Ah, but showing my family a video of me beating someone up feels a bit... awkward.

It’s kind of embarrassing.

- But hey, your punches were pretty solid. Is that what you call delinquent form?

- What’s that supposed to mean?

- Your wrist okay? Didn’t you sprain it? LOL.

- Don’t even start. My wrist’s injured right now.

- LMAO.

- Fat people are surprisingly firm, you know? It’s like even the soft parts are somehow solid.

- Damn.

- The chubbier ones are worse. My wrist still hurts like hell.

- Ow.

Go Minji fired off texts non-stop, even making typos.

She’d done this before—sending over ten messages in just a few minutes whenever she got excited.

- Have you beaten up a lot of people before?

- Yeah. What else am I supposed to do? That’s basically my job.

Come on. As a director at Militaris, I should be doing actual work, not this crap.

- Wait, did you actually go inside Namdong Complex?

- Of course not. I stayed nearby. Why the hell would I go in there?

- Why not? You should’ve gone in and joined the fun. When will you get another chance like this?

What chance?@@novelbin@@

I’d be lucky not to get shot by a stray bullet.

Even this area was dangerous enough.

- Would you have gone in, then?

- Hell yeah. I’d have grabbed a bow and stormed in. Or maybe used some cooler weapon this time. I’m into that kind of stuff.

Go Minji started rambling about what kind of suit and weapons she’d bring if she’d been there.

God, she’s exhausting.

It felt like my energy was draining just talking to her.

As the eldest grandson of Koryo Group, I rarely felt this way, but Minji was family—a direct bloodline—and completely unpredictable.

- Hey, you didn’t forget our December 5th plan, right? Come a day early—Friday night.

So here we were again, ending with her reminding me about our plans.

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