Song Seon-mi approached the entrance of the underground bar, eyeing the guard on his phone, cigarette in hand, and an obvious pistol tucked into his blazer. This notorious spot was a well-known Yakuza hangout.
"Is this Ichiban Seto?" she asked.
As if disgusted by her presence, he replied, "Huh? Get lost, brat. This isn't a place for kids."
In an instant, a silenced gunshot sliced through the air, finding its mark in the guard's forehead. His lifeless body tumbled down the stairs, crashing into the below street-level bar.
The sudden violence seized the room's atmosphere. Gang members froze mid-action; music stopped, and conversations halted. The once vibrant space transformed into an eerie silence, disrupted only by the subtle echo of Seon-mi's heavy footsteps.
Each step, deliberate and calm, resonated through the quiet space as she descended into the depths of the underground bar. The pool tables, once a backdrop for laughter and camaraderie, now stood as witnesses to an impending reckoning.
As Seon-mi progressed down the stairs, panic rippled among the men below. The amplifying footsteps signaled their encroaching demise.
Each step echoed like a countdown timer, measuring the dwindling seconds of their existence. Seon-mi reached the bottom, crossing over the body of the man she had just shot, leaving a morbid path in her wake.
"What the...? It's just a kid," a bewildered voice erupted from the shadows.
A burly figure approached, blocking Seon-mi's view of the room.
"Hey, girl! Did you do thi—"
His sentence was abruptly cut short as he fell backward. In that fleeting moment, Seon-mi vanished. The man crashed onto a table, splintering it and sending a glass airborne. Another silenced gunshot fired—she had repositioned herself behind all the gang members, unseen and unheard.
The bullet shattered the glass, unleashing a cascade of shards in every direction. Panic ensued as voices erupted in screams.
"Gahh!" one cried out.
"Fuck!" said another.
"It's in my neck!" cried a third.
"Don't just stand there—get her!" someone commanded.
The remaining nine Yakuza spurred into action and charged Seon-mi. Standing calmly at the back of the room, she released the magazine of her gun, still cool and collected.
"Five rounds left," she murmured, loading the mag back into her gun.
She fired the first shot, watching as it pierced through the bar's only light, momentarily disorienting those rushing her.
Seon-mi seized the opportunity. Rushing toward the nearest assailant, she struck him in the stomach with immense force, and as he began to fall, she harnessed the momentum—grabbing his tie and swinging him face-first into the edge of a nearby table, instantly shattering his jaw.
Exploiting the chaos to her advantage, Seon-mi stepped on the man's head, driving his shattered jaw further into the table. With a swift leap, she executed a flying roundhouse kick, connecting with two more assailants.
The impact only brought down one man; the other swiftly regained his footing. In response, Seon-mi fired a bullet into his knee, sending him to the floor. As he struggled to rise, she spun back, delivering a powerful kick that sent a bottle of wine into the man's face, shattering as it made contact.
"It's just one little girl—someone fucking grab a hold of her!" The desperate plea echoed as only six gang members remained.
Seon-mi, unfazed, fired two bullets square into the foreheads of two more men, their bodies dropping to the floor like dolls. Sensing the unfolding peril, one gang member attempted to flee, prompting Seon-mi to swiftly throw a concealed knife from her sleeve, slicing the man's heel and halting his escape.
"FUCK THIS—LET'S KILL THIS BITCH," one declared.
In an instant, they all brandished handguns, aiming at Seon-mi.
A small smirk played on her face as she thought, Finally.
They opened fire simultaneously, but she already had a plan set in motion. She ducked before the bullets were even discharged. With her gun positioned upward, she fired a single bullet from behind her back.
The three incoming bullets collided with Seon-mi's bullet at the same time, which was spinning in counter-rotation from the others. The result: a mesmerizing dance of ricocheting bullets that found their targets inside three of the men. They all fell to the floor—two died instantly, and the other was left writhing in agony from the redirected bullet.
Looking around at the carnage she had wrought, Seon-mi observed the bar's transformation. Blood dripped from the counter, glass shards littered the floor, and moans emanated from the few still alive.
"Crap. I was supposed to ask about the thing," she muttered, retrieving a handkerchief to wipe her gun clean.
She tucked the handkerchief back into her pocket and sheathed her gun into the shoulder holster concealed beneath her blazer.