Eugene stared at Mandseok, wide-eyed, as he absorbed the news. "What? Goo Kim lost? That lunatic lost?" His voice was a mixture of disbelief and sudden panic, a storm brewing within him. His mind raced, shifting from one thought to the next like a flickering light bulb. The implications of this loss were monumental, and soon anxiety wormed its way into his stomach.
As he began to bite his nails, a nervous habit he had picked up over the years, thousands of thoughts coursed through his mind. Did I make a mistake? How is he this strong? His heart raced as he contemplated the possibilities. If Toji—infamous for his merciless nature and fearsome abilities—had defeated Goo, it could spell disaster for his meticulously laid plans. The Workers' Hands had always been an underground organization teetering on the brink of becoming an unstoppable force. Eugene's frown deepened; Toji being in the mix jeopardized everything.
Mandseok, sensing Eugene's mounting anxiety, interrupted his chaotic thoughts. "Eugene, shouldn't we send him in? We can't let Charles' power increase anymore. If Toji is rising, we've got to strike fast." His voice was calm, a stark contrast to Eugene's frantic energy.
Eugene slammed his hand down on the table, the noise echoing in the small room. "No, don't! If he defeated Goo and still has his limbs intact, then that means he's strong, a dangerous person we can't mess with carelessly." His voice dropped to a tense whisper, his eyes narrowing as if to pierce through the chaos outside the windows.
Mandseok was silent, contemplating Eugene's words. The weight of the situation was heavy, and he knew deep down that Eugene was right. Goo was a monster in his own right, and for that monster to be bested by Toji—the Devil Child—was an affront to their operations. But there was more to consider. "But the division is not some crew to scoff at," Mandseok finally said, his voice steady. "Their numbers are increasing annoyingly, and with Jinyoung making public appearances lately, it complicates things."
Eugene turned his gaze from the window back to Mandseok, his mind shifting gears. "Jinyoung is baiting something…or someone.
"He know's there's someone or something aiming for the division. To lure the shark out, Jinyoung is fishing with himself as the bait."
Mandseok raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Eugene's deduction. "So you think he's trying to draw us out?"
"Yes," Eugene responded, his eyes glazing over the bustling cityscape of Seoul, deep in thought. "This also means that Division doesn't know about Workers' Hands."
Then Eugene's face shifted to a grin at the sudden turn of events, realizing it was to his advantage. "If he's baiting, then it's only natural for a fish to catch something, but that doesn't necessarily mean it has to be us. It could be anyone." Eugene shifted in his seat, determination solidifying in his posture. "Looks like our plans are going to change a bit."
"Change?" Mandseok's voice held curiosity, ready to pivot along with Eugene's shifting strategies.
Eugene then smiled, placing a finger on his lips, his face darkening with a twisted grin. "It looks like fate has decided that Dogs will steal the shark's bait."
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Joseph's voice rang out, cutting through the murmurs and groans of the Division members like a blade. "Everyone!" he barked, his eyes blazing as they took in the battered group sprawled out before him. Broken noses, split lips, bruises, and jaws—these were the so-called executives of Division, the people he'd left in charge during his brief absence. He scanned their faces, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. The air was thick with tension, a testament to the pummeling he'd just unleashed on them, all under the guise of "assessing their skills."
"Is this what Division's become in a few weeks in my absence? You all look pathetic," he sneered, pacing back and forth with a palpable intensity, his fists clenched. "Broken bones, bruised egos, and not a single ounce of discipline. Do you honestly believe this kind of performance is worthy of Division?"
"I step away for a few weeks, and this is what you let happen? Where's your pride? How can any of you feel worthy to be in Division when you look like this?" He paced in front of them, his fists clenched so tightly that veins popped along his forearms, his frustration mounting. "You all act like this is a joke. Well, it's not. This is Division—Toji's Division."
No one dared to look him in the eye, but they stood a little straighter, their injuries forgotten under the burning sting of his words.
Joseph's gaze zeroed in on No. 4, a recent addition to the numbered ranks. The red-haired boy, slumped against the wall and clutching his bruised side, tried to steady his breath. It was clear that despite his injuries, he had fought back with a fire that explained why he'd been chosen. Joseph's expression hardened, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Don't get cocky just because you made it to a number," he hissed, eyes boring into the boy. "If Toji even bothered to give you that number, it means he saw potential in you—a potential you're obviously squandering."
The red-haired member winced, his gaze lowering, but he squared his shoulders under Joseph's scrutiny. The rest of the group straightened up, each one trying to find a shred of dignity under Joseph's brutal assessment. They knew he wasn't just talking to No. 4—he was speaking to every one of them.
Joseph's expression hardened, a flash of disappointment clouding his features. "Where's Kevin?" he growled, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. "No. 2's been missing for over a month now, and none of you idiots have any clue where he is?"
Silence fell over the room, punctuated only by the occasional shuffle of feet. Joseph sighed, exasperation etched across his face.
Joseph's voice dripped with venom as he continued, his words cutting through the room like shards of glass. "Unbelievable. Do you even realize the scale of what's happening? A storm is brewing, and we're caught right in the center. You saw what happened with that gold-haired bastard—it was a single person, for fuck's sake."
He paced furiously, his footsteps echoing off the walls, each step punctuated by the tension that filled the room. "One person tore through the lot of you. And instead of stepping up, you're lying here, licking your wounds. How can any of you even consider yourselves worthy of Division with this pathetic display?"
He spat the words, his voice laced with a mixture of anger and something close to fear. They all remembered the chaotic aftermath, the broken floorboards and bloodstains from Toji's clash with that arrogant fighter.
A shiver ran through the room as the weight of Joseph's words sank in. Jinyoung, No. 3 of Division, had warned them that another crew was gearing up for a fight, but Kevin's disappearance only made the situation worse.
"Listen up," Joseph continued, his tone shifting from anger to a deadly calm. "You have two options. Either you shape up, or you get out. Because I'm done babysitting you idiots." He glared at them, his stare sharp enough to cut. "Division isn't just a title; it's a legacy. We carry Toji's name. That means something. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I intend to uphold that name. I'm not going to let some third-rate gang or that gold-haired menace tear us down."
The group exchanged glances, each one feeling a renewed sense of purpose despite the throbbing pain of their injuries. For the first time, they understood the gravity of their roles, the weight of being a part of Division. They weren't just a bunch of delinquents—they were warriors, each one with a role to play in the battles to come.
"Now get out of my sight and start training!" Joseph bellowed, his voice carrying enough force to shake the walls. They scrambled to their feet, each one determined to prove themselves worthy, to erase the shame that had settled over them. Because they knew that Division wasn't just a crew—it was a family, and right now, their family needed them.
As everyone dispersed, Jacob remained in the now-empty hall, where faint sparks of energy crackled in the air, slowly mending the broken walls and shattered pillars. He took a step forward, his gaze fixed on the center of the room. There, a massive crater marred the polished marble floor, evidence of the intense battle that had unfolded. In the middle of it, a lone sword stood embedded in the ground, its blade gleaming with a sinister aura.
Jacob walked to the edge of the crater, peering down at the weapon as if it were a relic from another world. The sheer force it must have taken to drive that sword into the ground, to create such destruction... it was beyond anything he'd ever seen. He clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm until a small trickle of blood seeped between his fingers.
"Will I ever reach his level?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
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