I Became a Monster in a T*ash Game

“Did you get lucky today?”
“Damn… I dumped this week’s earnings all here. Maybe I should pick up some side work too?”
“You can get work from anyone? Mister Kim even tried going through Choi last time and got shot down.”
The deeper you went, the different things you heard. Casual tips about Sakdal’s operations slipped through everywhere.
Jin Muhae subtly pricked his ears as he strolled, listening. Amid the chatter, scattered fragments of useful intelligence surfaced.
“Seriously—when that bald bastard staggered, why didn’t you just grab him and rough him up instead of cheering him on, you son of a bitch!”
“Hey, stop walking around. Rack up any more debt and you’ll be crawling upstairs.”
“My kid… I’ve got a place making good money! I’ll call you next week too.”
Joo-o led Muhae toward the pockets of conversation that sounded most promising, even in the noisy crowd.
Though the dialogues lacked key details, Muhae could piece together the fragments into clear conclusions.
Beep-.
As the ring was cleared and the buzzer sounded, heads snapped in unison.
It was betting time. A floating 3D hologram showed the fighters: a muscled man missing one arm and a slightly smaller opponent.
Gamblers busied themselves tapping their watches. The odds on the holo-board snowballed.
The score read 7 to 3. Even though he was down an arm, most bets piled on the bigger fighter who looked like he knew how to fight.
Which side did Muhae see as the winner? Joo-o couldn’t wait to find out.
“Muhae, who do you think will win?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’ve got 200 dil left. I want to bet too.”
“I’m not topping you up this month. Don’t waste it on anything. Spend wisely.”
What? That was unexpected. Muhae wasn’t exactly flush, but Joo-o still had things to buy.
“Then let’s make it 500 dil here!”
At Joo-o’s determined reply, Muhae frowned. Muttering a curse, he pondered briefly, then leaned over and whispered in Joo-o’s ear.
“Bet on the smaller guy.”
“Why? He doesn’t look strong.”
“The one-armed man—he’s covered the stump. It’s interfaced. He usually uses an advanced prosthetic.”
Prosthetics powered by hidden weapons or batteries aren’t allowed in the bare-knuckle pit.
Even without his bionic arm, nobody knew if his balance or fighting style would hold up.
As always, Muhae drew a conclusion from just a quick glance. Satisfied, Joo-o grabbed Muhae’s arm in excitement.
Beep-.
With all bets placed, the buzzer rang again. The two fighters stepped into the ring—Ding! The match began.
Kwaang! Smack.
The heavy fist hit the cage; the man barely dodged and countered, landing a hit on the muscle-bound fighter.
But the bigger man had clear strength and stamina. Even grazed by his kick, the man Joo-o backed nearly hit the floor.
“Waaaaah!”

Cheers rose and fell as the bout unfolded.
In an age where everyone was trapped in the Comfort Zone just to survive, watching men pummel each other bare-fisted sent the crowd into a frenzy.
“This bastard! Why is he staggering like that?”
“Hit his head! Hit it! If you waste my money, I’ll kill you!”
The initially dominant big man began to lose momentum as the odds shifted wildly, fueling the crowd’s mania.
Then—pow! The big man rocked back, elbow to the jaw, and slumped onto the ring floor.
Kwaang! Paak! Puhk!
From that moment on, the beating was mercilessly one-sided.
Half-down, the man covered his head, but the swollen-faced assailant rained kicks on him without mercy.
Blood spurted and curses flew from all sides. An enraged crowd hurled every obscenity imaginable.
Through the chaos, Muhae’s eyes didn’t blink. He leaned in, listening to the spectators’ jeers.
Ding!
Zzzing— as the match ended, watches buzzed. Joo-o’s 200 dil returned as 472 dil, but neither man showed much reaction to the windfall.
“Muhae. Did you hear that?”
“Yeah. That bearded guy must be involved.”
Joo-o caught mention of smuggling in Sakdal—of alcohol being illicitly handled. Fragments of conversation confirmed it.
A scraggly-bearded man, his beard grown below his ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) neck, had lost money and now pounded his head in frustration.
It seemed like disposable manpower, but his loose talk betrayed that he wasn’t keeping secrets well.
“Is it okay to mention that much?”
Joo-o muttered, and Muhae gave him a look that said, What are you, my keeper?
Then his gaze shifted, as if concluding that this smuggling racket wasn’t exactly worth dying for.
Cloud already knew about it—and probably Central did too. They’d sent Muhae here knowing what might come through.
Yet those involved showed little caution. The whole operation felt sloppy, manpower cheaply used.
Beep-.
The buzzer rang again. The next fighters, similar in size and health, stepped in.
Yet the odds stayed around 7 to 3. Meaning what the gamblers knew that Muhae didn’t.
Perhaps one of them had fought here before, shown some notable moves or tricks. That sort of detail you only get from overheard chatter or post-event map stats. Stuff Joo-o already knew.
“That sideburns guy—his reach is long.”
“...Really?”
“Yeah. And he’s tenacious.”
Reluctantly, Muhae bet on the seven side. To the fighters, it might be unlucky, but to the bettors, it was a decent match.
To avoid suspicion, Muhae tapped Joo-o’s shoulder, indicating he’d joined the bets.
“If you hear anything, pass it on to me exactly.”
He realized too late that Joo-o was a master at eavesdropping. No need to drag Muhae around from spot to spot.
From now on, any tidbit would flow through Joo-o. Perfect. Things just got easier.
‘Hmm. But I thought too much.’
His stomach rumbled. Joo-o swallowed and looked around.
Fortunately, everyone was focused on the next match. No one would notice whatever Joo-o did in the crowd.
Somewhere near Seogyeong City, they must sell cursed meat skewers.
Food that, no matter how many you eat or dispose of, stubbornly returns to its owner.
‘How long do these damn skewers keep coming back?’
Watching the blood-soaked brawl, Joo-o munched his meat.
As if the thick air or the carnage bothered him not at all, he chewed calmly through the spectacle.
Reflexively, Muhae shook his head and tore his gaze away. The more he paid attention to Joo-o’s oddities, the wearier he grew. Since noticing that, he’d kept his distance from Joo-o’s mysteries.
“Muhae. Hmm, chew chew. But the deal we made was information.”
Joo-o pronounced each word clearly even with food in his mouth. Muhae didn’t turn his head, but he raised an eyebrow, pretending to listen.
“Cloud already knows what you told me. Why is that information even a bargain?”
Of course. Joo-o’s thoughts were evolving. His once-nearly-incoherent muttering had become conversation—with substance.
He was zeroing in on the core. As Joo-o always claimed, Muhae now answered only once he understood what was being said.
Surprisingly pleased, Muhae lowered his voice.
“I’m not after smuggling intel.”
“Then what?”
“This is just the excuse to get me here. I wondered if the person we’re looking for might really be here…”
But it didn’t fit. If someone unrelated to this incident had been worth sending, they’d have sent someone more capable and less conspicuous.
Yet by chance, a ‘shadow’ here in Sakdal paid special attention to Muhae.
“Muhae. Have you been sold out?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
Cloud wanted Muhae to contact that shadow. Presumably it’d benefit Cloud—and could help Muhae too.
Because that was the promise. Reaching that point, Muhae fixed his gaze on the ring.
Vagrants loitered as if daring him to notice them. Once he spotted his tail, the underground pit lay open with no resistance.
This shadow watching Muhae wasn’t hidden—just out there, whispering, waiting for Muhae’s next move.
As if to say, Come if you can. Fulfill expectations and we’ll meet whenever.
Choosing to attract that gaze had been the right decision. Cloud’s plan and this place’s reaction overlapped toward the same goal.
Muhae unbuttoned a couple of shirt buttons and strode forward.
Ding!
Zzzing-.
Just as the bloody fight ended and the half-dead victor was dragged out, Muhae approached the fight organizer, who gave him a “What do you want?” look.
“Do you accept walk-in entries?”
“…We already have all our fighters.”
Two well-prepared men stood where the organizer had nodded.
Without a word, Muhae swung a punch unexpectedly.
Paak!
One blow to the jaw shattered the other man’s composure; the fighter’s eyes went blank.
Thud. As the big man collapsed, the frenzied crowd fell silent.
Muhae slid his sore fist into his pocket and turned smoothly.
“That’s enough, right?”
The organizer glanced around, then pressed against Muhae’s ear and nodded in approval.
That bastard. Of course he’d been contacted from above.