Chapter 98
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Black Market Gold
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A rundown jewelry shop.
Some old man, probably the owner, was sitting in a chair reading the newspaper. He glanced at me but didn't even bother with a greeting before going right back to his paper.
"Sir. Aren't you doing business here?"
"...I don't buy or sell gold stained with blood from killers."
"...... What the hell does that even mean?"
I thought this old geezer had lost his marbles.
But something about his vibe made me keep talking.
"Those eyes of yours. They're the eyes of a killer."
"......"
"Not just one or two. Twenty? Thirty? Nah... forty? Fifty...? How many have you killed? And it looks like you tortured them to death... This isn't wartime. How does someone rack up that many bodies?"
"......"
How the hell did he know?
That was pretty damn impressive.
I'd killed 47 people on the Tower's fourth floor, in 'Park Jun-chang's Villa Survival Escape Game.'
To be precise, I turned them into zombies for experiments, killed them after, and incinerated the bodies.
Did this old fart have some kind of ability?
"Your demeanor screams no soldier... Mercenary, maybe? Nah, a guy like you fits better with pirates or rebels. Not even mercenary material."
His condescending tone pissed me off a little.
Nice words get nice replies, asshole.
"...Heh heh, you got dementia or something, old man...? ...... But seriously, how the hell do you know that?"
"...Knew it. Anyone else would've jumped up calling it crazy or looking dumbfounded. But you're asking how I know. That's when suspicion turns to certainty. Tsk tsk. The world's gone to hell, real hell..."
The world was already hell—mutant creatures and superpowered folks popping up, Towers appearing worldwide causing the Tower Crisis.
I'd just heard about villains robbing places and warnings to watch for stolen goods on the way here. What bullshit was this?
'What's this geezer yapping about end times for?'
"Old man. Answer the damn question. How'd you know?"
"Back in the Vietnam War, I sniffed out so many Viet Cong infiltrators in the rear lines that I got commendations from the division and corps commanders, early discharge, the works."
"...? So what? Why bring up Vietnam out of nowhere? Just answer the question."
"...Tsk tsk, impatient hothead. Thing is, I could always spot killers just from their eyes. That's how I caught all those hidden Viet Cong."
"Then why not become a detective or cop? Why run a sleazy joint like this?"
"I did. Cop. ...Retired now. Just minding my wife's jewelry shop to kill time."
"Whoa... So you gonna report me?"
"...I've seen a few like you in my time. No evidence, no bodies, right? Alibis airtight? That's why you're so cocky in front of me. Tried nabbing a few of your kind, but this country's all about courtroom evidence and presumption of innocence. Couldn't touch 'em. Me and the boys suffered for nothing. Gave up eventually."
"......"
"...Don't know if it's smuggled or stolen, but I'll tell you where to sell it... Just stay the hell out of this neighborhood from now on... Warning..."
Somehow this near-death old coot mustered some real menace, growling low with an aura that hit different.
This guy... wasn't ordinary.
"Old man, you a Tower trial survivor by any chance?"
"Government's blasting Easy difficulty nonstop on TV, so yeah, I survived. ...But seeing scum like you strutting around? Should've done Normal or Hard. Easy was a joke for me."
"So I gotta get a pass for killing people? Could've been inside the Tower."
"Even in the Tower, you think there's a trial where you torture and kill fifty people? Point is, given the chance, you'd do it in the real world too, right? If it was unavoidable, you'd have whined about circumstances the second I mentioned it. You just did whatever the fuck you wanted."
"......"
The old shopkeeper scribbled an address on a crumpled memo pad in barely legible scrawl and shoved it at me.
"Don't come back. Not to this street... Guys like you always drag blood behind them."
"Damn, you're intense. If I'm not selling gold, no reason to set foot here again."
I pocketed the memo and headed to the address.
It was a pawnshop in some rundown building on the outskirts, far from downtown, looking ready to collapse.
Just in case, I masked up and went inside.
"Who sent you?"
The bald pawnshop boss who spoke to me looked ancient.
Like the jewelry geezer.
And I sensed presences lurking behind him.
Strong gut feeling they were packing heat.
'Thanks to Intuition skill? Anyway, this bald pawnshop old man’s a Tower survivor too. Easy difficulty.'
"Lemme think... Some cranky old fart who got pissy with me... Vietnam Viet Cong hunter, ex-cop."
"...Ah, Old Man Hong. ...That's a first. He's never recommended anyone his whole life..."
"And he's never vouched for anyone, so why trust me?"
'...What is this, some movie bullshit? Pathetic.'
I smirked and snarked back, making the pawnshop geezer's face twist.
"Hey, kid. Act like a gentleman. Me or Old Man Hong, we're both knocking on ninety. Back in the day, you'd be my great-great-grandkid."
"...Spare me the age crap and let's do business."
I pulled out a 1kg gold bar and showed it to him.
"This won't be our last deal, right?"
"You coming back means I give you a better rate? For loyalty?"
"We're not like normal shops. If it's the last time, I'd pay more."
"Don't regulars get discounts?"
"Maybe for others... but you rub me wrong. Be straight: who'd you kill for this?"
"Jesus... It's legit. Kill who?"
"Then why here? If it's clean, why not shout it from the rooftops? Stolen or smuggled? This ain't the end, right? Testing waters for bulk deals? ...Heh, nailed it from your face. Kid, learn poker face. Impressive for your age, but green."
"....... Fuck, chatty bastard."
Getting read by this old prick burned me up.
I pushed for the deal anyway.
The pawnshop geezer finally named a price.
"42 million won."
"Bald geezer, you thief? Bald and loving freebies? Who starts at half price?"
"Smuggled or stolen? Can't prove origin. Gotta factor my risk. Cops investigate, I shut down, relocate, rebrand. Pure 99.99% 1kg bar goes for 84 mil at legit shops on backmarket rates. 50% risk fee for hot goods: 42 mil."
"No way, fuck. It's gold, not trash... I researched online. You melt it at factories via black channels, untraceable, right?"
"50 million."
"Oh yeah? Bumped 8 mil after playing smart... Fucking hustling suckers."
"Whining even after a bump. Ungrateful."
"Gold at 50 mil? Bullshit. Quote fair."
"......"
"Gold. G-O-L-D."
"Sigh... 58 mil. That's it. Take it or leave."
Dirty game, so we dickered sleazily.
Settled dramatically at 60 mil.
Said fees drop with repeat trust.
'First time, so this'll do...'
"Go easy on fees next time. Clean merch."
"Think I haven't seen your type? ...Sigh... Snagged a mark. Time to set up a front man and prep to bolt."
"I'm not like them."
I pocketed the worn 60 mil cash and headed home.
This time, no ATM deposit straight to account.
A few hundred thou fine, but 60 mil was too chunky at once.
Stashed in subspace instead.
At home, browsing delivery apps for food,
Jun-chang called. Picked up.
"Yeah? Oh, Jun-chang. What's up?"
-"You skipping the funeral? Thought you were coming."-
"Funeral? Oh... right, the funeral..."
I didn't wanna go, but why's this guy always looking out?
Truth: I barely knew Kim Min-woo, not close.
Bluntly, hating to even chip in wreath money...
He wouldn't for me if I died.
"Uh, been busy lately. Probably can't make it..."
-"That so? Too bad... Was hoping to see you after ages. ...Wait, busy guy asking for the password to that game I made ages ago?"-
"......"
-"Sigh, don't wanna come? Fine. Whatever."-
Missed my excuse window.
Was gonna say not friends with Min-woo...
Through Jun-chang's smartphone, faint chatter and a girl's voice slipped in.
'If I didn't mishear... that was Lee Ji-min's voice just now...'
"Hey. Who's all there right now?"
-"Huh? Who’s here? Well, right now......"-