Not only did we have zero complaints about the fanfic for Group A—some of you actually enjoyed it! Thus, we continue...

Maru

It was good to be king.

Maru glanced to his left. A pile of gold bars twice his height. He glanced to his right. A gaggle of fawning attendants to cater to his every whim. He smiled and sighed as his eyes traced the lines of luxury car he’d bought earlier that day.

It was good to be king.

With a shake of his head, he rose from his throne. Being king wasn’t enough, though. The greatest joy in life was fighting. Proving your mettle, kicking your opponent’s ass, and standing over him triumphant was a more intoxicating drug than anything created by man or god. Being king was excellent. He was rich beyond belief, hell, anything he wanted was for the taking. You couldn’t buy pride though, and while you could purchase land, legal acquisition never came with the high of being a conqueror. There was only one way to get that thrill. One way to feel that rush. Maru needed to fight.

They would come from all over the world to get him. Trained experts and foolish amateurs alike would put it all on the line to claim his throne. Every one of them would be gunning for him. That’s exactly what he wanted.

The women would have to wait, the gold would have to be spent another day. The car wasn’t going anywhere. He’d drive it eventually. It was time to get going again and do what he was made to do. Sure, being king was nice, but there was nothing better than a good scrap.

Forte

“If you look to your left, you’ll see Gyeongbokgung Palace, the most noteworthy palace of the Joseon dynasty.” Forte lowered the microphone and shut his eyes. For a moment he imagined the bus sliding into the other lane, thereby ending the tour ahead of schedule, but the ooh’s and ahh’s from the busload of tourists in the rear of the bus snapped him back to attention.

Doing the same thing for five years has a way of robbing you of enthusiasm, but driving the same route for the whole time made life plain insufferable. A long toothed vet with nothing to show for it, Forte had taken up a seemingly permanent residence at the lowest rung of the SK Tours corporate ladder. At this point it was pretty clear that the only thing anyone trusted him with was ferrying people around in a predetermined route.

He would have liked to work along the coasts, or somewhere in the south, but arguing with his superior or filing for relocation wasn’t going to do any good. He told himself the only answer was to endure it, that he’d retire in another thirty or fourty years. But lately the tourists had been talking - whispering about that Maru guy and the next battle royale. If one were able to kill him, they said, that person would rule the world. Ruling the world didn’t sound so bad.

Forte hauled the wheel and yanked up the parking brake. Some old lady in the back stared at him with eyes the size of saucers as he tossed his hat to the ground and marched off the bus. He was done with SK Tours. He was done escorting gaping fools around. And he was done driving a god damned bus every day. Ruling the world didn’t sound easy, but it sure as hell was better than this.

Leenock

“Weekly Idol!”

“Cut!” Leenock’s shoulders slumped as the director’s voice split the air. He rolled his neck and groaned as he made his way across the bleach white backdrop, navigating through a forest of cameras, wires and staff as he slipped into the shadows.

How’d he get wrapped up in all this? Being the host of Weekly Idol was once one of the most desirable gigs in show business, but the show had taken a turn for the worse. The very fact that Leenock was hosting the thing was evidence of that. He may have fit the profile to a tee with his burly physique and wild haircut, and one couldn’t forget how great he looked in a pair of designer sunglasses, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to shooting the s!@t with a bunch of idols.

The shows ratings were plummeting and the producers had graduated from nagging complaints to death threats. The Kpop industry was even more cutthroat than he expected.

He’d had enough of it frankly, but after weeks spent looking for a way out, the only one he came up with had an even higher mortality rate than his current predicament. Maru was putting his throne up for grabs. A huge fight would follow, but whoever emerged from the scrum would be the wealthiest and most powerful man in the world. It was a position even a substitute TV show host would envy.

His mind was made up, this was his last episode. They’d just have to find someone else to placate these spoiled idols. Leenock had a new job starting today.

Dear

Dear set his glasses down and massaged his temple. He glanced at the clock and sighed. Was it really 20:00 already? Another rice ball for dinner then. He left his chair and crossed his office, his eyes lingering on the Seoul skyline for a moment. Things were never easy in the greeting card business. Still, as the man who had brought Hallmark to Korea, he employed thousands in offices, stores and factories across the country. He’d churned out countless cards which had combined to soften a million hearts and brought smiles to as many faces. Greeting cards were his life. They had given him a fortune and the respect of his contemporaries.

It was a rewarding job, but the hours were long and he felt a decade older than he had when the whole enterprise had begun. He was already angling for retirement, but his dream house on the shores of the Long Island sound was still a few billion krw away. As much as he’d love to leave his homeland and lounge on foreign sand, there was still work to do.

They said there were no shortcuts in life, but Dear knew that a smart man kept his eyes open for every possibility. Keeping an open mind was how how he became the business magnate he was today. It’s how he wrangled a date with the cutest girl in the neighborhood, and it’s how he won that Karate tournament back in middle school.

It had taken word of Maru starting up the fights again to get him to start practicing again. Forget a nice mansion on the beach, Dear could have the Hamptons to himself if he managed to take him out. It was clear as day. This was the sort of chance that didn’t roll around every day. The business would suffer in his absence, but everyone would survive. Dear followed headlights as they wound through the city. It would be nice not coming into the office tomorrow.