Prison Monopoly (2) - Contact Successful?
"Yes, we successfully made contact with the target."
"Good. No need for force, then?"
"Surprisingly, he accepted the absurd terms without hesitation. 100 per head to deal with 'those things'—any ordinary occultist would've flat-out refused."
"Proof he's no ordinary occultist."
"Yes, but there was one odd thing."
The young man in a suit narrowed his eyes after confirming the vehicle he'd arrived in had put enough distance between them and Hongdae streets. He spoke into the speaker.
"I never revealed my affiliation, but he knew I was a government official."
"Maybe he guessed from your suit-up look?"
"Don't most officials wear their badges around their necks? I dressed like a clean-cut company man, no badge in sight. Plan A was to lure him with a story about 'a certain company's president wanting revenge on some inmate locked up in Cheongsim Prison.'"
"You switched plans."
"Yes, went with Plan C."
Plan A: Commission from a major corp president—designate arbitrary targets, pay 100 million on success, sweeten with bonuses per extra kill. Plan B: Blackmail an illegal, tax-dodging occultist into temporary Cheongsim lockup, incite friction with inmates to spark mutual slaughter. Plan C: A shady government black ops request, since they hated Cheongsim Prison.
Each had different payouts. But the moment his cover as a "government official" got sniffed out, he scrapped A and B. A was obvious bullshit; B risked backlash. Could've been a lucky guess, but no point risking suspicion.
So, Plan C: Straight-up "This is government business. Refuse, and you know how the feds—who know all about you—might react?" Vibe. Flashed docs with classified stickers, helpfully explained Cheongsim's purpose. To a third party, it'd look like the government strong-arming a civilian.
Even that risked rejection. From the YouTube clips they'd secured, Han Daeri could've said "fuck off" and booted him—no surprise there. If so, he'd have grabbed him with agents pre-positioned in Hongdae. But the issue was Han Daeri accepted "knowing full well."
Like the payout mattered less than the job itself—like he'd go to Cheongsim even without pay.
"Internal intel says the target obsesses over money. Needs updating."
"Got evidence?"
"Yes. Saw it with my own eyes—no interest in cash whatsoever. Those two glued to him, Choi Jiyun and Lee Seongjin? Their combined assets top 10 billion easy. If he were money-obsessed, no way he'd slum it in that dingy office chugging cheap cocoa."
Next Stop: Cheongsim Prison
Word on the street said he moonlighted as an occultist to stack cash—true enough. But the idea he did it because of money obsession? Baseless rumor.
'If he really craved cash, he'd have balked at the insane fee first thing.'
100 a head, 5,000 total. A ridiculous test bait to gauge Han Daeri. Any thinking occultist rejects outright; even a brainless one double-checks the sum.
But he accepted like he'd been waiting—like a bored kid finding a fun game.
"Pulling all on-site agents. Hongdae's occultists pushed back hard anyway."
"Who gives a shit about those drifters barely scraping by in Korea? Doesn't matter. Manpower's tight now—deploy agents carefully. Leave a few eyes, though. Vatican sent official cooperation request."
"Yes."
*********
I figured a fuck-up life like mine would've landed me in juvie at least once. Turns out the world was way more lenient on teen crime than I thought.
In other words, even after smashing noses and robbing punks in school, I never saw juvie.
"Kids with shit for brains should skip juvie and rot in solitary—feed 'em nothing but 3-minute curry for three days straight. Right, mister?"
"......"
Back then, I deserved juvie. Korea's laws were such bullshit, it ended with community service, classes, and a slap on the wrist.
Thirty minutes of my rambling life story, and the black-uniformed soldier next to me—with a gun—hadn't uttered a word.
Wonder why a soldier's babysitting me? Simple.
The suit guy hooked up the job the day after I accepted. Cops swarmed my office next morning. Hauled me silently to the station, then shoved me on the chicken coop bus for Cheongsim inmates.
Twist: Normally cops guard these rides. Here, soldiers did.
I clocked it instantly—why no chit-chat, no interest in my bullshit. Someone in Cheongsim probably sweet-talked their way out before. Orders: Don't engage, don't listen close. Treat me like any other inmate, even as the "client."
Could've just dressed me as a guard and snuck me in. But suits gotta suit—stiff as boards.
I peered through the heavy-tinted windows at the blurring scenery. Seoul to Gimpo, Gimpo to Ganghwa, Ganghwa across the long bridge to Gyodongdo.
Cheongsim Prison on Gyodongdo—the island closest to North Korea. Obvious: If shit hits, let the DPRK bomb it, no sweat.
Real fun started entering the island. Expected quaint locals, peaceful vibes. Nope. Just military checkpoints, razor wire, no civilians.
Bonus: Bus headed not to prison, but smack into a army base.
Outside: Frontline unit prepped for NK surprise attack. Inside? Nada.
Bus plunged into a long tunnel—bunker entrance?—stopped at massive cargo elevator. Dropped soldiers first.
Armed squad dragged cuffed me aboard, down two more floors. Island's secret underground unfolded.
Bottom line: Underground prison disguised as army outpost. No wonder zilch online—even the president might not know without special reports.
Waiting at the entrance: Middle-aged warden-looking guy and his guards.
"Warden, new inmate. Prisoner Number 0066."
"Name?"
"Higher-ups won't disclose real name."
"Call me Han Daeri. Easy."
Chiming in during their chat with my public handle, they nodded silently and shut up.
"Hand over Prisoner 0066. Take him inside. You're dismissed."
Soldiers saluted wordlessly, elevator whisked them up.
Stranded in enemy turf, guards grabbed and hauled me deeper.
Figured "cavity search" incoming, TV-style. Nope. Skipped basics.
Dumped me in the cell block, uncuffed.
"Prisoner 0066, your home now. No private room, no personal shit. Live by the space's rules. Questions? One only."
"What's dinner?"
"Dried pollack stir-fry."
"Fuck."
With that, the thick iron door sealing cell block from guards slammed shut.