Lookism: King's Ascension

The thud of a fist meeting flesh rang out.

Thud!

Taeyang's face was slammed to the side. 

His cheek collided with the cold, unforgiving concrete wall. The impact sent a jolt through his entire body, and before he could even register the pain, another fist came flying toward him.

Crack!

His jaw cracked against the wall again, a sharp, searing pain shooting through his skull. 

His vision spun for a second, his mind struggling to keep up with the onslaught of blows.

Bruises were already beginning to form across his face. 

His lips tasted like iron, and the inside of his mouth felt swollen from the constant hits. 

Each punch drove him further into the haze of pain, his head ringing with a steady pulse that matched the frantic beating of his heart. His arms ached from the tension in his body, and the ropes around his wrists felt tighter with every movement.

A punching bag. 

That's what he was now. Just a punching bag. 

A disposable object for these men to vent their frustration on.

The tall one didn't stop, delivering punch after punch without hesitation, his movements swift and practiced. Taeyang's body was a ragdoll in his hands, his head jerking back and forth with each blow. The man's breath was steady, controlled, like this was routine for him.

"How are you going to pay us back, huh?" the tall one growled between strikes, his voice thick with amusement, though the edge of menace was clear. "You think you're worth anything?"

Taeyang's vision blurred, and he could barely hear over the ringing in his ears. His throat was raw from trying to breathe, his chest heaving as the pain flooded his body.

"Answer me!"

The question hit harder than the punches. 

His mind raced. 

Pay them back? 

How the hell was he supposed to pay them back? He didn't even know what was happening… he barely knew what world he was in. 

He didn't know who these people were, or even what the hell he had done to get here. All he knew was that he needed to survive. He needed to figure out a way out of this.

A thought flickered in his brain like a lifeline. It was stupid, impulsive, but it was the only thing that came to him in the moment. His throat burned as he forced the words out.

"I'll work for you." His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but it was enough. "I'll join your Circle."

Silence.

The room went silent for a heartbeat. The tall one paused, his fist hovering inches from Taeyang's face as he processed the words.

Circle.

It was out of his mouth before he even realized it. The Circles… the gangs that controlled the city. That's what these men were. They weren't just some random thugs. They were the ones who ruled, the ones who dictated what happened in the streets. The Kings.

He had no idea what the hell he was getting into by saying that, but it was the only thing that made sense in the moment. 

Work for them. Join their Circle. 

He didn't know how, or why, but it was his only thought.

"Work for us… ?" The man's voice was low, thick with disbelief. "You think after stealing from us, you can just walk away and join our Circle? That's how you think this works?"

The room was still, save for the faint sound of shuffling from the other men in the background. 

Taeyang's heart hammered in his chest. 

The offer had escaped his lips before he could fully process it—hell, he barely even understood what he was saying. 

He couldn't even remember what he had stolen. 

It couldn't have been that important… from the way these men were throwing their fists around, the main problem seemed to be that he'd stolen from them, not that he had stolen.

The memories of what led him here were a jumbled mess in his mind, a blur of confusion and fear. 

But he knew one thing for sure: if he didn't convince them somehow, he wasn't walking out of this room.

His throat burned, his mouth dry, but he forced the words out anyway. "I'll join your Circle. I'll work for you... I'll do whatever it takes."

The tall man straightened up, stepping back to assess Taeyang fully. 

There was no immediate reaction. 

The other two men didn't speak, their eyes locked on Taeyang, as though waiting for him to falter.

The man with the scar across his cheek smirked, tapping his fingers against his hip. The one with the toothpick still casually hanging from his mouth let out a soft snort.

The tall man wasn't done with him yet. "You think it's that simple?" he growled, his voice suddenly sharp. "You think joining us will make everything better? You think we'll just forget that you stole from us?"

He stepped forward again, towering over Taeyang as the ropes around his wrists cut into his skin. 

"You're not just gonna work for us, boy. You'll have to earn your place in the Circle. And that means proving yourself... showing us that you're more than just a liability."

Taeyang's head spun, his mind racing. Earn my place?

The tall man leaned in close enough that Taeyang could feel his hot breath on his cheek.

"How do you plan on doing that, huh?" he hissed. "What do you bring to the table? You think just saying 'I'll work for you' is enough?"

Taeyang's throat tightened. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. What the hell was he supposed to say? 

He didn't know what he had to offer, didn't know how to prove himself worthy of this brutal shit. 

But he had no other choice. This was it.

Work for them... or die in this damn warehouse.

He swallowed hard, the taste of iron still thick in his mouth from the previous punches. "I... I'll fight for you." 

The words felt foreign, like they didn't belong to him. But the thought of dying here, dying without ever having a chance to live, pushed him further. 

"I'll fight for you... I'll prove myself. Whatever it takes."

The tall man stayed silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. The men around him were still as statues, waiting for a verdict. Taeyang's pulse throbbed in his ears, each beat reminding him of the desperation that clung to him. 

His life hung by a thread, and the thread was fragile.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Finally, the tall man let out a long, slow sigh. He turned to the others, his voice dripping with cold amusement.

"He wants to fight for us. He wants to earn his spot." He glanced at Taeyang over his shoulder. "You better be ready to bleed. A lot."

It… it worked?

Slam!

His breath was ripped from his lungs as the tall man's hand slammed into his throat. 

The pressure was unbearable, suffocating. Taeyang gasped for air, but there was nothing but a crushing grip tightening around his windpipe. Saliva escaped from his mouth, dripping down his chin as his vision blurred.

The tall man hissed, leaning close enough that his hot breath mixed with Taeyang's struggle for air.

He hissed into my ear. "Jeongdu's team was destroyed a few days ago… those Seoul fuckers did them dirty. So you're going to join them as a temporary replacement." He paused and then corrected himself.

"A placeholder."

His hand left my neck and I gasped, taking in sweet breaths of air. 

Sweet oxygen.

The other two men left, their footfalls fading as the door creaked open. 

The tall man remained, a shadow looming over him, blocking the light that filtered into the room. His silhouette was all Taeyang could see, swallowing up everything coming towards him.

"Remember, this isn't us giving you a chance…

He left, leaving behind his last few words.

"This is you choosing to delay your death."