章 11: Chapter 9: Rescue
I have decided to not have manager Kim working for Michael, since he has Oliver. I may do it in my next Lookism novel, if i make one.
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Michael and Oliver were driving home after a long day at the company when a battered car approached them from behind.
The vehicle looked like it had been through a warzone, but it managed to overtake them and screeched to a halt just ahead, forcing Oliver to slam on the brakes.
Three men got out of the car: one with brown hair and glasses, dressed in a taekwondo uniform; another in a suit, looking like an office worker with disheveled black hair; and the last, a towering, muscular figure in a T-shirt emblazoned with the words, "I Love My Daughter." The large man approached Michael and Oliver's tinted car, knocked on the window, and spoke casually.
"Can I borrow your car real quick? My friend's got an emergency," the man in the T-shirt said with surprising nonchalance.
The window slowly rolled down, revealing Oliver's face. The large man's eyes lit up with recognition.
"Oliver? Is that you?" the man asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"It's been a while, Jincheol," Oliver replied smoothly. "But it sounds like you need help."
The man in the suit, clearly distressed, stepped forward. "Yes, my daughter's been kidnapped. The kidnappers are just ahead."
Oliver glanced over at Michael, awaiting his decision. "Boss, what do you want to do?"
Michael's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Let them in," he said calmly.
Jincheol patted Michael on the shoulder gratefully as they entered the car. "Thank you, young man. You're a good person."
Michael chuckled. "Well, who wouldn't want three legends indebted to them?"
Jincheol looked at Michael curiously before turning back to Oliver. "We haven't seen each other since we took out the LSS radicals."
Oliver nodded. "Yeah, it's been a while. Now I work for my boss."
Jincheol gave Michael a once-over, sensing a strong presence. "Young man, you seem pretty strong."
Michael smirked. "I'd say that's accurate."
Oliver chimed in, "The boss is even stronger than me."
Jincheol's eyes widened in shock. Knowing Oliver's strength, he was no longer sure whether Michael was someone he could underestimate. But there was no time to ponder. They sped through the streets, breaking every traffic law in their path, until they spotted the kidnappers' car in the distance.
"There! That's the car!" shouted the man in the suit, Mr. Kim, as he opened the door and jumped out, leaping onto the fleeing vehicle. Jincheol and the taekwondo master, Hansoo, followed closely behind.
"Well, isn't this interesting," Michael said with mild amusement as he watched the chaos unfold.
"Yes, it is, boss," Oliver replied with a grin.
As they were talking, Mr. Kim suddenly jumped back into the car, cradling his daughter Kim Minji, who was trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide with terror, clinging tightly to her father as if he was her only lifeline. Mr. Kim, his face etched with determination, tried to reassure her despite the chaos around them.
Their car was suddenly trapped by four large trucks. The lead truck rammed them from behind, forcing their vehicle into the back of another. As the men inside remained vigilant, gas-masked figures appeared, releasing a thick cloud of gas into the car.
Mr. Kim clutched his terrified daughter tightly. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. We might be asleep for a bit, but I'll protect you," he said, his voice trailing off as the gas took effect.
Everyone fell unconscious—except Michael, who, thanks to his Hanma bloodline, was immune. He played along, pretending to be asleep as the kidnappers unknowingly underestimated him.
( Il skip the fighting scene)
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Michael stood amidst the wreckage, blood spattered on his clothes, a cigarette casually held between his lips. The air was thick with the stench of burning rubber and oil, broken cars and trucks scattered around them like a war zone.
Next to him, Oliver flicked his lighter and lit Michael's cigarette, their calm demeanor sharply contrasting the chaos around them.
Below them, Mr. Kim was walking towards a man who was casually fishing, surrounded by three subordinates.
Michael recognized the fisherman: Ju Kangchan, the CEO of Jooyoung Construction.
Mr. Kim, with fire in his eyes, didn't hesitate. He swiftly took down the three subordinates, his fists striking like lightning, his rage boiling over.
The clash between Mr. Kim and Ju Kangchan was brief but brutal, with Mr. Kim overpowering the CEO in a flurry of punches. Finally, Ju Kangchan lay on the ground, bloodied and beaten
Mr. Kim approached Michael and bowed deeply, his gratitude evident in every movement. "Thank you for your help," he said, his voice laced with relief and sincerity. The ordeal with his daughter still weighed heavily on him, but the tension was beginning to lift.
Michael took a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling into the night air as he regarded Mr. Kim coolly. "Mr. Kim," he said, exhaling with calm detachment, "I don't do anything for free."
Mr. Kim's eyes flickered with unease. "So... what do I owe you?" he asked cautiously, bracing himself for whatever demand might follow.
Michael's expression remained unreadable, his tone cold yet measured. "When I call for a favor, you just need to answer. Be there when I need you. That's all." His voice, though calm, carried the weight of a man used to absolute obedience.
Mr. Kim stood there for a moment, processing the implications of Michael's words. Then, with a firm nod, he accepted the terms. "I understand," he said. His gaze shifted momentarily to his daughter, Minji, who was waiting for him in the car. He knew that whatever future lay ahead, he had to ensure her safety, no matter the cost.
As Mr. Kim turned and walked toward his car, Michael watched him go, the cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. There was no sympathy in his gaze, only calculation. Once Mr. Kim was out of sight, Michael flicked the cigarette away, the embers briefly lighting the darkness before dying out on the pavement.
He turned to Oliver, who had been observing silently by his side. "Another good investment," Michael remarked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Oliver, hands casually in his pockets, returned the smile with a knowing grin. "As always, boss," he replied, his tone filled with an unspoken understanding. Michael's ability to mold people, to bind them into his web of influence, never ceased to impress him.
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