Soo-jin's footsteps echoed against the narrow walls of the alley, each deliberate step a declaration of presence. She wanted them to hear her coming. She wanted them to look up. She wanted them to see her.
The deeper she ventured into the shadowed passage, the sharper her senses became. The damp scent of garbage mingled with cigarette smoke. Muffled laughter bounced off concrete walls. Low voices grew clearer with each step threatening, mocking, cruelly amused.
And then she saw them.
At the alley's end, where it widened into a small courtyard, a group of seven students in technical school uniforms lounged like predators after a successful hunt. Cigarettes dangled from sneering lips. Their postures were loose but ready the stance of those accustomed to violence and confident in their dominance.
Three Hankuk students were with them. Two boys knelt on the filthy ground, uniforms torn and faces bloodied. One clutched his ribs, breathing in short, pained gasps. The other had a swollen eye nearly shut and a split lip that dripped blood onto his once-pristine white shirt.
A few meters away, a female Hankuk student stood pressed against the wall, tears streaming down her face. A tall technical school student had one arm braced against the wall beside her head while his other hand toyed with a strand of her hair. Her uniform jacket was askew, her eyes wide with terror.
Soo-jin assessed the situation in seconds. Seven opponents. Three victims. Multiple exit points now blocked by human obstacles. Limited space for maneuvering.
Acceptable odds.
She continued forward, letting her footfalls grow heavier. The sound drew their attention, heads turning in unison like a pack of wolves catching a new scent.
"Let them go," Soo-jin said, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.
For a moment, they seemed too surprised to respond. Then the one nearest to her—tall, with a crude tattoo visible at his collar recovered and stepped forward.
"Or what?" he challenged, a smirk spreading across his face as he gave her a slow, deliberate once-over. His eyes lingered, assessing not her threat level but her physical attributes. It was a common mistake. One Soo-jin had been exploited many times before.
He approached with the confident swagger of someone who had never faced real consequences for his actions. Reaching out, he grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up toward his.
"How about you stay, and we'll let them go, sweetheart?" he suggested, running his tongue over his bottom lip. Behind him, his friends laughed appreciatively, already dividing the spoils in their minds.
Soo-jin allowed her body to seem pliant for just a moment, lulling him into false security. She even managed a small, seemingly nervous smile.
Then she moved.
Her right hook connected with his jaw with precision and devastating force. The crack of impact echoed in the alley, followed by the dull thud of his body hitting the concrete. He didn't cry out he didn't have time. Consciousness fled him the moment her fist connected, his eyes rolling back before his brain could even register pain.
Without pause, Soo-jin side stepped over his crumpled form and continued toward the remaining students, who now stared at her with expressions ranging from shock to mounting rage.
"I'll ask one more time," she said, settling into a relaxed fighting stance. "Will you let them go, or not?"
For a heartbeat, silence reigned in the alley. Then a stocky student with a shaved head cursed viciously.
"Get her!" he shouted, lunging forward.
Two others followed immediately, while the rest hung back, perhaps smarter or simply more calculating. Three-on-one. Their confidence was evident in their reckless charge no strategy, no coordination. Just brute force and the assumption of superiority.
The first reached her with a wild haymaker that would have been devastating if it had connected. Soo-jin didn't give it the chance. She slipped inside his guard, redirecting his momentum with a subtle shift of her shoulder. As he stumbled past, off-balance, she delivered a sharp elbow strike to his kidney. He folded with a choked gasp.
The second and third attacked simultaneously, one aiming high, the other low. A classic pincer movement, but executed with more enthusiasm than skill. Soo-jin dropped to a crouch, letting the high attack whistle over her head, then exploded upward with her palm driving into the attacker's solar plexus. Air rushed from his lungs in a pained wheeze.
The third managed to grasp her uniform jacket, his fingers tangling in the fabric. Soo-jin rotated into the hold rather than away from it, limiting his leverage. Her knee found his thigh with surgical precision, striking the nerve cluster that would temporarily numb his entire leg. He staggered, grip loosening just enough.
Soo-jin seized the opening, twisting free while simultaneously delivering a knife-hand strike to his throat. Not hard enough to cause lasting damage, but enough to send him reeling back, choking and disoriented.
Three down in less than fifteen seconds.
The remaining four spread out, circling her with newfound wariness. They were learning, adapting. This wouldn't be as simple as they'd thought. The one who had been harassing the female student abandoned his prey, pulling a small switchblade from his pocket.
"You're dead," he snarled, flicking the blade open with practiced ease.
Soo-jin's expression didn't change. A knife raised the stakes but didn't change the fundamental equation. If anything, it simplified her options. Armed assault crossed a line that mere bullying didn't. It justified a more definitive response.
He approached more cautiously than his friends had, knife held low and ready. The others moved with him, tightening the circle. Their coordination suggested experience perhaps they'd done this before, cornered someone who fought back, overwhelmed them with numbers.
But they had never faced someone like Soo-jin.
As the knife-wielder feinted left, then struck right, Soo-jin was already moving. She pivoted sharply, her foot lashing out to strike his wrist with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered to the ground. Before he could react, her other foot connected with his kneecap. The crack of cartilage tearing was audible even over his howl of pain.
The remaining three attacked at once, abandoning caution for desperation. A fist grazed Soo-jin's cheek as she ducked under a wild swing. She tasted blood from her split lip but felt no pain only the familiar, focused clarity of combat.
She drove her fist into the nearest attacker's diaphragm, following with an uppercut that snapped his head back. As he fell, she used his descending weight as leverage, vaulting over him to land behind the other two. Off-balance and confused by her sudden disappearance from their field of vision, they hesitated just long enough.
Soo-jin seized the back of one student's uniform, using his body weight against him as she drove her knee into his spine. He arched backward with a strangled cry, collapsing to his knees. The last standing opponent backed away, hands raised in surrender, terror replacing the arrogance that had marked his features minutes earlier.
"I—I'm not—" he stammered, but whatever plea he intended to make was cut short.
Soo-jin's foot connected with the side of his head in a perfect roundhouse kick. Not full force she wasn't looking to kill but enough to ensure he wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. He crumpled to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.
Seven attackers. Seven bodies on the ground. Some unconscious, others moaning in pain, all thoroughly defeated. The entire confrontation had lasted less than a minute.
Soo-jin turned to the Hankuk students, who stared at her with expressions of shock and disbelief. The female student had slid down the wall to sit on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide.
"Can you walk?" Soo-jin asked the kneeling boys.
They nodded mutely, struggling to their feet. The one with the swollen eye swayed slightly but managed to stay upright.
"Go," she instructed, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Get out of here. Now."
The boys didn't need to be told twice. They limped toward the alley entrance, supporting each other. The girl took longer to move, her limbs shaking as she pushed herself up.
"Th-thank you," she whispered as she passed Soo-jin. "They've been targeting Hankuk students for weeks. No in school wanted to help us."
Soo-jin filed this information away. "Did they ever target a student named Song Min-ah?" she asked quietly.
Recognition flickered in the girl's eyes. "You're asking about the scholarship student who... who left suddenly last semester?"
"Yes."
The girl glanced nervously at the groaning bodies around them. "I—I don't know for sure, but I heard rumors. That she was once their favorite target because she always walked home alone." She hesitated. "But that's not what—" She stopped abruptly, fear returning to her expression.
"What?" Soo-jin pressed. "That's not what what?"
"Nothing," the girl said quickly. "I need to go. Thank you again."
Before Soo-jin could ask more, the girl hurried away, joining the boys at the alley entrance. Whatever she knew or thought she knew about Min-ah, she was too frightened to share it.
Soo-jin turned back to survey the aftermath of the brief but violent encounter. Most of the technical school students were beginning to stir, moaning in pain. The one who had pulled the knife remained motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. His knee would need medical attention, but he would recover. Eventually.
As she contemplated her next move, Soo-jin became aware of a new presence. Footsteps approached from the direction of the alley entrance heavy, measured, unhurried. A tall shadow stretched across the ground, growing longer as its owner drew nearer.
Soo-jin pivoted smoothly, dropping back into a fighting stance. Her body, still humming with adrenaline, was ready for a second round if necessary.
A man stood at the edge of the courtyard, observing the scene with calm, analytical eyes. He was massive easily over six feet tall, with shoulders broad enough to nearly span the narrow alley. His build suggested a type of raw power. A plastic bag dangled from one hand, the logo of a nearby convenience store visible on its side.
He wasn't wearing a technical school uniform or a Hankuk blazer. Instead, he wore simple dark clothes that seemed chosen for functionality rather than style. His face was impassive as he took in the scattered bodies, the spots of blood on the concrete, and Soo-jin's defensive posture.
For several heartbeats, they simply assessed each other across the distance. Predator recognizing predator. Fighter acknowledging fighter.
The man shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the plastic bag. Soo-jin tensed, ready for him to drop it and attack or perhaps pull a weapon from within it.
A groan from one of the fallen students broke the tense silence. The wounded knife-wielder was attempting to crawl away, leaving a smear of blood on the concrete from his shattered knee.
The alley suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. Soo-jin kept her eyes fixed on the newcomer, waiting for his next move. Friend or foe, she would be ready.
Behind her, one of the fallen students stirred more purposefully, slowly reaching toward the discarded knife that lay just inches from his trembling fingers.