[South Busan – 12:10 PM]
The whispers started in the barber shops.
"He hit a kid who wasn't even fighting back."
"No, it was a teacher. Said something about recruitment."
By 1:30 PM, it was a blurry video passed between burner phones: Eli Nam throwing a punch into the face of someone who looked small, scared, unarmed.
The clip cut off before context could breathe. No rhythm. No dialogue. Just blood and the devil's smirk.
And suddenly, the silence in South Busan shifted.
Not fear.
Uncertainty.
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Eli walked down a narrow street lined with food stalls. The vendors used to nod. One even gave him free soju last week.
Today, the cook looked up once, then turned away.
"I'm closed."
"It's lunch hour," Seojun said, confused.
"Still closed."
A boy nearby tugged on his mother's sleeve and pointed.
She grabbed the boy's wrist and crossed the street without looking back.
Seojun whistled softly.
"You are a celebrity now."
Eli stopped walking. Not angry. Just still.
In the reflection of a shop window, he saw his own back.
And behind it—space. Distance.
"They're not killing me," he said. "They're curating me."
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In an old scrapyard two blocks from the docks, a group of street-runners sat eating fried rice off the hood of a car.
One pointed at the screen of his phone. "He's a ghost king, man. Got no real crew, but everyone jumps when he twitches."
Another snorted. "That's not a king. That's a virus."
"Still wins though."
"Yeah, until someone pulls the plug."
They all looked up when someone walked past.
It wasn't Eli.
But they flinched anyway.
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[Yeji's Observation ]
Inside a low-lit repurposed clinic, Yeji watched as two courier captains debated territory.
She didn't interrupt.
When they left, she sat with Jace at the back stairwell.
"He's not building a crew," Jace said, tossing a pebble down the stairs.
"He doesn't want one," Yeji replied. "He wants chaos with a memory."
Jace tilted his head.
"You think that's enough?"
Yeji folded her arms.
"No one follows Eli. They orbit him until they burn."
They didn't know he was upstairs.
But he heard every word.
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[Samuel Pov]
Samuel sat in a storage room thick with static — analog systems rerouted to avoid CTRL9 sweeps.
The feed showed a new blog post.
Title: "Why Eli Nam Must Be Investigated"
He scanned metadata. Buried tags led to CTRL9 shell pages. The campaign had begun.
Sentiment destabilization: confirmed.Asset phase: profile rotation in 96h.Risk: Medium rising to High.Recommended Action: Observation + Containment prep.
Samuel closed the file.
He didn't send anything to Eli.
"Let him watch the air change."
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[Dongnae- South Busan ]
Beneath a stationery shop in Dongnae, Yeji stepped through biometric locks into a dim-lit digital command room.
Dozens of screens tracked:
Anonymous fight gambling brackets
Street rumor analytics
Encryption-based information sales
Scooter route taxes rerouted into private accounts
The system was coded by Samuel. The concept was Eli's.
They didn't steal from people.
They sold momentum. Gossip. Odds. Secrets.
The operation had just cleared ₩1.4 billion in 30 days.
Jace stepped in, chewing gum.
"You make war look broke."
Eli followed behind, shirt half-buttoned, knuckles healing.
"They think I'm building a kingdom," he said."I'm just buying the land under theirs."
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[Golden Syndicate Interest]
In an upper-floor restaurant in Jung-gu, a man in a gold suit watched the same numbers scroll across a phone screen.
He poured tea.
Smiled and looked at the man sitting in front of him.
"Tell me more about Eli Nam."
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[Rooftop – 6:30 PM]
Instructor Lee stood above a middle school, clipboard in hand, eyes on the Gupo line.
He spoke into his earpiece.
"He won't lose to a blade."
"He'll lose to silence."
He tucked a USB marked [Phase 2: Influence Subversion] into his pocket.
Walked inside.