Lookism: King's Ascension

The smell of burning rubber still clung to the air.

The wreckage of the car sat there like a crumpled corpse, headlights flickering weakly, steam hissing from the engine. Blood smeared the cracked pavement. 

The last of Gunpo's Circle… what little was left of them, lay motionless, groaning, defeated.

And Baek Daehyun?

He barely looked winded.

He rolled his shoulders, shaking out the tension in his arms, and kicked a stray chunk of debris out of his way as he walked toward them. His leather jacket, scarred with Anyang's badges, shifted with every step.

The others were silent, watching.

Because even after all the chaos tonight, Daehyun had just walked in and ended a gang in under a minute.

Taeyang studied him carefully. He wasn't as overwhelmingly massive as Jeongdu or as coiled and explosive as Minho. But there was something about him that made it impossible to ignore him.

Something weighty.

Something inevitable.

Daehyun exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Well," he muttered, voice almost lazy. "That's that."

Minho crossed his arms. "Gunpo's finished, then."

Daehyun scoffed. "Finished? Gunpo's dead. Gone. We burned their Circle out of the fucking city. The only reason these guys made it this far is because they ran like rats while I was busy breaking their bosses."

Minho gave a slow nod, gaze flicking toward the unconscious bodies. "You left them alive."

Daehyun's lips twitched into a smirk. "Figured they could deliver a message for me."

"What message?"

He exhaled, rolling his neck. "That there is no Gunpo Circle anymore. That Anyang tore them down to their foundations and left nothing behind." 

He stretched, cracking his knuckles. "Besides, it's more fun watching them realize it's over. They'll wake up tomorrow with broken ribs and no purpose. That's worse than dying."

Taeyang leaned against the wall, still watching him.

There was no hesitation in Daehyun's words. No doubt. He wasn't just saying it… he knew it, down to his bones.

Gunpo wasn't retreating.

Gunpo didn't exist anymore.

Dongwoo whistled low. "Damn. Didn't think you'd actually do it."

Daehyun raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because I took my time?"

Minho spoke up then, his voice steady as ever. "Because we know what kind of people were hiding in Gunpo."

For a second, the air tightened.

They all knew what he meant.

Gunpo hadn't just been students. Their Circle had been built on the backs of pre-generation remnants. Men who had fought under old names. Under bosses that had once ruled the streets.

Daehyun had gone up against them. And judging by the fact that he was standing here, wearing that smirk, not a scratch on him…

It hadn't even been close.

Minho leaned back against the table, nodding slightly. "And now you're back."

Daehyun smirked. "What, did you miss me?"

Minho snorted. "Not really."

But despite the words, there was a weight lifting off the room. Anyang's strongest fighter was back. That meant something.

Minho exhaled, rolling up part of the map. "We'll figure out our next move soon, but first… we've got unfinished business with Su–"

At that, Taeyang spoke up. "Where is he?"

Minho glanced at him. "Who?"

"The guy with the vice clamp."

The room quieted slightly. Dongwoo clicked his tongue.

Minho studied Taeyang for a moment before answering. "Second floor. Last room on the right."

Taeyang nodded, already turning toward the stairs.

"Don't break him too much," Minho added. "I want most of it."

Taeyang paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

"No promises."

***

The room smelled like sweat and blood.

Dimly lit, bare concrete walls, a single chair in the center. The man sitting in it was slumped, arms bound to the rests, legs tied at the ankles.

Bruises darkened his face, one eye nearly swollen shut. Dried blood crusted at his temple, but his mouth... his mouth still curled into something that wasn't quite a smile, but wasn't far from it either.

He looked up when the door creaked open.

Taeyang stepped inside, the air shifting with him. The door shut behind him with a dull thud.

The man's grin widened, just a fraction.

"Oh," he rasped. "It's you."

Taeyang didn't answer. His gaze swept over the room, stopping when it landed on the object sitting on a rusted metal table beside the chair.

A vice clamp.

Not the one he'd broken before. A new one.

Taeyang picked it up, rolling it in his hands, testing the weight. Solid. Heavy. He clicked it open once, then shut it again. Snap.

The man chuckled. "You're not even going to ask me any questions first?"

Taeyang didn't reply. He stepped forward, slowly, until he was standing right in front of him.

The man tilted his head, the movement sluggish. "You're not much for talking, huh?"

Still nothing.

Then—

Snap.

Taeyang wrenched the man's hand forward and locked the clamp around his pinky finger.

A sharp gasp. Then a strangled grunt as pressure built, the vice crushing down. The bones shifted under the force. His entire arm trembled, muscles spasming as the pain shot up his nerves.

But he didn't scream.

He just laughed.

Shaky, breathless, but there.

"You know," he wheezed, his head drooping slightly, "we're not that different, you and me."

Taeyang didn't react. Just tightened the clamp.

The man hissed through his teeth, his laughter cutting off into a sharp exhale.

"You break people," he muttered, breath still unsteady. "I do it after I win. But you—" he swallowed, blinking through the pain—"you do it while you fight. You don't just beat them. You dismantle them. Tear them apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but fear and broken bones."

Taeyang stared down at him, silent.

"You think you're different," the man rasped. "But you're not. Not really."

Taeyang said nothing.

The clamp tightened another notch.

The man inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching under the pressure. He let out another breathy chuckle. "You enjoy it, don't you?" His voice was rough, hoarse. 

"The way their bones give under your hands. The way their eyes change when they realize they can't win. That's why you're worse than me." He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I was cruel when it was over. But you—" his lips curled, just slightly.

"You're cruel while you fight. It's instinct. Natural. You were made for it."

Taeyang let him talk. Let him ramble. Let him push out every last word.

Then, finally—

Snap.

He wrenched the clamp off and let the mangled fingers drop limply against the chair's armrest.

The man slumped slightly, breath shallow, shaking. But even through the pain, through the exhaustion, he still smiled.

Taeyang held his gaze, eyes cold.

Then, at last, he spoke.

"...You're wrong about one thing."

The man let out a rough exhale, tilting his head just slightly.

Taeyang's expression was unreadable.

"This isn't torture."

The man chuckled again, weak but still defiant. His fingers twitched, useless, bloodied. "Oh?" he rasped. "Then what do you call this?"

Taeyang rolled the clamp between his fingers, considering it. Then, without a word, he grabbed the man's other hand, forced it open, and latched the vice onto his thumb.

Click.

Pressure.

The man gritted his teeth, body tensing as the pain shot through his nerves. His breath came out in sharp exhales, but the amusement never quite left his face.

"You don't think this is the same?" he muttered, voice strained. "You don't think this is cruelty?"

Taeyang tightened the clamp. Another click.

The man let out a strangled breath, his shoulders trembling.

"You tell yourself you're different," he continued, "but you're just another animal pretending he isn't one." His voice wavered slightly, but the words came steady. 

"That rage you feel when you fight? The way you tear them apart, piece by piece? That's not humanity. That's instinct. The same as me. The same as every other bastard who's ever beaten a man half to death just to prove he could."

Another click. More pressure.

The thumb bent at an unnatural angle, the skin bruising where the metal bit down.

Taeyang tilted his head slightly. "You talk a lot for someone in your position."

The man let out a breathless chuckle. "You think I care? You've already won. You and your little gang." He exhaled sharply, sweat dripping from his temple. "So go on. Tell yourself it's different. Tell yourself you fight for something bigger, that you don't enjoy it." 

He shifted slightly, his grip weak against the chair's armrests. "But I've seen guys like you before."

Taeyang's gaze didn't waver.

"You're not some avenger," the man muttered. "You're not some righteous executioner."

He gritted his teeth through the pain, but his next words came slow, deliberate.

"You're just another bastard who knows how to hit harder than the rest of us."

Taeyang watched him. Studied him.

Then, slowly, he reached forward and adjusted the clamp… just slightly. Not enough to break anything yet. Just enough to hurt.

The man sucked in a breath through his teeth, his body going rigid.

Taeyang leaned in slightly.

"You're half right," he murmured.

The man blinked, caught off guard by the words.

"I do hit harder than you," Taeyang continued, voice steady. Cold. "And that's why you lost."

Then, without warning—

Clickclickclickclickclick.

The clamp snapped shut completely.

The thumb gave with a sickening crunch.

The man screamed.

A raw, strangled sound, his entire body jerking against the restraints as pain tore through his nerves.

Taeyang let him. 

Let the sound fill the small, blood-stained room.

"Human emotions," Taeyang murmured, almost to himself, "they're a gift... a gift passed down from our animal ancestors. Cruelty? Cruelty's something humanity chose for itself. That's why I'm cruel when I fight." 

He tilted his head, eyes cold and detached. "Because that's when I'm closest to the animal I really am."

The man's breath came in ragged gasps, but Taeyang's words cut through the pain like a razor.

"But you?" Taeyang continued, his voice sharp as he leaned in, "You do it after the fight. After you've won, just to bathe in your victory." He paused, eyes narrowing.

"You're not an animal. You're just a sad, pathetic man."

The words hung in the air, heavier than the man's screams. 

Taeyang didn't need to look away to know the meaning had hit its mark.

"You shouldn't have done that to Munseong. He's a good man. But he won't break from what you did. He'll come back. Stronger."

The man rasped. "W…will he now?"

"Yes." Taeyang said simply and then continued.

"It's a shame… you won't be there to see it."

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I'm uhhh not entirely sure what I wrote.

It just came out naturally as I was writing Taeyang. I guess the state he's in right now is where his animal instinct is more controlling him than him controlling it. He'll develop it and control it when he gets stronger. But that's just more development I suppose.

I'll post another chap tonight because I'm not satisfied leaving this for the day.