Monster wrapped in a suit

I'd never seen Sehee look this sad.

It was difficult to see emotions normally on a guy with a beard and sunglasses and hair that covered half his face but Sehee made sure to normally wear a smile on his face.

"Whatever helps stop a fight!" I remembered him telling me.

Without the smile he just looked… empty. 

His floral shirt was crumpled and his hair hung lank and greasy, not having had time to wash it in-between his countless part time jobs.

Even when he was dead-tired from the jobs… he'd never carried himself like this.

I couldn't sip the tea that'd been placed in front of me and just clenched my fists. I remembered enough of the original story.

"It's the Cheonha gang isn't it."

Shock sparked through his face, the only expression I'd seen from him in the past few minutes.

Siyeon raised an eyebrow and Sehun looked over at me.

Sehee's voice was low, soft. "How… how did you know?"

"They're the only gang fucking around in Boramae right now, and I heard what happened to the other tenants on this street." I lied.

He rubbed his eyes under his sunglasses. "I… I thought it'd be enough to just keep on handing over the pay but, but grandma…. She nearly fainted the other day. I don't know what to do."

I leaned over and wrenched the sunglasses off of his face.

"You have friends, you idiot. Friends who can fight. In some cases…" I gestured to Sehun. "Friends who don't know anything except how to fight."

His voice was thick with sadness, desperation. "I can't ask that from you. This is an actual gang… They bribe the police so we can't even do anything about it. Maybe if… no."

He quickly put his sunglasses back on and his trademark grin… although shaky, came through. "We can just forget about the restaurant. Moving is always an option, our landlord gave us a list of potential places."

I shook my head.

Sehee let out a dry laugh, rubbing his temples. "You guys don't get it."

"Then explain," I said.

His fingers tightened around the fabric of his floral shirt. "Even if we somehow make them back off, what happens after? You think they'll just forget about this? They'll wait. Bide their time. Then one day, when we least expect it, they'll burn the whole damn place down."

Siyeon frowned. "They wouldn't go that far."

Sehee gave her a flat look. "Wouldn't they?"

Silence.

I sighed and leaned back. "Alright. Say you move. Say you pack up, and leave. What's stopping them from doing the same thing to the next restaurant your grandma opens?"

He flinched.

I continued. "This isn't just about your grandma's restaurant. This is about control."

Sehun exhaled through his nose. "So what? We just beat the shit out of them?"

Sehee groaned. "I can't just fight them. Even if we win, what then? You think they'll just walk away? That we can afford all the bills they'll charge us with?"

I didn't say anything.

Because I already knew.

The weight Sehee carried, the reason he wouldn't fight… It wasn't fear. It was responsibility.

He had been strong once. Too strong. And when that strength ruined his family, he swore he'd never use it again.

Sehee sighed and forced a grin, but it was strained. "Look, I appreciate it, really. But this isn't something we can fix by punching a few guys."

I shrugged. "Yeah. I know."

He blinked. "…You do?"

"Yeah." I picked up my tea and took a slow sip. "That's why we're not going to punch a few guys. We're going to get rid of the whole problem."

Siyeon gave me a look. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

I stood up, shrugging on my denim jacket and downing the tea in one gulp. 

"That's for me to know. I already got their hideout from Seowon's detective agency… they managed to dig out a few details about them already. I can go in there and threaten them to leave Gwanak out of their entire operation."

Of course, that was a complete lie.

Sehun scoffed. "And you're going to do that all by yourself? At least take me with you."

"No… there's too many in there. I'm going to sneak in and talk to the boss by himself."

Siyeon gripped her cup. "What if they send people over here?"

"That's exactly why Sehun's going to be staying here."

I turned back to the exit and opened the door.

New Quest!

Defeat the boss of the Cheonha Gang! [0/1]

Reward: 1 Platinum card, 3 Gold cards, 5 Moderate level up cards

"Don't worry, by the time I'm done tonight… the Cheonha gang will just be a memory."

***

The Moonlight room Salon.

It wasn't a bad hideout, all things considered. It was pretty undercover… everything seemed to fit apart from the lack of customers or a queue.

I stood outside the place and my thoughts were going wild.

What if they had guns… what if there were more like Jihyun Yoo?

I couldn't trust anything that had happened in the original story, not with people like him around… and I also couldn't afford to waste my time fighting off an army of grunts.

This needed to be planned.

First, I needed a distraction… someone to lure most of the actual gangsters out of the building, someone strong.

"Summon Copy Cloud."

Kangjae Kim appeared in a swirl of blue mist next to me, this time wearing goggles and a balaclava and a strange armoured suit, similar to motorcycle gear.

It was the MX9 Tactical Riot suit. 

Turns out that the Copy Cloud didn't copy just people… it copied objects too. I couldn't copy a phone to access its data or anything but I could copy practically any piece of clothing or armour. I'd tried copying a table the other day but it seemed there was a size limit.

Maybe I'd need another Cloud or something.

"Cloudy… cause a ruckus. Shatter the windows and just draw them out. I'll go in when they're all out of the place.

Cloudy didn't hesitate… he marched up to the nearest motorbike and then picked it up, hurling it through the glass doors at the front.

The bike crashed through with a deafening shattering, scattering glass shards across the floor.

The shout immediately erupted from inside.

"What the hell?!"

"Who's doing—"

The chaos inside had started. 

They poured out of the building. Most were dressed in sloppy dress shirts… some trousers and smart shoes added in to just complete the overall air.

They obviously hadn't brought knives outside… it had too high a risk of being seen.

Cloudy didn't have any such restrictions. 

He took out a Taser, 3 cartridges already loaded in, and fired.

The Taser shot out with a loud crack, the wires snapping through the air toward the first guy who tried to rush out of the building. 

It struck his chest, and the man jolted back, his legs locking up as electricity coursed through him. He collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap. 

Cloudy didn't waste any time. 

He pulled the wires out and fired again… this time hitting another man who had made it halfway down the steps, his body spasming as he dropped to the ground.

The rest of the gang members were flailing now, yelling, running to the doors and windows to try to figure out what the hell was happening. But Cloudy was already in motion, firing his Taser at anyone who dared to make a move. 

He was a blur of calculated violence, methodically zapping anyone who got too close.

At least 20 men were sprawled on the ground, twitching and gasping for air, trying to recover from the electric shock. I'd only had him copy a set of 30 meaning he was nearly out of cartridges.

Panic started to set in, and the remaining men inside scrambled to pull out their phones. They began shouting orders for backup.

Cloudy didn't stick around for the reinforcements. He sprinted away from the chaos, drawing every last ounce of attention to himself. The gang members, now in full-on panic mode, ran after him. 

More shouts filled the air.

The building was now devoid of any smelly men.

Easy.

Stepping carefully over the broken glass, I slipped inside.

The Moonlight Room Salon was bigger than I expected. A grand chandelier still swayed from the impact of the crash. Luxurious black leather chairs lined the lobby, and polished floors gleamed under the dim lighting.

It looked more like a high-end lounge than a gang hideout.

But the further in I went, the more obvious it became.

The back hallways were lined with security cameras. The doors were reinforced. A faint, acrid smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

I needed to find their boss.

Fast.

I moved deeper, slipping past an empty reception desk.

I turned a corner…

And nearly ran straight into one of the gangsters.

He was in his late twenties, dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a clipboard. His eyes widened in confusion.

I moved before he could react.

A sharp elbow to the jaw sent him stumbling back, and I caught him by the collar before he could fall. His head cracked lightly against the wall, and he slumped, dazed.

"Bastard," I muttered, lowering him to the floor.

Straightening my jacket, I pressed forward.

The hallway stretched deeper, the sounds of muffled conversations drifting from behind closed doors. I needed to move fast.

Then, at the very end of the hall… I spotted it.

A heavy wooden door, bigger than the others.

Bingo.

I stepped back and raised my foot…

…and smashed the door open.

The door blasted open with a crack, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the office.

Silence.

The room was bigger than I expected. 

It had that same carefully curated air of power I'd seen in Seokyoung's office—the kind of place designed to make visitors feel small. 

Dark wooden floors stretched underfoot, polished to a high sheen. An expensive-looking desk sat at the far end, positioned perfectly so that whoever sat behind it had a full view of the room. 

Leather chairs, bookshelves stacked with neatly arranged files, and paintings in thick gold frames lined the walls. 

A glass decanter of whiskey rested on a side table, untouched. The faint scent of cologne and aged paper hung in the air.

And there, in the center of it all, sat the Boss.

At first glance, he looked almost... unremarkable. The kind of guy you'd pass by on the street without a second thought. 

His brown suit was neatly pressed, a crisp white shirt and black tie sitting perfectly in place. A small, well-trimmed mustache rested above thin lips. His hair was slicked back in a precise combover, not a strand out of place.

But that was just the surface.

His posture was too relaxed, his hands too still. There was no surprise in his expression, no flinch at the sudden intrusion. He simply looked at me, eyes dark and unreadable, assessing me the same way a butcher might size up a slab of meat before the first cut.

Something cold settled in my gut.

I didn't need to guess what was lurking beneath that mild, office-worker exterior.

Peek at you

[Name: Kim Gwangmyeong]

[Height: 183 cm]

[Weight: 92 kg]

[Strength: UR+]

[Speed: LR+]

[Potential: A+]

[Intelligence: A]

[Endurance: UR-]

A monster wrapped in a suit.

Gwangmyeong finally spoke, his voice calm, even. Almost bored.

"What is a student doing, causing a ruckus on my property?"

I didn't answer.

I didn't have time to.

I simply moved.

My foot hit the floor, muscles coiling like a spring as I launched forward, fist already pulling back.

.

.

.

.

.

It is what it is.

And would you guys read a Lookism fic written by me, mainly about someone rising through the first generation and becoming a first gen king? Maybe even something more?

I just wanna flesh out more of that gen you know, it sounds cool.