Mikey → Gun I want to know what is your story. How you come to japan and how you are this strong.
Gun Park → really let me tell you
Gun Park – A Monster's Story
They say monsters are made, not born. But I was both.
My existence began not out of love, but calculation. After Shingen Yamazaki — the feared leader of the Yamazaki Syndicate — failed to bring down the Gapryong Kim Fist Gang, Japan's underworld needed a new hope. A weapon. A leader. The strongest women from powerful families united for one purpose: to give birth to a child who could surpass every warrior, every king, every god. And so I was born — with eyes black as death and pupils white as ghosts. From my first breath, I was nothing more than a project. A tool. A monster in training.
My father, Shingen, once feared across nations, was a broken man by then. He saw in me both salvation and curse. He didn't want me to follow the same path, but the blood in my veins had already chosen for me. My training began as soon as I could walk. No toys. No dreams. Only discipline. Combat. Tactics. Survival. I wasn't raised like a child — I was raised like a weapon. Every hit I took made me stronger. Every scar reminded me of my purpose: kill Gapryong Kim.
But fate had other plans.
My uncle, Shintaro Yamazaki, couldn't stand the fact that his younger brother had ruled the syndicate before him. When he discovered that he was the rightful heir, his greed overtook him. One night, he attacked. My father — the once-mighty Shingen — stood in his way. He died protecting me. I watched him fall with eyes that had seen too much and felt too little. And then I ran. From Japan to Korea. From death… into the arms of my supposed enemy.
Gapryong Kim.
The man I was born to destroy didn't raise his fists. He offered me protection. A strange kind of mercy. He arranged for me to be placed in juvenile prison — not as punishment, but as shelter. In that cage of concrete and steel, I met someone else who had lost everything — Charles Choi. A man who had sacrificed his own hand to escape the clutches of the Yamazaki Syndicate, showing loyalty to Korea's underground instead. He was just a janitor in prison, a sweeper. But I saw through the façade. He had ambition. He had a plan. He looked at me and saw potential.
He made me an offer: follow him, become strong, and rule the streets of Korea. I accepted. What else did I have? I had no name, no family, no purpose — just rage. After I was released, I built an empire from the ground up. Four major crews, each more ruthless than the last, answered to me. I demanded tributes. Controlled every region. No one dared to stand against me. I had become more than a fighter. I was a godfather. And then I did what no one believed possible — I returned to Japan and crushed the Yamazaki Syndicate with my own hands. I killed Shintaro. Took his life the way he took my father's. They called me many names: Shiro Oni. White Ghost. Demon. I didn't care.
I had become what the world feared.
Meanwhile, Charles Choi was using the tribute money from the four crews to build his corporate empire — HNH Group. I enforced his will. He was the mind, and I was the muscle. But behind our backs, betrayal brewed. Charles and James Lee — a prodigy I helped create — formed an alliance with Gitae Kim. Together, they killed Gapryong Kim. My savior. My only tie to humanity. I had been too late. Or maybe I had been too blind.
After Gapryong's death, I felt the cracks forming. Daniel Park, a boy with two bodies and a lion's heart, began rising. He wanted justice. He exposed Charles Choi with the red paper — the very thing Charles feared most. And when cornered, Charles chose the only escape he had left. He jumped from the building. No trial. No prison. Just the pavement.
With Charles gone, the power structure collapsed. James Lee began pulling the strings, manipulating Daniel, creating new enemies, resurrecting old grudges. Everything we had built was crumbling. And I — the feared Gun Park — had become a loose piece on the board. I could have run. Could've fought. But instead, I disappeared.
I turned myself in. Went to jail — not because I was caught, but because I needed silence. Space. Time to watch. To think. In prison, no one questions your absence. No one sees the monster waiting in the dark. And that's where I remain now.