Woori's breath caught. His grip on the crowbar tightened until his knuckles went white.
The cold metal pressed against his palm as sweat slid down his temple.
He clenched his teeth, breath shaking through his nose.
The realization sank in slowly… there was nowhere left to run.
He exhaled once, steadying himself.
Both hands gripped the crowbar.
He raised it, the claw pointing forward shakingly, his body positioned clumsily.
The jacket gangster chuckled. "You've got a death wish?"
Woori looked straight at the jacket gangster's eyes, shaking.
He exhaled, and stepped forward.
WHOOOSH… The gangster swung his metal pipe fast.
Woori raised the crowbar–
…
CRACK!
The mohawk gangster's head snapped sideways, the world spinning as Seojin's bat connected clean against his jaw. He stumbled behind, blood burst from his lips in a mist, his vision breaking apart into white.
Before he could even recover,
WHOOOSH…
Seojin swung again.
The bat cut through the air with a sharp whistle, a silver streak aimed straight for the side of his skull.
The mohawk gangster ducked.
The swing passed clean over his head, slicing a strand of his hair. He dropped to one knee, teeth gritted, eyes wide and burning red.
Seojin pivoted on their heel, another swing, just as fast.
The bat carved through the air again, but the mohawk gangster didn't back away.
The gangster jumped forward.
His shoulder dropped low, his body hurling forward like a battering ram.
The bat struck sideways, missing his head by inches, and slammed instead into the handle of a nearby seat.
CLANG! The seat handle became fractured in an instant.
The shock traveled up Seojin's arms…
Just as the mohawk gangster's shoulder crashed into their ribs.
THUD!
Air burst out of Seojin's lungs.
The impact sent them staggering back, boots scraping against the blood-slick floor.
Just as Seojin stumbled back, the gangster pulled away just enough to gather momentum, then charged again.
His boots slammed against the metal floor, body lunging forward with animal force.
Blood still dripped from his mouth, his breath ragged, but his eyes were wild, driven by a desperate, hateful pulse.
He threw his arm back, then swung.
A hook punch tore through the air.
Seojin lifted the metal bat in front of their face, instinctively bringing it up to block…
but the punch curved, the gangster twisted his wrist mid-swing, the arc breaking wide, slipping past the bat's guard.
WHAM!
The fist slammed square into the cracked line across Seojin's mask.
The impact rang out, echoing off the walls.
The mask split deeper, the fracture spidering outward from the impact point.
Seojin's head snapped sideways, the world jolting white for a moment.
Then gangster's gaze flicked sideways—
to the broken window.
Cold air howled through it, shards of glass still clinging to the jagged frame.
A thought flashed behind his eyes, he immediately lunged forward, grabbing Seojin by the collar before they could recover.
Seojin staggered, boots scraping against the floor, still dazed from the punch.
The gangster growled, teeth bared as he drove them to the side, shoving with all his weight.
Each shove forced Seojin closer to the broken window, boots clanging against the metal aisle.
The shattered frame rattled louder and louder, wind cutting between them like a scream.
Another push, closer and closer…
Then Seojin's heel caught on a seat handle.
Their head tilted up, before the gangster could push any further, Seojin's leg snapped forward.
THUD! A clean, explosive front kick, right into the gangster's chest.
The mohawk gangster's body shot backward, feet leaving the ground. He crashed, rolling across a table into the center row of seats, the kind that faced each other, divided by a narrow metal table bolted to the floor.
Seojin fell, collapsing into the nearest seat, the bat nearly slipped from their hand, but they tightened their grip just in time. Each breath rattled through their ribs.
The gangster landed on the seat across Seojin's
For a brief, eerie moment… They sat across from each other, like two passengers sharing the same table, both heads titled down.
Then… slowly, they lifted their heads.
The mohawk gangster's lip curled back in a crooked grin, a thin line of blood running down from the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned with raw defiance.
Seojin's eyes, half-hidden behind the fractured mask, were visible with exhaustion.
The gangster moved first.
He planted one hand on the table between them, the metal creaking under his weight.
Then the other.
With a low growl, he climbed up, dragging himself on the table separating them. The table shuddered, bolts whining as he advanced, his boots thudding against its surface.
Seojin barely moved.
Their body trembled with fatigue, breath scraping at their throat. Every motion felt delayed, like their muscles were a few seconds behind their intent.
When the gangster reached halfway across the table, Seojin raised the bat with a slow, shaky motion, the metal glinting weakly under the flickering light, and swung.
The hit was sluggish. The bat arced lazily toward the gangster.
The gangster caught it mid-swing, fingers clamping around the metal like a vice.
The bat stopped dead.
He leaned closer, his grin widening, eyes glinting through the blood and shadow.
"What's wrong," he mocked. "Out of breath already?"
He twisted the bat slightly, wrenching it out of Seojin's grasp inch by inch.
"You looked a lot scarier a minute ago."