Storm in a Teacup (1)
The man, Moomyeong, was running for his life.
'No way! My plan was perfect!'
By all calculations, this plan couldn't fail. For the assassination, he'd used the tightrope performance. Through video footage and on-site reconnaissance, he'd analyzed the tightrope walker's jumping habits, the direction and angle their body twisted. Based on that, he'd adjusted the rope's tension to its breaking point and rigged it for an "accident."
Everything seemed to unfold as predicted. The tightrope walker lost balance on the slackened rope and fell toward the target. That's when Moomyeong planned to deploy the bomb attached to the fan. He'd inserted two types of special liquids into the fan's ornament that the walker held. Each liquid was harmless on its own. But when the walker shook the fan, mixing them, it turned into a bomb. This method evaded the bodyguards' explosive detectors.
Everything proceeded flawlessly. All Moomyeong had to do was press the switch in his pocket, detonate the bomb, and the assassination was complete.
But there was one variable Moomyeong hadn't anticipated. Ben Johnson grabbed the falling tightrope walker's ankle. Then, with a spin, he hoisted them back onto the rope. And as if he knew all along, he even coaxed the walker into discarding the bomb-laden fan.
'Ben Johnson! That bastard... he mocked me!'
Ben Johnson had looked right at Moomyeong and smiled at the end. As if he knew the entire plan.
For the first time, Moomyeong felt fear of a human.
'No! That's impossible!'
Denying the emotion he'd just felt, he still moved toward his escape route for dire situations. Even after reaching the safety of his hideout, the unease lingered. It felt like Ben Johnson could appear any moment to slit his throat.
'I can't... I can't let it end like this.'
He still had one final option. Admit defeat and resort to the same crude methods as lesser assassins.
With bloodshot eyes, he made his decision. He would kill Rosalyn Johnson no matter what.
"This might be the last time..."
With grim resolve, Moomyeong stepped outside.
The Johnsons' first schedule today was attending a private demo. Moomyeong disguised himself as an employee from one of the participating companies. A simple manipulation—just a few phone calls and checking staff schedules.
He slipped into a building near the demo site. Then, he unpacked the parts from his toolbox and assembled them one by one.
Click! What had been screws and metal scraps became a sniper rifle in Moomyeong's hands.
He attached the scope, shouldered it.
"Hoo..."
When was the last time he'd wielded an assassination rifle? Moomyeong recalled how distant those days felt now.
But shooting was too easy for him. Just calculate the angle, distance, bullet velocity, and wind.
He aimed at Rosalyn standing in the demo field. Pull the trigger, and the kill was done.
Before his finger tightened, a nagging doubt crept in.
'Wait. Where's Ben Johnson?'
This spot was at least 500 meters from the demo site. Even if he shot, Ben Johnson couldn't fly here.
Yet curiosity drew Moomyeong. He shifted the barrel to scan for Ben Johnson.
"Gasp..."
Moomyeong inhaled sharply, unbefitting an assassin. Through the scope, Ben Johnson stared right back. As if he'd spotted Moomyeong's position via the scope's reflection.
"Impossible! This is matte-finished—no glare! Even if there was, it was a split second!"
His reason screamed it was delusion.
'My plan is perfect!'
Moomyeong trusted rational judgment. He swung the barrel back to Rosalyn and pulled the trigger.
But his finger wouldn't move.
"Ahh..."
Instead, he saw an illusion. He often visualized moving targets when lining up a shot. In those visions, the target always died by his perfect calculations.
But this time, the illusion featured himself. The moment he pulled the trigger, the assassination failed. Instantly, a man subdued him. When Moomyeong looked up to see his captor—
It was Ben Johnson.
"You idiot! It's not Ben... not Ben Johnson!"
Only then did Moomyeong realize. That wasn't Ben Johnson. It was an agent infiltrating to catch him—a trap set by the enemy.
"Hoo..."
In the end, he couldn't fire.
"...You've been watching me all this time?"
Moomyeong calmly responded to the sudden radio chatter. To outsiders, it looked like he'd done nothing for two days. Contact from the client was expected.
"I'm pulling out of this job."
"I left no traces. I'll refund the full fee."
Moomyeong disassembled the sniper rifle and packed it into the toolbox. Even as he did, his innate genius analyzed the voice: its tremor, ambient sounds, the client's tendencies, motive for the hit.
The answer came ridiculously easily.
"Seibyl, a fledgling outfit barely five years old, thinks it can take me down? Laughable."
"Hahaha!"
Moomyeong laughed aloud. Compared to the monstrous Ben Johnson, this guy was pathetically easy to read.
With confidence, he replied, "Do you know why I'm a legendary assassin?"
"Lumping hacks like them with me? That says it all about Seibyl."
Moomyeong leisurely eyed the demo site. Once he shed his hostility, Ben Johnson seemed to lose interest, averting his gaze.
"How can assassins everyone knows be 'legends'?"
"Assassins the world knows are third-rate killers parading with name tags."
[...]
"You said you'd find me? Go ahead. I'll show you why I'm legendary."
Moomyeong knew the man's next line. Some cliché about anticipating regret, begging for life.
So he added one more. "How's the pastrami in Salt Lake? Jake Duval?"
The rattled man blurted and cut the line in panic.
Moomyeong erased the pathetic exchange from his mind.
And thought: He wasn't wrong. The monster was just that unreasonable one at the demo site.
Thus, Moomyeong vanished like smoke. No one would know he'd been there.
Except one. The agent playing Ben Johnson...
"Hm?"
I tilted my head. After yesterday's traditional wedding and tightrope act, we'd spent the night at a luxury hotel.
...Too much Chasefield X? I swear I glimpsed that telltale sniper scope glint from that building. I nearly dove to shield Conel.
Good thing it was a false alarm—the light vanished quick.
"Almost made a fool of myself..."
I'd messed up enough this trip. No more apologies to Conel.
I refocused. Today was day two of the Johnsons' schedule. First up: the private demo.
Korean arms firms had gathered at the test site to pitch to Nemesis CEO Rosalyn.
"Honey, wanna try this?"
"Me?"
Conel's voice pulled my gaze to the demo area, packed with shiny prototypes. Stuff you couldn't do in Chasefield X.
Hiding my excitement, I strolled over. "What's this?"
A staffer ahead answered kindly. "Dongjin Shield's new soldier training platform, Battlefield."
"Ooh."
"It offers more realism than live drills. Ours boosts efficiency by at least 15%..."
Long explanation. I half-listened, donned the goggles on the table.
Before the staffer activated, he handed me a rifle-like device. "Select ammo type for realistic recoil and sound. Let me help shoulder it... Perfect."
"Can I shoot?"
As I naturally shouldered it, he hit the button instead of answering.
Whoosh! Wind howled. I was in a jungle. A horrific friction sound approached—military drone nightmare fuel.
Bang! I nailed the incoming drone.
That triggered it. Enemies swarmed from all sides.
"Whoa, instant ammo swap too."
"...Yes."
I'd used this in Smart Shooter 'Evergreen'. Switched calibers per foe: buckshot for drones, subsonic to mask position, .50 cal for APCs.
...Fun! Forgot my sore arm from yesterday's tightrope fiasco.
Bang! Final ultra-long-range snipe at a 2-km enemy.
Screen darkened, sounds returned.
"Mr. Ben Johnson, you okay?"
"Awesome!"
Goggles off, staffer checked the monitor—my virtual run logged.
"Uh, Team Leader Kang..."
"What? Demo glitch?"
"Normal function. But look at these metrics..."
"What the—why these numbers? Never saw this in our tests. Problem?"
Staff huddled, faces grim, murmuring.
I didn't wanna rub salt. ...Kinda bummed, though.
'Chasefield X better?'
Battlefield had realism Chasefield X lacked. But high fidelity meant laggy response. Lighter Chasefield X wins. No arm strain—perfect for shut-in gamers like me.
'Oh, right—military gear.'
Snapped to user view. Soldiers training wouldn't mind the lag.
...Probably.
"Hitting 0.05-second peaks here..."
"Even lower? What's wrong?"
"Bottleneck in data processing. This means..."
I bowed to the busy staff and stepped away.
Conel smiled at me. "Honey, fun?"
"Great gear. ...Personally, Chasefield X edges it."
I whispered low. She flinched, then grinned. Same thoughts, huh.
Next demo: military robot. Iconic to Koreans—Starfish, from that uni incident. Now branded "bubble," "tax waste."
Still, I rooted for Starfish to rebound. Made by Mirdi Defense, my sister Lee Sua's employer.
I silently cheered her on.
"Nemesis CEO, hello. I'm Mirdi Defense chief researcher Jin Do-kyun."
Mid-50s with graying hair. After intros, he gestured aside. "And this is our lead researcher, Lee Sua. She'll assist today's demo—very capable."
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Lee Sua."
I froze watching her shake Conel's hand.
...Why was my sister Lee Sua here?