The road into Eunpyeong narrowed until the city lights fell away.
Concrete replaced storefronts. Warehouses squatted low and silent, their walls scarred with rust and peeling logos. At the far edge of the industrial park, something pulsed.
Music.
Bass-heavy. Distorted. Loud enough to vibrate the windshield.
Chan-Sik slowed the car.
Ahead, a warehouse glowed from within, light bleeding through cracked windows and open bay doors. Cars lined the street-tuned imports, battered sedans, bikes propped against concrete barriers. People drifted between them in loose clusters, smoke curling into the night air.
MC ORCA let out a low whistle.
"Yeah… this is it."
Chan-Sik parked and cut the engine. For a moment, no one moved.
Min rested his hands on his knees. The keyboard case sat between his feet, heavier than it should've been.
"This is just another game," MC ORCA said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Same rules. Same hands."
Hye-Jin leaned forward from the back seat. "Best of three," she reminded him. "Don't rush. Let them show you who they are."
Chan-Sik met Min's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"This one matters."
Min nodded and stepped out of the car.
The music hit harder outside—industrial beats layered with shouting and laughter. A generator hummed somewhere behind the warehouse. Heads turned as they approached, eyes sharp and appraising.
A man broke away from the crowd near the entrance. Black jacket. Earpiece. Bored expression sharpened by habit.
"You here to play?" he asked.
Chan-Sik answered calmly. "Depends."
The man's gaze dropped to Min.
"Entry fee?"
Min unzipped the case and lifted the keyboard just enough to be seen.
The man's expression shifted, not impressed, but interested.
"That'll do," he said, stepping aside. "Bo3. Lose and it stays. Win and you walk."
MC ORCA grinned.
"We plan on walking."
Before leaving, the man paused.
"Y'all want some crank?"
Min blinked. "Crank?"
Chan-Sik stepped forward immediately.
"No. We don't need that shit. Get the hell out of here."
The man raised his hands and backed off, disappearing into the crowd.
Chan-Sik turned to Min. "Crank's everywhere right now. It ruins focus. Ruins people. We don't touch it."
Min nodded.
"Yeah. Besides alcohol… it's killing the vibe."
They walked inside.
The warehouse was alive.
Rows of folding tables stretched across the floor, cables snaking like veins. Screens flickered with ongoing matches. Spectators crowded close, shouting, betting, arguing. The air smelled like metal, sweat, and electricity.
Min felt his pulse settle.
This was familiar.
"This match puts you on the board," Chan-Sik said quietly as they stopped near an open setup. "Win here, and Red Pulse won't be able to ignore you."
MC ORCA leaned close.
"Relax. Breathe. And hit them hard."
Min set the keyboard down.
His hands hovered.
Across from him, his opponent sat with arms crossed, a lazy smirk already formed.
Min straightened.
He wasn't here to back down.
"Best of three?" the opponent asked.
"That's enough," Min replied.
The screen lit up.
The warehouse seemed to hold its breath.
Lights flashed. Matches blurred together.
Min won.
Again.
And again.
The crowd grew louder with every round. People leaned closer. Phones came out. Bets changed hands.
By the time Min reached the finals, the whispers started.
"He doesn't have a chance against the Wolf."
"Tang Soo will tear him apart."
Min heard them, but they didn't reach him.
Chan-Sik watched from the sidelines and saw it clearly.
The fire.
A figure approached, wrapped in a massive coat like he'd stepped out of the arctic. The crowd parted instinctively.
"So you're Min," the man said. His voice was low, predatory. "You ain't shit. This is my hood."
Chan-Sik stepped forward.
"And you are?"
The man smirked.
"They call me The Wolf."
The crowd gasped.
Min didn't flinch.
"Then let's play," Min said.
The Wolf chuckled.
"Main stage. Ten minutes."
Min stepped outside for air.
He told the crew to stay back and watch the gear. MC ORCA and Hye-Jin drifted toward the dance floor, laughing, moving with the beat. Chan-Sik stayed near the tables, arms crossed, eyes scanning.
Min walked closer to the music.
That's when he saw her.
Soo-Yeon.
Not in Red Pulse colors. Just normal clothes. Laughing. Dancing. Alive.
"Min!" she shouted when she saw him. "Whoa!"
"Soo-Yeon?" He froze. "What are you doing here?"
"Partying," she said, pointing to her friend beside her. "Like everyone else."
She leaned in for a hug. Min caught the sharp scent of alcohol.
"Have you been drinking?"
She laughed. "We're at a party. Come on, dance with me."
Embarrassed, flushed, Min moved awkwardly to the beat. From across the floor, MC ORCA nudged Chan-Sik and laughed. Chan-Sik frowned and started moving closer.
"Here," Soo-Yeon said, lifting her cup. "Have some fun."
She pressed it to Min's lips.
He took a long gulp.
"Wait… what is this?" he asked, smiling too easily.
Her expression didn't change.
"Alcohol," she said lightly. "And crank."
Min blinked. "What?"
"You're about to get messed up," she laughed, already stumbling away with her friend.
The world tilted.
Chan-Sik reached him as Min staggered.
"What happened?"
"I… I took something," Min said, voice thick. "Crank."
Chan-Sik's face hardened.
"Sit down. Now."
But the lights flared brighter.
The announcer's voice boomed across the warehouse.
"Final match! Best of five! From Mapo, Min! And your favorite, Tang Soo, the Wolf!"
The crowd erupted.
Min looked up.
Stars burst across his vision.
The stage lights swallowed him whole.