Chapter 3

“I’ll be going now.”

Beomjin brushed the dust off his clothes. Standing tall, he looked down at Jinyoung, who sat dazed as if her soul had left her body. She seemed completely shaken.

“Wait, just a second, Baek Beomjin.”

“I told you, I’m retired as of today. So I’ll be going.”

“Hey!! You there! This isn’t over yet!”

As Beomjin stood up, Jinyoung shouted after him. She tried to get up but clutched her sore side and sat back down, legs stretched out.

Even at her call, Beomjin ignored her and walked away.

“Senior, are you really going to just let him go like that?”

“What, you want me to stop him? That monster you couldn’t even beat? Leave him. If he ever needs help, he’ll reach out first. Can’t get up? Want me to call 119?”¹

Jinyoung shook her head and struggled to her feet, her eyes still burning with frustration as she glared at Beomjin’s shrinking back.

Beep beep beep beep—

Doo doo doo—

“What the hell… why isn’t this opening?”

Beomjin’s expression twisted as he held onto the electronic door lock. Had he changed the passcode?

“Did I press it wrong?”

Beep beep beep beep… beep—

Ddee-riri—

The door unlocked. He happily pulled the handle, but just as it seemed to open, it stopped with a clunk.

“What the hell now!”

Peeking through the crack, he saw the security latch was still on.

“What the…?”

“Finally decided to come home?”

From inside, a familiar voice rang out, followed by a massive hand slipping through the gap. Thick with hair, the fingers ended in cracked, discolored nails, the kind that bore the weight of harsh years. Behind it appeared a broad, weathered face.

“U… Uncle?!”

He froze.

The realization that his uncle—who had died—was standing alive before him short-circuited his brain.

Beomjin forgot how to breathe, scanning every inch of his uncle’s face. He couldn’t even remember the last time they’d met, yet here, now, everything was vivid. The deeply set eyes, the blunt nose, the downward-tilted lips—

“Are you really Uncle?”

His uncle shot him a look, as if wondering what nonsense he was spouting.

“…Have you been drinking?”

Sensing something was off, his uncle unlatched the door and swung it wide open.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming in?”

Beomjin’s frozen body began to thaw, and his eyes burned hot. He tried to steel his face, but the tears had already slipped free. Quickly, he turned his head and wiped them away, sniffling back the mucus threatening to follow.

“What’s going on with you? Why are you crying all of a sudden?”

“Ah, no—it’s nothing. Let’s head inside.”

He forced his stiff body to move and stepped into the house.

Even the brief brush of contact against his uncle’s body sent a jolt through him. Trying to calm his pounding heart, Beomjin sat across from him.

After his parents passed away, this maternal uncle had been the one to raise him—the only person Beomjin had ever feared. His rough personality, hot temper, and tendency to let his fists speak first were the complete opposite of his gentle sister, Beomjin’s mother. He had been a frightening uncle since childhood, and that hadn’t changed even when Beomjin became an adult.

And yet, seeing him alive filled Beomjin with overwhelming joy.

He remembered the tears he’d shed alone after the funeral.

Why his uncle was waiting for him at home didn’t matter.

The simple fact that they could talk again was happiness enough.

“I heard you won your match today.”

His uncle’s voice was smooth, almost soft as cream. Beomjin pinched his thigh.

“Yes. I did win.”

“They said your training’s been half-hearted lately, no real motivation. I figured you’d sort yourself out, so I left you be. But now you’re talking about retirement? Explain yourself.”

Ah, so Coach Park was the one who called him over.

Even though Beomjin was glad to see his uncle, the way he was getting scolded made the air feel heavy. He answered as politely as possible.

“I had an important reason for retiring. It wasn’t something I decided on a whim. I thought it through carefully.”

“And that reason is… what, exactly?”

His uncle furrowed his brow.

Should he say it? Beomjin glanced up cautiously. If he couldn’t give a convincing answer, his uncle might sit here for days without budging.

“Well? Why are you just staring at me like that?”

“Do you… know about the Special Beast Investigation Unit?”

“The what? What kind of unit?”

Would he think he was crazy?

Beomjin hesitated, but since he’d already started, he pushed forward with more courage.

“The Special Beast Investigation Unit. I’m not working there, but I’ll be doing something similar. It’s more important than boxing.”

“Wait a second. Did you just say special beast? Damn…”

His uncle straightened his back, stiff with tension. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

“Uncle, this is a no-smoking house…”

“I know, I know. I’ll just hold it.”

He bit down on the unlit cigarette and sucked at it hard, exhaling invisible smoke. He repeated the pointless act a couple of times. The deep wrinkles on his face seemed to sink even deeper.

Then he got up, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge, scanning around.

“No beer or soju lying around?”

“Seriously? After scolding me about slacking in training, you ask for alcohol?”

“Just thought I’d ask. So you really were training hard, huh.”

He coughed awkwardly and sat back down.

Haaa…

A long sigh escaped him.

“So how did you find out?”

“About what?”

“About Beast-Blooded. Who told you? Or did you stumble into it somehow?”

His gaze sharpened.

Beomjin knew instantly—his uncle knew. Without a doubt.

“You knew I was descended from a tiger, didn’t you?”

Sigh. His uncle didn’t answer, but his expression was heavy with old burdens.

“When did you first find out?”

“Not that long ago.”

“I see… Life never goes the way you want. So you really plan on doing that job? That Special Beast thing?”

“Uh… probably? I’m not planning to live like before, though.”

Beomjin trailed off, his voice almost a whisper.

“Why would you choose something like that? Do you even know why it was kept from you? Did you ever think your mom—my sister—didn’t tell you on purpose?”

Of course he’d thought about it.

It would’ve been better to hear it from his mother, but that chance had never come.

“She must have passed away before she could. Would a middle-school kid have understood if she said, ‘You carry a tiger’s blood’?”

“Fine, leave your mom aside. Then have you thought about why I never told you?”

“No. But I’d really like to ask now. Why did you and Mom both keep it a secret from me?”

Beomjin looked straight at him. His uncle’s eyes wavered, as if he might cry, but he steadied himself.

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Start from the beginning. I’ll want to hear it all sooner or later anyway.”

Opening his mouth and shutting it again a few times, his uncle finally spoke.

“You know now, but our family carries tiger’s blood. When we were kids, your grandfather used to sit me and your mom down at night and tell us stories that sounded like legends. At the time, I thought they were just fun old tales. But eventually… they became real.”

“How old were you then?”

“If I remember right, your mom’s powers awakened when she was in high school. That’s when I became the biggest victim. She beat the hell out of me, poor me.”

His uncle chuckled.

That gentle, soft mother of his… beating up this uncle? No matter how he imagined it, he couldn’t picture it.

His uncle’s eyes drifted toward the framed photo on the TV stand. It was of young Beomjin, his father, and his mother, all smiling brightly.

“When did you know you didn’t have powers?” Beomjin asked.

“Me? I don’t. I just have the tiger’s bloodline. Some people awaken powers, some don’t.”

This was the first he’d heard of it—even Uwan from the Investigation Unit had never mentioned it.

“Did you get something special too?”

“I only just started learning.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t…”

“Why? Why would you hope I didn’t?”

“Because you’re not just a simple descendant of a tiger.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Beomjin’s head filled with question marks as his uncle stretched his back.

“Damn, talking so much makes my throat dry. Got anything cold to drink?”

Beomjin carefully carried a mug filled with coffee and ice. His uncle grabbed the heavy mug, pressed it to his lips, and downed it in one go. He handed the empty cup back.

“Pour me another.”

While the coffee machine worked, Beomjin stepped into the living room. He still couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“White Tiger?”

“Yeah.”

“What, like one of those zoo mutants?”

“No, you idiot. Like when they say Blue Dragon, Vermilion Bird—then there’s White Tiger. You graduated high school, didn’t you? You must’ve heard of it.”

“Of course I have. But that’s a myth.”

“So is the Dangun myth, remember. Your grandfather used to say people hide truths the world can’t accept by wrapping them up as myths or legends. I’m just telling you what I know.”

Well, if dragons existed, why wouldn’t White Tiger?

Half-convinced, Beomjin handed his uncle another coffee and sat back down.

“So what? What makes White Tiger different from any other tiger?”

“Of course it’s different. It’s a being on the same level as the other guardian deities. That kind of power comes with responsibility and pride.”

His uncle straightened his hunched shoulders, lifting his chin high. Beomjin didn’t understand why he was acting so proud when he didn’t even have White Tiger’s power himself—but he let it go.

Then a thought struck him, something Dragon had once said.

“Wait a second. Did Mom and Dad really die in a hit-and-run?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew it wasn’t true.

“They did suffer something like a hit-and-run… Damn. This isn’t easy to talk about.”

“Dragon…”

“…What did you just say?”

From his uncle’s reaction, Beomjin was certain.

“It was Dragon, wasn’t it? Silver hair coming in patchy, filthy beard, looked like a bum.”

His uncle only swallowed.

“No need to explain further, then.”

Beomjin didn’t need more details. He didn’t even want them. He already had one more reason to kill Dragon.

But keeping calm was impossible. Rage boiled up, tearing at his chest. He forced deep breaths, trying to steady himself, but all he saw was his parents’ faces.

Khmm! Khmm!

Grabbing his chest, he coughed hard. Then he inhaled sharply and roared the breath out like thunder, shaking the tears out of him.

Hhhhhhhaaahhh!

The bellow rattled the living room like lightning had struck. Windows shook as if a typhoon had hit, and the fluorescent light flickered.

Beomjin caught the words forming on his uncle’s lips: What the hell was that? His uncle had toppled backward, sprawled on the floor, staring at him.

“Hey, Beomjin. Was that… you? You scared the crap out of me.”

Beomjin noticed his uncle’s hand drifting toward his crotch, fumbling before he adjusted his posture with relief.

“This brat’s even scarier than his mom… Damn, my knees are shaking and I’m not young anymore. But listen—don’t ever think about looking for that Dragon.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s too dangerous, that’s why. He told me—swore to me—you must never try to find him or seek revenge.”

Too late. His uncle had let the words slip and quickly clamped his mouth shut.

“He told you? Who did?”

“No, Beomjin—”

“Uncle, you know my personality. I don’t let go until I get an answer.”

His voice hardened. His uncle, staring out the window, finally gave in.

“I don’t even know the man’s name. He brought you to me after you were left alone, told me what he had to say, and disappeared. He looked around thirty back then, so he’d be older now.”

After a long sigh, his uncle muttered briefly.

“He called himself… Black Tortoise.”

“I’ll be in touch soon. Maybe then we can talk more honestly.”

“Okay. Drive safe.”

“You too. Take care of yourself.”

The old Sonata rumbled to life. Belching thick exhaust, his uncle drove out of the villa’s parking lot.

Beomjin stood staring blankly until the taillights vanished—only to notice a black Starex van slip out after him.

Normally, he might have dismissed it. But tonight, with his nerves raw, he caught it: the faint, beast-like scent that only a Beast-Blooded carried. He couldn’t pin down which bloodline, but there was no mistaking what it was.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. He was exhausted. Better to go inside and rest.

But as he walked toward the villa entrance, memories of this same day in the past fast-forwarded through his head. The match against Sangcheol. Collapsing under his fist. Losing to Jinyoung. Coming home, only to hear the news that his uncle had died.

Today. Today was the day his uncle had been killed in a car accident.

His breathing grew ragged.

Without hesitation, Beomjin sprinted to his Avante.