Loyalty to the Gaju
A factory complex bordering the Yellow Sea.
At the heart of that complex rose a massive dome-shaped structure. Proof that it had not been built by the sea without reason lay in the port itself, complete with docks large enough to berth vessels of tens of thousands of tons.
“Isn’t this even bigger than Diana?”
Photon—one of the family’s seven enterprises and a full-fledged military contractor—was so immense that Jeong-Hoon could only click his tongue in awe while absently rubbing the arm where the IV had been. At the same time, a part of him found it only natural. Photon was a global defense conglomerate capable of manufacturing warships, its business spanning the entire world.
“It only looks grand because it’s a military firm. In actual scale, it’s smaller than Diana.”
“Is that so?”
Answering Head Maid Jeong I-Yeong, Jeong-Hoon turned to regard the ten of the Twelve Vassals who had accompanied him. With only two absent, nearly the full complement was present. Once they met Dong Sa-Seong, Photon’s own vassal, eleven of the Twelve would be assembled.
“No matter how I look at it, this feels like we’re marching over to strong-arm them into skipping the trial…”
Scratching his head at the unmistakable air of pressure, he nonetheless started walking. The one small mercy was that the other elders—save for Fernandez—had already returned to the family’s sacred grounds. Had the Gaju arrived with ten of the Twelve Vassals plus the Elder Council President in tow, it would have been pure intimidation.
Inside the dome that crowned the factory complex, Photon’s research facility, Jeong-Hoon felt as though he had stepped into a film set. Bright lights flooded rows of white desks where researchers worked with feverish energy. Each station was partitioned by glass walls scribbled over with marker equations and half-formed ideas.
“It’s exactly like a laboratory out of the movies.”
They wove through the gleaming interior until they reached the director’s office, itself encased in glass at the deepest end. Jeong I-Yeong stepped forward and opened the door.
“Steward Dong! The Gaju has arrived!”
Everyone inside the lab was either a vassal or a collaborator who already knew the family’s true identity. The glass walls were soundproof, so her shout carried no further than the room. Yet Dong Sa-Seong remained glued to his computer. Jeong I-Yeong could only shake her head.
His hair stuck out in every direction, his pupils slightly unfocused, his expression that of a foggy-eyed man in his forties. Photon’s vassal did not so much as flinch at her call. Only the broken combat suit on the desk and the data flooding his monitor revealed what held his attention.
“Steward Dong!!!”
This time she poured mana into her voice. Delay any longer and Fernandez—fanatic that he was—might explode at the perceived slight against the Gaju.
“Ah. You’re here. This letter contains Photon’s trial. For the record, you already pass.”
Without the slightest startlement, Dong Sa-Seong turned, slid the envelope from beside his keyboard toward them, and immediately refocused on the screen.
“Ah—Gaju. You said you kicked an Ogre Lord, correct?”
“Uh, yeah?”
As Jeong-Hoon reached for the letter, Dong Sa-Seong’s head snapped around again.
“And yet your body is perfectly fine?”
“……Is there some problem?”
Passing before he had even read the contents left Jeong-Hoon already confused; the scientist’s scrutinizing gaze only deepened the bewilderment.
“Pressure far exceeding the suit’s calibrated limit was applied. Based on accumulated data, we had judged the Gaju’s ordinary physical capability to be on par with F-class and tuned the suit accordingly. With the limiter released, it could compensate up to A-class. But the records I’m looking at now show something far beyond that.”
He continued, eyes gleaming.
“At the time, the pressure you exerted on the suit reached B-class levels. The force generated when you kicked the Ogre Lord was S-class.”
A pure human had loaded B-class pressure onto the suit, shattered its released limiter, and produced an attack without mana that could only be called an absurdly powerful A-class strike—yet the numbers were simply too abnormal. Hence Dong Sa-Seong called it S-class.
“……Is that a bad thing?”
“Bad? How could it possibly be bad? Gaju, won’t you collaborate with me to complete a true combat suit? This will be the invention of the century!”
The dull eyes ignited. Dong Sa-Seong might look like the sort who never left his corner and only hammered a keyboard, but he was an S-class Awakened. In the blink of an eye he launched from his chair, seized Jeong-Hoon’s hands, and began spinning him around.
“Amazing, right? The best, right? Pure genius, right?”
Caught in the whirlwind of an S-class, Jeong-Hoon could only follow. Resisting clumsily would get him hurt.
“That madman is running wild—shouldn’t someone stop him?”
“Compared to you, he’s adorable.”
“Watch his movements carefully even while he’s excited. He’s accounting for the Gaju.”
Han Su-Ho’s half-hearted criticism earned only rebukes from Jeong I-Yeong and Baek Si-Hwan. Ready to argue, Han Su-Ho instead sidled up to Fernandez. Surely the Elder Council President would say something.
“Council President, are you truly going to leave him like that?”
“Sir Fernandez, times have changed. That is simply his way of expressing loyalty.”
“Is that so? Then it cannot be helped.”
Assured it was not mockery of the Gaju but loyalty, Fernandez merely nodded.
“……That’s all it takes?”
Han Su-Ho muttered, having expected at least Fernandez to take his side. When every sharp gaze turned on him, he could only hang his head and stare at the floor.
After more than ten minutes of being whirled about, Jeong-Hoon was finally released, utterly drained.
“Hah… hah… Any longer and I would’ve collapsed.”
He gasped and complained, yet Dong Sa-Seong only nodded approvingly.
“To last a full ten minutes—your stamina is truly remarkable!”
“Hah… huff… Steward Dong Sa-Seong… from now on… call me Mad—”
“I would be grateful if you called me Doctor. I am a proper physicist who holds a doctoral degree.”
Jeong-Hoon had intended to brand him Mad Scientist in revenge for the bizarre dance-as-stamina-test, only to be blocked by academic credentials.
“Huu… haah… Fine. I’ll call you Doctor.”
Though the urge to say “Mad” still burned, Jeong-Hoon yielded with a nod.
“Steward Dong, when the Gaju bestows a title you should accept it gratefully. Do you dare make demands?”
“……I proposed ‘Doctor’ for the Gaju’s own sake.”
Unlike Jeong-Hoon, Fernandez stepped forward, clearly displeased. To him, rejecting a title granted by the Gaju was unthinkable.
“Sir Fernandez, consider it. Doctor Dong versus Mad Dong—which sounds better?”
“Are you trying to sophistry your way out with mere tone?”
“There is more. On the day I received my physics doctorate, the previous Gaju praised me most highly.”
That he could not abandon the title of Doctor for that reason plunged Fernandez into agony. His loyalty belonged to the current Gaju, Jeong-Hoon—yet the previous Gaju had also been his master. He could choose neither.
“Sir Fernandez, I already said it’s fine. Besides, calling him Mad Dong would force a harsh consonant sound, so Doctor definitely sounds better.”
Having caught his breath, Jeong-Hoon spoke to the tormented elder. Fernandez’s expression instantly brightened—he had escaped the dilemma. Dong Sa-Seong, however, staggered under the blow of the “harsh consonant” remark.
“So—you said I already passed the trial earlier? What exactly was in it?”
Having delivered accidental revenge via the stamina test, Jeong-Hoon unfolded the crumpled letter and began to read. Dong Sa-Seong, recovered, simply waited in silence for him to finish.
“Hmm? Why is this a pass? The trial is clearly written here.”
“Gaju, do you believe that trial holds any meaning?”
When Jeong-Hoon pointed out the task’s existence, Dong Sa-Seong shook his head in denial.
Excluding Lumen, take only the vassals of the enterprises under your command and clear one F-class or higher dungeon. The use of superpowers, martial arts, and magic is forbidden. Only weapons manufactured by Photon may be employed.
That was Photon’s trial. Merely arriving at Photon was not the task. Yet Dong Sa-Seong dismissed it as meaningless.
“Steward Yeo Tae-Hyeon of Shine, Steward Woo Do-Il of Myeongil, Steward Jeon Mun-Jae of Apollon, Steward Baek Si-Hwan of Flamma, Steward Han Su-Ho of Diana—drag those people along and an F-class dungeon is nothing.”
As he named them one by one, the others nodded. Even without superpowers, magic, or martial arts, raw physical ability alone would suffice.
“The purpose of this trial was simply to invite the Gaju to experience Photon’s superior weaponry. But Gaju—have you not already used a great many of my creations?”
The objective, not merely the wording, had already been fulfilled; thus the trial was pointless. The other Twelve Vassals nodded. There was no flaw in his reasoning. At this level, the responsible vassal was fully within his rights to declare a pass.
“Moreover, you have effectively already cleared one S-class dungeon. As the responsible vassal I have no choice but to acknowledge the pass. Forcing the trial any further would be a waste of time.”
His calm words forestalled any possible rebuttal. Jeong-Hoon could only nod. When the man in charge spoke thus, there was nothing else to do. Besides, barely a day had passed since the raid; he had no desire to enter another dungeon and tangle with monsters again.
“Uh… so does that mean I’ve now gathered all seven enterprises?”
“““Congratulations, Gaju!”””
Having passed Photon’s trial almost by accident, Jeong-Hoon murmured the question. The ten who had accompanied him, plus Dong Sa-Seong—eleven of the Twelve Vassals—dropped to one knee and cried out as one.
Jeong Si-Min, the elder among the Twelve Vassals who oversaw the family’s trainee education, was absent, but he was unconnected to the trials. In other words, every single one of the Twelve Vassals—the heads of the family’s vassals—now stood under Jeong-Hoon’s command.
With that, he had become the true Gaju. The family’s boundless power and wealth were now his to wield as he pleased.
“Then why doesn’t it feel real?”
“Then we shall make it feel real.”
Even with the Twelve Vassals prostrate before him, nothing had yet boiled up inside Jeong-Hoon’s chest. Knowing this, Elder Council President Fernandez proposed they change locations.
Behind the hanok mansion that housed the Elder Council lay not a natural cliff but an artificial one carved when the family first settled this land. Within it gaped a vast cave. As they proceeded deeper, an enormous iron gate came into view. Jeong-Hoon swallowed hard. The gate easily exceeded three meters in height.
“Sir Fernandez, what is this place?”
“The family’s sacred grounds.”
The iron gate that served as the entrance to the sacred grounds guarded by the Elder Council was surprisingly plain. Compared to the elegant hanok mansion that concealed the cave, it almost seemed beneath the family’s dignity. Yet sheer size more than compensated for any lack of grandeur.
Kuuuung!!!
Fernandez inserted a key and turned it. Purely mechanical workings—untouched by electricity—engaged, unaffected by Jeong-Hoon’s wave. The gate split left and right along the groove cut into the floor, and brilliant light flooded out from within. In a cave lit only by the barest illumination, the radiance pouring from the depths seemed all the brighter.
The roar that exploded from within the opened gate slammed into Jeong-Hoon’s eardrums. The thunderous chant of absolute conviction set the entire cave ringing.
The family’s vassals knelt on one knee, facing the entrance to the sacred grounds. In the time it had taken Jeong-Hoon to travel from Photon, more than three thousand vassals had gathered—every single one of them gazing solely at him.
“Th-this is…?”
“The Gaju’s inauguration ceremony was held only in abbreviated form at the hospital at the time. Do you remember?”
At Jeong I-Yeong’s question Jeong-Hoon nodded and looked out over the family’s sacred grounds—an enormous cavern. Even after accommodating three thousand vassals, space still remained in abundance. Though the cavern had been hollowed from the mountain’s interior, light pouring through a glass-covered ceiling illuminated everything in radiant brilliance.
The walls were finished entirely in marble, the seams filled with gold. Even the floor on which the vassals stood was marble, its joints likewise sealed with gold. At the far end rose a high altar of stacked steps, and from the entrance a path of red carpet stretched all the way to it.
“This is the reason the inauguration was abbreviated. Because there exists a true enthronement ceremony that symbolizes the Gaju becoming the genuine head of the family.”
“…….”
Jeong I-Yeong spoke the word “enthronement,” yet Jeong-Hoon only stared silently at the altar.
“Does the overly direct term displease you?”
“……No, it’s not that. Just… give me a little time for rehearsal.”
His eyes had caught the golden object resting upon the altar. He understood he could not escape this ceremony—yet to perform it at once felt too heavy for his heart.
There was no rehearsal. He merely received the script Fernandez had prepared and read it through once. With that single reading he committed as much as possible to memory, then stood alone at the very beginning of the carpet. The only other preparation was a long coat of dark fabric embroidered in gold, worn over his suit.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three thousand vassals faced the altar. Upon the middle tier of the altar stood the Twelve Vassals. Among them Yeo Tae-Hyeon struck a massive drum, stirring every emotion present.
“The two-hundred-thirty-eighth Gaju of the family, Gaju Lee Jeong-Hoon, now enters!”
Jeong I-Yeong’s voice rang through the cavern.
Bwooo—!
Jeon Mun-Jae blew a great trumpet. Jeong-Hoon took his first step.
“In the distant ancient past, an age more radiant than any other.”
“Yet an age steeped in despair, dyed in darkness.”
Ko Yu-Yeon’s cry was followed by Woo Do-Il’s.
“In that age he alone rose—”
“And led our ancestors.”
Baek Si-Hwan and Park Jin-Yang’s voices.
With every step Jeong-Hoon took, the Twelve Vassals’ proclamations thundered in emphasis.
“The greatest warrior.”
“Humanity’s eternal savior.”
As Han Su-Ho and Dong Sa-Seong’s cries ended, Jeong-Hoon set foot upon the lowest stair of the altar. Then he climbed, step by measured step. Right foot advanced; left foot followed onto the same stair; right foot led again.
“Now his descendant reigns as Guardian.”
The cry of Jeong Si-Min—an elder of the Council and the last of the Twelve Vassals yet to greet him. Jeong-Hoon had been told the man was in his eighties, yet the face that spoke was that of someone in his mid-twenties. Puzzled, he continued past the middle of the altar and upward.
“May the successive Gaju look down in mercy—”
At Fernandez’s cry Jeong-Hoon reached the summit of the altar.
“—and guide the reign of the two-hundred-thirty-eighth Gaju, Lee Jeong-Hoon, into a sacred age!”
Jeong I-Yeong’s final proclamation rang out. Yeo Tae-Hyeon’s drum and Jeon Mun-Jae’s trumpet fell silent. Only stillness remained, and every gaze concentrated upon Jeong-Hoon.
At the summit of the altar stood yet another, smaller altar. To Jeong-Hoon’s right rose a pillar set with an enormous jewel. A space permitted to the Gaju alone.
“Huu.”
Drawing a single deep breath, Jeong-Hoon stretched his hand toward the golden axe resting upon the altar before him.
From haft to head the entire shaft was carved in high relief with a dragon ascending. A golden axe that could be wielded with one hand or two. The moment he gripped it, a cool sensation spread through his palm.
Whoosh!
Raising the axe high, Jeong-Hoon turned and swung it toward the great jewel embedded in the pillar.
Kwa-jik!
The axe buried itself in the jewel, shattering it into fragments. When he drew the blade free, powder of the jewel scattered and glittered around him.
In perfect unison every vassal dropped to their knees and cried the words as one.
With that, Jeong-Hoon became the true Gaju of the secret organization that protected the world—the genuine head of the family.