[North Busan – Shin's Gym]
Dusk draped North Busan in half‑shadows when they arrived back at Shin's gym. Rain-slick concrete reflected the neon above. Inside the dimly lit room — stripped mats, chalk dust hanging in the air — Samuel and Jace sat behind a battered laptop.
Jace's fingers flew over keys, uploading files and video clips ripped from CTRL9's own servers: black-hooded guards hovering over trembling boys; children's faces bathed in fluorescent pain; live surveillance footage titled "LENS Discipline Prototype."
Above them, mounted screens flickered to life — hacked, pirated, illuminate-forced:
Title sequence (under glitchy digital font): "CTRL9 Surveillance Leaked — This is your mirror."
They watched as their own truth went live: whispered conversations echoing down alleyways, footage clips scrolling public memory, underground forums flaring, burner phone alerts pinging across heads-up screens.
Samuel leaned back.
Samuel (quiet): "Now they know."
He turned to Shin, who watched the screens like a sentinel guarding his territory.
Shin (grimly): "They're really going to react."
Seojun looked out the street-level window — juggernaut neon contrasted with abandoned stoops.
Seojun (soft): "Then let them react."
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[North Busan – City Plaza]
North Busan's frozen warehouse area was as silent as murder. Inside their fortress — pallets of firewood, shattered ice rink boards — Jung Raejin, their stone-cold leader, scrolled clips on his phone.
He stood from a rusted metal chair.
Raejin: "CTRL9 bleeds. Start packs. Shadow them. No truce."
A dozen bikers shook nodding heads, leathered and watchful.
Dagger Chain
They moved swift, leaving silent footsteps in closed flower planters — teenage girls wielding knives like ornaments. Their lieutenant, Baek Yuri, halted by a cracked window, watching invisible crowds share the leak.
She motioned to her second-in-command: they were going to warn, not kill.
Hostgate (Ex-CTRL9 Crew)
In a run-down prefab meeting room, Ma Dohan shook free a hooded blanket from a trembling member, Siwoo.
Siwoo: "We should kill him—him all."
Ma Dohan silenced him with a glance.
Ma Dohan: "We stayed silent so they forgot. Now they've remembered. We decide what comes next."
[CTRL9 Safehouse]
Tables of crying kids, empty gun racks, servers running hot — Command flared in the fluorescence.
A tall figure watched their hacked billboard from a live civic camera.
Keum Ryun (smiling): "Their mirror's stained. Time to crack it."
Behind him, iron eyes watched. Something was coming.
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Rain drummed a steady tattoo on the gym roof. Undercloth mats smelled of sweat and waiting. Seojun, Jace, and Shin gathered around Samuel.
Seojun (quiet): "Icebelt's moving—they're always looking for leverage."
Jace (grim): "Hostgate's in motion. They're waiting for our first move."
Samuel glanced at open maps, burner messages, still‑hot drives.
Samuel: "Give them faces and split this town into pieces. We position, we protect."
Shin's thumb tapped a grouped message.
Shin: "I'm exposing runners. They're ours now."
Samuel nodded.
Samuel: "Coord them. Let Dagger Chain handle civilians in play."
He paused.
Samuel: "Tonight, we stand loud. With purpose."
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Rain-soaked asphalt bore lipstick footprints under a streetlamp. Shin waited.
Baek Yuri emerged—dagger-chain patched on back. She stopped when she saw Shin roll up sleeves.
No introductions.
Yuri: "We warned you. Now get your boys out of exposed streets."
Shin inhaled.
Shin: "We protect the kids. Not your turf. Let them go."
She stared for a beat.
Yuri: "Then make good on it. Don't expect my blades to stay sheathed."
They parted under rain .
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North Busan buzzed.
Burned spray—"CTRL9 will end you."
Dead runner bodies discovered.
Able fighters trying to sell loyalty to Samuel.
Kid cries, whispered plans.
A jogger paused under billboard-light: paused at silent feet, watching blood-soaked frames flash by.
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[Late Night – Underground Bar, North Busan]
The place smelled like soaked leather and spilled soju. Neon dripped down cracked tile. On the far end of the bar, under a broken fan, a cluster of fighters in dark jackets waited — the Gupo crew.
They weren't supposed to be this far north.
Samuel stepped in, flanked by Seojun and Shin.
At their front, Jace was already there — leaning on the counter like it was his own living room.
One of the Gupo men stepped forward. Leather jacket, half-buttoned, jaw squared with history. On his sleeve, a faded patch read: KC BOX — Gupo's underground fight circle.
Gupo Fighter (to Samuel):"We don't cross the bridge without reason."
Jace pushed off the bar, face half in shadow.
Jace: "He's not just anyone. They're after him for the same reason they used to come after me."
Samuel raised an eyebrow, slightly turned.
Samuel: "You didn't say you had Gupo ties."
Jace (shrugged): "Didn't think I needed to. My uncle trained half these guys when I was still catching fists instead of throwing them."
The Gupo man looked at Jace long and hard, then grunted.
Gupo Fighter: "You don't call in family unless it's serious."
Jace (grinning, but eyes cold): "It's serious."
Gupo Fighter (to Samuel):"We're not here to take orders. But we'll stand with you. For him."
Samuel nodded once. He didn't smile, but his eyes held weight.
Samuel: "That's all I need."
Outside, the billboard across the street flickered one last time—CTRL9's leaked footage looping under the headline:"This is your mirror."
And in that moment, across city blocks and fractured turf lines, North Busan stopped pretending it was stable.