Black Market (1)
Knock knock.
“Boss, can I come in?”
“It's not 'boss,' it's 'team leader.' And what good does asking do after you've already come in?”
“Sh-should I go back out?”
Choi In-hyeok squinted at Kim Du-sik hanging off the door, his face twisted in annoyance. The guy wasn't even cute, but pulling that crap made his skin crawl.
“You're already in. What, you gonna leave now?”
“Hehe.”
No matter how cutely the nearly 190cm bald brute grinned, it just came off as creepy.
Choi In-hyeok didn't like guys like him, the kind who dragged down the company's image. If he could, he'd boot every last one of those ugly mugs out of the joint, but with his dad breathing down his neck, that was a pipe dream.
This was the best he'd managed to scrape together after picking and choosing. He grumbled lightly at Kim Du-sik's puffy face, swollen like it'd been dunked in water for three days and nights.
“I told you not to come in here if you could help it. You're ruining my eyes.”
Kim Du-sik pouted like he'd been wronged.
It might play as cute out in the field, but Choi In-hyeok found the forced charm utterly repulsive.
“Spit out why you're here.”
At Choi In-hyeok's irritated tone, Kim Du-sik cut straight to the chase.
“You approved that loan for the guy earlier, so I figured there might be some reason I don't know about.”
“What, you think I'd hand out money willy-nilly?”
“No, boss— I mean, team leader! It's not that I don't trust you! He just looks like a total scammer...”
Skinny as if he hadn't eaten proper porridge in years, rags for clothes, and those horizontally slanted eyes that screamed delinquent. To Kim Du-sik, who'd been in the game for years, the guy reeked of bad credit.
Handing over more than 100 million won to a punk like that?
Sure, even if they lost it all, Push & Cash wouldn't crumble. But Choi In-hyeok usually filtered out trash like that without batting an eye—why this guy? Kim Du-sik couldn't wrap his head around it.
He knew poking at his boss like this might bring the thunder down, but he couldn't help himself.
Luckily, instead of blowing up, his boss Choi In-hyeok just chuckled.
“Yeah, most people would think that. But I saw something different.”
Choi In-hyeok glanced at Kim Du-sik.
“You see that thing around his neck?”
“Yeah, I saw it.”
The electronic collar slapped on mental-type awakeners. Kim Du-sik wasn't an awakener himself, but everyone knew about them. In this day and age, they were seen as more dangerous than ankle monitors.
Then it hit him.
Aha!
“You planning to sell him off to the black market?”
Choi In-hyeok shot him a disgusted look at the far-too-cheerful suggestion.
“You think I'm some kinda human trafficker?”
“B-but last time you said...”
He was pretty sure the boss had told him to sell off some deadbeat who couldn't pay up.
“He's still our customer. Can't go selling customers.”
“Then why...?”
So it wasn't like he'd loaned the money expecting it wouldn't be paid back?
“Most guys with one of those have dead eyes, like they've given up on life. Makes sense—can't do jack with that thing on.”
Kim Du-sik nodded. Just wearing a recognition tag painted you as a potential criminal to normals, making any legit job impossible.
“But that guy's eyes were different. So damn arrogant, I almost gouged 'em out on the spot.”
“B-boss! Even if... you can't just...”
“Relax, I don't go yanking eyes out willy-nilly. That'd be a waste—what, you think eyes grow on trees?”
Casually dropping the gruesome line, Choi In-hyeok recalled the customer's face from moments ago and smirked.
Like Kim Du-sik, who'd ushered countless marks through this hellhole's gates, Choi In-hyeok—throned as its king—had a nose for who would pay off and who wouldn't.
And his gut said this one was going places. Big places.
“No idea what he'll use it for, but it felt like it'd be fun to watch.”
The small-timers borrowing for hospital bills or rent were a dime a dozen and boring as hell.
But this guy? Different.
130 million won.
Big bucks even for blowing on booze and broads, but Choi In-hyeok wasn't worried.
“Worst case, if he flakes, we collect our way. Easy.”
If the guy turned out too small-time to meet expectations, they could always skin him for parts, like Kim Du-sik said.
Choi In-hyeok had no clue.
That 130 million debt would soon fray his nerves to the breaking point.
I grinned at the bag in my hand. Funds secured—time to set my plan in motion. But my heart wasn't exactly light.
Nothing good comes from tangling with loan sharks. Especially for bad customers like me, planning to stiff 'em.
These folks were tenacious as hell. It wasn't just the money; letting a debtor skip set a dangerous precedent in their world. One bad example, and the neighborhood starts looking down on you. So they hunted skips like bloodhounds.
Even for a measly million, they'd hound you. For 130 million? I'd be dodging their debt collectors in hell.
But I had my own plan.
Cash in hand, I set off without hesitation.
The long-abandoned subway station was a ghost town, bleak as could be. Rusted pillars from peeling paint, cracked platform tiles, trash strewn everywhere—I scanned for the entrance down to the tunnels.
Gates had shut down most subways after they appeared.
Reasons aplenty: A gate popping underground was a nightmare, and monster outbreaks kept lines breaking down with no resources left for maintenance. Whatever the details, gates were the culprit.
Subways and underpasses became relics of a bygone era.
Not for everyone, though. Officially shuttered, sure, but plenty still used the lines.
Homeless folks who'd lost homes and jobs, runaway teens.
Life's dropouts dodging prying eyes.
But the real masters of these depths? Criminal syndicates.
It was inevitable that a black market would burrow into this ant-nest maze, hidden from the world.
The market inside shifted spots regularly to dodge raids, but there was always a central hub.
The path started at Gasan Digital Complex Station, where I'd entered.
The gate break near Daelim Station was Korea's deadliest disaster, with the highest casualties.
A gate spawned underground, unnoticed and ignored until it blew. And the monsters? Poisonous insect types.
They tunneled through the subway network, multiplied, and swarmed the surface.
The queen-ant lookalikes overwhelmed the area with sheer numbers, turning it to rubble. Weakened ground sank Daelim Station over two meters deep, racking up billions in damage.
Awakeners eventually cleared the bugs, but the poison from the corpses lingered. Ten years on, Daelim was still off-limits.
Of course, some folks ignored the contamination and came and went as they pleased.
After the devastation, criminals flocked here for illicit dealings. Official no-go due to toxins meant unofficially it was free rein.
Daelim became a hotbed of crime, scaring off civilians. Gasan Digital Complex Station was much the same.
The unmanaged subway depths were pitch black.
I pulled my baseball cap low and flicked on the flashlight clipped to my vest.
In this void, you needed it to see a damn thing.
Unlike the somewhat intact exterior, inside was a wreck. Mud from every rain, shattered fixtures scattered everywhere.
I descended the platform where lines once formed and followed the tracks.
My footsteps echoed through the rails. I shone the light on the walls now and then. Graffiti everywhere: “Government, Awaken!”, “Awakeners, Get Out!”—meaningless slogans and amateur scribbles. Amid it all, an arrow caught my eye. That was the black market signpost.
Drawn in dye that faded after a set time, pointing to the current location.
Well, the entrance, anyway.
The arrow led to a blank, sealed wall. The market hid behind it.
Entry was simple.
I rapped on the wall. It glowed blue.
Magitech, the new science born post-gates. First-timers freaked at the sight alone (not that I had, back in the day).
It was a flex.
A show that this market operated under someone who wielded such tech casually.
The hidden space shimmered into view. I slipped inside quick.
The wall sealed shut behind me like it was never open.
I followed it. Unlike the pitch-black tracks, this corridor blazed bright—eye-wateringly so. I killed the flashlight.
The faint murmurs of people grew into a roar. Bustling, chaotic. Markets gonna market—even black ones. Crowds meant noise, like any street bazaar.
Chasing the din, it wasn't long before...
The black market appeared before me.
Nothing fancy to look at. Straight out of a Southeast Asian night market.
The strung-up lights, uniform stalls—that vibe.
Except the wares couldn't be more different.
Criminals from across the country mingled with hunters hunting deals, turning the place into a madhouse.
“Whoa.”
Now the real fun begins.