Chapter 15 – The Price of Attention
After the fight, people swarmed Min.
Hands reached for him from every direction, cameras out, voices overlapping, questions spilling over one another. Someone asked for a photo. Someone else shouted his name like they'd known him for years.
Min barely registered any of it.
His head felt full of cotton and light. The world lagged behind his eyes.
Chan-Sik and the crew moved fast, forming a loose wall around him, guiding him through the noise and into the car before the crowd could swallow him whole.
As they pulled away, Chan-Sik caught a glimpse through the window.
Soo-Yeon stood near the warehouse entrance with the same girl from earlier. Her arms were crossed. Her smile was gone. She looked… disappointed.
Chan-Sik frowned, just for a second.
Then the door shut, and the engine turned over.
The road back to Mapo was quiet.
Too quiet.
The warehouse lights faded behind them, replaced by long stretches of empty road and flickering streetlamps that blinked like tired eyes. The bass, the chanting, the roar of the crowd, all of it dissolved into a dull ringing in Min's ears.
His head rested against the window.
The drug was wearing off.
Not cleanly. Not kindly.
His stomach churned. Every joint ached. His hands, hands that had felt untouchable less than an hour ago, trembled faintly in his lap.
MC ORCA drove, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping to music that wasn't playing. Chan-Sik sat in the passenger seat, window cracked, cigarette burning low.
No one spoke.
Min finally broke the silence.
"…Was it real?"
Chan-Sik glanced back. "What was?"
"The match," Min said. His voice was rough. "What he said. Gosu."
A pause.
"Or was that just adrenaline?"
MC ORCA snorted. "You don't fluke a reverse sweep on a Random while poisoned."
Min didn't smile.
"I couldn't feel half my body," he said. "My vision was tearing. I don't even remember parts of game four."
Chan-Sik turned in his seat, really looking at him now, not as a coach, not as a leader.
As someone who understood.
"You think Gosu means perfect?" Chan-Sik asked.
Min shrugged weakly.
"It means control," Chan-Sik said. "Control when everything's trying to rip you apart. Mechanics help. Speed helps. But tonight?"
He flicked ash out the window.
"You had control."
Min swallowed. The shaking in his hands eased, just a little.
"…Okay," he said.
The fuel light blinked on.
MC ORCA groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me."
"There's a station up ahead," Chan-Sik said. "In and out."
The gas station sat alone under a sickly white glow, wedged between warehouses and empty lots. One pump worked. The rest were taped off. The convenience store lights buzzed like they were fighting to stay awake.
MC ORCA pulled in.
Min stayed in the car, forehead against the glass, focusing on keeping the world steady. Chan-Sik stepped out to pump gas. MC ORCA stretched, cracking his neck.
That's when Min felt it.
That prickle.
That awareness.
Voices drifted in from the far side of the station, too relaxed, too confident.
Red Pulse.
Min straightened slowly.
They stepped into view. Five, maybe six of them. No colors. No symbols. Just presence.
At the center stood a man with a sharp jaw and calm eyes, wearing a long coat despite the heat. He didn't smile.
People seemed to give him space without realizing why.
Kang Do-Gyun.
Red Captain.
Beside him stood Seo Han-Ryeong, hands flexing unconsciously, fingers twitching like he was warming up for something invisible.
Electric Hands grinned when he saw Min.
"Well I'll be damned," Han-Ryeong said. "Guess the rumors were true."
Chan-Sik froze mid-pump.
MC ORCA shifted closer to Min's door.
Kang Do-Gyun's gaze moved slowly, deliberately, until it settled on Min.
"So," he said calmly, "this is him."
Min opened the car door and stepped out.
The night air cut cold against his skin.
Han-Ryeong laughed. "You look like hell."
Min didn't answer.
"People are saying you beat Tang Soo," Han-Ryeong went on. "Saying he called you Gosu."
He clicked his tongue. "That's not a word you hear often."
Kang Do-Gyun raised a hand.
Silence fell instantly.
He studied Min, not with anger, not with hate.
With interest.
"Street titles travel fast," Red Captain said. "Especially when they threaten balance."
"You here to talk?" Chan-Sik asked.
Kang Do-Gyun glanced at him. "Always."
Then his eyes returned to Min.
"You came back louder than expected," he said. "That takes courage."
Min's head throbbed. His legs felt weak.
But his voice didn't.
"I didn't come back for you."
A faint smile touched Red Captain's lips.
"No," he said. "You came back for Mapo."
Han-Ryeong stepped forward half a pace, energy crackling off him. "Careful."
Kang Do-Gyun lifted his hand again.
"Not tonight."
He looked at Min one last time.
"Enjoy the win," he said. "Your brother had moments like this too."
Min's chest tightened.
"He was still a nobody," Kang continued evenly. "And nobodies don't get remembered."
He turned away.
"But attention," he added, without looking back, "always comes with a price."
Something snapped.
"Hey, Do-Gyun!"
Min's voice rang out, louder than he expected.
"I challenge you. Right now."
The Red Pulse crew stopped.
Han-Ryeong laughed. "You serious?"
"You scared?" Min shot back. "Or you only fight people who can't fight back?"
Chan-Sik didn't move.
He just smiled.
Not because it was smart.
Because Min finally knew why he was here.
Kang Do-Gyun turned slowly.
"…Next Saturday," he said. "Best of seven. Anything goes."
A pause.
"The same place your brother fell."
The Red Pulse crew laughed as they walked away.
"I'll be there!" Min shouted after them. "I'll be there!"
Their footsteps faded into the dark.
The gas station felt colder once they were gone.
MC ORCA exhaled. "Man. I really hate it when villains monologue."
Chan-Sik said nothing.
Min leaned against the car, heart pounding, not from fear.
From clarity.
They weren't ignoring him anymore.
And that meant the real fight hadn't even started.
The engine turned over.
They pulled back onto the road toward Mapo, streetlights ticking past like seconds.
Behind them, Red Pulse watched.
Ahead, the city waited.