The Trap Springs on Mujin Construction

A police car rolled into the underground parking lot, its emergency lights flashing red and blue.

Fortunately, the call was still connected. South Korea's emergency response system was seriously top-tier. I had dialed 112, reported that I was currently kidnapped and bound, and they had kept the line open, bridging me directly to the officers arriving on the scene. God bless the Republic of Korea's public services.

I had only banged my head against the glass out of fear that they might miss me and drive away, but apparently, that wasn't necessary. Did I bruise my forehead for nothing? They said they could hear me if I just screamed.

"Over here! Help me!"

"Over here!"

Even as I shouted, I wriggled my body up and down to make the car rock, just in case they still couldn't spot me. The parked sedan began to sway.

Seeing the parked car rock back and forth, the officers quickly made their way over. Perhaps they had responded thinking it was a prank call or some minor dispute, because their eyes went wide the moment they saw me bound inside. They tried to yank the rear door open to rescue me, but it was locked. After trying all four doors one by one and realizing they were all locked tight, one of the officers turned to his partner and spoke. At first, I thought he was talking to thin air, but he was actually addressing his body camera.

"We are going to break the window. Glass shards may fly, so please move as far away from the window as possible."

The second warning was clearly meant for me. I squirmed and crawled from the rear passenger side over to the seat directly behind the driver. Once the officer confirmed I had moved, he drew his telescoping baton and swung it with a sharp snap.

Shatter!

The window imploded. The officer reached his hand through the jagged gap and unlocked the door from the inside.

"Let me help you out."

My hands bound behind my back, my legs tied tight, and the rope anchoring me to the seat to prevent any escape—every detail was captured vividly on the bodycam. Perhaps worried about potential legal disputes later, or feeling that the bodycam footage alone wasn't enough, the officer who broke the window pulled out his personal smartphone and began snapping photos of me and the car from multiple angles.

I had never experienced anything like this in my life. I felt like a professional model. It was actually a little thrilling.

The officer grabbed his radio and called for backup.

"We need an ambulance at this location. One kidnapping victim."

Then he looked down at me. "We're going to take you to the hospital first. Once we make sure you don't have any serious injuries, we'll take your statement."

"Yes, sir. Understood."

Shortly after, the ambulance arrived and whisked me away. The police remained behind to conduct a brief search of the vehicle. In the glove compartment, they discovered ropes, utility knives, and heavy-duty cable ties. When they popped the trunk, they hit the jackpot: a stash of sashimi knives, steel pipes, and baseball bats.

From a police perspective, this was a situation that absolutely could not be swept under the rug. A full-scale investigation was mandatory.

"Officer Kim, run this license plate immediately and request backup from headquarters."

"Yes, sir!"

"Squad Leader! We just got word from Officer Kim on the scene. It's a confirmed kidnapping."

"What?!"

"And we ran the vehicle's plates. It's registered as a corporate vehicle under Mujin Construction."

"What? Seriously? Is God finally on our side? Excellent. This is it. We're going to tear Mujin Construction apart this time. Mobilize every available officer. We're moving out right now!"

"Yes, sir!"

Squad Leader Go immediately requested tactical support from the SWAT team and headed straight for Mujin Construction.

I will bring you down today, no matter what.

Squad Leader Go renewed his vow.

Mujin Construction. It had once been a small but solid company before Yang Nam-hyeok swallowed it whole through predatory loan sharking. Since it was run by a bunch of thugs, its performance and revenue should have plummeted. Instead, Mujin Construction experienced explosive growth, sweeping up every public and private contract in the region.

But the process was riddled with highly suspicious incidents. The CEO of a rival bidding company suddenly vanished. The head of a civic group protesting their construction projects was critically injured in a mysterious accident. The representative of a redevelopment union opposing them abruptly fled the country.

Recognizing the need for a thorough investigation, the police had repeatedly requested search warrants, but every single one was rejected. Even the detective who had pushed for those warrants was suddenly reassigned to a remote precinct.

No matter how one looked at it, something was rotten. Anyone who crossed paths with Mujin Construction met a grim end. It left a foul taste in Squad Leader Go's mouth.

Then came the tipping point. A fellow officer had responded to a report of a brawl at one of Mujin Construction's active sites. A few hours later, that officer was found dead on the premises. The official cause of death was ruled an accidental fall—concluding that he had simply misstepped while inspecting the dark site at night.

He was a junior detective whom Squad Leader Go had cherished like a younger brother.

There was no way in hell that was an accident. Every fiber of Go's being screamed that Mujin Construction was responsible. Yet, the higher-ups refused to authorize an investigation, instead burying Squad Leader Go under an avalanche of unrelated cases.

Even while drowning in other paperwork, Go and his team had quietly kept gathering evidence, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And now, a kidnapping report had come in, and the vehicle involved belonged to Mujin Construction.

It was a godsend. They could use the kidnapping as a pretext to raid the entire place. This wasn't just a vague suspicion anymore; they had caught them red-handed in an active felony. They could round them up, slap the cuffs on, and sort out the details later. Once they started digging, they were bound to find a mountain of dirt.

You bastards are looking at a minimum of three years just for the kidnapping.

Slap! Crack!

The sound of brutal, open-handed strikes echoed clearly even outside the chairman's office. Yet, the employees working in the outer office kept their heads down, focusing intently on their monitors as if they were completely deaf to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the violence.

Chairman Yang Nam-hyeok was personally beating Jin Beom-gyu and Heo Yeong-gi after they confessed to losing the delivery bag. After kicking their shins and slapping their faces while they stood frozen like stone statues, Yang finally grew tired. He slumped back onto the leather sofa, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and spoke in a hollow, exhausted voice.

"Beom-gyu."

"Yes, Chairman."

"You expect me to believe that? If you were in my shoes, would you?"

"Of course not, Chairman. I can barely believe it myself, so how could I expect you to? But Chairman, if I had stolen that bag for myself, would I have come back here? Wouldn't I have run far away? The moment I realized things had gone wrong, I ran straight to you. I don't know what was inside that bag, but I will do whatever it takes to make up for it. So please, Chairman, do not doubt my loyalty."

Jin Beom-gyu's calm, earnest plea seemed to sway Yang Nam-hyeok slightly. He took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of gray smoke.

"Sssss... Haaah. Beom-gyu, how long has it been for us?"

"It has been twenty-five years, Chairman."

"A long time. But Beom-gyu, if I thought you were the kind of bastard who would run off with my money, would I have trusted you with that delivery in the first place?"

"..."

"I trusted you with it because I knew that, if nothing else, you would never betray me. If I thought you had pocketed it, I wouldn't be slapping your face—I would have severed your Achilles tendons. I know that. But still, I can't just let a mistake of this scale slide."

"Yes, Chairman. I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

"Do you even know what you were delivering?"

"I did not check the contents, sir."

"Of course you didn't. With your personality, you only ever do exactly what you're told... There was a hundred million won in cash in that bag. It was a bribe for Assemblyman Kim to ensure we secure the upcoming bid. No matter how much the world changes, nothing beats slipping someone cold, hard cash. Even putting aside the mess this makes with Assemblyman Kim, that's still a hundred million won. What are you going to do about it?"

"...I will sell my organs if I have to, to raise the money."

"How much do you think those rotten organs of yours would even fetch? Don't talk nonsense. Instead, this time, we'll use Assemblyman Kim to..."

Just as Yang Nam-hyeok was about to whisper a covert proposal, the heavy doors of the office burst open with a deafening crash. A squad of heavily armed SWAT officers and detectives flooded the room.

Yang Nam-hyeok stood frozen, utterly bewildered by what was happening. Jin Beom-gyu and Heo Yeong-gi exchanged looks of sheer disbelief. But their confusion lasted only a second. Steel handcuffs snapped tightly around their wrists, and they were dragged out, loaded into police cruisers, and hauled off to the station.

After being admitted to the hospital, I underwent a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠battery of medical examinations. Honestly, getting beaten up was practically a daily routine for me, so I didn't see ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the point, but the staff insisted it was absolutely necessary. It wasn't like they were going to pay my medical bills, yet they ordered test after test.

When I stripped off my clothes for the examination, my body was a canvas of bruises and lacerations. The marks left by the gangster who had ruthlessly pummeled me in the car were vividly etched into my skin. He really should have been more precise with his strikes. I knew he was a brute relying purely on raw strength from the moment he laid hands on me. That first punch that knocked me flat had been quite impressive, but everything after that was a massive disappointment. Deep, raw rope burns ringed my wrists and ankles, and my torso was covered in dark contusions.

"My goodness..." the doctor muttered, shaking his head. "With injuries like this, you're looking at at least an eight-week recovery period."

Aside from the external trauma, the tests showed no major internal damage. Even so, they insisted I be hospitalized for observation and rest. Again, it wasn't like they were footing the bill. The over-treatment in these hospitals was seriously out of hand.

A short while later, the detectives paid me a visit.

"Can you tell us exactly what happened?"

"Of course. Should I just start from the beginning of that day?"

"Yes. Please be as detailed as possible."

"Understood. I'll tell you everything in detail. It started out as just another ordinary day. The sunlight was warm, and the air was crisp. It was the kind of perfect weather where you'd want to spread a picnic blanket in a quiet park, lie down, and just stare up at the sky. A day that would have been made even better by listening to some instrumental music. My last class of the day was English. After school let out, I was riding my motorcycle back home. I recently bought a motorcycle, you see. It's a Honda, and the moment I saw the design, I fell in love. So I bought it without a second thought. Of course, I got my license first. I went to a private academy to get it, and the tuition was a whopping one million won. Those driving schools are way too expensive. Anyway, I was riding that motorcycle home from school when the accident happened. Suddenly, bam! Someone rear-ended me. I lost my balance and wiped out. Do you know that intersection? The road that curves in right past the hospital. There's a really great gimbap place right on that corner..."

Since they had asked for details, I did my absolute best to describe every single aspect of the situation, hoping my statement would be helpful.

But for some reason, the detective's expression was rapidly souring by the second. Did he have indigestion?

Eventually, I returned to school, but Yang Jeongwon was nowhere to be seen. Rumor had it that his father had been formally indicted. The charges against him were incredibly colorful: murder, kidnapping, extortion, and more. He was looking at a prison sentence of at least twenty years. On top of that, with the murder of a police officer pinned on him, his chances of a commuted sentence were absolute zero.

Once Yang Jeongwon's father was locked away, creditors swarmed their house from all directions. I heard that Jeongwon had no choice but to flee his home overnight.

I actually felt a little bad. If I had known things would turn out like this, I would have at least returned his gold necklace. I once heard that gangsters wear heavy gold chains because they never know when they'll have to go on the run. They wear their wealth around their necks instead of carrying cash. It was literally his emergency escape fund.

Unaware of that, I had gone and locked his precious escape fund away in my Inventory. He probably needed to sell that just to buy a decent meal, and I felt a twinge of guilt for depriving him of it.

There was also a lingering sense of professional regret. I should have taught him a bit more boxing. I really needed to fix his habit of flaring his shoulders before throwing a punch. Only then could he go out into the real world and make a proper living as a top-tier thug.

I wondered if this was the bittersweet sorrow a master felt when sending their disciple off into the world.

Then again, who was I to worry about others? My own future was a towering mountain of anxiety. Graduation was just around the corner, and I had no idea how I was going to survive. What was I supposed to do with my life? That was the real problem.

Going to college would be nice, but my grades were utterly abysmal. Sure, there were bottom-tier schools that would accept anyone who simply submitted an application, but I had no desire to waste hard-earned money on some useless degree.

The only other option was to keep working as a delivery driver, but life was far too long to spend it entirely on a scooter. Besides, I didn't need to commit to delivery work right now. The greatest advantage—and disadvantage—of delivery gigs was that the pay rate was exactly the same whether you had one hour of experience or thirty years. There was absolutely no incentive to spend years mastering the craft of delivery. There was no reason to stick to a single path. I could just pick up delivery work whenever I needed quick cash, and I'd still get paid the exact same rate as a thirty-year veteran.

I briefly considered going on another road trip. I had my motorcycle, and I still had some money left over. But winter was fast approaching. It was going to be freezing, and riding a motorcycle would only make the wind chill unbearable. Traveling on icy roads on two wheels? That was a recipe for disaster. Motorcycle trips were strictly for the summer.

During class, I pulled out a notebook and began mapping out a plan for my future. After agonizing over it for days, I finally came to a decision.

"Let's just join the military."