The Narcissist's Grin
“No tea, but we’ve got beer.”
Do Jin-yong glanced slyly at Han Ye-jin.
“Beer sounds good.”
Han Ye-jin peeked into the plastic bag Do Jin-yong set on the table. It contained sticking patches and balms for loosening knotted muscles.
Do Jin-yong placed a beer can in front of her and sat across from her.
“What’s this about?”
“I heard you joined the Pink Team?”
“You keeping tabs on me?”
A glint of steel entered Do Jin-yong’s eyes.
“Tabs? Think of it as interest. I need to know how the expedition’s shaping up.”
“And?”
“I’d like you to tell me exactly what’s going on in the Pink Team.”
“You want me to spy?”
“Do it right, and I’ll scout you as a team leader in the Gangnam Guild. How’s that?”
Do Jin-yong, who’d been huffing indignantly, suddenly froze like a statue. His brain overloaded trying to process Han Ye-jin’s offer.
“N-no, you’re joking.”
“Record it if you need to. I’m not the type to flip on promises like Jeong Myeong-ho.”
“You serious?”
“Isn’t it time you spread your wings in a proper guild? I’m just giving you the chance.”
Han Ye-jin peered into Do Jin-yong’s face, a mix of confusion and ecstasy. What would he do? A seasoned team leader would mull it over and say he’d get back to her.
“Hahaha!”
Do Jin-yong burst into laughter.
He downed the beer can in one go, then crushed it into a tiny coin-sized lump with a squeeze of his fist.
Han Ye-jin just watched. Not yet grasping the meaning of his actions, she hoped it might reveal some closely guarded secret.
“I knew a day like this would come! Hahaha, I was right! This damn world screwed me over for so long, but finally, the day has arrived! Now the world recognizes me! Of course I’ll do it. I’ll report everything I see and hear.”
Han Ye-jin nearly burst out laughing herself.
Do Jin-yong… for all that bulk, he was a narcissist.
The kind who believed himself flawless, convinced the world was at fault.
Jackpot.
Narcissists were easy to manipulate. A little flattery from the side, and they’d hand over their hearts on a platter.
“Tell me what happened today.”
Han Ye-jin said, eyes sparkling.
Moonlight bathed the abandoned factory district in a soft glow.
Hwang In-su leaped lightly across a few rooftops and landed in front of the Urama Raid Center.
Training here, of all places.
Not bad. Quiet surroundings for focus, few passersby so he could park anywhere.
Still, he wouldn’t choose it himself.
He stepped inside the warehouse.
Lights were on.
Seven simulators lined one wall, a track circling the entire space.
“Ugh, sweat stench.”
Not unpleasant. It evoked old memories. The Omniverse Guild had trained in places like this during tough times.
After circling the warehouse, he checked the adjacent building with lockers and showers.
Hwang In-su was mildly surprised that Raiders used to flashy spots like Jushin or the Association—people like Yoo Min-jeong or Sa Yeonggyo—had adapted here.
“Hm?”
A familiar laptop caught his eye.
A Legio.
Flipping it over revealed “Kim Jun” written underneath. He’d finally found the kid’s weakness. Careless with something this vital.
More old memories.
Hwang In-su had lost his own Legio twice.
The Association replaced the first for free, but the second cost a hefty fine. Quite the sum—he’d been shocked.
Back in the simulator warehouse, a powerful engine roar echoed from outside.
Hwang In-su stood still, Legio in one hand.
Kim Jun entered through the door.
Spotting Hwang In-su, the kid just stood there. No startled jump, no snappy “What are you doing here?” Just clear, steady eyes watching.
Even standing still, the kid ignited Hwang In-su’s fighting spirit. It surged wildly, spilling out despite his efforts to contain it.
“This what brought you here?”
Hwang In-su held up the Legio.
Kim Jun still watched him.
“Came to see you. No one around, so I poked around—found this.”
“Bit heavy on the killing intent for a social call.”
Kim Jun said.
“Haha, that so?”
Hwang In-su tossed the Legio aside and charged.
The Legio landed lightly on the fridge. Kim Jun retreated across the street.
Hwang In-su spotted Yoo Min-jeong in her Ferrari. He nodded lightly her way, then crossed the road in a flash.
Whoosh.
His spinning elbow targeted Kim Jun’s jaw.
Hoe Wolju first form: Sugeo.
The kid unleashed Mokhonbo Dang, curving smoothly away. The elbow’s momentum smashed the utility pole behind him. Thud—it tilted, crashed back, crumbling an old wall.
Kim Jun’s eyes gleamed.
“Hoe Wolju.”
“Martial art blending superb footwork and elbow strikes, right?”
As Kim Jun spoke, Hwang In-su closed in and unleashed the fourth form: Taeja-chin.
Kim Jun dodged the ferocious strike with Mokhonbo Tan, but not fully. The aftermath hurled him through the factory wall.
Rebar rained down, but Kim Jun was already up and dodging aside.
Heat flared from behind.
Hwang In-su slipped aside, a fireball whizzing past his nose.
Yoo Min-jeong’s shot from across the street.
“Kim Se-wi’s dead.”
Yoo Min-jeong visibly flinched. Hwang In-su seized the gap, charging Kim Jun.
Kim Jun thrust both hands forward.
Rusty red powder.
Think this cheap trick would work? Pondering how to shatter the delusion, the real attack began.
Crackle.
The scattered powder ignited one by one in white flashes.
Po-noe Strike amplified manifold by the powder.
Hwang In-su deployed Hwawonbang.
The barrier shattered instantly.
Riding the blast’s flow backward, Hwang In-su barely stayed upright—but his clothes were riddled with holes and tears.
Damn it!
More than losing to a junior, he dreaded his wife’s nagging when he got home like this.
“Is it true?”
Kim Jun asked. Sparks danced from his hands.
“They say he died in the riot.”
“Not the riot, then.”
“Jushin killed him.”
“Why?”
“Kim Se-wi kept saying things Jushin hated. Words that tarnished their honor—dangerous stuff.”
Hwang In-su saw understanding dawn in Kim Jun’s eyes. The kid pieced it together in seconds.
Even knowing the rumors, seeing that shift firsthand startled Hwang In-su.
The absurd tales were no longer just rumors.
This kid crushed Tanker Jeong Taek-su and stole his item.
This kid drove Cheonroegeom into Medici Team’s main dealer Yoo Gwan-ho’s leg, turning him into a bug-collecting cripple.
And he transferred Go Cheolmin’s dungeon sickness from his body to Kim Se-wi’s.
Purpose achieved.
Mystery solved.
Mars Team, led by Kwon Joo-chan, joined the Sokcho expedition to smash Kim Jun and Pink Team in the dungeon.
Now, a friendly word to Kim Jun and Yoo Min-jeong, then leave smiling.
Surprisingly, he didn’t want to end it that way.
His fighting spirit still boiled hot.
It had been ages since he craved a real fight.
Especially to topple this kid. To look down on him kneeling.
Hwang In-su poured double inner power into Hoe Wolju.
Leaping before Kim Jun with otherworldly agility, he unleashed the third form: Hwang Sang-yeong. Pure offense, ignoring defense.
Then Kim Jun closed in at terrifying speed.
Mokhonbo Jungchwi! He’d built power while talking.
Before the skill fully formed, Kim Jun struck Hwang In-su’s shoulder and passed. Hwang In-su scrambled up; Kim Jun lost balance, slamming into a steel pillar.
What?
If Jungchwi shook his stance and Po-noe numbed him, even he’d struggle to escape.
No way?
Yoo Min-jeong’s voice from behind.
“Kim Jun, quit messing around!”
Hwang In-su realized why Kim Jun missed the opening. Speechless.
Using him for Jungchwi practice!
Hwang In-su glared at Kim Jun and grinned wide. Once called the Smile of Death.
He wrapped his left hand around his right forearm.
An item burst forth, encasing chest and back. Summoning Veren’s breastplate outside a dungeon—first time in nearly five years.
Its heat bathed his body in red glow.
Boosted defense and fire attack power.
Boom!
The factory wall behind the dodging kid crumbled under Hoe Wolju Taecheon-su.
Oh ho, faster now. Footwork’s elite—most dealers couldn’t catch him.
Hwang In-su pressed relentlessly; the kid evaded slyly.
One factory reduced to rubble.
Head-on, he’d kneel the kid in three forms—but the open space made pursuit tough.
“Gonna keep running?”
“You want a straight fight, but one of us wouldn’t make the raid.”
Kim Jun said.
One of us?
Hwang In-su laughed in disbelief.
He couldn’t sleep without teaching this arrogant punk a lesson.
He drew his right hand to his ear like nocking an arrow. Inner power formed a hazy arrow in the air—then he loosed.
Ping.
The kid dodged, but too slow.
The arrow grazed his shoulder, punched a hole in a rear steel pillar, then dispersed.
Clothes tore; blood sprayed.
The kid staggered, collapsing to a knee.
“Hahaha!”
Hwang In-su roared with laughter, charging.
He batted aside the incoming fireball with his elbow. About to crush the kid—when a sword flew in, stabbing the ground before him.
Startled, Hwang In-su leaped back.
Scanning around, he spotted a figure atop a utility pole 30 meters away.
Right sleeve fluttering in the wind.
Yoo… Yoo Wan-seop!
The outline blurred—then materialized before him. The sword yanked free into Yoo Wan-seop’s hand.
The famed Cheongmyeonggeom.
“Long time.”
“Y-yes.”
Hwang In-su hastily retracted Veren’s breastplate. Useless against Yoo Wan-seop.
“Still ‘educating’ juniors like this? Good. Time for some senior education.”
Hwang In-su swallowed hard.
No excuse if that sword impaled him here. He’d come to the Urama Raid Center, struck first. If Yoo Wan-seop used it as pretext, Omniverse Guild could crumble.
No one—not the guild master, not any Omniverse Raider—could stop Yoo Wan-seop’s wrath.
The Cheongmyeonggeom, free from Yoo Wan-seop’s hand, circled Hwang In-su like a living thing. Each pass near his throat made him flinch.
“We’ll settle this later.”
“Y-yes.”
Hwang In-su fled without looking back. Felt the sword trailing—didn’t dare check.
Yoo Min-jeong crossed the street, passed her father, and stopped before Kim Jun.
Kim Jun unmoving.
Blood from his shoulder soaked his clothes red.
“Kim Jun!”
Kim Jun slowly opened his eyes, looking at Yoo Min-jeong.
“You okay?”
“…Yeah.”
Kim Jun barely replied.
Then a cold voice from behind.
“Quit whining and get up.”
Yoo Wan-seop.
Yoo Min-jeong whipped around, glaring at her father. Bleeding from a fight with the expedition sub-cap, and he calls it whining? Even a father shouldn’t say that!
“Whining? It really hurts.”
Kim Jun shot up, saying so. Yoo Wan-seop approached, checked the shoulder.
“Just a scrape. Stings, not hurts. But you did great.”
“Dodging’s manageable, but head-on? Would’ve been bad. Anyway, gave it my all.”
Kim Jun grinned.
“Retire later—you’d make a fine actor.”