The basement smelled of mildew and desperation.
Moon Baek stood before a crowd of people — the kind society pretended didn't exist.
The homeless. The jobless. The broken.
He handed a small pistol to an older man whose hands trembled as he took it.
"You know what this means?" Baek asked.
The man nodded. "It means… I can finally protect myself."
Baek crouched, meeting his gaze.
"No," he said softly. "It means they'll have to see you. They can't ignore you anymore."
One by one, the weapons changed hands.
A single mother. A young man with a limp. An elderly woman who'd been mugged one too many times.
Baek didn't care about the money.
This wasn't about profit.
It was about power.
Giving the powerless teeth.
His lieutenant pulled him aside.
"Hyung, this is reckless. These people don't know how to use them."
Baek lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"They'll learn."
"This isn't just business anymore. You're making a point."
Baek's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"That's the difference between me and them. I've always been a point."
Across town, Lee Do pieced together the aftermath of the botched sting.
The shooters?
Not Baek's men.
Not the police.
Civilians.
Armed civilians.
He stared at the photos spread across his desk.
This wasn't just a gun trade anymore.
It was an infection.
And it was spreading.