047 – Awakeners of the Skyscraper # 2

Macheon City.

The axis of the Infinite Development Permit.

Whenever I tilted my head back to stare up at the buildings stretching toward heaven without so much as a glance at their own limits, my vision swam with vertigo.

Oinoi, the ditch water nymph, had once looked at this exact skyline and declared it just like the mountains of Olympus where the gods themselves lived.

Back then I'd laughed it off as a funny little quip, but the more I thought about it, the more I had to admit—she'd been right on the money.

The 21st century.

What ruled the age of the 5th Industry was neither ideology nor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nation. It was capital. And that capital swelled to the point of scraping the sky inside the mega-corps that the 5th Industry had enriched beyond all reason.

And the city where those mega-corps came flocking together was this very place—Macheon City.

"I know, I know. The buildings are tall, right? Makes you feel like a frog at the bottom of a well."

And it wasn't just the height of the buildings, either.

Every corporation had plastered the cityscape with billboards and mechanical contraptions to flaunt their technological prowess, and thanks to them, the streets clamored with flashing neon and shimmered like a carnival of light.

A city of the future.

It seemed the whole world came flocking here, dreaming of this forward-looking metropolis.

Awakeners like me were no exception.

Crack hunters like me who took government work were, comparatively speaking, paid peanuts for our rank. The real money was with awakeners affiliated with the corporations.

They were basically fixers—errand-runners who handled whatever jobs their corporate masters threw their way.

On paper, they descended into rifts the companies had won bids on to secure raw materials, but rumor had it they handled all sorts of dirty work behind the scenes, which was why they collected hazard pay on top.

"Maybe it's finally time for me to try lining up with a corporation, too."

One such corporation was Telos—one of the largest IT companies in the world.

Back when I'd spent the last five or so years fumbling through my career, it was Telos that had thrown me a steady stream of odd jobs. The work was mostly grunt labor and tedious errands, but the pay had been decent enough.

"So this is Telos headquarters."

I'd been receiving Telos contracts for five years now, but every time I came to this main office, the sheer scale of the place overwhelmed me and left me with a creeping, unnerved feeling.

Diiing—

The moment I stepped through the entrance, a wave of cool air-conditioned air rolled across the vast lobby. Then came a soft, silky rustle of something gliding across the floor, and a round little robot trundled up to me.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

An AI robot.

Only a decade ago, technology like this had lived strictly in the realm of science fiction. Here in Macheon City, it had been commercialized and was rolling around greeting visitors in person.

I wondered how much a single one of these robots cost—

"Um, hello? I'm here to see someone. Seo Yerim."

Booop—

An exaggerated chime warbled out of the robot's speaker, and then it led me off somewhere. I boarded the elevator and ascended toward the very top floor—the 167th.

The 167th floor.

How many meters above the ground would that even be?

I was just about to lose myself in the dizzying impossibility of estimating it when the elevator doors slid open.

I arrived in a room furnished entirely in white, walls and furniture alike.

The interior was larger than my well house and its yard combined, far cleaner, and decorated with paintings and artisan crafts of unknowable price that adorned the walls without ever quite crowding them.

Click, clack. Click, clack—

Before long, someone approached with the sharp rhythm of heels on tile.

It was a tall woman in a business suit, her slacks and black gloves matching each other perfectly.

She looked to be around forty, maybe?

"What business brings you to the top floor?"

"Oh, I'm, uh, meeting someone here today."

For a man who'd been through all manner of experiences in his life, standing in the penthouse of a mega-corp headquarters made me feel impossibly small.

Though, to be fair, I might actually be impossibly small.

As I fidgeted, the woman tapped at her phone and let out a long "Ahh—".

"If you're the one o'clock appointment, might you be the volunteer for the neural chip trial? We were just expecting you. It's a simple experiment, just like you were told. All we do is implant a chip in your brain."

"Implant a chip in my brain?"

First I was hearing of any such trial?

While I stood there flustered, the woman—who looked impossibly high up the corporate ladder—drew out another long "Ahh—" and finally caught on.

"Oh, never mind that. You'd be under general anesthesia, and once the experiment succeeds you'll be able to project text and video right before your eyes. Well then—"

What on earth kind of experiment was this supposed to be?

I had heard that corporations ran all sorts of experiments on human bodies. I'd heard plenty of stories about awakeners boosting their work efficiency with prosthetic arms and legs and the like.

Kang Cheolmin, the first-generation hunter who'd died in an explosion, had once carried a corporate-sponsored steel arm bolted to his shoulder—and its performance had been genuinely spectacular.

The thing would extend and retract on wires and cables. It was awesome.

But a chip in the brain?

Could it be that Seo Yerim had sold me off for human experimentation?

Pop—

That was the moment.

Seo Yerim appeared from behind a white pillar.

"Hey! Ha Ildo! What took you so long?!"

"Ha Ildo?"

Swoosh—

The woman, who had been studying a chart on her phone, frowned. Then she went "Ah—", held the note for an impressively long time, and finally burst into laughter—pahahaha!

"Yerim, so this is Ha Ildo! There you are! I thought you were the volunteer I was scheduled to meet today. That would've been a disaster. I'm Sara, Yerim's mother. I've heard a great deal about you."

Sara.

Just as I was thinking what a stylish name that was, the woman extended her hand to me.

"Lovely to meet you. Whew, we almost planted a chip in some poor random person. And speaking of which—any interest in getting a chip implanted yourself? This really is next-generation technology, you know—"

"Mom!"

"Fine, fine."

Swoosh—

Seo Yerim's urbane mother was ushered away by her daughter and vanished off to somewhere, and just as I was reflecting on what a force of nature she was, Seo Yerim returned to my side.

I looked in the direction her mother had disappeared and asked,

"Your mother looks astonishingly young."

She looked like she was in her early forties at most.

"She is young," Yerim said in response to my question.

Just how old was she?

While I was still wondering, Yerim answered.

"The first digit is still a three."

You've got to be kidding me.

Genuinely, outrageously young.

So actually, she looked slightly older than her age, if anything.

Then how old had she been when she got married and had a child?

I was curious about a lot of things, but the truth was, the thing I really should have been curious about was something else entirely.

What I was curious about—

Was it why Seo Yerim had summoned me here in the first place?

It was not.

"Hey, how much is this painting, exactly?"

Before me hung a canvas with a single dot stamped dead center upon it.

It was, quite literally, a dot.

A dot, as if someone had pressed a pencil tip to the paper—tok—and lifted it away.

On the frame beneath was a plaque:

I didn't know the painter, but I could gather that the piece was titled Liberation and had been made in 2023.

"What do you think it's worth?"

Seo Yerim asked.

I decided to be honest.

"Probably not even a hundred won."

Flip open Oinoi's sketchbook and you'd find a dozen pictures at least this ambitious. To me, Seo Yerim declared with evident pride, "That painting sold at auction for one billion won."

I felt the ground tilt dizzyingly beneath my feet.

"One billion won for a picture like this? Good grief. This looks like something I could make by jabbing a pencil at a sheet of paper. A billion won? I mean—come on, seriously—"

"Ha Ildo, that is a genuinely ignorant thing to say. I'm embarrassed on your behalf. Anyway, come over here. It's time to talk business. A glass of light wine won't hurt, will it?"

Lunchtime.

I found myself enjoying an unexpected luncheon.

Dishes I had never once laid eyes on in my life emerged from the hands of a world-class chef and arrived at the table, and every bite was superb.

Would have been nice if Oinoi could have come along, though.

"So what exactly is this work you mentioned? Or did you just drag me here to feed me with a nice view?"

"No. You remember a while back, when we opened that rift with Dr. Newgate's Bifrost?"

"Of course. That was really something."

"That technology was stolen a few days ago. Look at this photo. This man is Niu Wang, an employee of Chinese heritage. He smuggled out our technology and sold it to the gangs of Macheon City. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A real headache of a man."

You're kidding.

I never expected to hear a story like this, and it threw me off balance for a moment. Smuggling technology, selling it to gangs—it all sounded like something out of a different world.

"So why are you telling me all this?"

"At the coordinates I give you, there will be a Bifrost that these people are building. I'd like you to photograph it. This is the coordinate of the tire factory where the Fairy Tale gang has been holed up."

Swoosh—

Seo Yerim held a tablet out to me.

On the screen, a coordinate marked a spot on the map.

"Fairy Tale is a gang that shot to prominence almost overnight. Word is they use some strange technology—no one even knows which company's tech it is. Pain in the neck, the whole lot of them."

A matter of gangs versus corporations, then.

I asked,

"Why not leave this kind of thing to the police?"

"How much do you think public authority can accomplish in Macheon City? This place is practically lawless territory. The rule here is that Macheon's problems get solved in Macheon, and we 'take care of it ourselves.'"

Huh. So that's how it works.

Then again, stories about strike teams of corporate-hired awakeners clashing with one another were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everyday news, weren't they?

The corporations loved to boast about the strong awakeners on their rosters, too.

Lee Jeonghun, the Prince of Ohsa Group, had been exactly that.

"Hmm—"

"Think it over carefully. Bifrost. If that technology falls into the hands of people who can only think of ways to abuse it, the world will descend into pure chaos. All you have to do is take a photo. Once we have hard evidence, Telos's strike team, the Illuminators, will move in."

The strike team, Illuminators.

Heh. Now that's a cool name.

Word was they were a private mercenary unit staffed by awakeners of B-Rank or higher.

"Look, sneaking a photo isn't going to be easy either way. It's not like a gang's going to roll out the welcome mat just because I walk up to their hideout. Why not assign it to your strike team?"

"The tire factory has mana-detection sensors installed. That makes it very difficult for any awakener of B-Rank or above to slip in undetected. What we need is a trustworthy C-Rank awakener. You're perfect for this. Besides, you have Keongkeongi and Ang-ang-i, don't you? Couldn't you send them in to infiltrate?"

Uh, no. What if they got caught sneaking around and got hurt?

Then it suddenly hit me—Kwang-kwangi, the Ghost Spider whose true identity I'd only just learned. That little guy could shift the colors of his whole body at will and melt into the scenery, couldn't he?

If I trained him up properly, wouldn't infiltration be possible?

As I was mulling it over, Seo Yerim added,

"Just take the photos. Do not pick a fight, do not get into combat. Apparently the Fairy Tale gang has a bodyguard with real skills. Identity unknown, but they say he's at least an A-Rank awakener."

"Fine. I'll think about it."

Swoosh—

I accepted a USB drive from Seo Yerim.

Afterward, I rode in Seo Yerim's car back home.

At my computer, I plugged in the USB and browsed the files. Inside was a dossier on the Fairy Tale gang—known members, the goods they trafficked in, and so on.

"What is this?"

Why on earth would anyone sell stuff like this?

And more to the point—water that a nymph washed her hands in went for ten million won?

And that wasn't all.

A crude-looking picture, like something scribbled hastily in crayon, was selling for five hundred million won.

Dizzying in every possible way.

Just then, Oinoi appeared.

"O Oinoi has completed the ward…! It is a ward of the utmost excellence, this is! Speaking of which, this ward, it bears the effect of perfectly blocking sneezes and coughing, this is…!"

Perfectly blocking sneezes and coughing?

It sounded enormously impressive and enormously pointless at the same time. A very subtle kind of ward.

"And so Oinoi was about to gift this ward to the master of the house—Aaah—! But wait, what an exceedingly nymph-friendly painting, this is…! This picture was without question drawn by a nymph, this is…! What a magnificent painting, this is…!"

Oinoi gazed at the picture on my monitor and was beside herself with delight.

Swoosh—

She hurried off and returned with her own sketchbook in hand.

The cityscape drawn on those pages and the cityscape on my monitor had more than a little in common.

"…You're telling me this gang has a nymph of its own? Just like you?"

"It is beyond doubt that nymph sisters are being held captive by nymph-phobic hunters, this is…!"