[South Busan – 6:22 PM]
The rain wasn't heavy. Just persistent—enough to turn roads reflective and silence conversation. South Busan shimmered beneath rusted signage and bent light posts.
Eli walked alone. No umbrella. No guards. No declarations.
The world walked around him now.
Not because he was feared.
Because he was becoming... harder to see.
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A street vendor on Soryang Alley saw him coming.
Used to smile. Used to slide him drinks on credit.
Now the vendor turned his back, muttering to a coworker who pretended not to look.
"Don't want problems."
Eli paused beside the stall. Looked at the tray of steamed buns, untouched.
He didn't say a word.
From across the street, a woman grabbed her child's wrist.
"Don't stare," she whispered.
The boy didn't ask why.
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[7:03 PM – Underground Cram School, Level B2]
The hum of fluorescent lights echoed through the basement. The windows were sealed. The room smelled like plastic, old paper, and static tension.
Samuel stood in front of a dry-erase board filled with CTRL9 command hierarchies, threat vectors, and two names circled in red.
One was Eli's.
Eli stood beside him, arms folded.
Samuel didn't offer tea. Or comfort.
"They won't fight you in a ring. CTRL9 breaks public memory first. They turn kings into forgotten threats."
Eli stared at his name on the board.
"Good," he said. "Let them forget the crown."
Samuel raised a brow.
Eli continued:
"They'll remember the fire."
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[7:48 PM – Underground server room, Dongnae district]
Yeji Moon stood before a wall of screens tracking crypto pools, local media chatter, and anonymized payment chains.
She had just left a backroom negotiation with a tabloid publisher and a corrupt student union rep.
They now owed her three favors and ₩18 million in silence money.
On-screen: three regional influencers posted a new theory within the hour—Drift, not Eli, planted Gihun. Drift wants Eli to implode.
Exactly the narrative she paid for.
She turned to her assistant.
"When they don't know who to hate, they follow the noise."
She switched feeds.
"Let's raise the volume."
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[8:25 PM – Behind an arcade in Seobu Market]
Two teenage boys were cornered in an alley, faces bloodied, jackets ripped. Shaking.
Jace crouched beside one of them, whispering.
"Tell the cops Eli's people did this. Post it too."
The kid nodded, confused, afraid.
As soon as they left, Seojun lit a cigarette.
"You're making us look worse."
Jace grinned.
"Exactly. It makes us look real."
"CTRL9 wants him erased. We just made him visible again."
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[9:06 PM – Private Network Tunnel, Busan East Grid]
Samuel decrypted a long-buried folder from an old CTRL9 server.
Label: Subject 47–E
It had one line of note:
"Unknown reaction to profile destabilization. Target resists isolation. Reclassify if public threat index remains inconsistent."
Samuel stared at it for several seconds.
"You weren't built for a leash, were you?"
He closed the file.
Not to hide it.
But because even CTRL9 couldn't predict what Eli would do next.
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[10:02 PM – Rooftop above Gupo Line]
Rain still fell.
Eli stood at the ledge, city lights beneath him smeared like spilled ink.
He lit a cigarette slowly, hands wet, bandages red at the seams.
Behind him, the door creaked open. Yeji appeared.
"You should rest."
"I'm resting now," he said.
Yeji leaned against the rail, arms crossed.
"They're scared of nothing."
Eli smiled without looking at her.
"That's the point."
A pause.
"They keep asking who follows me."
He exhaled smoke through his nose.
"But I'm not leading."
"I'm just... walking ahead."
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[10:43 PM – Backroom of a former convenience store, now Gupo Safehouse]
Eli met with a small-time crew. One that helped him during the early Dogsung days.
They looked nervous now. Unsure where they stood.
He didn't demand loyalty.
He gave them a package.
A USB. A wad of cash.
"Start the rumor. Say I'm leaving Busan. Say I've struck a deal with Golden Syndicate."
They exchanged looks.
"Is it true?"
Eli tilted his head.
"Does it matter?"
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[11:16 PM – Drift Headquarters]
The USB made its way into the hands of a curious lieutenant. A recent Drift defector.
He handed it to a handler in a golden pinstripe suit.
Later that night, Gilwoo watched the contents on a private monitor:
Footage of Eli sitting alone. Looking... unwell.
The voiceover described his "psychological fracture" after killing Gihun.
It was a fabrication. A trap.
But Gilwoo didn't blink.
"The king has no crew," he said quietly.
"But he's got a kingdom."
"And it's crawling."