"So you two are just going to wait?"
Taeyang leaned back against his chair, tilting his head as he gulped down a nutrient shake. The cold, bland liquid slid down his throat, thick and tasteless. Fuel. That was all it was. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Yup," he muttered into the phone. "How are things up north?"
A sigh crackled through the speaker. Minho's sigh.
"Seoul took the bait… we think," Minho said. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—something tired, something restrained. "But they haven't sent a force to Suwon yet. Suwon, on the other hand? We have no idea what they're up to."
"So basically, you're just like us," Taeyang said, swallowing another mouthful. "Waiting."
"Yeah," Minho admitted. "Waiting." A pause. "Did you figure out who was behind the attacks?"
Taeyang exhaled slowly, resting the bottle against his knee.
"Nope. Not unless you know someone called Joo Sangpil."
"Joo Sangpil?" Minho's voice was already disinterested. "Nah. Never heard of him." A scoff. "Then he's probably a nobody. Just another pawn getting thrown into the meat grinder."
"Most likely."
"Still," Minho warned, "don't let your guard down. Even pawns can kill if you let 'em. Just be careful and don't die." Another pause. "And tell that Daehyun fucker to pick up the phone."
Taeyang hummed. "Yeah, yeah."
Then he ended the call.
Silence.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders, then tossed the empty blender jar onto the counter behind him.
Daehyun had left over an hour ago to pick up fried chicken, his true protein, as he so eloquently called it.
Taeyang didn't care much.
He had tried explaining it to Daehyun earlier, how nutrient shakes were easier, how they had the perfect balance of macronutrients to bulk up. How they saved time.
Daehyun had laughed in his face. "Ain't no way I'm drinking that sludge when fried chicken exists."
Taeyang sat back, rubbing his temples.
He should be doing something. Training. Researching. Preparing for what was coming.
But right now, all he could do was wait.
His fingers drummed absently against the armrest.
Gapryong Kim was busy trying to enter into politics in Seoul… somewhere that in the past, had been too expensive for him to go to and now, was too dangerous.
He'd tried finding any others but to no avail.
Charles Choi was meant to be cleaning in a prison or something… his memories hadn't been too clear but other than just going through every single Juvenile detention centre in Korea and looking through their staff, there was nothing he could do.
Similarly, he hadn't been able to find anything on the White Tiger job centre.
Either it was too inconspicuous and wasn't meant to be easily found, which was unlikely considering Johan had managed to get an interview…
Meaning one conclusion… Tom Lee simply hadn't founded it yet.
Jinyeong Park should be working as a pharmacist somewhere, Taeyang had searched through multiple websites to no avail, but at least now he only had a few locations left to search.
When he found him… hopefully he'd be strong enough to enter Seoul.
Taeyang flexed his hand, curling his fingers inward.
The tension in his knuckles eased for a moment before he clenched again, feeling the pull of muscle, the dull throb of old bruises layered beneath newer ones.
Every time he fought, he didn't think.
Thought was a luxury, an indulgence.
What use was thinking when a fist was already flying at your jaw? When a blade was already cutting through the air?
No… to Taeyang, instinct was what mattered.
Every punch, every block, every step, every weapon grabbed mid-movement… all instinct.
Not trained. Not practiced. Felt.
Like he knew exactly where to bite, exactly when to pounce.
And yet—
Taeyang curled his fist tighter, feeling his nails press into his palm.
How do you make instinct stronger?
Training? No. Training only sharpened skill.
Experience made you smarter, more careful, more efficient.
But instinct… true instinct was something deeper.
Something primal.
Something that couldn't be taught.
So how could he make it stronger? How was he supposed to make techniques? How was he meant to—
His phone buzzed.
Taeyang exhaled slowly and pulled it from his pocket.
A call from one of their guys outside.
He furrowed his brows, pressing the answer button.
"What?"
A sharp breath. Then… a grunt of pain.
Chaos.
Yelling. The sound of impact. A muffled cry.
Then nothing.
Silence.
The call had ended.
Taeyang straightened instantly, his senses already flaring, already moving.
His phone buzzed again.
Another call. Different number. Another one of their guys.
He answered.
"Taeya—!"
The voice was frantic, panicked. Then another crash, a sickening thud of flesh hitting pavement—then another cut-off scream.
Disconnected.
Taeyang didn't move for a moment.
Then his fingers moved fast, texting.
Taeyang:Daehyun get back Now
His heartbeat was steady, but his muscles were already tense.
His phone buzzed almost immediately.
Daehyun:What? What's going on?
Another buzz. Another number. Another call.
Taeyang:Someone's attacking.
He let the phone slip back into his pocket as he strode towards the door.
The moment he stepped outside...
He stopped.
The air was different.
It wasn't just the smell of rain on asphalt.
It was the weight.
The kind of weight that came before a fight. He was familiar with the shift, having felt it nearly every day.
A presence.
And then…
His eyes met Nam Giseok's.
Recognition flickered in Taeyang's mind... a match to Minho's photograph, the face of a man he hadn't thought much about. But now, standing here, looking at him like this...
He understood.
The man stood alone.
Not with his men. Not leading a charge. Not giving orders from the back.
He was here.
Waiting.
The neon lights from the bar behind Taeyang painted Giseok's face in shifting shades of red and gold, but nothing could disguise the rawness in his expression.
His eyes were red. Wet from more than just the rain.
His fists were clenched, knuckles split open, blood dripping down his fingers and mixing with the rainwater. It ran down his wrists like veins exposed to the air.
His damp hair clung to his forehead, dark strands plastered over hollowed-out eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Like whatever had been holding him together had finally snapped.
Then... soft. Almost drowned out by the storm.
"Minho's dog."
It wasn't spit with venom. It was worse.
It was hollow.
Like he was speaking a truth that had already been decided.
Like he wasn't even talking to Taeyang, but to himself.
Taeyang exhaled sharply through his nose. His fingers curled at his sides, jaw ticking.
Then he snorted.
"Shut the fuck up."
Giseok blinked.
For a second, just one, the anger, the grief, the exhaustion... it all stuttered.
And Taeyang stepped forward.
"You think I care about whatever sob story's running through your head right now?" His voice was calm. Too calm. "You think calling me Minho's dog is supposed to do something?"
He tilted his head, eyes cold, unmoving.
"You came all the way here just to whine?"
The rain fell harder.
Giseok's hands shook.
"You don't even deny it," he muttered. His voice was hoarse, raw like he had been screaming before this.
Taeyang rolled his shoulders, stretching his fingers, feeling the familiar heat begin to pulse beneath his skin.
"Don't need to," he muttered.
Because it didn't matter.
It didn't matter what Giseok thought of him.
It didn't matter what anyone thought of him.
Because at the end of the day, the only thing that mattered—
Was the fight.
And this fight?
It was already happening.
Giseok's breath hitched. His chest rose and fell... too fast, too shallow.
His entire body shook.
His lips parted...
And he let out a scream. A raw, broken, gut-wrenching scream.
The kind that came from the pit of something deeper than rage.
The kind that could only belong to a man who had already died once before.
Tears mixed with the rain, streaking down his face, but he didn't care.
He didn't care.
Because in the next second...
He blurred forward.
And Taeyang...
Taeyang moved in to meet him.
His claws bared, fingers flexed wide, blood singing in his veins.
No hesitation. No words.
Just instinct.
Just the fight.
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How strong do y'all think Giseok is?
Taeyang's gonna have some fun~
Bit short but the next one's much longer dw
Also, you'll get an extra chapter if this reaches 100 power stones, and one extra chap for every 50 power stones after that.
So if you want to read more.... then drop those stones.