The last attacker tried to crawl to the knife but then the alley's atmosphere shifted. A shadow stretched across the pavement, drawing Soo-jin's attention from the prone forms of the technical school students to the entrance of the narrow passage.
A man stood there holding a plastic bag dangled from one hand, the logo of a nearby convenience store visible on its side, silhouetted against the street lights. Unlike the boys sprawled on the ground around her, this was no student. His frame filled the narrow alley entrance broad-shouldered and solid, with the kind of musculature that spoke of practical strength rather than vanity. He wore dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that strained against his chest and biceps. His face, square-jawed with eyes that seemed perpetually half-lidded, surveyed the scene with detached interest.
The man stepped forward, boots crunching on the loose gravel. His gaze swept over the groaning bodies on the ground before settling on Soo-jin, the only person standing. A small crease formed between his eyebrows not fear or anger, but mild annoyance.
"Great," he muttered, just loud enough for Soo-jin to hear. "More work to do."
He ran a hand through his short, dark hair and sighed heavily, as if the scene before him was an inconvenience on par with finding a parking ticket on his windshield. His apparent disinterest set Soo-jin's nerve endings alight. This wasn't a random passerby; he definitely knew these thugs.
"Who are you?" Soo-jin demanded warily, as her body instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, feet planted firmly on the uneven ground.
The man's eyes flicked toward her momentarily, then dismissed her just as quickly. He grunted, "Not here for you."
With unhurried steps, he moved toward one of the fallen attackers, the one who had been crawling and tried reaching for the knife. The boy froze like prey caught in a predator's gaze. The man's movements were languid, almost lazy, yet there was nothing casual about the way the technical school students reacted to his presence. Those conscious enough to register his arrival visibly tensed.
"I'm not here to fight," he said, acknowledging Soo-jin without looking at her. "Just collecting what's due. That's all."
He knelt beside the would-be knife-wielder, who now scrambled backward like a crab, wincing at what was clearly a fractured rib or two.
"Who sent you?" Soo-jin pressed again, closing the distance between them.
The man's lack of concern for her presence was infuriating. It was as if she posed no threat at all a notion that ignited something fierce within her. Without hesitation, Soo-jin launched forward, pivoting on her back foot and sending a roundhouse kick toward his exposed neck.
Her foot connected with solid muscle. The impact reverberated through her leg, like kicking a tree trunk. The man's head turned slightly from the force, but otherwise, he barely acknowledged the blow. A small red mark appeared where her foot had connected, but his expression remained unchanged.
"Nice kick," he said flatly, reaching into the technical student's jacket pocket. His fingers emerged clutching a thick envelope, its contents unmistakable from the shape and heft—money. "Good form. And proper rotation."
He stood, tucking the envelope into his back pocket with the casual ease of someone who'd done this countless times before. Only then did he turn to fully face Soo-jin, rubbing his neck absently where she'd struck him.
"What are you gonna do with that money?" Soo-jin demanded, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you people?"
The man regarded her for a long moment. Something shifted in his expression a flicker of what might have been respect, but it was gone before Soo-jin could be certain.
"For your sake," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "keep playing the good Hankuk student. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
"This is my business," Soo-jin retorted, her voice tight with controlled fury. "Everything about Hankuk is my business now."
The man's eyebrows rose a fraction. "Is that so?"
"Yes," Soo-jin replied, her right fist already accelerating toward his face.
The punch never landed. His hand moved with startling speed, catching her fist mid-trajectory. His grip was firm but not painful just immovable, like trying to push through a concrete wall.
"You're still too weak," he stated, not unkindly, but matter-of-factly.
Soo-jin wrenched her hand free and tried again a left jab followed by a right cross frustrated by what the man said. He swayed slightly, avoiding the first strike, and caught the second with the same ease. Frustration bubbled in her chest as she delivered a flurry of blows, each one either caught or deflected with minimal effort.
It was like fighting a ghost or worse, someone who found her attacks so insignificant they weren't worth dodging properly. Every failed strike only fueled her determination. She changed tactics, dropping low for a sweep, aiming to take his legs out from under him.
He simply stepped over her extended leg, avoiding the sweep entirely.
"Who trained you?" he asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice for the first time.
Soo-jin didn't respond. She was breathing hard now, not from exertion but from mounting rage. She'd never encountered someone who could neutralize her techniques so effortlessly. It was as if he could read her movements before she made them.
The man sighed, stepping back and creating space between them. He rotated his neck, wincing slightly.
"That kick was good," he admitted. "You've got talent."
Soo-jin remained in her fighting stance, weighing her options. The technical school students were no longer her concern; they were out of commission and would remain so for a while. But this man was connected to whatever had happened to her sister. She felt it in her bones.
"Tell me what you know," she demanded. "About Hankuk. About the students who get bullied here."
The man considered her for a moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Consider this a gift for that kick," he said, rolling one of his shoulder. "Keep clearing out trash like these technical school punks, and you might find yourself noticed by people who have the answers you want."
"That's not good enough," Soo-jin replied, her voice hard.
"That's all you're getting tonight." He turned toward the alley entrance. "By the way, these boys aren't just random bullies. They're part of something bigger. Something you're not ready for, not yet at least."
Before Soo-jin could respond, he was walking away, his broad back receding into the dim light of the street beyond.
"Wait!" she called out, frustrated.
He didn't stop, but raised a hand in what might have been a wave or a dismissal.
Soo-jin contemplated pursuing him but hesitated. The technical school students were beginning to stir more actively now, and the three Hankuk victims had long since fled. She needed to disappear before anyone connected her to this scene.
As she made her way to the opposite end of the alley, she didn't see the man pause at the street corner. He reached up to rub his neck again, a look of genuine surprise crossing his features.
"Damn," he muttered to himself. "The girl really can pack a punch."
He glanced back at the alley, now empty save for the groaning technical school students struggling to regain their composure.
"Might be useful to let her clear out more of these parasites," he mused, rolling his shoulders. "Save us the trouble of doing it ourselves."
A passing couple stopped to stare at his imposing figure before hurriedly continuing on their way. The man paid them no mind, slipping the envelope deeper into his pocket before melting into the evening crowd.