Chapter 20: An Acquaintance Big Brother (3)
When was the Commercial City Marzen most vibrant?
Some might say daytime, when the passionate voices of merchants echoed.
Others might say nighttime, when people finished their day's work and continued boisterous chatter with drinks.
Therefore, it could be said that dusk, when day and night intersected, was precisely when Marzen was most bustling.
When the daytime merchants strained to sell their last clearance items, and the nighttime shops did their best to welcome the customers trickling in.
Was it because they didn't want to miss such a time?
The thugs, one of the distinct constituent groups of Marzen, were also living up to their calling, spending a moment fiercer than anyone else's.
“Kill them!”
“Bastards, these motherfuckers… Crush them all!”
“Did you think you could take us down without your boss!”
“Idiots, half of you were rolling on the ground, yet you talk big! Die!”
Rough curses flew back and forth.
Thwack!
Ppeoeok!
Whoosh-!
Scrunch-
“Keuk…”
“Ugh, this bastard…!”
Menacing sounds of cutting air, impacts, and groans echoed from everywhere.
It was an incredibly brutal scene.
So much so that if an ordinary person witnessed it, their body would freeze, unable to even flee.
However.
Crunch crunch
Chew chew
“Hmm, reminds me of the old days.”
To Harang, who was picking at cookies just a step away from them, it was merely a fleeting moment of amusement.
It couldn't be helped.
He was someone who, since childhood before he could even read, had learned only how to harm and kill others for over 10 years.
Although he was barely twenty years old, the number of people he had killed would surely not be less than the thugs over there.
Furthermore, he had been in a similar, no, far harsher situation than this before.
‘Was it when about 500 Peers remained… they suddenly threw us each a knife and told us to kill each other starting now.’
There was no reason given.
No further explanation either.
That day, Harang killed five Peers.
The fact that he was still alive was because he didn't give up even in such situations and maintained his will.
Of course…….
‘The reason these people are fighting, doesn’t seem to be particularly for survival, though.’
Although he knew what kind of existence thugs were from Carter, Harang didn't know exactly how they made profits, what they valued, or when they raised their fists.
What he had seen and heard was far too insufficient to grasp even that much.
Besides, he didn't particularly feel like understanding them either.
Just thinking of it as disliked fellows fighting amongst themselves felt good, allowing him to watch without burden.
Harang, having reached the most comfortable state of mind all day, muttered excitedly.
“There, it’s dangerous!”
“Good! From there, the left fist…”
“Ah! You shouldn’t do that. You should have approached more carefully…”
“Uh oh? No! Be careful, there!”
He had long since discarded the thought that there might be something to learn, like when he followed the beggars.
There was nothing to learn from these people.
Their punching and knife skills were less than child's play compared to the Godoks, the Peers he escaped with.
There were a few noticeable individuals, but even they weren't very impressive.
Therefore, Harang's spectating point inevitably focused on backseat gaming, which was quite fun yet evoked a strange sense of regret.
Watching the thugs constantly move differently from his thoughts and suffer losses, the urge to move his own body arose.
‘Even so, that’s a bit much, isn’t it?’
Harang shook his head.
Sure, these guys were scoundrels who intimidated unrelated people for profit, but they had never harmed him anyway.
If he were a hero who felt compelled to right every injustice in the world, he might exert his strength here, but he had no particular intention of doing so.
A life lived solely for others like that didn't seem particularly fun.
Then what kind of life should he live?
What should he do to feel fun and find fulfillment?
‘I don’t know.’
He didn't know that yet.
Only the thought, ‘I want to join the fight, but lack justification to intervene,’ circled his mind like a hamster wheel.
“Good job, good job!”
“No, that’s not how you do it…”
“Aaaah, that’s a bit regrettable. Regrettable…”
As if expressing such feelings, he only diligently offered advice from a step away.
“Where’s that chatter coming from…”
“Seems like that guy?”
“What’s with that bastard? Isn’t he a beggar?”
“Why is some beggar bastard still loitering here instead of getting lost?”
It went without saying, but the thugs weren't going to let his behavior continue indefinitely.
Specifically, the thugs from the Travion Gang were like that.
More than half of the Eddy Gang had already knelt before his fists, so they didn't think of seeking him out again just to get beaten up.
However, the opposing side thought differently.
He clearly looked like a beggar, and exuded an atmosphere that was somehow incredibly pitiful and shabby.
Despite that, everything he said was unbearably annoying, to the point where they wanted to run over and give him a knuckle sandwich right away.
‘No, why just think about it?’
Tenacious Kel, Rank 37 of the Travion Gang, assessed the situation.
Within his own organization, but also compared to the rival Eddy Gang, his fighting skills were mediocre.
At best, he could put up a good fight against a fellow low-ranking guy like Iron Fist Kennedy, which was why he was doing his best to lay low to avoid a 1-on-1 fight with someone stronger than him.
‘But I can’t do that forever.’
Losing is a problem, but winning while laying low is also a problem.
The moment the higher-ups in the organization pointed out, ‘That guy played around during the whole gang fight!’, he might have to cut off a finger.
He needed some memorable feat that would stick in the minds of the organization members.
And that fellow, whose nagging annoyance put a hateful seven-year-old to shame…….
‘He looks perfect to use as that sacrifice!’
Tenacious Kel licked his dagger with his tongue.
There was no guilt. To him, who thought of beggars as less than stray dogs, such acts were very common.
Having made up his mind, Kel rushed towards the bum with a rough shout, as if wanting others to watch…….
“Dieeee!”
Hwiik!
Peok-!
…Thud!
He ended up lying flat on his back from a single straight punch from Harang.
“……”
“……”
“…This bastard, daring to touch our Travion Family!”
A few thugs who noticed this belatedly wore bewildered expressions, when Red Foot Lorenzo, Tenacious Kel's direct senior, stepped forward with a curse.
His rank was exactly one step higher than Kel's at 36th, possessing ambiguous skills that were hard to boast about here.
Therefore, like Kel, he was desperate to find a suitable scapegoat to save face.
‘I don’t know how he took down Kel, but it was probably luck. There’s no way a shabby-looking guy like that did it with skill!’
Instantly sizing up the opponent, making an estimate, and gaining confidence. And as soon as he thought the opponent was weaker than him, he immediately bared his teeth.
It was the typical method of a delinquent, and just as effective, but…….
“Die, you bastard!”
Hwoooong!
Peok!
“Kkeureuryuk…!”
Thud
“……”
“……”
“……”
The same thing happened again.
That was the last time.
The thugs who had watched the black-haired young man a little longer soon turned their heads away as if losing interest, and each went off somewhere to find their own opponents.
At this, Harang smacked his lips as if disappointed.
‘It would have been nice if they had attacked a little more.’
If just one more person had attacked, he would have thrown caution to the wind and joined the fray excitedly, but now that the situation ended like this, a nagging feeling like being interrupted mid-task washed over him.
‘Well, can’t be helped, I guess.’
In the end, he was just a third party.
Upon careful consideration, taking one side unnecessarily and making things strange didn't seem like a good idea either.
Thinking like that, even the interesting fight spectating seemed to lose some of its appeal.
Harang, having organized his thoughts, nodded and took a step to leave the thugs' fighting fiesta.
No, more accurately, it was just before he took a step.
“……!”
A man whose skills seemed noticeably better than the other thugs.
He raised a blunt weapon, heavily stained with someone's blood, high up.
It looked ready to fall at any moment, aiming at a face Harang recognized, exuding a menacing killing intent.
The thought wasn't long.
More accurately, his body reacted and moved before the thought.
Hwook-
With a very slight noise, Harang's figure disappeared.
No one noticed. Neither those far away nor those nearby perceived him, as if he were a being from another dimension.
It wasn't a matter of speed, fast or slow, but strictly speaking, the current Harang was faster than anyone present here.
Hwook-
Another slight noise.
Surprised eyes could be seen.
Naturally so. It would look as if a person had suddenly appeared in an empty space, so even an experienced fighter couldn't help but be startled.
However, that very fact of being an ‘experienced fighter’ worked against the fellow.
Glare!
Hwooooooong-!
The confusion in his eyes subsided, and soon anger and killing intent filled their place.
A good judgment. Rather than freezing in panic, pressing the attack with momentum was a hundred times better.
Of course, not now.
Because the skill gap between the two was too large to overcome with just that.
Watching the rapidly descending iron club, Harang thought.
‘If only he hadn’t attacked and stayed still…’
Kwaadeuk-!
‘…I might have let him live.’
The man whose neck bones snapped in an instant.
The black-haired beggar watched his figure slowly collapsing, tilting.
No, the young man, now a former beggar, spoke to the young beggar.
“Are you okay?”
“Ah, ugh…”
“Not okay? Are you hurt somewhere?”
“…Ugh, uh.”
“Strange. From what I can see, you don’t seem injured…”
“I-I’m fine! Fine, I’m fine! B-but…”
The young beggar, Glen, swallowed dryly, trailing off.
He couldn't help it. It wasn't a situation where he could continue speaking without pause. Escaping the threat of death, the terrifying presence/speed Harang had just shown… all of it was difficult for the boy to accept.
Swallowing dryly once more, Glen looked at the corpse.
The man collapsed in a wretched state.
The existence with a snake tattoo on his left cheek, the one the boss of the Travion Family trusted most, like his right-hand man.
“Quentin…”
“Hm? Is that person’s name Quentin?”
“……”
Glen fell into a state where he simply couldn't figure out what to say.
“What is this. No?”
“Q-… Quentin! Quentin is dead!”
“What did you say? Quentin?”
“Quentin?”
“Who? Who on earth killed Quentin…!”
It wasn't just the boy.
Both gangs, belatedly discovering Quentin's corpse, looked around with confused expressions before finally fixing their gazes in one direction.
The place closest to the corpse.
In that chilling spot, a young man looked around as if he were out for a stroll.
“Why are you all staring?”
Harang.
At his question that made people's souls leave their bodies, the thugs could only stop fighting for a long while and watch him intently.