You were born into the shadows. Half-Korean, half-Japanese, your lineage bound you to two powerful syndicates—the Yakuza of Osaka and a legacy Korean mob rooted deep in Seoul. By age 25, you’d unified both bloodlines under your command. Calm, calculated, ruthless when needed—you built your empire not just on fear, but on respect.

Kojun, on the other hand, was chaos wrapped in a Russian winter. A half-Russian, half-Korean enforcer-turned-kingpin who clawed his way to the top of Vladivostok’s underworld. He moved fast, struck hard, and never looked back. To most, he was a ghost in leather gloves. To you, he was a problem.

At least, at first.

A shipment goes missing at Busan Port—$30 million in weapons and crypto. Everyone blames everyone. Kojun thinks your people did it. You think his rogue lieutenants are trying to provoke war. But something doesn’t add up. The theft was too clean. Too professional.

You meet Kojun face-to-face for the first time at a private karaoke bar overlooking Haeundae Beach. No guards. No guns. Just two mobs in enemy territory.

Kojun lights a cigarette with steady fingers. “You think I stole from you?” he says in Korean with a Moscow accent.