Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Drone
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There were no reporters at the rooftop venue celebrating the film's ten million viewers milestone today.
The press had been able to snap photos at the building entrance. But they weren't allowed inside.
The production company had promised to provide all the necessary photos for articles later.
Most of the reporters who showed up had been invited by the studio, so they cooperated on that front.
Not every reporter played by the rules, though.
A paparazzo rubbed his hands together.
"Let's make a real killing today."
His friend, prepping the drone, asked,
"Dude, you sure we'll actually make money off this?"
"You underestimate the power of photos? Look over there. See the reporters?"
They were tucked away in an alley to avoid prying eyes, but peeking out gave them a clear view of the journalists at the building entrance.
"Yeah."
"Party's on the roof, right?"
"Yep."
"So if we blast the rooftop party with the drone, someone's gonna buy those shots."
"That simple? Why aren't more people doing it then? Plenty know how to fly drones."
"Can't be just anyone. You gotta network a bit, plan it right."
"How?"
The paparazzo explained.
"First, leak one or two party pics online. Reporters will hit you up asking for more. Give the B-grade stuff to the others for free, like you're just a fan sharing the love. Keeps things clean, no backlash."
"You said it makes money—why give any away free?"
"While you're doing that, slip the A-grade shots to Park Reporter."
"Why him get the good stuff?"
The paparazzo grinned.
"He's the one who commissioned it. Agreed to pay top dollar."
"What?"
"That's why connections and experience matter. Buyer's already fronted the cash—we just shoot."
"Ah! So he waits for the others to drop their B-grade stories, then runs his A-grade exclusive. Looks like he's just joining the pack."
"Exactly. Studio complains to him? He can play innocent."
The paparazzo finished explaining and gestured impatiently.
"Hurry up and launch the drone. People are probably good and drunk by now—prime shots incoming."
"Got it. We split the cash fifty-fifty."
His friend worked the wireless controller.
The high-end drone, equipped with a night-vision camera, shot straight up into the air.
The party celebrating the ten million breakthrough was on the roof of a building near Hongdae.
Suddenly, Jeon Ji-in issued a warning.
At the same time, Na Gang-in's AR Lens highlighted the drone's approach direction.
Na Gang-in turned that way.
Moments later, the drone rose higher than the rooftop. It was flying from a distance, and being a low-noise model, none of the partygoers had noticed yet.
Na Gang-in grumbled,
"Party's no-press today, but some guy's flying a drone anyway."
"If it crashes down, it could hit someone on the street."
The drone gained altitude from afar and headed toward the roof. Its camera was recording video, not stills.
Partygoers finally spotted it.
Kim Yu-chan scowled.
"What the hell? Who's flying a drone now?"
Leading actress Oh Sena griped too.
"Aren't drones banned in Seoul? Won't the air force come shoot it down?"
Kim Yu-chan chuckled.
"Come on, you think fighter jets are chasing drones?"
Director Son Tae-min, sprawled drunk on a sofa, suddenly sat up.
"Hey! We gotta take that thing down. No press invited—it's just us having fun. Can't have that buzzing around!"
Son Tae-min grabbed a liquor glass from the table and hurled it skyward with all his might.
A drunk throw lacks precision, but luck could still land it.
The glass hit the drone.
The drone wobbled in midair.
Son Tae-min pumped his fist high and yelled,
"Striiike!"
The wobbling drone lost control and plummeted. It crashed into a corner of the roof.
A box of party props sat there—including several fountain fireworks.
Those used gunpowder.
The drone smashed into the box. Outer casings of some props tore open, the drone shattered, sparks flew.
Sparks ignited the fireworks powder.
Instantly, dazzling flames erupted from the box. They spread to fuses of other fountains.
Dozens of fountain fireworks filled the box. Massive bursts shot up like fountains.
The drunk crowd cheered and clapped.
"Whoa!"
"Awesome!"
"Party's on fire!"
"Predict casualties."
"Tossing it off the roof could cause a major accident if it blows below. Find a way to put out the fire..."
Flames spreading! Explosion risk spiking! It's gonna blow!
Jeon Ji-in's high-speed alert blared. Na Gang-in's AR Lens lit up with warnings.
For bomb blasts, hitting the deck minimizes shrapnel damage.
Na Gang-in shouted,
"Explosion! Get down!"
Many knew fireworks used powder. Veterans recognized a box of that stuff going up spelled trouble.
They dropped flat immediately.
Others crouched low.
Some didn't react to Na Gang-in's yell.
Shin Eun-ha stood frozen. She figured those were toys, so her response lagged.
No time for another warning.
Na Gang-in dashed toward her.
The box exploded.
Not a massive blast.
Tucked in the corner, flames didn't engulf the crowd. The boom was loud, but no direct burns.
The issue: assorted items inside flew everywhere on detonation. Some hurtled toward people—sharp, pointed shards among the debris.
Na Gang-in blocked Shin Eun-ha.
Jeon Ji-in tracked incoming fragments toward him.
Two serious threats. One headed for Shin Eun-ha—body-block it. Dragon Plate vest stops bullets; mere shards won't pierce.
The other: a utility knife from the box. Handle snapped, blade alone rocketed out.
Not at Shin Eun-ha—at Oh Sena's face right beside her.
Na Gang-in was already in position for Shin Eun-ha.
Only one way to stop both arrow-fast shards.
Na Gang-in stepped beside Shin Eun-ha, extended his left arm sideways.
The blade slammed into his palm. He clamped it barehanded.
Almost simultaneously, a pointed shard struck his gut—aimed at Shin Eun-ha.
Dragon Plate deflected it downward.
Oh Sena hadn't expected explosion. Heard "get down," but her fancy outfit wasn't deck-friendly. No clue why, either.
She hesitated—boom.
She clearly saw something from the box flying at her face. Terror hit, but no dodge skill.
Suddenly, a man's hand snatched the blade.
Only after did she recognize it as a knife blade—crystal clear up close.
Realizing the near-miss, she screamed.
"Kyaaah!"
Na Gang-in lowered his bleeding hand.
"No injury? Then pipe down."
"P-Pardon? Oh?"
Her eyes tracked the blade. Blood dripped from his lowered hand, a few drops sliding down the edge.
Oh Sena snapped alert.
"Blood! Blood! Y-You're hurt?"
Shin Eun-ha, dazed from blast, startled at Oh Sena's words.
She checked Na Gang-in's hand—bloodied.
Shin Eun-ha snapped,
"Why grab the blade barehanded?!"
"No choice."
"No ch—"
Shin Eun-ha glanced at Oh Sena.
No grab, Oh Sena might be dead.
"I get why, but still..."
Oh Sena realized too.
"B-Because of me... your hand..."
Na Gang-in poured soju from a table bottle over it. No disinfection, but beats nothing for rinsing.
Trouble.
"Ow. Stings."
Na Gang-in sliced the tablecloth lengthwise with the blade.
"Ji-in, why so prickly today? I'm injured here."
"It bled."
"Your standards are too high."
Na Gang-in brought the long tablecloth strip to his wounded hand.
Oh Sena, seeing his intent, frantically dug through her handbag for a luxury handkerchief.
"U-Use this!"
Better than tablecloth. Na Gang-in took it, wrapped his hand.
Oh Sena hopped in place anxiously. But that was all she could do.
Shin Eun-ha was different. She'd seen shootouts, blade fights. Watched him treat wounded twice.
Handkerchiefs weren't it.
She grabbed her bag from nearby, opened it—tiny first-aid kit inside.
"Oppa Gang-in! Use this! Tablecloth's filthy!"
Shin Eun-ha's mini kit had antiseptic, ointment, bandages, bit of gauze, surgical thread and needle.
Na Gang-in peeked inside, mildly shocked.
"Eun-ha, why's there a needle here?"
"Prepared for you. Seen you use 'em before. Stitch it quick."
"With one hand?"
"Oh..."
"Doesn't need stitches anyway. Too shallow."
Na Gang-in unwrapped the handkerchief, applied ointment from the kit, then clean bandage.
Quietly,
"Ji-in. Was gonna wrap with tablecloth to hide how fast it heals."
"You're off today. Grabbing the blade was the only option."
Na Gang-in asked,
"No critical injuries?"
Jeon Ji-in projected an arrow visible only to Na Gang-in via AR Lens.
Na Gang-in spotted the bleeder: Director Son Tae-min, arm gushing.
Na Gang-in approached.
"Drunk and injured. Rough night."
Son Tae-min was pale, terrified.
"Am I dying? Am I?"
"Hold still—stopping the bleed first."
Nobody wants gore up close. Crowds around wounded help no one. A few hovered to assist, but most kept distance.
Na Gang-in shooed all but assistant director Byeon Hyung-chan and Shin Eun-ha.
"You're in the way."
Son Tae-min yelled too.
"Show's over! Back off!"
Na Gang-in rinsed with bottled water, swabbed antiseptic around the wound. Then quick stitches with surgical needle and thread—Jeon Ji-in assisted, done in seconds.
Bandaged after.
Only Son Tae-min, Byeon Hyung-chan, and Shin Eun-ha saw the stitching. Others thought just ointment and bandage.
Bandage done, Son Tae-min swallowed hard.
"G-Gang-in, that it? All fixed?"
"No way. I'm no doctor. Just staunched the flow till hospital."
"Man, heard martial arts masters patch wounds well. Guess you're the real deal."
"Just rough stitches. Get proper doc care, load up on antibiotics."