#5 Black Market (2)
The first place I headed to in the Black Market was the currency exchange.
It was always best to convert cash into tokens right away when you arrived here.
There was no place with more thieves than this, and bulky cash was a pain to carry around.
Tokens weren't completely safe from thieves either, but they had built-in tracking devices, and without the identification code, you couldn't convert them back to money at the exchange. That made them far safer than cash.
The place was packed with people like me, exchanging money brought in from outside. About ten minutes after I got in line, it was finally my turn.
I set the money bag on the table.
The woman behind the iron bars, wearing sunglasses, looked up at me.
"Convert it all?"
"Yeah."
"Denominations?"
"Ten medium ones. Thirty small ones."
I exchanged the full 130 million won I'd brought for tokens.
The woman took the money from me and fed it into the counting machine, occasionally pulling out bills to check for counterfeits.
She wasn't wearing those sunglasses for nothing. Those artifacts blocked mental skills and cost tens of millions to hundreds of millions of won, despite how they looked.
She wouldn't pass me counterfeit bills just because I'm a loan shark customer, right? The suspicion crossed my mind briefly, but luckily, there were no issues. She handed me the tokens.
"ID code is C-198."
I pocketed the tokens and stepped out of the currency exchange.
Money sorted.
Now it was time to properly explore the Black Market.
The stalls near the entrance sold typical hunter goods you could find anywhere outside.
From recovery potions of unknown origin that worked surprisingly well, to weapons and armor readily available at any equipment shop.
They looked perfectly legitimate, not matching the shady reputation of the Black Market at all. So why pay the hefty entry fee to come here?
Because the sourcing of those items was highly suspect.
I watched a man pick up a piece of armor still stained with someone's blood and grimace. I clicked my tongue inwardly.
That was stolen goods, one hundred percent. From a dead hunter or an injured one. Either way, it was something that should have gone to their family, intercepted along the way.
Only Awakeners could enter Gates. What happened inside stayed inside—that saying didn't come from nowhere.
Families who couldn't enter had no way to claim ownership of such items.
That's how stolen goods like that flooded the market.
Throw some excuse to the bereaved, then line your pockets on the sly.
I'd handled that kind of loot myself more than a few times.
The memory hit me like a wave, and I quickened my steps.
As I ventured deeper, stalls matching the "black market" vibe people imagined started appearing.
The atmosphere was different right away.
Unlike the alleys over there that reeked of people, this side was eerily quiet, almost suffocating.
But this atmosphere felt more familiar to me.
I adjusted my baseball cap again. From here on, I had to stay sharp.
I scanned the stalls. Unlike the open setups over there that let you haggle freely, these had a closed-off feel.
Some even had tall walls around them. The place I was headed was much deeper, tucked away in the back.
The moment I stepped onto the path leading there, a man blocked my way.
"Looks like you took a wrong turn."
He eyed my face and smirked, as if a punk like me didn't belong here. I continued calmly.
"Oh yeah? Even if I was recommended to come?"
"By who?"
"Baek Section Chief."
His eyebrow twitched at my words, his eyes screaming How the hell does a kid like you know that name?
It still works at a time like this.
"He told me there's a fixer here who can solve my problem."
Suspicion filled his eyes, but I brazenly lifted my chin.
He looked thoroughly displeased but stepped aside anyway.
Baek Dosan. If I was Seol Rokjin's groveling lapdog in the light, that guy was his hunting dog in the shadows.
He hadn't joined Seol Rokjin yet and was still walking his own path, but soon he'd become Seol's one and only hound.
Not many knew that name anyway.
Knowing it got me past without issue. Cell signals were jammed in the Black Market, so he couldn't check my story with anyone.
It was a lie that'd blow up in a few hours, but for those few hours, it was truth that mattered.
Unlike the other stalls crammed together, this area was a long corridor blocked off by partitions.
Meaning it was a spot even in the Black Market you couldn't just stumble into.
After that arduous trek, who greeted me was a man with curly hair and round spinning glasses—a cartoon character come to life.
"Oh, a customer."
He'd styled himself like every "doctor" researching tech was supposed to look, with utterly bizarre taste.
This was Geum Doctor from my old memories. The mad gearhead who'd insisted on being called "Doctor," though I doubted he'd ever set foot in a proper school, let alone earned a PhD. But in this line of work, he was the real deal.
"What brings you to me?"
"I want this removed."
I tapped my recognition tag pointedly while looking at him. His eyes lit up.
"Ooh, interesting job. That's the new third-gen collar, right?"
"It's a recognition tag, not a collar."
"Non-awakeners call it that. The government's just leashing you so you don't run wild. And if you do, they yank you back."
Geum Doctor was spot on. I shrugged.
"I get it's annoying to wear, but the government's the one who put it on. Kid, you know what happens if you take it off?"
"Well, at least I won't be able to go outside with my real name anymore."
He grinned wickedly. Still saw me as a greenhorn, but nothing I could do about it. Right now, I was a greenhorn.
"I heard you handle the cleanup too."
"That service costs extra."
"I'm ready to become a criminal, but social suicide? Didn't factor that in."
He cackled at my words.
"Fair enough, but this is a hassle. The guy's out who usually does that job."
"Anything pre-made works."
I planned to switch identities repeatedly anyway. One wouldn't cut it for what I had in mind.
"Even if it doesn't match your race?"
"Uh, that's a problem."
This wouldn't do.
"I'll hook you up with a temp. But come back in a week."
A week. Plenty of time for folks here to catch my lie. Should've skipped the Baek Section Chief bit?
But without it, I wouldn't have gotten in.
Anyway, priority one was removing this recognition tag—or "collar," as Geum Doctor called it.
"Follow me."
He led me to an inner room lined with dozens of torture-device-looking machines. In the center sat a steel chair so hideous you'd rather die than sit in it.
Designed like a tangle of snakes, it even had chains to bind hands and feet.
Still bad taste as ever.
The chair's look was all that weirdo doctor's quirk.
First time I'd come here, I'd been trembling in fear that Seol Rokjin was going to torture me to death.
"Sit."
I plopped down quick at Geum Doctor's order.
"Not scared, huh? Most shake like leaves first time they see this."
"They must have weak stomachs."
"Haha, I like that."
Grinning, he dragged over a machine from the corner.
Rusted here and there, insulation peeling off the wires—it looked decades old.
Especially the blade at the end, caked with what might be blood or rust, barely visible.
Last time, under Seol Rokjin's orders, the setup had been in better shape.
I frowned at it, and Geum Doctor coughed awkwardly, whipping out a rag from his belt to wipe the blade.
"No sterilization?"
"Blade won't touch your skin."
"And if it does?"
"You get a tetanus shot?"
I gave him a deadpan look, and he grinned sheepishly.
"Looks rough, but it's cutting-edge."
Yeah, right. I wanted to say it, but he wasn't wrong—it was intricately made.
He flipped down his goggles and stood behind the machine. Buttons clicked complexly, and it whirred to life.
The blade spun wildly.
"Holy shit."
It was mesmerizing enough to curse involuntarily.
"Look away."
He said it, but turning away was harder. A razor-sharp machine nearing your neck was tough to stomach, even prepared.
One slip here, and I was done for.
Skin-reinforced Awakeners might shrug it off, but for a scrub like me, terror was natural.
I gritted my teeth.
Please, just end quick.
I whined like a kid at the dentist with a cavity. Yeah, hurry up and finish.
Unlike me sweating bullets from tension, Geum Doctor casually scraped the sheath and removed the wire.
Beep, beep. As the insulation peeled, the signaler inside let out a weird noise. He jammed a jammer into the wires right away.
That cut the signal to central HQ.
Halfway there. Now, just slice off this damn sturdy collar.
"Oh god."
I squeezed my eyes shut as the massive blade approached.