Fear of reprisal. Fear of death. The kind of fears shared by all mortals who wish to live long.
Allow me to set the scene: The place is packed. Naniwa stands in the center of the studio, his eyes intense, a focused and singleminded drive for success urging him toward the biggest match of his life. MVP stands a few feet opposite, his stance is casual, his gaze relaxed, a slight smirk on his face.
Naniwa steps forward and says, "I'm hungry. I want this more than anything and you are going to give it to me."
MVP yawns, not even bothering to look up.
Round 1
Naniwa hesitates no longer. He reaches for his backpack. Before the match, Naniwa had devised an off-the-wall strategy, a weapon that would take his opponent completely off guard. Now I cannot say how, I cannot know what must have tipped off MVP: maybe there is an IM spy living in the Startale house, maybe it was from a slight tell like spotting the weapon's tip jutting through the edge of Naniwa's pack, but somehow, some way MVP is prepared. Naniwa draws a javelin from his pack and hurls it at MVP.
MVP twists and turns, executing a flawless double backflip somersault to where his lunchbox sits on the other side of the studio. He raises the box just as the spear is about to strike.
Naniwa is dumbfounded. He stands there feeling naked, unprepared.
MVP plucks the javelin from his sturdy pale and sizes it up. "Not bad," his facial expression seems to say just before he throws the worthless weapon onto the floor.
The two men stare at each other. MVP smirks again, slowly, deliberately. Naniwa knows that he is in trouble.
MVP bolts forward and repeatedly smashes his lunchbox into Naniwa's face. Naniwa fights back a little, he raises his hands, he slings a clumsy punch or two. But it is one of those fights that a man can feel is over before it even starts.
Round 2
Naniwa staggers backward, his face bloodied, his pride bruised like an old banana. He spits a stream of blood at the ground and says, "You aren't going to take me off guard again."
MVP, without even blinking, says, "Yes, I am."
He opens his lunchbox and out of it falls a giant block of cheese. This cheese wedge is so plump and fat that it could only have come from some wild, uncharted region of the Netherlands. It was the most majestic cheese I had ever seen. MVP hurls the wedge like an Olympic discus thrower and Naniwa crashes to the ground from the violent impact, fading in and out of consciousness.
Round 3
MVP saunters over to Naniwa, each step engineered to leave Naniwa in a state of fatalistic suspense. Naniwa is breathing heavy, gasping for air. MVP grabs the cheese wedge and hoists it above Naniwa's head, poised to put him out of his misery. MVP lets go.
In a surprising turn of events, Naniwa thrusts his hands upward to reveal a butter knife, cleverly concealed in his sleeve. He splits the falling block of cheese in half.
For the first time that day, MVP flinches. He examines his split cheese and then stares into Naniwa's blood-covered eyes and says, "Did you know that was my favorite kind of cheese?"
Round 4
MVP picks up the two chunks of his formerly majestic wedge. He sniffs them, assessing the cheese's quality. He nods his head in approval, certain that this cheese will do the trick. "You said that you were hungry, my friend, and that I would give you what you wanted. You were right. Let me give you a little something to end your hunger."
MVP begins to brutally pound the cheese into Naniwa's face. Naniwa screams, he cries out for mercy, but this unwittingly leads him to start swallowing gobs of cheese. MVP is unrelenting.
Naniwa's eyes begin to glaze. His time is coming to an end. MVP leans close, staring straight into Naniwa's soul, and says, "Was it just like you wanted? Are you not hungry anymore?"
Naniwa smiles, his last act before dying, revealing a mountain of cheese gummed between his teeth and spread throughout his entire mouth. Naniwa is dead.
MVP compassionately passes his hand over Naniwa's face, shutting his eyes for all eternity. After a moment of silent reflection, MVP walks for the door.
The IM coach appears sporting a sharp suit, the definition of casual but cool. He massages MVP's wrists for a second or two. "Sorry I missed the matches," he says. "I had to make sure the hookers and blow would be at the after-party." The coach suddenly notices Naniwa's lifeless body. "Damn, Jong Hyun, what happened here?"
MVP gazes back at the corpse and smirks again. "Not much. I just enjoy a little cheese with my crackers."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what happened at Mokdong studios last evening.