Eugene slowly got up, his glasses broken, blood streaming down his head. He bent over, taking deep breaths.
Mandeok and Yuseong closed in on him. Eugene slowly wiped the blood from his face. "It's okay. I am fine." Then he turned to Tom Lee. "So, is the White Tiger Job Centre not going to join?"
Tom Lee shook his head. "No. We are going to join the Workers."
Eugene nodded. "Good." With that, Eugene left with Mandeok and Yuseong.
---
The Next Day, Workers Headquarters
Mandeok and Eugene sat face to face. "I heard about it, Eugene. That you're going to bring in another force other than the White Tiger Job Centre?"
Eugene nodded as he inspected his tablet. "Yeah. The White Tiger Job Centre is the White Tiger Job Centre. We have to gather more strength."
Mandeok nodded. "Is it because of that man?"
Eugene stopped for a moment, then said, "Yes and no. That man... Baki Hanma, the Ogre. He is a variable I didn't expect."
Mandeok nodded. "He is as dangerous as Gun, if not more so. I think we should be cautious of him."
Eugene smiled. "Yes. He is a strong variable, but he is alone."
Mandeok nodded. "Hmm... That's one advantage. By the way, are you really going to merge the four major crews?"
Eugene nodded. "Yes. The White Tiger Job Centre will complete the task."
Mandeok thought for a moment and asked, "Baki Hanma seems to have a connection with Hostel. Will you be able to complete your goal?"
Eugene smiled. "As long as Baki Hanma isn't in Seoul, merging Hostel should be easy."
Mandeok shook his head. "Vin Jin's master is the King of Cheonliang. And Vin Jin seems to be friends with Hostel. What will you do if the King of Cheonliang intervenes?"
Eugene smiled. "We don't have to worry about the King of Cheonliang. I've found an important piece of information about him. As long as my plan works, he won't be able to do anything."
---
Gangbuk, Seoul
Go Hajun was jogging near the Han River. They had lost badly against Northern Gangbuk. Only after leveraging Johan Seong's strength had they managed to negotiate a two-month truce.
"I've certainly grown stronger, but why is it still not enough? In elementary school, middle school, and high school, I reigned. I had nothing to be scared of and nothing to fear. Someone as dominant as myself was beaten even after I grew strong. Why? What am I missing?"
As he stopped to drink water, he noticed Baki. He stood there watching Baki do one-handed handstand pushups.
"796... 797... 798..." Baki counted with each push-up. Finishing his eight hundredth one-handed handstand pushup, he got back on his feet. Even without turning around, he asked, "What's up, kid? It's been a while."
Hajun nodded. "Yeah. It's been a while. Do you live here?"
Baki shook his head as he wiped his sweat with a towel. "No. I just come to enjoy the view of the river from here. Do you live around here?"
Hajun nodded. "Yeah. Are you perhaps a professional boxer?"
Baki turned around. "Me? A boxer? Maybe. What about you? You look strong. Are you perhaps a boxer?"
Hajun nodded. "Yeah."
Baki smiled. "How about we have a spar? What do you say?"
Hajun nodded. "Okay. There's a gym nearby."
Baki nodded. "Let's go then."
---
The gym was small—old punching bags, one boxing ring, and the smell of sweat. A few other people were training.
Hajun wrapped his hands methodically. As he pulled on his boxing gloves, he studied Baki, who was doing the same with casual ease.
"Just a light spar," Baki said with a smile. "Stop anytime you want."
Hajun nodded, stepping into the ring.
They touched gloves, and the world seemed to narrow.
Hajun moved first, throwing a crisp jab to gauge distance. Baki's head tilted slightly, and the punch sailed past his cheek by millimeters. Hajun followed with a combination: jab, cross, hook.
Baki dodged them all with minimal movement.
"How is he dodging them with such precision? Am I too slow for him?"
Hajun reset, bouncing on his toes. He threw a feint, then exploded forward with a powerful straight right. Baki leaned back just enough, the punch passing inches from his nose. Before Hajun could retract his arm, he felt a light tap on his temple—Baki's counter jab, pulled at the last instant.
"Hmm... Are you perhaps self-taught?" Baki commented, still smiling.
Hajun nodded. "Yes. I learned by myself from Boxer Line magazine. Why? Is there something wrong?" He increased his pace, throwing combinations from different angles.
Baki weaved through them easily. "No. It's good. But it can be far better."
Then Baki stepped in. Hajun felt completely exposed. A light jab snapped into his guard, testing. Another. Then a body shot slipped through, so fast Hajun barely registered it until he felt the tap against his ribs.
"How do I do better?" Hajun asked as he tried to create distance, but Baki stayed with him, matching his footwork perfectly.
A straight right appeared in Hajun's vision—perfectly timed. It stopped a centimeter from his nose. Hajun had frozen completely, unable to react.
"There are many things you can do better. Your technique lacks refinement, and your physique is holding you back," Baki said conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather. "On top of that, you seem to be distracted too."
Hajun threw a hook, putting his full weight behind it. Baki ducked under it smoothly, and suddenly Hajun felt a presence behind him. A light tap on his side. Baki had somehow circled around him in the space of a single missed punch.
"Let's try something," Baki said, moving back to center ring. "Come at me seriously. Don't hold back."
Hajun nodded.
He charged in with everything he had.
Baki dodged quite easily. He even pointed out Hajun's openings. It wasn't that Hajun's physique was poor—it was impressive, actually—but he had seen far better. Most of the second-generation kids Baki had met so far were far more monstrous. It felt like the kid in front of him wasn't even the same generation.
Hajun's breathing became ragged. Sweat poured down his face. His arms felt heavy.
"Time out," Baki said gently, raising his glove.
Hajun stumbled back. He glanced up at Baki. The gap between them wasn't just large. It was enormous.
They removed their gloves in silence. Hajun sat on the ring apron, staring at his hands. "Can you tell me how to get stronger?"
"You're already decently strong," Baki said, sitting beside him.
"But it wasn't enough," Hajun said quietly. "Not even close."
Baki was silent for a moment, looking out at the other boxers training. "Why do you want to get strong?"
Hajun looked at him. "I... just don't want to lose. I want to always win. No. I must always win. That's just who I am."
Baki turned to face him. "Then you have to train until you've been there, until you've felt that... there's a ceiling you can't break through."
"Then... how do I break through? Can you teach me?" Hajun asked.
Baki smiled again. "I'm not a boxer, kid. But you have intrigued me."
He stood up, stretching. "But I can certainly help out since I happen to have some free time."
Baki jumped down from the ring. "Thanks for the spar, kid. Meet me near the river tomorrow morning."
As Baki walked toward the exit, Hajun called out, "Wait! Thanks!"
Baki glanced back, an enigmatic smile on his face. "Don't thank me so quickly. You might not even want to continue after tomorrow. Hahaha."
Then he was gone.
Hajun sat in the ring for a long time afterward, staring at his gloves. In elementary school, middle school, and high school, he had reigned. But now he had fallen. Could he become the Overlord once again?