Villancy!
The intruder's toes, slipping across the sidewalk blocks, touched the edge where pavement met road. Lighting a cigarette, he replayed the sensation at his fingertips. 'Lighter than I thought?' Whoever it was, they didn't look like they came with good intentions. Running a matchmaking agency, he'd met plenty of people, and everyone carried their own vibe. He wasn't spotting something off about the guy through physiognomy or some cult bullshit. Anyone who snuck into a church stifling their presence and moving without a sound deserved suspicion on principle.
"Hoo." He exhaled a long plume of smoke, and the man slowly straightened up, turning toward him.
"0111001010?"
"Ah, fuck. How far gone is your cyberbody?"
He'd seen types like this before. Bodies so modded with cybernetics their language systems glitched out into weird patterns. Now they had more machine and prosthetics than original skin. You could ask how they even lived like that, but once adapted, nothing was more convenient, they said. Downloading a whole textbook? One minute, tops. Info stored as data in an internal cloud—no forgetting.
"We should ban guys like that from elevators."
"10111001."
"Can't even talk."
Most of the body was cyberware. Yet light as a feather.
"Hey, why're you here?"
"110101011."
Word was, in Cyber City, neural acceleration paired perfectly with assassination, so plenty rode that tech tree.
"You could download Korean."
"110 01011."
Or stealth builds. Optical camo, thermal masking, perception jamming. Stealth tech came in all flavors.
"Hoo." Cigarette between his lips, he pulled out his phone. The intruder exploded from a sprinter's stance, kicking off the ground and lunging forward. In most fights, the impatient one lost. Hanging up the phone must've pissed him off—he figured take that out first.
He swung past the arm snatching for his phone.
Kwazig!
Phone smashed into the intruder's face. Kim Yang always ragged on him for the hard case, calling it uncle vibes. This was why he used it.
"……!?"
"What? Weren't you trying to stop me calling?"
He ground the dropped cigarette butt underfoot. Pocketing the phone, the intruder's form started fading. Stealth build confirmed.
"Hey! Where you going!"
He rushed to block the church entrance. Kids' safety first. Block the door, done. But he'd overlooked Cyber City's tech. Footsteps on the wall sent chills down his spine.
'Climbing the wall?' Brain modded to binary speech, body light as paper. Easy to picture scaling with lightweight cyberware.
"That's cheating, you—!"
Yelling at the wall, a presence prickled his nape. He twisted desperately. An awl stabbed into his shoulder blade. Sharp pain, blood soaking his shirt. The guy behind him shook blood from the awl and vanished into stealth again.
"Weak sauce……."
Faked wall-climbing to backstab. A split-second slower and it'd be his throat. Small mercy: the guy wasn't ignoring him.
'Why? If he's after the kids, just pass by.' Pride? Amateur like him landing a hit stung? Nah. Pro from the cyberware. Pros didn't sweat that.
'No one's watching anyway—'
Watching? Vision rippled, wind whistled.
"……!"
Dodging sideways, church glass shattered, shards raining down. No presence this time.
'Arm extended. Reacted last approach, so no closing in.' Gadget freak. Clear intent: stay ranged.
'Use Law?' Optical stealth warped space on movement. Time acceleration Law to chase ripples, find him. Light body, easy takedown.
'But.'"
Something felt off. Unease creeping since last time: did the 7th Floor really not know about him?
[Taeguk means the union of yin and yang.]
[What we need isn't power—it's boundaries.]
"Hoo." Should quit smoking. Trying fancy martial arts bullshit, now just stale cig breath. Said that, but lighting another proved he needed to quit for real.
Chiiik! Lit up, faced front. Stance? No clue. But sloppy didn't mean invisible. Dusk fell, silence like a curtain. Cars stopped at red lights, students gawking at the glass shatter instead of crossing, distant sirens.
Bwoong! Rising smoke wavered. There. He ducked low—chill awl whistled overhead. Charged forward.
What were Taeguk Eumyangmun boundaries? Line splitting yin and yang. Right here underfoot. Vision cleared: this wasn't mere sidewalk, but heaven-earth divide. Why Baek Yeonhwa called his insight sharp? Made sense now. Laughing at enlightenment from not seeing the guy—
He deemed hiding pointless, revealed himself. Then blurred, splitting into two!
Optical trick?
"101011."
Muttered something, split toward the church. Deemed fighting him a time sink, bailing now.
'Left's real.' Feet on the boundary. Illusion or not, answer clear—but just in case—
"Ptoo!"
Tossed cig at left one—hit head, bounced.
"Nailed it."
Kids' lives on line, cig for final check. Kicked the passing fake aside.
"Foot boundary!"
Foot met foot. 0% inner power, 100% muscle—light guy flew ugly, rolled across pavement, slammed into road.
"Whoa, wait—."
Kwaang!
Onrushing dump truck smashed him, sent him flying again.
Kwaang! Dump truck impact cut the feed. Pouring rain cooled Mosco Bi Chacos's fevered head. Lucky. One word echoed: Relief. Unexpected aid from Kim Juseon, but kids safe? She'd bow a hundred times.
"……."
But she couldn't just rejoice. Screen reignited green.
Worried about the reaction, but—
Chat Villancy seemed detached.
"Sending another?"
Brief relief. But Villancy pressed on.
"……."
Free. Meaningful?
Golden years? Sighing, she sensed Villancy's total disconnect.
"Fine, got it."
Now she knew: no future descending to 3rd Floor. Then. Mother or not, duties to wrap up.
Cyber City's soaring skyscrapers. One housed film titan Director Zeke Fullan. Lavish home, pricey furniture, home bar, private cinema. Enviable life. But now he paced the foyer anxiously, awaiting his guest.
Ding-doooong! Long doorbell ring. Flinging open the door, a blond young man smiled. Villancy. Founder of Gold Bar, Cyber City 6th Floor tycoon club, shadowy billionaire. No one knew his money's source. Thus no enemies, no threats. Ghost. Sudden sky-drop rich. Some cyberware visible, face screamed plastic surgery. Rumors: reborn dead megacorp chair, laundered ID.
"Director Zeke Fullan. First face-to-face."
"Honor visiting my humble abode."
"Heh, yeah."
Bold shoulder pat, strode in like owner. Popped a champagne without asking.
"'Railmanion 30-year. Not bad."
His priciest bottle, yet nonchalant. Each cavalier move ratcheted Zeke's tension. Different league.
"Hoo, Director. My videos? Exclusive for our members."
Zeke jumped in.
"Shocking. Made my hyperrealism days laughable. Especially Bi Chacos's conflict, action hijacking the cash truck—beyond film's reach."
Artistry. Half in love with Villancy's "art" via Bi Chacos, injecting thrill into bored tycoon lives.
Pleased, Villancy grinned closer.
"So, Zeke, thoughts on retrying the mayoral hit?"
"……Frankly, clichéd."
"Why?"
"Repeating a failed job."
Mayoral frontrunner Elric Drulv turned near-hit into campaign gold. Lock for win. But they didn't care.
"Right. So, proposal."
"P-Proposal?"
"S.E.L. (Sensory Experience Link)."
Tool crowning Zeke maestro. Live another's emotions, become them.
"Boring lives. No risk appetite."
"……."
"Humans so greedy. Endless stimulation chase."
Shoulder taps, low whisper.
"Shall we feel it? Piercing this city's future ruler between the eyes."
"……!"
Mind blanked, fuse blown.
"Link to Bi Chacos, vicarious political hit—!"
Heart pounded like struck. Axis successor, admin head Elric Drulv. Assassinate via S.E.L? Live? Mad. Genius.
"Doable, right?"
Villancy's voice now gospel. Beyond human. Devilish ideas voiced casually, executed effortlessly.
One word filled Zeke's mind.
'This man's a god.'