Urban Vagabond: Reload

The second the fight ended, Hwang Suksu hauled the brute’s corpse into the kitchen.

Looked like he really meant what he’d said about harvesting organs.

All I did was nick up the floor a little. I didn’t even break much.

I didn’t love the idea of doing the work while somebody else pocketed the side profit, but the moment he announced that the winner of a life-and-death match drank and ate free tonight, my complaints melted away on their own.

I ordered dongpo pork—my favorite menu in The Dark Den—and several bottles of expensive liquor I wasn’t even going to drink.

“Dongpo pork here really is the best...”

The dongpo pork Hwang made himself was dissolving in my mouth like warm butter.

“Damn, this is good...”

Meanwhile, the expensive liquor was disappearing into Bokja. She was already on her second bottle.

So we dug into meat and booze, watching the rowdy chaos of The Dark Den around us.

“Hey! Give me my money already!”

“Hope everyone who won drops dead!”

On one side, servers and customers were settling the betting payouts.

Guys lying through their teeth about how much they’d bet, dudes caught pickpocketing and getting their wrists chopped off, parasites clinging to winners begging for a cut—

If you ever want to watch bottom-tier underworld scum living their lives, there’s nowhere better than this place.

Every so often, people I’d never seen before wandered up and tried to talk.

“Hey, man! That was insane skill earlier!”

“Still won’t take off the goggles, huh? You got a warrant or something?”

“Oppa, you look pretty young from the jawline... wanna have a drink with me?”

If someone brought me anything interesting, I’d pour them a glass like I was feeling generous.

If they were just spouting useless shit, I chased them off.

“Get lost. Staring at your dirty face kills my appetite.”

Most of them came hoping for a free drink, got cursed out instead, and slunk away.

Man. This feels like the old days.

Back when I’d only just started living as a vagabond swordsman, I came to The Dark Den all the time.

To pick up rumors, scout jobs—

And because the dongpo pork was stupid good.

After Hwang Suksu turned up as a corpse in some alley, I’d stopped coming...

But that was all ancient history now.

“Hey. What’s with your face? You’ve been like that for a while.”

I tapped Bokja’s arm where she was sitting beside the bar table.

It was meant to be casual, but she jolted like I touched something I wasn’t supposed to.

“M-me? What about me?”

She went stiff and started stuttering, which only made her look more suspicious.

Maybe she didn’t like drinking hangouts in the first place?

...No. That couldn’t be it. Even the first time I met her, she’d been crazy for alcohol.

What the hell did you go through in just a year?

In my first life, the first time I met Bokja was about a year and a few months from now.

After my parents died in that accident, after I spiraled and lived like garbage, and then heard Dr. Man on YouTube and crawled here for an artificial dantian procedure.

—Not enough money? Then how about I pluck a kidney while I’m at it? Or if you’ve got expensive liquor at home, bring it. I’ll pay high for that.

The Kim Bokja I remembered already felt worn down by the underworld back then, so seeing this rookie version beside me still didn’t feel real.

“Your problem looks like it’s basically solved. What else is bothering you?”

“...Of course there’s a problem. There always was, and there still is. Every time one thing looks like it’s about to get fixed, a new problem pops up... fuck, life’s a joke...”

“You’re downing good booze and whining like a loser. Speak clearly.”

Bokja stared at me with this weird look, sighed, and scratched her head hard.

“Hey... honestly, wasn’t that a bit too much?”

“...?”

“You should’ve told me earlier. What your organization even is. What the conditions are. You should’ve explained the details first, right?”

“...?”

“I’m not saying I hate it. After seeing your skill, you look trustworthy, and I know you can’t survive in this world without backing. But doing it like this is a problem.”

What the hell is she even talking about?

Bokja kept asking about how life in the organization would work. I listened with a blank face... and then the realization hit me late.

Wait. Don’t tell me...?

Now that I thought about it, her attitude toward me had changed since earlier.

She wasn’t calling me a punk and brushing me off, and she looked like she’d been thinking all through the drinking.

...Probably since right after I killed the brute.

“Are there any rules I absolutely have to follow? Honestly, I’ve always lived pretty free, so I don’t know if I can...”

“Kim Bokja.”

The moment I said her real name in a quiet voice, she flinched.

Her eyes were flooded with irritation, but she didn’t start cursing me out like usual.

That confirmed it.

She really thinks I’m going to pull her into an organization.

I checked once more that nobody nearby was eavesdropping, then lowered my voice further.

“There is no organization. I just needed an excuse so those idiots couldn’t keep bothering you. I made it up on the spot.”

“...For real?”

She stared at me like, Can I actually believe this?

I snatched the bottle out of her hand and poured into her empty glass.

“And what kind of organization would a nineteen-year-old be in? You want to drive nails into your parents’ hearts?”

The moment I brought my parents into it, she looked conflicted... then saw how serious I was and punched me in the side as hard as she could.

“Why the hell are you only saying that now!”

Watching her finally let her temper out was so funny I burst into laughter.

“Damn. I can’t believe I got intimidated by some high-school kid who can’t even drink properly...”

“I’m not drinking. There’s nothing worse for a martial artist than alcohol and cigarettes.”

“Hey! Cola over here! Want me to order you milk too?”

“Quit your bullshit. ...Wait, do they even have milk here?”

“Hahahaha! You crazy bastard!”

That was when we finally started talking like normal people.

I had no intention of creating some organization in the future either.

I was sick of the underworld black path.

A life where you kill for money, worry every second about a knife in your back, and get thrown away the second you’re not useful anymore.

Not that righteous-path martial artists were all clean, but unlike my last life, I wanted to live in the light this time.

“...You should earn enough and wash your hands of this world too. The longer you stay, the harder it is to get out.”

“Don’t get cocky. You’re younger than me and talking like an old man.”

Fully reassured now, Bokja’s face relaxed.

Maybe it was just because she was totally drunk.

“You know... earlier you felt like a completely different person. Watching you kill someone like a bug... do you have any idea how shocked I was? I honestly got kind of scared after seeing that...”

“Did you?”

With her face flushed red while she complained, I scratched the top of my goggles with a finger.

I need to watch myself more. I’m becoming a righteous-path martial artist this time.

I’d been mellow the last few days around my parents, but the moment the environment changed, my old vagabond personality had slipped out.

We talked a bit more.

We’d eaten enough, and I was starting to think about leaving.

“If we’re done, let’s grab the payout and go.”

“Already? There’s still booze left...”

I grabbed the back of Bokja’s neck and stood up, dragging her away from the bottles she was clinging to.

That was when—

“Leaving?”

A voice I didn’t recognize came from behind us.

I froze on the spot.

My hand was already on my knife handle by instinct.

When I turned slowly, a stranger was smiling as he approached with a glass in hand.

“Did I startle you?”

He was tall enough that our eyes were level.

Sunken shadows under his eyes, a thin, gaunt build.

A clean shirt that didn’t fit The Dark Den at all, and glasses on his face—he looked like some neat, harmless academic who’d never been in a fight.

But the moment I saw the roaring red tiger inked under his rolled-up sleeve, my guard shot through the roof.

Blood Tiger Gang...

A group with fewer than thirty members—rare in the black-path world where numbers usually equal power.

But nobody could afford to look down on Blood Tiger Gang just because they were small.

Because every single one of them was a real martial artist who’d mastered proper arts.

That’s why, even with low headcount, they were always named among Seoul’s top ten black-path gangs.

So a heavyweight was hiding in this shabby hole.

I hadn’t expected to run into a Blood Tiger Gang member here.

And in my experience, any group with “Blood” in the name was full of lunatics. Getting involved never ended well.

“Looks like you noticed right away. Most people ignore it even when I show them.”

The man casually blocked my path and introduced himself.

“I’m the Fifth Tiger of Blood Tiger Gang. Childish, I know, but that’s our rule for introductions.”

“What do you want with me?”

In Blood Tiger Gang, the number before “Tiger” meant rank.

So this guy was one of their top five.

If I fight him now... can I win?

Even with twenty years of vagabond experience, probably not.

I hadn’t found a proper internal-arts method yet, and my body wasn’t fully rebuilt.

He wasn’t some cheap thug. He was a true black-path martial artist.

Still...

This could be fun.

Meeting a real opponent made my skin itch.

Even though my face was covered by goggles, the Fifth Tiger read that tiny reaction like it was nothing.

“Haha. Your neck looks itchy.”

Smiling, he studied me like he was genuinely interested, eyes practically drilling through the goggles.

“I’m getting more curious what’s under those. How do I get to see?”

“If you strip first, I’ll think about it.”

“...What?”

For a second he went blank, then exploded into laughter, tears even forming at the corners of his eyes.

“Hahahaha! Yeah, that’s not happening. That privilege is only for ladies here.”

He patted his belt playfully, then asked again in a calmer voice.

“But you can at least tell me your organization’s name, right? If someone took Red Rabbit—someone we were watching—we need to know who they are so I’ve got something to report to my boss.”

The Fifth Tiger smiled like he wasn’t moving until he got an answer.

What do we do?

Bokja whispered behind me.

I nodded slightly to tell her not to worry.

“Our organization is...”

The bar was still loud, but I could feel people listening, waiting for my answer.

Everyone wanted to know who’d taken a freelance spell-caster multiple groups had been circling.

I hesitated a moment, then spat out the word that flashed through my mind.

“Blue Wolf Crew.”

“...Blue Wolf?”

Instead of carefully repeating the pronunciation, I tossed him the kind of facts he’d be itching for.

“An elite small-number crew like your Blood Tiger Gang. Brand new, so honestly we don’t have many members yet.”

I mixed just enough truth with just enough lie.

Since I’d created it five seconds ago, it was newborn.

And since it was just me and Bokja, it was definitely small-elite.

“Brings back memories. Blood Tiger Gang started with five people too.”

Surprisingly, he nodded like he believed me.

Maybe because I’d said we aimed for small-elite like them—his eyes even softened a little.

But I wasn’t naïve enough to think that meant things would be easy.

He’ll try to pressure me or offer terms to take Bokja. Worst case...

That was when the Fifth Tiger pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

“Ever thought about joining Blood Tiger Gang?”

“...What?”

“I mean it literally. A scout offer. I watched your fight. You’ve got talent. And even with your face hidden, you look pretty young.”

His smiling eyes weren’t on Bokja.

They were locked on me.