The 47th Real Championship (1)
S entered the office of Information Bureau Chief Jeong Yeong-gi.
"Did you see it, Chief?"
"See what?"
S turned on the TV. It was always tuned to the news channel, so the report he wanted to show aired immediately.
James Hwang first made his mark seven years ago at the Australia Martial Arts Grand Prix. He went on to claim victories at the North American Super Fight, Asia Blood, and European Grand Martial Arts Tournament, culminating in his triumph at last year's World Integrated Martial Arts Tournament. He is an absolute expert of the Murim world.
A star martial artist with fans across the globe, he has come to Korea this time to shoot a CF. Hundreds of reporters and fans crowded the airport..."
James Hwang was a global Murim star who had appeared in movies thanks to his tall, handsome looks and had shot numerous commercials.
"Did you watch the recorded broadcast of last year's World Integrated Tournament?"
"No."
"Ah, what a shame you missed that epic tournament. James Hwang was incredible. I've been a fan ever since. Even joined his fan cafe."
S had no admiration for Murim or martial artists in general. James Hwang was the sole exception.
"I heard a lot of participants died in that tournament."
"Official tournaments allow killing, after all."
"Barbaric."
"That's what makes it fun."
No one was held accountable for any killings on the martial arena stage. The only prohibitions were hidden weapons and poison.
Anything else went—any martial art, any weapon.
"Have you seen it in person?"
"Twice, I think. Asia tournament preliminaries and world tournament preliminaries."
"Don't you have to sign some contract to watch?"
"Yes, a liability waiver. You take full responsibility for any accidents during viewing."
It meant the organizers bore no liability if you died or got injured while spectating. Naturally, pregnant women, the elderly, the infirm, and minors were barred from entry.
"You risk your life just to watch."
"Major accidents are rare, but stats show you're less likely to get hurt than at Spain's Running of the Bulls. Seats closest to the arena sell out first, though—and that's the most dangerous spot."
"Crazy bastards."
"You'd get it if you went. It's thrilling. Your heart races."
These global martial tournaments drew bigger crowds than the World Cup.
But due to the brutality, they weren't broadcast live. Gruesome scenes were mosaiced in recorded rebroadcasts after results were out.
"So why'd this James Hwang come to Korea?"
"To shoot a CF, they said? He makes tens of billions per ad."
"Jealous?"
"Of course. Strong martial arts, big money. Aren't you, Chief?"
"Not me."
"If this doesn't make you jealous, what does?"
"Planning Department's Oh went night fishing with friends over the weekend. His wife took the kids to her parents'. That sounds nice."
Jeong Yeong-gi chuckled at S's dumbfounded look.
"You'll get like this when you're older. We all do."
"No way. Never."
S waved it off and left. Jeong Yeong-gi watched his back, then glanced back at the TV. The James Hwang story had passed; other news was on.
He turned off the TV.
Bishop's investigation into Guardian Camp was complete.
> Investigated Guardian Camp. Nothing suspicious.
> CEO: Lee Dong-hyeok. Age 45. Long-term study abroad in Russia.
> As expected, foreign connections.
> Also a BST passer. Known as a considerable expert.
> On the surface, company and CEO seem clean. Very ordinary and routine.
> They use top-tier pros for info security. Deep dive will take time.
> Risk of backtrace?
> You know no one can trace me. But they might detect an investigation.
> Leave it. I'll meet him myself.
> Hard to approach naturally. Lee Dong-hyeok only meets political and business heavyweights.
> We have business heavyweights too. Small seedlings for now, but still.
It was classic Jang Cheon— if investigation stalled, meet directly and judge.
The hotel entrance swarmed with reporters and crowds.
Three vehicles pulled up front. The gathered masses erupted in excited shouts.
Reporters gripped cameras, tense for the star's emergence.
Security hopped out first from the front and rear cars. Then, from the luxury sedan in the middle, a man stepped out.
Tall and handsome as any celebrity—he was James Hwang.
Fans went wild at the sight.
"James Hwang! James! James!"
"I love you, James!"
"Look here just once!"
"One photo, please!"
"Quick interview!"
"Where's the CF shoot? Any other schedules?"
Absolute chaos.
But as if routine, James Hwang flashed a bright smile and waved.
After a brief photo op, security whisked him inside. His manager followed.
James Hwang and his manager entered the hotel room. Security stood guard in the hall against fan intrusions.
James Hwang sank into the sofa.
"Two drinks."
"Two, sir?"
"Yes."
"Right away."
Older than his charge, the manager had served James Hwang for six years now.
Yet he was rigidly tense, exceedingly polite. It spoke volumes of James Hwang's temperament.
The manager fetched pre-stocked vodka martinis from room service.
He poured two into chilled glasses.
"Something to discuss with me?"
He assumed a drink meant business. He was on edge.
With good reason—he'd witnessed more blowups from mishandling James Hwang's temper than anyone.
"Out."
"Pardon?"
"I said out."
"Yes, sir."
As he reached for his glass absentmindedly, James Hwang said softly,
"Leave the drink."
"Yes."
The manager bolted. Only after closing the door did he exhale in relief.
Even after all these years, he never got used to him. So many secrets, too.
Alone now, James Hwang murmured,
"Come out."
Actor emerged from the bedroom.
"Long time, Death."
Incredibly, James Hwang was the organization's Death.
A global star by day, angel of death by night.
No one imagined a world-famous Murim celebrity as a secret organization's blade—making him perfect for the role.
Not even his manager knew.
"Actor, you asked for me?"
"Yes."
Younger than Actor, but Death outranked him. A position earned by force—hard to treat casually.
Actor, seasoned, knew he could handle him.
"Have a drink. You like martinis, right?"
"Thank you. You remembered."
"So, what's up?"
"Problems seizing the Korea Murim Alliance. Im Yeon-sin and Doctor Woo died in the process."
"Who killed them?"
"Investigating. Definitely someone from the Alliance Leader. We'll know soon."
Both tied to Cheon Myeong-jin—clear origins meant answers soon.
"You called me for that?"
"Of course not. To claim Korean Murim, we need the Korea Murim Alliance and the two great sects. Your help is essential for the grand plan."
Even after the explanation, Death looked displeased.
"Fine."
Actor caught the irritation at being summoned mid-mission.
"Something ongoing?"
"Big tournament ahead."
"No official ones scheduled."
Death eyed Actor, debating, then explained.
"Unofficial one. The real deal."
"Real?"
"Think real experts show at the World Integrated Tournament?"
"I'm no martial artist; I wouldn't know."
"True masters skip it. There's a secret tourney for them."
Actor, veteran of the underworld, heard this for the first time.
"Name?"
"Real Championship."
"For true champions, then."
"They don't kill there, unlike official arenas. Weaklings die because they must kill to win. But here? Rare deaths. Intentional kills mean permanent ban. Malicious methods? Organizers eliminate you. Leaking secrets? Banned."
Actor flinched.
"Safe to tell me?"
"Actor, you'd blab?"
"Never."
"I know your type. That's why."
"I'll take it as a compliment."
Actor knew it wasn't trust—just certainty he wouldn't dare leak.
"Last World Tournament prize: 5 billion."
Sure, prizes paled next to sponsorships, movies, CFs.
"Real Championship prize?"
"One trillion."
"A trillion won?"
"Yes."
"Who pays?"
"Organizers."
"How?"
"Massive bets ride on it. Gambling-mad billionaires."
"Ah! I had no idea. Sorry—you lost big because of me."
Death smirked.
"Why laugh?"
"Know my ranking last year?"
"What?"
"29th."
Actor was stunned.
Death was among the organization's elite. Stronger existed, but only at the top echelons.
"World champ, organization legend—feel like a death god? I'm just strong in our ranks."
Shocking to Actor—almost unbelievable.
But irrelevant. Death's skill sufficed for Korea.
"Hurry and finish. Might enter if done quick."
"Understood."
Fiddling with his glass, Death spoke.
"One shocking fact?"
"What?"
"The champion's a woman."
To Actor's shock, Death added,
"Three-time consecutive winner."