"Alice? Alice Labyrinth?"
Myungshin asked the giant for confirmation, and the giant nodded. Myungshin then cast a brief glance in my direction and seemed to recall something.
"Oh, yes. Lee Taemin was said to attend Alice's Labyrinth. And there's even a sponsor who helped you in a time of need?"
He appeared to have just remembered what he had heard from the yellow-haired man when he didn't know who I was. Perhaps it did not match right away. He still doesn't believe it. That I came to Dream to become a celebrity.
"I really don't understand."
The narrow eyes looked at me, judging.
"You mean one of the people going to Alice's Labyrinth is your sponsor?"
"..."
"A sponsor powerful enough to attend Alice, huh. Do you know what I'm curious about more than his true identity?"
The comfortable flowing voice was rather interesting. Myungshin came one step closer to me.
"The life of a superstar with nothing but pretense and spectacular appearances, who must pucker their pride and roll their bodies with sponsors, and who seemed to be colleagues but cheated in numerous ways and suffered, and then, at some time, just did it nonchalantly. Do you mean you do these sorts of things? Lee Yoohan?"
He inched even closer to me, his voice filled with curiosity.
"Why?"
His question was one of genuine curiosity.
"Are you really Lee Yoohan?"
Rather than respond, I maintained my silence. Myungshin kept his eyes fixed on me but eventually returned to his original position. He then directed the giant while keeping his gaze on me.
"Go ahead. He'll wake up and speak. This idiot doesn't even realize that his situation has changed since five years ago."
With a mocking smile, the giant moved toward me.
"Weren't you impressive five years ago? Did you even kill someone?"
Despite his words, his eyes sparkled with madness, as if he had been given a drug. I had encountered guys like him a few times during my past fights. They derived pleasure from inflicting pain on others. It didn't matter if their victims bled profusely or screamed in agony. They had no empathy or guilt. On the contrary, they relished the greater damage their opponents suffered, as it boosted their sense of triumph. There was a term for such individuals—mad dogs.
"Maybe."
I responded in a mumble, and the guy's eyes grew even wilder with excitement.
"Hehe, you find that exciting?"
Whoosh!
In the blink of an eye, the giant, who was standing two meters away from me, swung his fist with incredible speed. The whooshing sound of the wind was deafening, as if a heavy piece of iron was slicing through the air.
Whoosh, whoosh!
I swiftly shifted my upper body and retreated, narrowly avoiding the mad dog's punches as they came perilously close to my face. It became apparent that this large man was surprisingly quick, and he swiftly closed the gap between us. When I could no longer dodge his strikes, I raised my arms to shield my face.
Whoosh! Thud!
As I blocked his punches, the shockwaves coursed through my body, akin to being struck by a sledgehammer. The pain was so intense that it left my entire arm numb, but there was no time to focus on it. I took a step back, propelled by the force of repelling his attack. He reached out with an outstretched hand, his posture disarrayed and uncoordinated. In order to evade his hook-like hand, I twisted my upper body and retreated, pulling my leg back once more.
