Lookism: King's Ascension

The warehouse was quieter now. 

No more shouts. No more sounds of fists slamming into flesh. Just the occasional scrape of boots against concrete and the low murmurs of exhaustion.

Most of the injured had been tended to, and those who could still stand had settled into quiet corners, catching their breath. 

The fight was over, but the weight of it still lingered in the air. Blood, sweat, and something else… something heavier. The knowledge that they'd made it through another night.

The Tall guy stood at the metal table near the back of the warehouse, stacks of cash piled neatly in front of him. 

The dim, flickering light overhead cast long shadows across his face as he thumbed through the bills with practiced ease.

Each fighter who had made it back stepped up in turn. No words were needed… just a brief glance, an acknowledgment of their effort, and then the money slid across the table into waiting hands.

Minho handed out the same amount to each of them.

"Three hundred and forty thousand won," he muttered, pushing the next stack forward. "Don't spend it all in one place."

The fighter nodded, taking the cash and stepping away.

Another stepped forward. Minho repeated the process. Same amount. Same tired tone. 

He wasn't here to congratulate them. This wasn't a victory parade. They'd done what they were supposed to do… survive. That was all.

When Taeyang finally reached the front of the line, he kept his expression unreadable. His clothes were still stained with blood, some his, most not. His knuckles ached, his lip was split, but he was standing.

Minho looked at him for a second longer than the others. Not quite impressed. Not quite indifferent either.

Then, like it was nothing, he slid the cash across the table.

"Three hundred and forty thousand."

Taeyang picked up the bills. They felt heavier than they should have. He let them rest in his palm, flipping through them with his thumb. 

Before he could pocket it, Minho spoke again.

"You can leave now."

Taeyang's fingers stilled.

Minho leaned against the table, crossing his arms. "That's about the same as what you stole from us. Consider it even. You're not in debt anymore."

A simple statement. A clear exit. No threats. No warnings. Just a door wide open, waiting for him to walk through it.

The money was real. He could walk out of here right now and pretend none of this ever happened. He could take the cash, disappear into the city, and never look back.

Jeongdu, standing off to the side, didn't say anything. He was watching, though. So was Brick Guy. So was everyone else who wasn't too out of it to care.

They were all waiting for his answer.

Taeyang stared at the money for a long moment. The way out was right in front of him. All he had to do was take it.

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders, flexing his bruised fingers. The ache in his bones reminded him that he was still here. That he was still standing.

And then he pocketed the money.

Not as a farewell gift. Not as a final payment.

But because he was going to need it.

He looked up at Minho, eyes steady, voice even.

"When's the next fight?"

A brief silence stretched between them.

Minho's brows lifted slightly, and for the first time tonight, something like amusement flickered across his face. Jeongdu let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.

Jeongdu gave a quiet chuckle. "You're serious?"

Taeyang didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Because he already knew.

Minho exchanged a glance with Jeongdu, something unspoken passing between them. Then, he looked back at Taeyang, his lips twitching into a smirk. 

"In three days. Same time. Different place."

Jeongdu scoffed lightly. "You sure you can handle that? You're still fresh from this one."

Taeyang shrugged, slipping the cash into his pocket. "Guess we'll see."

Minho let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he turned away. "Do whatever you want, thief. Just try not to die."

That was the end of the conversation.

Taeyang walked out of the warehouse, the cold night air biting against his skin as he started his way home. 

His fingers brushed against the money in his pocket. It was the most cash he'd held in his hands at one time, and yet, he hardly felt the weight of it.

He should've felt relief. The debt was cleared. He could walk away now, never look back. He had his way out.

But he wasn't taking it.

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he walked. 

Maybe he'd lost his mind. But in that fight, in that chaos, something had clicked. That feeling… standing back up, swinging back harder, pushing through pain. 

He liked it. It was real. 

More real than anything else had been in a long time.

The way his heart had pounded, not just from adrenaline but from something else.

Excitement.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was actually moving toward something.

He thought about the Kings, the Fists, the ones who had clawed their way to the top. He had seen how high people could reach in this world.

So why not?

Why couldn't he take it far?

A small grin pulled at his lips as he kept walking, steps steady, mind already set.

He had his answer.

Three days. 

If he carried on surviving… then it would be the right path.

***

The warehouse was nearly empty now. 

The bodies that had filled the space earlier… exhausted, bloodied, slumped against the walls, had mostly dispersed. Some went home to rest. Others disappeared into the night, melting back into the city's underbelly like ghosts.

The air still carried the weight of the fight, the sharp tang of blood, the musty dampness of sweat-soaked clothes. 

The concrete floor was stained, dark patches of dried blood marking where men had sat, groaned, bled.

Jeongdu rolled his shoulder, wincing slightly at the tightness in his muscles. 

He could still feel the force of that hit from earlier, the shock of pain that had rattled through his skull. He let out a slow breath and reached up, pressing his fingers to the wound on his forehead. The blood had dried, crusted over in thin lines down the side of his face.

Minho was still here. He stood near one of the metal support beams, arms crossed, weight shifted to one side in that relaxed but ever-watchful stance of his. 

His steel-toed boots tapped idly against the floor, a quiet, rhythmic sound that filled the silence between them.

Finally, Minho spoke.

"So?" he asked, his voice low, almost casual. "How'd he fight?"

Jeongdu exhaled through his nose, still massaging his shoulder. "He's weak."

Minho scoffed, barely reacting. "No shit."

Jeongdu let out a quiet chuckle at that. It was true, after all. Taeyang had no experience. He hadn't fought before, wasn't conditioned. Compared to the others, he was barely a fighter at all.

But Jeongdu wasn't finished.

"But not for long," he muttered.

That made Minho pause. He pushed off the support beam slightly, shifting his full attention onto Jeongdu now. His head tilted slightly, brow furrowing in mild curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Jeongdu leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers loosely clasped. He wasn't the type to speak without reason. If he was saying this, it was because he saw something.

"I didn't see enough of him to be sure," he admitted. "He didn't fight long enough for me to get a full read on him."

Minho gave him an unimpressed look. "Then what the hell are you getting at?"

Jeongdu tapped his fingers against his knee. "It's the way he fought."

Minho arched a brow. "And?"

Jeongdu inhaled deeply, thinking back to the scene in his head. 

The moment Taeyang had grabbed the bat. The way he moved. It had been different from the way most rookies fought.

Most of them hesitated… flinched before they swung, second-guessed their own movements, pulled back without realizing it.

Taeyang hadn't.

"There was no hesitation," Jeongdu said finally.

Minho's brow furrowed slightly. "Elaborate."

Jeongdu met his gaze. "When he hit someone, he really hit them. No half-assed swings. No pulling back. No looking away like he was afraid of what he was doing. He picked up that bat, and he swung it like he meant to break something."

Minho hummed, rubbing his jaw. "So? That just means he doesn't mind getting violent. Or maybe he was desperate."

Jeongdu shook his head. "It's more than that."

Minho stayed silent, waiting.

Jeongdu leaned back, stretching out his legs slightly. "He didn't fight like someone who was scared. He fought like someone who…" He stopped for a second, searching for the right words. Then he found them. "Like someone who likes it."

Minho's expression sharpened just a little. "You saying he's done this before?"

Jeongdu shrugged. "Not like this, not in a gang fight. Not even in his life. But you know my eyes. I saw what I saw."

Minho let out a quiet hum, considering that. 

It was true. Most guys who fought for the first time weren't like that. 

There was always a moment of hesitation, a flash of panic, a second where their bodies tried to reject what they were doing. Even if they threw a punch, their movements were stiff, unsure.

Taeyang hadn't looked unsure.

Minho clicked his tongue. "Maybe he's just good at acting tough."

Jeongdu shook his head again. "That's not it."

Minho gave him a look. "Then what is it?"

Jeongdu didn't answer right away. Instead, he let himself recall the image that had stood out to him the most.

Taeyang's face.

The way his teeth had bared when he swung that bat. The way his eyes had gleamed, dark and sharp, like something had come alive inside him. 

He hadn't even realized it himself.

Jeongdu had seen a lot of fighters. He'd fought alongside men who loved the thrill of it, men who fought because they had no choice, and men who fought because it was all they knew.

Taeyang was different.

"He didn't see his own face," Jeongdu muttered. "But I did."

Minho raised a brow. "And?"

Jeongdu met his gaze. "He looked like an animal."

Minho blinked at that, his expression shifting slightly.

Jeongdu continued. "His teeth were bared. His eyes were… gleaming. Like something in him had been waiting for this."

Minho didn't speak for a moment. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

"That so?" he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement.

Jeongdu just nodded.

Minho exhaled, shaking his head. "Guess we'll see how far he takes it."

Jeongdu watched him for a moment. He could tell Minho was intrigued now.

Taeyang was still weak. That much was obvious. But weakness wasn't permanent. Strength could be built. Skills could be learned.

And if Taeyang really had that fire in him… the kind that didn't just burn out after one fight, then maybe, just maybe, he'd survive long enough to become something else entirely.

Jeongdu cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders once more before standing up.

"We'll find out soon enough," he said.

Minho just chuckled. "Yeah. We will.

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Yay for Taeyang!