"Let's take a break," Chan-Sik said, resting a hand on Min's shoulder.
Min pulled off his headset and exhaled slowly. His body sagged back into the chair, exhaustion settling in deep, but his eyes were still sharp. He hated stopping but he knew Chan-Sik was right.
"You're right," Min said. "Sounds good."
MC ORCA appeared from the hallway, already halfway into an idea.
"Let's hit that gas station around the corner," he said. "The one we used to go to back then."
Min nodded. "Yeah. That works."
MC ORCA turned toward the others. "Hye-Jin, Sung-Woo, you guys want anything?"
"Coffee, please," Hye-Jin replied without looking up.
"Orange juice," Sung-Woo added.
MC ORCA clapped his hands together and motioned for Min and Chan-Sik to follow.
"Keep the fort protected," Chan-Sik said as they headed out.
The gas station sat at the edge of Mapo like it had given up on pretending to be clean.
Two flickering fluorescent lights buzzed above the pumps, attracting moths and dust. The convenience store windows were layered with peeling advertisements from another era. The parking lot was cracked and oil-stained, hemmed in by a sagging chain-link fence no one bothered repairing anymore.
Stock was thin. Shelves half-empty. Crime had driven most customers—and deliveries—away. Min grabbed a bottle of water from a broken fridge that barely worked. MC ORCA somehow found a cold orange juice and a cup of hot coffee. They paid and stepped back outside.
Min leaned against the hood of an old sedan, twisting the cap off his water. Training had ended less than an hour ago, but his hands still twitched faintly, muscles remembering rhythms they weren't allowed to finish.
Chan-Sik stood a few steps away, smoking quietly. MC ORCA was still inside, arguing with the cashier about fuel credits.
For a brief moment, it almost felt normal.
Then laughter cut through the air.
Loud. Mocking. Intentional.
Min straightened.
Two figures approached from the far end of the lot. No obvious colors—but there was no mistaking them.
Han-Ryeong walked like the ground belonged to him, hands in his pockets, posture loose with confidence. Sae-Bin followed beside him, eyes sharp, grin already settled in place.
"Well, I'll be damned," Han-Ryeong said, clapping slowly. "Look who decided to stay."
Chan-Sik exhaled smoke. "Ignore them."
Too late.
"Didn't believe it," Sae-Bin said, circling slightly. "Min of Mapo. Back on the street."
Han-Ryeong laughed. "Back is generous."
Min met his gaze. Calm. Steady.
"Say what you want," Min said. "Or walk away."
Han-Ryeong stepped closer, grin widening. "Still polite. That's cute."
He leaned in, voice dropping.
"So tell me," he said, "how do you feel about Soo-Yeon being with us?"
The air shifted.
Chan-Sik stepped forward. "Careful."
Han-Ryeong ignored him.
"Heard she's been busy," he continued. "Making herself useful. Moving up."
Sae-Bin chuckled. "You didn't think she'd wait around for you, did you?"
Min's grip tightened. The plastic bottle crinkled softly.
"Play me," Min said.
The laughter stopped.
Han-Ryeong blinked—then laughed harder than before.
"Play you?" he said. "Here? Now?"
"Anytime," Min replied. "Any rules."
Han-Ryeong wiped at his eye, amusement fading into something colder.
"You really don't get it," he said. "You don't have weight anymore. No presence. No backing."
He shook his head.
"To play me on the big stage," Han-Ryeong went on, "you need street cred."
Min didn't look away. "Then I'll earn it."
Sae-Bin smirked. "Good luck."
Han-Ryeong turned to leave, then paused.
"Oh and Min?" he said over his shoulder. "When you do get noticed… we'll be watching."
They walked off, laughter trailing behind them like static.
The parking lot felt smaller once they were gone.
Min stood still, jaw tight.
"They want you chasing ghosts," Chan-Sik said. "Don't let them."
Min shook his head slowly. "They're right about one thing."
MC ORCA stepped out then, bag in hand. One look at Min's face told him enough.
"What happened?"
"Red Pulse," Chan-Sik said. "They set terms."
"They said I need street cred," Min added quietly.
Chan-Sik studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled, not wide, not playful, but sharp.
"Well," he said, flicking his cigarette away, "that's something we can help with."
Min looked up.
"Get some rest," Chan-Sik said. "Tomorrow, we start making noise."
The gas station lights buzzed overhead.
Somewhere beyond Mapo, word had already begun to spread.
Min didn't know it yet but the city had started listening.