Not Steel Armor, But Sting
Anyway, rolling the baldies is still rolling them, so first things first—I need to tackle the non-problem that's right in front of me.
"So what brings you here?"
"Huh? Oh... Our association president doesn't trust you, so he told me to keep an eye on you."
"That old bastard?"
Daring to drag a busy guy like me in for all that questioning, and now he doesn't trust me? Is this fucker asking for a beatdown? Wait a sec. More importantly, what the hell is this Memory Hunter's angle, spilling everything to me like this?
"So you're the one who showed up?"
"Yeah."
"And you're just telling me that straight up?"
"What's the problem with that?"
"Fair enough."
He's so brazen about it that I've got nothing to say.
Memory Hunter, having laid out his purpose so boldly to me, wandered the office like he owned the place, checking it out. Then he spotted the liquor on display in one corner and lit up.
"Whoa! Tequila. Huh? Hold on—Ultra Premium? You madman! This stuff costs over $240,000 a bottle! And this is Chateau d'Yquem?! Armand de Brignac?! You crazy son of a bitch! What the hell have you been drinking all this time?!"
Ultra? What? What the fuck is he on about?
Memory Hunter, shocked by the booze, started spouting nonsense I couldn't follow. What's his deal?
"It's just booze—why the freakout?"
"You lunatic! Just booze? One bottle of this could buy a house! And you call it just booze?!"
"It's booze—what else is it?"
Even if a bottle cost as much as a house, to me it was pocket change. My inventory still held the endless cash I'd swiped from Hero Bank.
"Damn it! You drink shit like this every day?! No wonder everyone's dying to turn villain!"
"If you like it so much, have some."
"For real? Thanks!"
"..."
Memory Hunter popped the cap and chugged straight from the bottle. He seemed crazier than me. Making a huge fuss about how expensive it was, then not even bothering with a glass.
Was this guy's character always like this?
He used to have this serious, rough edge, but now he was just your run-of-the-mill drunk.
"Ahh! No wonder it's pricey—the taste is unreal."
"Anyway, so what's your plan?"
"Oh, right. I'll be sticking around you for a while to keep tabs."
"...What?"
Is he shitting me?
Memory Hunter plopped onto the sofa, propped his feet on the table, and kept drinking, ignoring my bewilderment.
"I've been beat lately. Gotta sort through the intel I've gathered too."
"So you got orders, but really you just wanna crash here and chill?"
"If I had to put it that way, yeah."
"'That way'? Fuck that—get out!"
"Hahaha. Looking forward to hanging with you."
"Don't laugh—get the fuck out!"
He grinned slyly and took another swig. What a psycho.
*****
"What a psycho."
I shook my head at the sight of Memory Hunter hanging with Mark Two.
Heroes and villains alike—finding a normal one is impossible. What S-rank hero in their right mind tells an S-rank villain, "Gonna babysit you for a bit," and crashes at their place?
Memory Hunter pulled it off like it was nothing. Definitely a psycho.
"Sigh, fuck."
"Ow! Why the cursing?"
"Huh? Oh, you're here? Sorry, not at you. Just some psycho pissing me off."
"Psycho? Who?"
"There's this guy."
"Huh?"
Sujeong tilted her head. So damn cute. And she was even in her real nurse uniform—not the cosplay getup from the hotel.
"Missed you."
"Eek...! B-but we saw each other yesterday!"
"It's been over twelve hours. Didn't you miss me?"
"Ugh... No, I didn't?"
"Really? That hurts..."
She slumped her shoulders like a puppy scolded by its owner. Sujeong flinched, clenching and unclenching her fists, at a loss.
"Guess you didn't miss me. Fine... I'll head out then."
"W-wait! I missed you! Happy now?"
"Hehehe. Sujeong."
"What?!"
"You know how much I love you, right?"
"Ugh... Yeah."
She groaned, but I could tell. She loved hearing my confession. Proof? Her face was beet red.
"So why'd you call me out?"
"Wanna fuck you."
"You're insane! We went at it yesterday, and you want more?!"
"Yeah. And lunch break's coming up. Let's eat together."
"N-no! Absolutely not!"
"Really? For real?"
"Ughhh... Why do you look so disappointed?!"
I slumped again, and she fidgeted anxiously.
"You said no..."
"F-fine! Lunch together, okay?!"
"For real? Then sex too."
"No way! I'm still on shift!"
"It's fine. I'll make it quick."
"Liar!"
"Huh? How'd you know? Sujeong's getting sharp."
"Ugh...!"
She pouted, all pissed. So cute.
"Hey, Sujeong."
"What?!"
"Got a favor to ask."
"What?!"
"Jungbo—er, Ragnar Green, one of my guys?"
"And?"
"His mom's hospitalized here. He's the guardian. Can you check her status?"
"Huh? No, that's illegal—can't share patient info."
"I know. But he's my guy. A boss has to look out for his men's families, right? Help if I can."
"W-well..."
She wavered, torn between her love for me and her ethics. I could see it plain as day.
Truth was, I didn't need her—I could bribe the head nurse who adjusted her shift yesterday for the info. But asking Sujeong was a test. If she'd agreed outright, her affection for me would've been maxed at 100. Her hesitation meant it wasn't there yet.
Time to pound her harder.
Pound her with my dick till she's hooked? Few women resist that intense pleasure.
After agonizing, she nodded.
"J-just patient info?"
"Yeah. No need to print anything—just why she's here, how serious, bills paid up, that kinda thing."
"Got it. Wait here."
"Sure."
Sujeong headed upstairs to check.
"That fucker Jungbo. Distracted elsewhere, so the baldies are slacking."
With him gone, the crew's falling apart. Fix this quick, drag him back, put him to work.
*****
Sujeong returned soon.
"Uh..."
"What? Bad?"
Her face said it all.
"...Cancer. Started as lung, spread 'cause treatment was late. Hospital says she might not make the month."
"Shit. Sigh..."
I sighed deeply. No wonder he's off his game.
Fix his mom's issue fast, get him back.
"And..."
"Huh? More?"
"Bills are three months overdue."
"...Overdue?"
Why? I don't pay the baldies salaries—just let 'em skim. Over 300 in Skull Head Group now. Can't micromanage that many. Left it to Jungbo, figured he'd skim plenty and stack cash.
So why overdue?
"Thanks for checking. Sorry for asking."
"It's fine! But no more! Got it?"
"Yeah. Hey, Sujeong."
"Yeah?"
"Me first, or lunch first?"
"..."
Her face flushed. I grinned at her stammered reply.
The pure nurse who knew no men was dyeing in my colors.
*****
After a quick twenty-minute car sex with Sujeong, I hunted down Jungbo's mom's ward.
"Ten-bed room?"
What the fuck does he do with his money? Or bad blood with mom?
A full ten-bed ward, stuffy with sick air. At her bed, I scanned around. No Jungbo—just a soundly sleeping granny.
She looked ravaged, skin clinging to bones—another pound and she'd be a mummy.
"Sleeping and eating here, huh."
Her bedside piled with his clothes, reeking of unwashed months.
"Tch."
I tsked, drew the curtain, donned the Infi Mask. He didn't know my face, and never would.
"Mm... Kar here...?"
As I straightened clothes—not sitting in this pigsty yet—the sleeping mom woke.
"Ah..."
"Who... are you?"
My passive Elder Respect skill triggered at her question. I bowed 90 degrees, polite as hell.
"First time meeting, ma'am. You're Ragnar Green's mom, right?"
"And you are?"
"I work with Green—Sting's my name. Technically, his boss."
"Kar's boss? Nice to meet you. Oh dear, look at me. Gotta offer something..."
I hid my Steel Armor identity. What parent wants their kid in a villain crew? Hence the mask.
"No need, ma'am. Just ate lunch. And this is a visit gift."
"You didn't have to..."
I showed the fruit basket and juice box, set them down.
"Where's Green, anyway?"
"Home quick. Oh no, this mess... Wait, I'll clean."
"No, it's fine. I sit anywhere. Not even that dirty."
I sat, ignoring chair dust.
"What brings you?"
"Should've visited sooner—heard today."
"No need. Grateful you came to a dying old bat."
"Don't say that. You've got years left."
"I'd just burden Kar longer."
"Heh! No such thing. Here, try this juice—my fave. Fresh-squeezed fruit, delicious."
"Thanks."
I opened a box, handed her some. Her death talk was awkward—juice to shut it.
The sweet sip cheered her; no more death chat. She asked about Jungbo instead.
"Kar doing well at work?"
"Absolutely. Company'd grind to halt without him. Not flattery—never lied in my life. He's vital."
"Really?"
No parent hates kid praise. She beamed.
And it wasn't bullshit. From Skull Head's start, I'd loaded him with tasks. Without him, shit'd creak everywhere.
"Once, this happened... Our Green, he..."
"Really? My boy did that?"
"Swear!"
I spat on my lips, hyped his praises hard.