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TEENAGERS... SO PRIMITIVE. The night air hung heavy as Kwon tossed the key Kreese had handed him minutes earlier. His expression was flat, unimpressed. "Sensei, I don't understand the meaning of this," he said, his voice edged with irritation.
Kreese caught the key midair, his smirk barely shifting. "You will," he replied cryptically, motioning for Kwon to crouch beside him behind a thick row of bushes overlooking the school parking lot.
Kwon's eyes narrowed as he followed Kreese's gaze. There it was—a glossy black sedan with deep gashes carved across its passenger side. Random, jagged letters scrawled in the paint, glowing faintly under the streetlight.
"I was promised captaincy to carve stupid letters into the school's biggest asshole's car. This has what to do with karate?" He hissed, exasperated. "You want me to fight them again?" He crossed his arms, glaring at Kreese.
"Not yet." Kreese leaned forward, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Karate isn't just about fists, Kwon. It's about control, timing, and knowing how to dismantle your enemy piece by piece. Sometimes, you don't even need to lift a finger."
Kwon rolled his eyes, still unimpressed. "Yeah, well, I was promised headband, not... vandalism. What does this even-" He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing at the markings. "What do those letters even say?"
Kreese didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The moment Jae-chul and his crew marched out of the detention hall, their barely-contained aggression hit the parking lot like a thunderclap. Kreese, crouching behind the bushes, observed them like a predator in waiting. Kwon shifted beside him, impatience radiating off him in waves.
"Perfect timing," Kreese muttered, a sinister smile curling his lips.
"This better be worth my time," Kwon muttered, peering through the leaves. "What's the point of all this cloak-and-dagger crap? Let me just go—"
"Shut up," Kreese snapped, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through steel. "Watch."
Jae-chul reached his car first, his usual swagger replaced by something colder, more dangerous. His footsteps faltered when his eyes caught the message carved into the car door: Y/I (your initials) WAS HERE. The sharp edges of the letters gleamed under the faint lamplight. A snarl twisted his face, and he crouched to inspect the slashed tires, his fury building with every second.
"What the fuck is this?" Jae-chul barked.
"Yo, over here." One of his lackeys held up a snake-print scrunchie, dangling it like evidence in a courtroom. Jae-chul snatched it, his knuckles turning white around the fabric.
