Settling the Score (3)
"Don't be late just because you're trying to psych yourself up or whatever. If I get there and you're not around, I'm just gonna leave."
"What? Hey, hey! Hey! You bastard! Wait a sec!"
Click.
The call cut off in the middle of his sleep. And it was one-sided—he'd said his piece and hung up. Kang Hyung-woo hurriedly called back, but all he got was an automated message saying the line was unreachable. He'd already been blocked.
"This fucker! You goddamn piece of shit!"
An unbearable sense of humiliation crept up on him. Kang Hyung-woo flung his smartphone onto the bed in a fit of rage. He'd stumbled home blackout drunk just a few hours ago, but the alcohol evaporated in an instant.
"Choi Yun-seok, you loser fuck. You think you can stand up to me now?"
He fumed, determined to teach him a lesson, but deep down, he couldn't fathom what had emboldened Yun-seok to pull this stunt. Ignorance breeds wild imagination.
"What? Did he find something to rely on?"
The Yun-seok that Kang Hyung-woo knew wasn't the type to start something like this on his own. He'd been conditioned that way since they were kids. Even knowing their dynamic full well, Yun-seok wouldn't dare unless someone with real power had talked him into it...
Kang Hyung-woo flinched as realization dawned.
"No fucking way? That crazy bitch wouldn't..."
He stormed toward his sister's room. It was so early he could barely remember the last time he'd been up at this hour, but his sister Kang Hye-in was already awake, bustling about to head out.
He flung the door open without knocking, and she yelped in surprise, hurling her handbag at him.
"I'm changing! What the hell are you doing? Get out!"
Running through the same veins or not, her temper was no joke. Kang Hyung-woo's suspicion hardened into certainty. For some reason, that foul-tempered sister of his was always sweet and accommodating only to Yun-seok.
'No way that loser would've told her he got beat first...'
If she'd found out by chance, she'd have jumped in to help regardless of who was in the way—him included. And Kang Hye-in actually had the clout to stand up to him.
"Hey, where you off to in such a hurry this early? You meeting Choi Yun-seok or something?"
At his probing, Kang Hye-in tilted her head.
"Yun-seok oppa? Why's he come up out of nowhere? Did you pull some shit again?"
'Fuck, she knows nothing but her instincts are sharp...'
Kang Hyung-woo had barged in full of bluster, but he backpedaled for now. Her reaction was business as usual, killing his hunch.
"What shit? Anyway, you're saying it's not?"
"What's it to you?"
"You wanna keep talking down to your sky-high oppa?"
"Cut the crap. What's it to you?"
Under her relentless questioning, Kang Hyung-woo finally spat out a lame excuse.
"...Just worried that loser punk might get snagged by an ugly hag like you."
"What? You crazy daddy's boy fuck? Worry about yourself!"
She looked ready to chuck the hairdryer next, so he retreated from the room like a whipped dog. Still, he'd gained something.
'Not that psycho bitch, then who the hell? Who pushed that fucker into this?'
His questions deepened—but not for long.
'Whatever. As long as it's not her, I don't give a shit who.'
He'd ruled out the trickiest opponent. So...
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Recalling his amateur boxing days, Kang Hyung-woo shadowboxed the air with crisp footwork. Whatever Yun-seok was banking on didn't matter. If it was muscle, he'd crush him with muscle. If it was money, he'd bury him in cash. Stomp him so he never got up, slap a collar on, and drag him back. Done.
"7 p.m., huh?"
Kang Hyung-woo wasn't known for patience. Yun-seok would pay dearly.
* * *
"First, pack up."
Yun-seok emptied his place completely. He ditched bulky furniture and carefully boxed valuables like his computer, shipping them to his parents' via courier. His improved physique let him finish in three hours. He'd only been back to solo living for under a month while prepping for school after discharge, so it wasn't much.
"Kinda feels empty."
He stuffed all the ill-fitting clothes into donation bins, leaving just the jeans and worn puffer jacket he had on. Now he got what "you come empty-handed, you leave empty-handed" really meant.
After a full floor scrub, he headed to the realtor.
"Quitting the room already? But you've got plenty of lease left..."
"Family emergency. Place is already cleared out, so cover rent and repainting from my deposit till the next tenant comes."
"But..."
"I'll get the remaining deposit back when someone's in. That work?"
"Well, if that's how it is..."
The agent had no skin in the game, so he agreed. Rooms filled fast with students hunting this time of year—that's why Yun-seok had snagged his early.
After showing the cleaned room and stamping the contract, it was already 11 a.m.
Next stop: university.
"Leave of absence?"
"Yes."
"Fill this out and bring it back with ID?"
The admin office took it in stride—post-military leaves were routine. Ironically, so was Yun-seok's nonchalance. He'd hustled part-times post-discharge to save tuition, terrified of falling behind if he didn't reenroll on time.
Yet here he was, filing for leave without even applying to return. Normally, he'd be pissed and wronged.
'Why doesn't it even faze me?'
The last three days had shifted his worldview. College once felt like his whole world; now? Whatever. He couldn't relate to his old self, fretting over graduation and jobs.
'Makes sense... I obsessed over jobs because of Kang Hyung-woo. Only way to pay off family debt and escape him.'
That goal had kept him enduring the torment. Not like he'd live off-grid forever, but...
'Even without graduating, I can thrive now. Worst case, try pro fighting.'
The thought lightened his heart.
Time until return: 15:11:31
With fifteen hours left, loose ends were tied.
'Told parents I'm taking leave to travel, so calls are handled...'
An endless trip with no return date. He'd come back alive, sure—but life happens. Even if he did, who knew how long? That's why he ditched the room and filed leave. No more one-way tickets.
'Still, lots of time left. Should've said earlier.'
Yun-seok checked his bank app first.
Savings from military pay and post-discharge gigs. He'd planned to pay tuition and chip at loans.
'Lucky before reenrollment.'
Enrolling first would've burned cash. Yun-seok wandered off campus, then caught his reflection.
Pathetic. Way too shabby next to Kang Hyung-woo, always decked in luxury.
'...Clothes first.'
Trivial to some, but a luxury he'd craved once flush.
* * *
Shirt, knit, jeans, thick seasonal chesterfield. He bought the full department store coord. Total: 480,000 won. Mid-low brand, yet steep.
'No functions, yet this pricey...'
The E-rank shirts for 6,000 AP recovered stamina in sunlight and self-repaired with mana.
Yun-seok chuckled.
'What am I even thinking.'
Addict early signs. He shook it off, checked the mirror. Couldn't deny the satisfaction.
'Not that I dolled up before, but damn, I clean up nice.'
Better build made the fit pop. Like someone else? He was changed—body or not.
"This'll be good."
Imagining Kang Hyung-woo's shock lifted his mood. He hit the salon for a tidy cut, then—time still spare—dined at the restaurant Kang Hyung-woo always bragged about.
Two-top minimum, but paying for two got him in.
"675,000 won."
"Pricey even for two?"
Wondering if he'd been had, but...
"We only charged for what you ate..."
Embarrassed, he bolted. Appetite surged after.
'Not that fancy. Why envy it? Why belittle my days over this?'
Sunset as he left. Appointment time.
Yun-seok headed to the spot he'd told Kang Hyung-woo.
Gaecheon Elementary School
Their alma mater... and origin of this endless grudge. Beginnings and ends align—perfect to end it.
"You here?"
The empty playground already held Kang Hyung-woo. As Yun-seok entered, he approached. Composed, brimming confidence—real or feigned.
"Late?"
7:05 p.m.
"Your watch is five minutes slow."
"......"
Kang Hyung-woo's face crumpled. Like he couldn't process what expression to make? Utterly complex.
His wounded pride stung; he forced a grin.
"Wow... our little Yun-seok grew up? Dressed up, hair done just to meet me? Hmm, but... not quite."
He exaggeratedly scanned Yun-seok top to toe.
"Needed clothes? Shoulda asked me. We're friends, right? Don't embarrass yourself in those flea market rags like some hillbilly..."
Classic preemptive strike. Yun-seok always wilted before.
But...
"Flea market? This brand stuff was pricey. Oh, right—chaebol kid like you might see it different."
Kang Hyung-woo blinked in shock. No one with rock-bottom self-esteem talks like that.
"Damn, you really changed. What happened these three days?"
"A lot."
Truly. From avoiding eyes to standing tall.
Words failing, Kang Hyung-woo fell back on force, as always.
"Anyway, Yun-seok. I was really worried. So... let's throw some punches? Gotta pay for the worry. Yeah?"
He cracked knuckles and neck, closing in. Yun-seok watched calmly. The confident stride, broad shoulders—same as memory.
Exactly. Not monstrous green beast. No Nangin Cheon-ho sword mastery. No demonic powers.
Yet...
Why did his body tremble like facing a natural predator?
'Don't show it. He's nothing.'
He steeled himself. Couldn't look weak here, not to him.
"You know that's assault, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, got it. Game fee then? How much? Pay off daddy's debt? Yeah, that'll do."
Kang Hyung-woo loomed close. Yun-seok, veteran of death's edge, knew: fist-range was lethal.
Did Kang Hyung-woo grasp that?
The thought eased tension. Yun-seok replayed past fights.
Then...
"......"
The giant Kang Hyung-woo...
Looked no different from that suicidal hopeful on floor 2.