Lookism: King's Ascension

Two weeks later - 7:47pm

His phone buzzed.

Taeyang tilted back the last of his shake, the thick liquid coating his throat before he set the empty cup down with a hollow clink.

He looked down at his screen.

[Unknown Number]: Building next to the warehouse. Wear your uniform.

His thumb hovered over the message, his heartbeat picking up.

The building next to the warehouse.

His fingers curled around the phone, tightening as a dull pulse of anxiety throbbed in his chest.

This was it.

No hesitation.

He turned to his closet and pulled out his old school uniform. The stiff white shirt, the black slacks… The fabric felt foreign, like something borrowed from someone else.

When he caught his reflection in the cracked mirror above his sink, he barely recognized himself.

For a moment, he hesitated.

He knew why he had to wear the uniform. It wasn't a choice.

There wasn't another way to tell which area you were from… your blazer marked your school, and your school marked your affiliation. It was a territorial stamp, an unspoken rule.

If he wanted to, he could just wear the blazer over his regular clothes.

But that would make him stand out. And he couldn't afford that.

He was weak.

Looking different would put a target on his back before he even learned how to fight. Right now, his best option was to blend in. At least until he could go toe-to-toe with a fighter.

His gaze dropped to his feet.

One pair of trainers.

No school shoes. No work boots. Nothing else.

Not like I could buy more anyway…

He had run out of money. Barely a few thousand won left in his pocket.

His mind drifted back to the last two weeks… the endless plates of chicken, the nutrient shakes, the hours spent watching fights, hitting the sandbag out of desperation.

Taeyang let out a snicker.

Two weeks of bulking… and for what.

It barely made a difference. His arms were barely bigger, his punches didn't seem any stronger, and his reflection still looked like a nobody.

But none of that mattered now.

Because if he was going to die today…

Then he was going to die full on food and trying his best to kill whoever tried to kill him.

***

The sky was a dull gray, overcast and heavy, like being choked.

The air smelled of concrete dust, rust, and stale rain, and the faint sound of distant traffic buzzed in the background.

The warehouse district was mostly abandoned, a graveyard of forgotten industry. Rusted fences, shattered windows, and half-collapsed buildings lined the empty streets. The building next to the warehouse wasn't much better… two stories of cracked brick, walls tagged with graffiti, and a door barely hanging on its hinges.

Taeyang swallowed and stepped inside.

The floorboards groaned beneath his weight.

At least the inside was more hygienic. He'd expected cigarette smoke, maybe even crates or broken chunks of wood.

It actually looked like a lobby… an aged lobby with barely anything inside but a lobby nonetheless.

But he was alone.

Taeyang paused and then listened.

Footsteps above him.

They were all upstairs.

So he kept on moving, going up the ragged stairs, the place finally looking like it was less well kept.

The end of the corridor finally led him into a door which he promptly opened.

The large room inside was packed with people… at least twenty of them. 

Their heads all snapped up in unison as the door creaked open, their eyes fixing on him. His heart raced, but he kept his back straight, his posture rigid.

And then he saw him.

The tall guy.

The one who'd beaten the shit out of him in that concrete room.

Taeyang's fingers involuntarily reached for his face, the memory of bruises flaring in his mind like a phantom pain. His vision, once blurred from the beating, now allowed him to take in the details.

His shaved head and a neck covered in tattoos, he definitely looked like a gangster… but his face wasn't the sort. It was good-looking, high cheekbones and definitely features that would have placed him in front of a magazine…

If it weren't for his downright feral grin.

"The fucking thief actually turned up."

The weight of their gazes bore down on him, but he didn't flinch. He couldn't. He couldn't show weakness, no matter how much his body wanted to shrink under their scrutiny. It didn't matter that he'd been beaten senseless two weeks ago. 

It was time to change.

And it's not like he'd spent the past two weeks doing nothing.

A deep gravelly voice spoke up. "This is him? He's the one that asked to join us?"

Taeyang looked at the owner of the newest voice. The tall guy didn't seem especially tall anymore when considering him.

He must be Jeongdu.

Grey hair, twisted into dreadlocks fell down his face, an exceptionally square face with a square jaw… it didn't help that one of his eyes had pupils covered in a shiny grey, almost like a cataract. He was half blind.

He was also built like a fucking mountain.

The tall guy let out a bitter laugh. "I wouldn't say he asked," he sneered, his grin growing more vicious. "It was either him joining us or getting sent straight to the ICU."

A few of the others snickered. Taeyang felt the weight of the room shift, the atmosphere thickening with the unspoken tension.

Then there was silence.

Taeyang studied them carefully. They weren't all the same. Some were more imposing than others, but all of them looked like they'd come here on their own free will. The group was made up of a mix of men… some had buzzcuts, others kept their hair short and neat.

But there was one thing they all had in common:

They all wore school blazers.

All of them came from Anyang, the same as him.

Taeyang took a slow step forward, eyes flicking between them. They had experience, power, and a bond built on blood. But he had one thing they didn't.

Desperation.

He wasn't here because he thought he could make friends. He was here because he had no choice.

He was here so he could live.

Jeongdu's voice once again shook me out of my thoughts.

"We're debriefing. Listen."

Taeyang straightened, pushing the turmoil in his stomach down into a tight knot and the tall one started speaking.

Taeyang listened.

"Like I was saying before, the Circle in Uiwang has been destroyed. Suwon's forces somehow managed to time their attacks along with ours and Seoul led a decisive hit. As of now… Uiwang is a no-man's land. And Seoul may not be interested in advancing…"

Jeongdu finished for him. "But Suwon is. So we have to show them that we aren't letting them move in. That's what my squad… you guys, will be doing."

And that's how the talk went.

Taeyang's mind wandered, briefly, as the conversation continued around him, but he quickly shut it down. He couldn't afford to zone out, not now. 

He didn't question how a group of high schoolers ended up tangled in something that felt more like a war game than reality. It seemed absurd to him at first… like something out of a movie. High school kids being used as pawns in a game of power and territory.

But reality was much darker than any fiction. And here, in the dimly lit room surrounded by these new people, he realized just how deeply the stakes ran. 

This wasn't some strange, twisted game of Rise of Kingdoms… this was blood and territory. 

No one spoke up, no one dared to interrupt. They were all soldiers in this mess now, and they had a singular purpose… show Suwon that they weren't giving an inch.

Jeongdu's eyes swept over the group once more, making sure his words were sinking in. 

Taeyang didn't miss how Jeongdu's eyes never swept past him. 

He wasn't a member of the team. 

As far as they were concerned… he was here to die.

His mind ran back to the last two weeks, the days he had spent punching the walls of his apartment… kicking the sandbag. Push-ups till his elbows were clicking. Squats until he couldn't move his legs anymore.

Two weeks… it wasn't a long time, not by any means but it was the only time he'd had.

His fist clenched tighter.

He was going to survive, he was going to get through all this.

And then he would escape.

He was going to escape the First Generation.