal online gambling."

I seemed to recall it being covered on the news as a youth problem.

"You just steamroll everyone, so we figured we could clean up big off you. We put a huge bet on Hyeon-tae. Now we can't back out, and—"

"That's all it took for you to come after me?"

"If Hyeon-tae beats you—someone as wildly popular as you—it's a jackpot. I've known Hyeon-tae since middle school taekwondo club, and he seemed to have no confidence about this fight, so I didn't tell him. I stepped in myself."

"So why'd you come sniffing around?"

"······."

I shook my head.

"The names, ages, schools, and phone numbers of everyone who came here, you included. Write down every last one of them and text them to me."

The two hangers-on had already fled, so the ringleader sent the texts to the number I called out for him. According to them, not a single one of this group was attending school anymore.

"Can I go now?"

"Not a chance."

I jerked my chin at him.

"Call Ji Hyeon-tae."

"Hyeon-tae?"

"Tell him: 'It's done.' Report in."

"It wasn't Hyeon-tae who ordered this······ Fine."

Ri-ri-ri-ri-ring—

[Hello?]

Ji Hyeon-tae picked up.

"Hey, Hyeon-tae, it's me. Everything wrapped up just fine."

[What?]

Genuine bewilderment seeped from Hyeon-tae's voice. There was nothing feigned about it.

[What are you talking about?]

I shook my head.

"Nothing, nothing. You worry too much. Training going well for the fight?"

[Working hard at it. Did you call just to ask that?]

"No. I'm rooting for you, that's all."

[Have you been drinking? Don't do anything weird again.]

"Obviously."

[Stuff like gambling.]

"I don't gamble."

[Cut it out.]

Beep.

"I said it's the truth."

"So to sum up—this whole thing was you idiots screwing around on your own."

"······."

His face had gone dark, the plan reduced to soap bubbles.

"I'll end the stream."

Having broadcast nothing but the recorded conversation and shown no faces at all, I ended the livestream and walked toward him.

"Wait······ Don't tell me."

I closed the distance on the man backing away in stumbles and swung a backhand.

CRACK!

His jaw spun sideways in one shot and a few teeth flew out. It looked exactly like popcorn popping.

"Dumbass."

Call the cops?

Go ahead and try.

"Amateurs who can't even manage a proper warm-up."

Muttering under my breath, I checked the time and started my run in earnest. Something as pathetic as this little incident wasn't going to stop me.

I'd figured the police might call, I suppose. But that was all—no real concern about it.

My conscience was clean. I'd even granted them the same mercy Hailey once gave me and let the bastards live.

Maybe that was why, a day passing, then two, then three—right up to a full week—nothing but chatter on YouTube and every online community under the sun came of it. No direct trouble whatsoever. Which made sense, because even the content everyone was buzzing about was nothing but a debate forum swimming in pure speculation.

That was the state of things.

Thanks to it, a record-shattering crowd flooded into the press conference hall.

"I've never seen this many people show up for a pre-fight event at a domestic promotion."

Nam Rae-hyung clicked his tongue.

"Well, you came even though you're off the clock, hyung-nim. That says it all."

Head Coach Baek shook his head too.

"And Jung In-san's business instincts really are no joke. Setting up a pop-up store on the spot and selling shirts printed with the fighters' poster photos the second the match got booked—that's just the start."

"I suppose that's what it takes to run the biggest promotion in the country."

While the two of them traded banter back and forth, I—stepping into the lobby hall alongside them—felt a similar wave of attention wash over me. Unlike the last event, several cameras swarmed me the moment I arrived, snapping away.

Meanwhile, I spotted Ji Hyeon-tae standing at the entrance to the venue. And naturally, my feet began carrying me toward him.

Murmur, murmur······.

The people already inside the hall glanced back and forth between the two of us, whispering with interest. The event hadn't even started yet, and already every eye in the room was fixed on the two of us—the ones who'd kept their silence all this time.