On the third floor of an infamous apartnt block. A commotion broke out. Neighbors pressed their eyes to the peepholes, unwilling to step outside.
The apartnt block’s toughest teen thug in a tracksuit skidded across the hallway and landed hard on his butt. Blood dripped from his nose. Other punks his age admired him; his size made him their natural bruiser. Beside Ace, the thug looked like a bear to his twig.
Yet Ace punched the bear straight out of his doorway, proving he spoke the language of fists better than anyone.
How the fuck?
Behind Ace, the thug who had started this ss clutched Ace’s shirt, his face pale. Even Alex, the guy they all worshipped, had crumpled in one punch. When Ace told him to call others, the punk had grinned, sure Alex would end things. Now the grin was gone, replaced by fear. Every thug who had tasted Ace’s knuckles felt it too.
Ace strolled forward, tension hung in the air.
Gasping, Alex raised his hands. "Okay, you win! We won’t bother you!"
"You’re missing the magic word." Ace kept walking.
An image of the orphanage’s cranky matron flashed through Alex’s mind. He swallowed hard. "Sorry."
"Not bad for starters." Ace swept his eyes over the crowd. "You’ve all got potential. From now on, you’re under ."
Every group has a leader. Alex was this one’s unsaid boss, so beating him one‑on‑one gave Ace the high ground. It felt like overkill—Ace mainly wanted to hone his skills before the Chessboard Apocalypse—but desperate punks did crazy things when their allowance dried up. More punching bags never hurt.
"Why would we listen to you?!" Alex barked.
Ace chuckled. "You reap what you sow. Still, I’m up for a surprise. Got a real plan for life once the allowance stops? Maybe you invested it? Tell , and I’ll let you go."
Silence. Eyes dropped to the floor. None of them had even visited the job center.
"I see guys like us end up as bouncers, guards, or bodyguards. But you folded so fast I doubt you’d stay upright at a club door. Brains for anything else? Not seeing it. Still, you can be forged into sobody."
That hint of hope, plus Ace’s promise to teach discipline, hit them hard. Their eyes glazed with sudden belief.
What’s up with them?
Ace had struck their soft spot. They were scared of the future, clueless since no one in the orphanage had taught them life skills—and they’d been too dumb to listen anyway. Now soone forced them to face it.
"Don Capo..." Alex muttered. "Don Capo! I’m in your care!"
The others chorused, "Don Capo! We’re in your care!"
Ace narrowed his eyes. "Don Capo? What’s with the cringe nickna?"
"It’s an epic title for the boss. I never dared use it, but you’re perfect!" Alex said.
"I don’t want it."
"Please, accept it!" Alex begged until Ace sighed and let it slide.
—
Chaewon spent the afternoon in her father’s dojo as usual. It doubled as her workplace, after all. A handful of students sparred under her dad’s strict eye when the doorbell chid.
She headed to the lobby—and her heart leaped. Fifteen bald n marched in. Her fingers tightened on her wooden sword, ready to crack those shiny dos.
The gang split into two rows. Ace walked through.
"Sorry for the noise, Chaewon sunbae‑nim. These idiots insisted on tagging along, and I figured you and your dad could drill so discipline into them. They’re stupid, but they’ll follow orders." He shot the gang a glare. "Right?"
"Yes, Don Capo!" they shouted in unison.
A vein twitched on Ace’s forehead. He swallowed his coback.
Chaewon caught the twitch and hid a grin. Don Capo sounds hilarious! He even learned Korean honorifics. So serious!
She bead at the newcors. "More students? Absolutely! Co on in—I’ll show you the changing room."
Ace changed first, then bowed to Chaewon’s father in the main hall. The old master lit up, eager for today’s show. Ace picked up a wooden spear, and the old man’s smile widened. Other students paused their drills to watch.
Ace ward up, giving his new crew ti to fill the hall and introduce themselves. They settled along the wall, eyes locked on him like he owned the place.
Ignoring them, Ace dropped into stance. He fixed on the spear training bag and drove the tip forward. Thrusts ca first to test weight and reach. Once he felt the rhythm, he added cuts and slashes, sliding the shaft along his arms to change angles.
"Look at that grip control," Chaewon’s father muttered. "He slides for reach without losing power. Subli."
Most students didn’t know spears from sticks, but they could hear the bag scream with every hit.
[You have acquired a new passive skill—Spear Proficiency (I)]
[Your passive skill, Spear Proficiency, has leveled up to Spear Proficiency (II)]
In the past I had Ice Javelin. I had to learn spear basics to use it. Good thing I did. Ti to push mastery.
Ace hopped back, shifted into a throwing stance, and hurled the wooden spear. It punched through the bag and stuck fast.
Chaewon’s father whistled.
Chaewon’s mouth ford an "O."
Ace’s gang silently thanked the heavens that Don Capo hadn’t tested the spear on them. Then they jumped up and cheered.
The master cleared his throat. "Quiet!"
"Huh? You think you can order us around? You think you’re Don Capo?" one thug shot back.
The old man cracked his knuckles. "I’m better than Don Capo."
They got beaten again.
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