2nd Generation

Eugene POV

I waited in the dimly lit restaurant, my eyes flicking to the clock hanging on the wall. I was ten minutes early. A strange thing for me, considering I was rarely ever early to anything. But tonight was different—tonight, I couldn't afford to be late. The restaurant was owned by us, the Workers, one of the four crews ruling Seoul, and arguably the most powerful. Every inch of the place had been swept for bugs, every corner secured. My trusted allies and bodyguards stood by my side, their eyes sharp and alert, but even with them here, I felt uneasy.

I was Eugene, the head of the Workers, and even I couldn't shake the tension gnawing at my insides. This meeting wasn't just any regular business deal. It wasn't even an arms deal or some underworld negotiation. This was something else entirely—something that could change the power dynamics in Seoul forever. And I couldn't afford to screw it up.

Adjusting my tie, I scanned the room. All of the main fighters of the Workers were present, hidden in plain sight. They were mingling with the guests, keeping an eye on every possible entry and exit, their hands ready to reach for the weapons they had concealed beneath their jackets. But I doubted even they could buy me enough time to escape if things went south tonight.

The doors to the restaurant creaked open, and my breath caught in my throat. He had arrived.

Stephen Lee.

He strolled in wearing a simple black shirt, baggy black pants, and a pair of black shoes. His casual appearance stood in stark contrast to the aura he radiated. He looked like a man who couldn't care less about the people around him, and why should he? He had nothing to fear. Ever since the bloody massacre that shook central Seoul, Stephen—or as they called him now, "King"—had been untouchable. Every gang in the city had tried to take him down, from the lowliest thugs to the most elite mercenaries. They all failed. He had left a trail of devastation in his wake, people left blind, crippled, or turned into human vegetables. His strength was the stuff of nightmares.

As he walked toward me, a smirk on his face, my throat tightened. I had to remind myself to breathe. Everyone in the room, my fighters, the workers, the staff—bowed their heads as he passed. Stephen wasn't just a man anymore. He was a living legend, a force of nature.

He approached my table, and I stood to greet him. I could feel the eyes of every person in the room on us, but none of them mattered right now. All that mattered was him.

"Stephen," I said, gesturing to the chair in front of me, "please, have a seat. It's an honor to have you here."

He didn't say anything at first, just gave a small nod and sat down. The tension in the room spiked, but I tried my best to ignore it. We were served immediately, premium quality coffee and an assortment of desserts placed on the table before us.

"I hope you find everything to your liking, sir," I said, trying to sound calm.

Stephen picked up one of the desserts, barely sparing a glance at the coffee. He took a bite, his expression unreadable, but at least he seemed to be comfortable. That was my chance.

Quickly, I pulled out a box and placed it in front of him. Inside was something I knew he couldn't resist—the unreleased Mekken 4, with the signature of the creator, Seiichi Ishii, on it. It was a rare collector's item, one of a kind, and I had spent an ungodly amount of money and favors to secure it.

"Please accept this gift, sir," I said, my voice steady, though my hands trembled slightly as I presented it to him.

Stephen glanced at the game, and for the first time that evening, his smirk widened. He was interested. Of course, he would be. I had done my research. Unlike the other lunatics running around Seoul, Stephen didn't care for power struggles or territory wars. He didn't even care about building alliances. No, he had a strange obsession with games, and he had turned down countless offers to join various groups, even when they threw fortunes and power at his feet.

Even Charles Choi, the vice leader of the zeroth-generation The Fist, had tried to recruit Stephen, nearly killing himself in the process. That was how dangerous this man was.

But I wasn't Charles, and I wasn't here to play by the same rules.

Stephen looked at the game for a long moment, then back at me, clearly amused. He didn't reach for it yet, though, and I knew I needed to sweeten the deal.

I pulled out another box—this one much smaller—and set it beside the game. Inside was a small badge made of pure ruby and silver, something that represented the highest honor within the Workers. This badge was a one-of-a-kind piece, even higher than the VIP ranks we offered to our wealthiest allies. It granted access to every corner of the Workers' empire—our buildings, our businesses, even our underground networks. It was a symbol of ultimate power and privilege.

Stephen's eyes lingered on the game, but he seemed less interested in the badge. I had to get his attention back. I cleared my throat.

"Sir, I invited you here to make an offer that might be... entertaining for you. We're prepared to give you 10% of the Workers' income, as well as access to all our properties, including the newest arcade we've just opened in Club Vivi. I think you'll find it has every game and system you could ever want."

Suddenly, Stephen's hand shot forward, and with a sharp crack, he smashed his coffee cup against the table. The porcelain shattered, scattering across the surface as a thick silence settled over the room. I froze. The air grew colder, and I could feel the shift in the room's atmosphere. Everyone tensed up, as if the very space around him had distorted.

He stared at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You want me to be your employee?"

His voice was low, dangerous. I swallowed hard, my heart racing.

"N-no, sir," I stammered, struggling to keep my composure. "We're just looking for a... mutual friendship. We admire your strength and your independence. I thought perhaps you'd enjoy access to the largest game collection in the country, with the latest equipment at your disposal. We can offer you seven-star accommodations, the finest food—anything you desire."

Stephen leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. "Oh, I see," he said, his tone mocking. "So where's the contract?"

My throat tightened. "No contract, sir," I said, forcing a smile. "Just your word is enough."

Stephen stood, looking down at the two boxes. He grabbed them both, the game in one hand and the badge in the other. He waved his hand dismissively as he walked away.

"Alright then," he said casually, his tone dripping with indifference. "I'll think about it."

And just like that, he was gone.

The room seemed to exhale all at once. The tension that had been suffocating us lifted, but the weight of what had just happened still pressed down on my chest. I had no idea if I'd succeeded, no idea if Stephen would ever return, or if he even cared about the offer I'd made.

But one thing was certain—if Stephen Lee, the King, ever decided to stand with the Workers, no one, not Charles Choi, not any of the other people in South Korea, would dare challenge us again.

Stephen Lee POV

I stood in front of the huge building, staring at its sleek exterior, wondering how I had ended up here. It wasn't like I planned any of this. Hell, I didn't even want to be in Seoul right now. But life had a way of leading me into strange situations, and today was no different. I adjusted my black shirt and baggy pants, making sure I looked somewhat presentable before heading inside.

Inside, the kid named Eugene was waiting for me. I didn't know much about him, except that he was the head of some crew called the Workers. People said he was powerful, connected, and smart. But to me, he just seemed like another overly enthusiastic gamer. Not that I minded—it was a nice change of pace from the usual.

The restaurant looked fancy. Too fancy. The kind of place where I felt like I didn't belong. But Eugene greeted me with a wide smile, clearly eager to impress. I was here for one reason: the promise of a game. Not just any game, but Mekken 4, unreleased and signed by the creator himself. That was all it took to get me to agree to this meeting.

Eugene led me to a private table, where a spread of desserts and a cup of coffee were waiting for me. I dug into the dessert right away. It was good—rich, sweet, and fancy, just like everything else around here. As I ate, Eugene started talking. He rambled on about his video game store, some sort of arcade, and how he wanted to work with me.

He even gave me the game as a gift, which made me like the kid more. But then things got weird. He offered me a job. A job at his game store, of all places. At first, I wasn't sure if I'd heard him right. I asked him, "You want me to become your employee or something?"

But Eugene, all serious and polite, said he'd give me more than just a job. He'd provide me with a place to stay, seven-star meals, the works. I couldn't believe it. Was this kid really that desperate to recruit me, or was he just incredibly generous?

I glanced at the coffee in front of me. It was too hot, so I just shoved it aside. I wasn't in the mood to burn my tongue today. Instead, I focused on the two boxes in front of me—the game and some fancy badge he'd given me. He said the badge gave me access to all of his crew's properties, including his newest arcade. I wasn't really paying attention to the details. All I knew was that I had my game, and that was enough for me.

What a great day.

For the past few years, I'd been trying to get a stable job. Travelling all over Korea, I'd searched for opportunities, but no matter where I went, people kept trying to fight me. I didn't know why. Maybe I looked like a target, or maybe it was just bad luck. But it wasn't just random thugs. These were people with real skills—fighters, killers, and lunatics.

There was that one guy with the weird-ass ear who tried to stab me. Then another one who was chopping people with his bare hand like he thought he was a karate master or something. And let's not forget the guy who just kept punching people into walls, like he had a grudge against every brick in Korea.

At first, it hurt. A lot. The punches, the kicks, the weapons—they all did damage. But over time, my body got used to it. It was like my skin and bones adapted, growing tougher, healing faster. Now, it was almost too easy. I could see their attacks coming, dodge, and counter without even thinking about it. I'd gotten so good at it that people started calling me "King," but I didn't really care about titles.

I never went looking for fights, but they always found me. I just wanted to live my life, maybe get a decent job, and play games. But Seoul didn't make that easy.

The only way I'd been able to eat regularly was because I started a gaming channel. It blew up faster than I expected, and now I had a decent following. It wasn't enough to make me rich, but it paid the bills. Plus, I worked as a part-time Taekwondo instructor. It helped keep me grounded, I guess, teaching kids and the occasional adult how to defend themselves.

Now here I was, sitting in front of Eugene, who was offering me not just a job, but luxury. A place to stay, good food, and access to everything his crew had to offer. All I had to do was say yes.

Excited, I grabbed the two boxes and stood up. I was in a good mood now. I'd gotten the game, and that was all I needed to make today a win. I waved to Eugene, not really caring about whatever else he was offering, and started to head out.

It was time for my Taekwondo class anyway. Maybe I'd finally get some peace and quiet there, away from the constant fighting and chaos. Maybe this was the start of something different, something easier.