The Veteran Weakens Before Meat
A blatantly overzealous old soldier always weakens in front of meat. Especially when 1.5 million won earned while covered in sewer filth weighs heavy in his wallet. The first-floor restaurant was already filled with the sizzle of griddles and the hoarse laughter of rough men.
I plopped down in a dim corner and ordered three servings of samgyeopsal like it was second nature. Moments later, prime cuts of pink meat marbled with perfect white fat hit the grill. The sizzle—and the rising smoke—caressed my soul more soothingly than any mana pulse ever could.
"Yeah, this is it. This is why I haven't retired yet."
I flipped the meat with reverent hands, as if eighty years hadn't dulled my edge. A perfectly browned slice went onto a lettuce leaf, topped with a clove of garlic and a generous smear of ssamjang. The savory juices flooding my mouth, the sharp garlic bite—6,400-won convenience store lunches were fine, but nothing beat greasy meat after a real job. Chase it with a cold shot of soju, and there was nothing left to envy in the world.
But it seems the gods don't grant old soldiers long breaks.
Ting—
The restaurant door swung open, letting in a chill that clashed with the smoky haze—a sharp, cutting cold. The din inside hushed instantly, like water doused on flames. I didn't need to look up. That refined, arrogant mana scent, pure to a fault. It was Ha Ye-rin, Vice Director.
'...Damn, today's off to a rough start.'
I froze mid-bite with the lettuce wrap hovering at my lips. A sidelong glance at the entrance showed Ha Ye-rin striding in, utterly out of place. She wore her high-end tactical suit from the sewer earlier, loosely draped with a dark navy long coat. Peeking from the coat's hem, the suit wasn't just body armor. Matte carbon fiber maximized mana conductivity, layered with reinforced polymer panels absorbing kinetic energy along her muscle lines.
What really caught my eye was her facial gear. A sleek 'low-profile smart visor'—an evolution from clunky goggles—hugged from her temples to the bridge of her nose. Faint cyan light swept her icy blue eyes periodically, streaming real-time tactical data across the translucent lenses. Near her ear, a compact 'bone-conduction integrated sensor module' picked up subtle mana vibrations and sound waves without a helmet, giving off a mechanical menace every time she turned her head, like precision gears meshing.
Trailing her were three similarly geared team members, looking worn out. They'd probably come for an early breakfast, pissed off after losing the stowaway in the sewers.
Ha Ye-rin's gaze swept the room slowly. The mercenaries, guilty of nothing, scrambled to avoid her eyes anyway. Her clear blue irises passed the floor-to-ceiling windows and locked onto my corner booth.
I ducked my head on instinct and shoved the wrap into my mouth roughly. Chewing like my cheeks might burst, I plastered on the face of the world's hungriest, poorest, mana-less 'Civilian A'.
'Don't look, don't look, don't fucking look...'
"Vice Director, this place is the best near the Incheon branch. Mana supplements are fine, but meat's the real deal..."
One of her subordinates spoke up, but Ha Ye-rin just furrowed her brow slightly in response. I felt her stare linger on my table. Cold sweat trickled down my back. All I could do was pray the mana-neutralizing spray I'd used in the sewer was doing its job.
"...That man."
Her low voice carried. I swallowed my chew of meat hard and slammed my soju glass down noisily on purpose.
"Krrgh—! Nothing beats soju with meat! Boss! Two more servings of samgyeopsal here!"
I drummed my chopsticks on the grill, pitching my voice as sleazy and rough as possible. Eighty years of acting chops at work. God, I hoped she'd just peg me as that 'weird neighbor who lucked into lunch money.'
But Ha Ye-rin stepped right over, her heels clicking in sync with my heartbeat. Her shadow fell over my grill. I looked up awkwardly.
"Huh? ...Teacher? Wait, aren't you the convenience store manager?"
I widened my eyes in feigned surprise, ssamjang smudged at my lips for detail.
Ha Ye-rin stared down impassively. I could see mechanical analysis and human instinct clashing wildly in her eyes.
"Jeong Ian-ssi. We meet again in a place like this."
"Haha, yeah! I can't resist the smell of meat... Ah, Vice Director, here for breakfast too? Their samgyeopsal's killer. Want a bite?"
I grinned obsequiously and offered a lettuce leaf. But her gaze tracked not my hand, but the faint calluses on my fingers and the worn traces of tactical gloves. Her team watched us curiously from behind.
"An unregistered ability user matching your build was spotted near the operation zone. Coincidence?"
Straight ball, elite-style aggression. I clicked my tongue inwardly but tilted my head in dumb confusion outwardly.
"Operation zone? Oh, that beeping from the port earlier? Scary stuff. A powerless guy like me wouldn't go near there. Anyway, Vice Director, that 6,400 won you lent me—I'll pay it back soon..."
"Forget the money. It's this uncanny sense of dissonance you give off that's bothering me."
Ha Ye-rin pulled out the chair beside me and sat. Her team encircled us in confusion. My peaceful pork party turned interrogation room in a blink.
I eyed her over the sizzling grill. The soul of an eighty-year vet clashed with the gaze of a twenty-something elite bureaucrat. She genuinely wanted to dissect me. That obsessive glare that couldn't tolerate system errors.
I smiled wryly and refilled my soju.
"Vice Director, the meat's gonna burn... Eat first and talk. Hunger dulls even instincts, y'know."
Her eyebrow twitched. Silence broke only by the scorching meat smell. A premonition hit me harder than the soju: retirement life was gonna be way rougher than expected.
Ha Ye-rin showed no sign of touching her chopsticks. Her eyes flicked between the ssamjang on my lips, my battered wallet on the table, and my mana-dead body.
I knocked back another shot and set the glass down with a sigh. Time for the last resort. The magic words Korean civil servants fear most.
"Hey, Vice Director."
"Speak."
"Isn't this blatant overreach? I'm just a law-abiding citizen here for meat. I was gonna let the lunch loan slide out of gratitude, but keep treating me like a criminal and I won't stay quiet."
"...And what will you do?"
I thumped my chest and raised my voice. Mercenaries started glancing over.
"This world's gone mad! I'll post this to the city hall board and Blue House petitions right now. 'Ability Management Bureau Vice Director Harasses Powerless Citizen Eating Meat.' I'll make it tomorrow's front-page news—keep going if you dare."
Ha Ye-rin's brow crumpled visibly. To an elite like her, 'malicious complaints' and 'media exposure' were worse than monsters.
Her team exchanged uneasy looks.
"...Understood. Sorry for interrupting your meal."
She shoved her chair back coldly and stood. Victory surged as I reached for a slice—
Then my retinal mana-scan circuits flashed like mad. Air mana density spiked exponentially in my visual feed.
Heat? No—directed blast!
My gut outpaced her fancy gear. At the entrance, a delivery bike pulled up—and crimson-black mana flame erupted from the rider's chest. The explosion-type stowaway from the sewer. He'd spotted the Bureau crew and come for payback.
0.2s BEFORE
I slammed mana into my leg joints explosively. Cartilage screamed, ligaments stretched taut. But to onlookers, it had to look like a civilian slipping on grill grease.
"Argh!"
I launched myself with a theatrical scream, snagging Ha Ye-rin's waist and rolling us behind the next table.
BOOM—!
The earth-shaking blast shattered the floor-to-ceiling windows to dust. Flames swept the interior; our table became rags in seconds. Acrid gunpowder and charred meat stabbed my lungs. After the ear-splitting roar came the chill clatter of glass shards and screams.
I shielded Ha Ye-rin behind the table. Glass dust pattered on my hoodie.
"Ow... gonna die, people are dying! What the hell?!"
I yelled loud for effect, but my eyes tracked the shadow beyond the smoke and broken windows. Crimson-black mana flared again at the delivery bike. The explosion-type bastard from the sewer, gunning for a wipeout now that he'd confirmed the Bureau was here.
Problem: my gear. I'd left my forged dagger in Sujin's third-floor office after settling up. Rolling into a hot zone unarmed broke every rule, but pork-blinded complacency had a price.
'Damn, snap his mana circuits barehanded? Nah, the Vice Director under me would clock it instantly.'
Ha Ye-rin beneath me stared up blankly—shock or analysis, who knew. My panicked face reflected in her cold eyes. One fluid move now, and sixty years of merc life went public.
Terrorist's mana swelled again. Three seconds to secondary blast max. Bureau agents staggered from the shockwave. If I didn't act, the whole place was toast.
I groped the floor. Grabbed: heavy cast-iron grill pan and long stainless tongs. Crude as hell, but all I had.
"Fire! Fire!"
I twisted grotesquely, feigning a panicked stand. Swung my torso wide through the smoke to block Ha Ye-rin's view. Left foot braced silently; mana flowed unseen to my legs—veteran control, no sound, no trace.
Flailing in terror, I hurled the grill pan at him. Not just tossed—a thin mana thread synced to its spin.
Clang—!
The pan arced oddly in midair, rocketing outside. To Ha Ye-rin, it'd look like panic flung it; really, it smashed his chest core, where mana circuits converged.
"Guh...!"
His crimson flame winked out. Backlash paled his face instantly. A split-second window—plenty for me.
I swung the tongs at his throat in a mock charge, then 'tripped' on my own foot, face-planting.
"Aigoo, I'm dying! Help!"
As I rolled yelling, the tongs grazed his neck—precisely hitting the mana acupoint beside his carotid. He crumpled without a scream. From afar, just a lucky civilian swing.
"...Jeong Ian-ssi?"
Ha Ye-rin's voice. She'd shaken it off, dusting herself as she rose. Her eyes darted between the downed foe and my dropped tongs. Sharper, more intricate suspicion now.
I trembled face-down, lifting my head. Soot from smoke blackened my lips; tears welled in my eyes.
"Vice Director... h-he's not dead, right? I just flailed to save myself, and he dropped. Self-defense, yeah?"
I whimpered obsequiously. She approached, offering a hand. Her tactical glove's mana scanner hummed faintly over my skin.
"You're... extremely lucky. Catching someone with chopsticks or tongs—I thought that was novel stuff."
Her tone was even, laced with unyielding icy resolve. I took her hand, standing, and clicked my tongue inwardly. Elites were exhausting.
What started with a 6,400-won lunch last night was tightening into a noose around my neck. Outside, Pandora office staff rushed over. I brushed dust to avoid her eyes, thinking of my dagger on the third floor. Retirement? Hell, I might face an arrest warrant by morning.