A Feast of Empty Words
The Nova hotel terrorist attack ended with zero fatalities, zero critically injured, and only thirty-seven lightly wounded.
For a hotel that had collapsed, it was an exceptionally good outcome.
Yet Lee Jeong-Hoon’s expression was anything but pleased.
“Everything else is fine, but we threw a huge amount of our own manpower into this. How are we supposed to clean that up?”
“That, from this moment on, is for Gaju to handle.”
They were inside a temporary container set up for the victims’ psychological recovery. Jeong-Hoon had bought time by refusing the government’s request for a statement, claiming he needed to rest. Now he set down his teacup at the butler’s outrageous reply.
“…Excuse me? What did you just say?”
He had deliberately stalled so he could coordinate with Butler Joo. The discovery that nothing had been prepared left him stunned.
“I acted because I believed Gaju would certainly take care of it.”
“What exactly are you trusting me to do?”
“If things go badly, we can simply overthrow the government, can we not?”
The butler’s tone suggested he saw no real problem. Jeong-Hoon decided then and there that he absolutely had to clean this mess up.
Of course he knew the man was joking. The Twelve Vassals had moved because they trusted him. As Gaju he could not simply wash his hands of it.
“Haa… Looks like I’ll have to put on a whole performance.”
“If you have a script, I will follow it.”
“…I’ll just handle it myself.”
Jeong-Hoon sipped his tea in thought for a moment. Once his mind was settled he set the cup down again.
“Can we call the reporters?”
“A press blackout is in effect, so they cannot enter this perimeter, but a great many of them are gathered just outside.”
“Then I’ll go to them.”
He rose abruptly and examined his own suit. Covered in blood and dust—he looked a complete wreck.
Butler Joo, who had been issuing orders for the reporters outside to be notified, approached him.
“Would you like to change clothes?”
“No. This outfit is more effective. The reporters?”
“You will see them the moment you step outside, Gaju.”
Jeong-Hoon shook his head at the offer and left the container.
“Chairman, if you would come this way for a statement—”
“Is that absolutely necessary?”
“We would appreciate—”
“I’m exhausted right now. Can’t I wash up, sleep, and do it later?”
A government official hurried over as Jeong-Hoon emerged. Jeong-Hoon declined politely but firmly.
“The government is doing everything possible to resolve this terrorist incident. We ask for your cooperation.”
“What sort of cooperation, exactly?”
Jeong-Hoon took a small step back. Butler Joo stepped forward in his place.
“Regarding the escape process from the hotel and whether contact was made with Nova—”
“Are you treating our Chairman, who is a victim, like a criminal?”
“That is not—”
“This is offensive! The Chairman will return to Lumen as he is. If you have anything further to say, speak through our lawyers!”
Butler Joo cut the man off coldly and pressed him until the official retreated a step.
“You’ll see my side of the story as the headline on tonight’s news.”
Jeong-Hoon offered the official a faint smile, then walked slowly toward the throng of reporters.
The moment he passed the wall of buses the government had used for crowd control, an enormous swarm of cameras and microphones locked onto him. Jeong-Hoon let out a short, dry laugh.
That laugh alone was enough to convince the gathered press that Lumen’s chairman, Lee Jeong-Hoon, was a man of extraordinary caliber. Caught in a terrorist attack, he had personally fought the terrorists, rescued people, and now, ignoring the government entirely, was holding his own press conference. The contemptuous smile directed at the authorities was the highlight.
That was the reporters’ impression. Inside Jeong-Hoon’s head there was only one thought:
I stuck my neck out for nothing.
He had planned to do this, yet now that the moment had arrived his nerves were rattling. The smile on his face was nothing more than the result of clamping his mouth shut against a sigh that wanted to escape.
“Chairman Lee Jeong-Hoon! We heard you have a statement regarding the terrorist attack!”
“What exactly happened inside the hotel?”
“What was Nova’s ultimate objective?”
“There are claims that the force that carried out the large-scale rescue at the end was not the government. Is that true?”
Questions crashed over him like a wave before he could even open his mouth. Some were completely drowned out. Jeong-Hoon raised a hand, gathering every eye, and silenced them.
“As for Nova’s objective, please wait for the government’s official announcement. Even I do not know.”
“Sources say they were after the Awakened registry held by the Hunter Association. Is that untrue?”
“I wouldn’t know. The government would be the ones to ask. What I can speak about is what happened inside.”
Nova’s true goal was still murky, so Jeong-Hoon simply redirected the arrow toward the authorities. He had not called this press conference to enlighten anyone about Nova’s motives. He had called it solely to clean up the aftermath.
What he needed to cover up was not Nova’s terrorism—it was the identity of the unknown force that had suppressed it. In other words, the family’s identity.
“First I should explain why I attended the party at all. The truth is, I originally intended to boycott it.”
The reporters fell silent as one.
“As many of you have already guessed, Lumen has been working with Apollon Security to crack down on corruption inside the Hunter Association. We were not carrying out private justice; we simply handed every crime and piece of evidence we uncovered over to the police and prosecutors.”
The open admission that they had been policing the Association drew gasps from the press. Everyone already knew; no one had dared say it out loud.
“That is why I was hardly enthusiastic about a party designed to paper over the Association’s scandals.”
A thrill ran through the reporters. This young chairman of Lumen was changing the world. Exactly as he claimed, he was carving his name into history. Even if it meant standing against the government—against Korean society itself—he was forcing his path through.
“But I received certain intelligence. Someone had leaked the party’s details in advance. The event itself was being targeted.”
“Then why did you still attend?”
“Doesn’t my appearance answer that question?”
His blood-soaked, dust-caked suit made it obvious he had fought a desperate battle inside. The reporters exchanged puzzled looks.
“My name was also on Nova’s target list. If I had stayed away, Lumen itself risked becoming a target. So I had no choice but to go.”
He had attended fully prepared, he added. The reporters nodded in admiration at his nerve. Throwing oneself into danger to protect one’s company was not something an ordinary person could do.
“Then the force that carried out the final rescue—were they the Chairman’s private soldiers?”
“…No matter how chaotic the times have become, private armies in a democratic nation?”
The question was razor-sharp, yet Jeong-Hoon deflected it with complete calm.
“Then were they government agents?”
“That is for the government to answer. What matters is that a number of S-class hunters who were already disgusted by the Hunter Association’s corruption moved quietly and suppressed the terrorists.”
The family’s forces—specifically the A-class Awakened vassals—would be passed off as government personnel. The Twelve Vassals who had taken the lead would be recast as Korea’s own S-class hunters. That was the cover story Jeong-Hoon had prepared.
Most S-class hunters and above already felt the family’s influence. They were likely to play along with a convenient lie. And the government would gladly climb aboard the same story. A terrorist attack of this scale with nothing to show for it would be a complete loss of face.
“Then what was the purpose of this press conference?”
Jeong-Hoon had already achieved his goal, but to the reporters it looked as though he had simply stolen the government’s thunder for no good reason. The question came out blunt.
After all, if you picked the statement apart, it amounted to little more than: The government responded well enough, but since they caused the whole mess in the first place, I’m not happy about it! —a tantrum, essentially.
“To issue a warning. As I said earlier, this attack was also aimed at me. And I have no intention of letting it slide. I will make certain the other side understands exactly what it means to pick a fight with Lumen.”
And so Jeong-Hoon simply started saying whatever came into his head. He had spun a grand web of lies to manage the crisis, yet in the end it boiled down to a feast of empty words: It involves me, but I don’t really know the details, and since they touched me I’m going to take revenge.
News about the Nova terrorist attack was exploding from every direction. Even streamers were spinning wild theories and talking nonstop; the story was that hot. Less than a week had passed, and the fever was still at its peak.
“All eyes are on Gaju, but given the power of the Lumen Chairman brand, it was an excellent resolution.”
“…It was the only idea I had at the time. Looking back, I feel like I overdid it.”
Jeong-Hoon sat on the sofa watching television, shaking his head and sighing. He had deliberately shifted the credit to S-class hunters and the government, yet the spotlight still burned on him alone.
Butler Joo, however, considered it a flawless cleanup. The content of the press conference had not been what mattered. The mere fact that Jeong-Hoon had held one first meant the situation could only follow his narrative from then on. And that was exactly how it was playing out.
“There is, however, a small new problem.”
“A problem? Because I announced revenge, I actually have to go through with it?”
“Not that. Long-term retribution will be necessary, but we have a more immediate issue.”
While speaking, Butler Joo operated the remote and pulled up a streamer’s analysis video of the terrorist attack.
“Heh. You watch this kind of stuff, Butler Joo?”
“I am merely referencing it for explanatory purposes.”
The dry answer made Jeong-Hoon click his tongue; he focused on the video the butler had opened.
If you look at the witness statements and the press conference footage, Chairman Lee Jeong-Hoon fought Nova inside the hotel, right? Yet he walked away without any serious injuries. What does that tell us? It means Chairman Lee Jeong-Hoon is stronger than Nova. In other words, Chairman Lee Jeong-Hoon is an Awakened. He’s been a successful businessman since he was young, so the superpower he possesses is probably…
“After ‘Regressor,’ now we’re going with ‘Prophet’? I almost wish that were true.”
The speculation that he possessed prophetic ability—reminding him of Chairman Kim Sang-Myeong, nicknamed the Regressor—made Jeong-Hoon snort. He switched the television off.
“Just the usual baseless speculation. Why does this matter?”
To Jeong-Hoon, who as a Non-Awakened had always envied the Awakened, the video was pure black comedy. They were treating him as if he were already one of them.
“The fact that it is so common is precisely the problem. The entire world currently regards the Chairman as an Awakened.”
Jeong-Hoon found that puzzling. Even if he were an Awakened, the Awakened Personal Information Protection Act meant there was no obligation to disclose it. And when he thought about the seal, he was already halfway to being something similar to an Awakened, so the claim was not entirely wrong.
“Gaju, I believe you have forgotten something. In this country, an unregistered Awakened is illegal.”
“…Ah. Right. That law exists. So what’s the issue?”
Any test would simply confirm he was Non-Awakened, so he shrugged it off. Butler Joo produced an invitation that had arrived from the Hunter Association.
“The Hunter Association has requested that Gaju appear today and complete registration, on the chance that you were simply too busy to report earlier and remain unregistered as an Awakened.”
“Ah. So that’s how they’re playing it.”
The wording was polite, but the real message was “turn yourself in quietly.” Jeong-Hoon shook his head.
“They went quiet for a few days, and now if I really were an Awakened they plan to use this as leverage to open negotiations, don’t they?”
Between the Association’s corruption and the Nova attack, both of which had proven the Association’s incompetence, he had expected them to keep their heads down. Instead they were desperately trying to shift the spotlight onto him, and the realization drew another sigh.
“I cannot be certain of the details, but that is the estimation.”
Butler Joo nodded in agreement.
“Then shall we go? To the Hunter Association.”
“We will need to summon a great many reporters.”
Jeong-Hoon rose from the sofa with a smile whose meaning Butler Joo instantly understood. The butler smiled back as he answered.