I Am Not a Good Person

I am not a good person. I know that well enough without anyone having to tell me. I've killed, and I've stolen. I am absolutely not a good man. Nor do I have any desire to become one. I'm perfectly fine living as a bastard.

Even so, I try to keep my promises. A promise isn't something forced upon you. It's a mutual agreement. "Want to meet at seven today?" Then you show up at the meeting spot by seven. If seven doesn't work, you change it to eight. If eight doesn't work either, you reschedule or meet on another day. It's entirely negotiable. But once that promise is set, you keep it. That negotiation was made precisely so it could be kept.

Yet, there are always people who make promises and break them. I find such people incredibly rude. I honestly don't understand why they make promises they have no intention of keeping.

Well... greed can get the better of anyone. Maybe they wanted to pocket the cash without handing over the ammunition. I get it. Greed is an instinct, and it's hard for reason to triumph over instinct. The more foolish a person is—foolish enough to break a promise—the harder it is for them to resist their base desires. So, I understand. If he had just taken the money and vanished, I might have just cursed him out and let it go. Sure, the fifty million won I paid for the ammo would have stung, but I could have moved on. Greed is instinctual. That would simply be the limit of his foolishness.

But this bastard got too greedy. Kidnapping? Now, that's crossing the line. Is it because of my old squad mates? I absolutely loathe it when my people get hurt or attacked. No matter how annoying they might be, or how much they still have to learn—if we eat together and shoot the breeze together, they're one of mine. And one of mine just got kidnapped. The bastard who promised to trade with me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠broke his word and took my guy. No ammo, and Scott was taken. I have absolutely no intention of tolerating such disrespect.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I fired before they could lay another hand on Scott. Three men collapsed to the ground, and the rest scattered in an instant. I immediately repositioned. Bullets tore through the space I had occupied just a second ago. I suppose it made sense for arms smugglers to be packing heat. I moved, fired, and moved again, repeating the cycle. In the meantime, three more went down, and Scott—who usually seemed a bit slow—managed to take down two himself. He wasn't lying when he said he knew how to fight. The back of his head, where he'd been struck, seemed fine too. Thank goodness.

The enemies hunkered down, but I kept moving and firing. Perhaps thoroughly shaken by this unexpected turn of events, the boss of the gang called out to me.

"Who are you? Who the hell are you?!"

"Why do you care about my name when you're about to die anyway?"

"Why would I die?!"

"You kidnapped someone without even having the guts to die for it? That was incredibly reckless of you."

"Wait, hold on... You think this is a kidnapping? You've got it all wrong!"

"Wrong, my foot."

Bang!

The boss had poked his head up slightly, so I sent a round snapping past him.

"I surrender! I'm putting my hands up! Don't shoot! Everyone, hands up!"

The boss barked orders to his men, and they all emerged with their hands raised. Only three of them could walk out on their own two feet. The boss spoke, keeping his hands high in the air.

"It's a misunderstanding! I swear, it's a misunderstanding!"

"Then explain."

"We couldn't bring the ammunition to the meeting spot, so we brought him here to give it to him!"

"You bring a customer's associate in by bashing the back of his head? Is that how you do hospitality around here? Pretty violent, don't you think?"

Meanwhile, Scott walked over to them, searched their bodies, and bound them with zip ties. I didn't know what this place was, but there were piles of zip ties, chains, and plastic sheeting lying around. Scott carefully gathered their weapons, wallets, and phones, then forced them onto their knees. Watching Scott handle things so smoothly made me proud. My training was definitely paying off.

"It's the truth! The ammo was too heavy to transport, so I told them to politely invite him over. My boys must have misunderstood and made a mistake. I'm sorry!"

Bang!

A bullet grazed the boss's thigh. He shrieked in agony.

"Aaaargh!"

"That was incredibly cowardly. People make mistakes, sure, but shifting the blame onto your subordinates? That's just pathetic."

"It hurts! It hurts!"

"You won't die. It just grazed you. And Scott, once you're done tying them up, patch up the ones who got shot. We need to keep them alive."

"Yes, Boss."

"Now, shall we resume our chat? So, you brought him here to give him the ammo? Where is it, then?"

"Th-that..."

"This is turning out to be a much bigger mess than I thought. What should I do with you?"

"No, wait! It's really here! Not in this building, but in our actual warehouse!"

"Be honest with me. What were you planning to do with us here?"

"Just... give you the ammo..."

Bang!

A bullet grazed his other thigh.

"Aaargh!"

"I like having conversations, but I absolutely despise excuses. You never know—if you're honest, I might just let you live."

"Really? You'll let me live?"

"That depends entirely on your answers."

"We... we just wanted to scare you a bit and squeeze a ransom out of you. That's all. It would have worked if you hadn't cowardly ambushed us from behind."

He was lying. I could tell it was a flat-out lie. He had another motive, but he wasn't talking. He just kept spinning ridiculous excuses. Well, playing along wouldn't hurt.

"Is the ammo really there?"

"Yes, it is."

"Lead the way. Let's go see."

At my words, the boss's face twisted into an arrogant smirk.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"I don't see any reason why I should show you."

"Fair enough. Then you die. It's not like you're the only one who knows where the warehouse is. I'll just kill you and take one of your boys who does. Anyone here know where the warehouse is?"

"I do!"

"I know too! I'll take you there!"

Even so, the boss still looked smugly confident.

"You can't open the door without me. It requires an iris scan. The door is made of reinforced specialty steel; you'll never break through it."

"Doesn't matter. I'll just gouge your eyes out."

"What?"

"Did you seriously set up biometric security without anticipating that? If it's a fingerprint scanner, you chop off the finger. If it's an iris scan, you scoop out the eyeball. Simple. So you don't need to worry about that. I guess we're done here, then. Safe travels to the afterlife."

"Wait, wait, hold on! Why is this conversation going this way? I made a mistake, okay? I apologize! I'll give you the ammo! Then we're even, right?"

"Not quite."

"What do you mean, 'not quite'?"

"If I tried to kill you, but you didn't die, would we be even? Would that settle the score? The math doesn't add up."

"Then what do you want?!"

"Let's go to the warehouse and talk about it there. We'll figure out how to balance the ledger."

This time, it was my turn to flash a sinister grin.

The warehouse wasn't far. A five-minute drive brought us to the location. We left the rest of the bound thugs behind and moved in with Scott. I had initially worried they might call the police if left alone, so I planned to leave Scott behind to watch them and go by myself. But Scott assured me it was fine to go together. He said they would never call the cops. When I asked why, he told me not to worry. He had packed all their phones, wallets, and weapons into a bag, leaving them with no way to contact anyone. He had also warned them that if the police showed up, we would assume they snitched and hunt down everyone listed on their IDs—killing every single person living in their homes. He had babbled something in Tagalog earlier; that must have been what he said. He was a fast learner. He already knew how to make a proper threat. Even I felt a slight chill.

We arrived at the warehouse and opened the outer door. There was no iris scanner. Just a cheap padlock you could find anywhere. Was he lying? I wondered. But once we stepped inside, a massive, heavy silver door blocked our path. It really was reinforced steel. Next to the door was a keypad for iris scanning and password entry. The boss punched in the code, scanned his eye, and spoke.

Son of a bitch. There was voice recognition too. Every single word out of his mouth was a lie. He was utterly untrustworthy.

With a heavy clunk, the red light above the door turned green, and the door swung open.

"There. Happy? Go on in."

The man gestured for me to enter first. But what was this? A sudden, ominous feeling washed over me. Why would a bastard who lied with every breath tell me to go in first? There was definitely a catch. I grabbed the boss and pulled him slightly toward me, and I felt him instantly tensing up to resist. This was a hundred percent a trap. I used my strength to drag him forward and shoved him straight into the warehouse. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Unprepared for my sudden move, the boss couldn't even fight back before he tumbled headfirst into the room.

And then, a hail of gunfire erupted.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-bang!

What the hell? Gunfire? Startled, I peered inside the warehouse. The floor was slick with blood, and the boss lay collapsed in the center of it. The warehouse's security system had triggered. The bastard had opened the door but hadn't deactivated the security system. No wonder he was so eager to let us go in first; he had a damn good reason. But still, guns for a security system? I had expected a net or something to shoot out, so this was a shock. Isn't this a bit much? The boss lay there, bleeding out. I wanted to save him, but if I went in to drag him out and got shot myself? No, thank you.

"Hey! How do you turn this off? Huh?! You need to turn it off so I can save you!"

"5... 4... 3... 9... 8... 7..."

I immediately punched 543987 into the keypad.

The screen flickered once, but nothing else seemed to change. This made me even more anxious. Even though I had entered the code, I didn't have the courage to just walk in. The bastard had lied way too many times. I was worried this might be another trick. I was terrified that the moment I stepped inside, the guns would lock onto me and fire. But I couldn't just leave him like that, and I was dying of curiosity to see what was inside.

"Hey, I entered the code, but nothing happened. Is it safe?"

"Hey! Say something!"

"Hey! HEY!"

But no sound came from inside the warehouse. Was he dead? Even if I wanted to check, I couldn't bring myself to step inside. I didn't have enough lives to test my luck here. As a last resort, I found a stick outside, took off my shirt, draped it over the end, and waved it around inside the doorway. There was no reaction. It seemed to be a motion sensor, and since it didn't react to the clothes, the security system had likely shut down. Still, I was uneasy. As I kept waving the stick, Scott stepped forward.

"I'll go in."

"Why the hell would you go in?"

"Someone has to go in and check."

"And why does that 'someone' have to be you?"

"There's only you and me here, Boss. Besides, you just saved my life earlier."

"I hired you to work, not to throw your life away. And a boss is supposed to protect his employees. That way, I can exploit you for longer. So stop getting in my way and back off."

I couldn't bring myself to send Scott in. I was grateful for his loyalty, but I couldn't push him into danger. I tossed the stick aside and waved my hand past the doorframe—faster than anyone else, differently from the rest. No reaction. Had the security system really shut down? I needed to go in, but I was still terrified. Looking around outside, I spotted a sheet of scrap metal left over from construction. I held it up in front of me like a shield and slowly, cautiously stepped into the warehouse. The metal sheet was heavy and cumbersome, but I refused to put it down. If the guns fired, they would probably pierce this sheet, but it would at least sap most of their momentum. I moved carefully, keeping my body hidden behind the metal.

The security system seemed to be off. I made it halfway across the warehouse, and not a single shot was fired. Still, I didn't put the metal sheet down. I reached the boss, but he was already dead. He wasn't breathing anymore. I had suspected as much when he stopped answering, but confirming it left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had actually wanted to save him. Honestly, I hadn't planned on killing him. Why did he have to be so greedy? Greed is instinct, and instinct triumphs over reason. It was just a pity.

Since no guns fired no matter how much I moved, I finally accepted that the security system was deactivated and tossed the heavy metal sheet aside. And then, the full view of the warehouse entered my eyes.

"Holy shit. What is all this?"

The warehouse was absolutely packed with weapons. Scott, who had followed me inside after I dropped the metal sheet, gasped in shock alongside me. There were handguns, submachine guns, assault rifles, sniper rifles, and even mortars. C4 explosives, hand grenades, landmines, and crates of ammunition. Suppressors, scopes, red dot sights, night-vision goggles, thermal imagers, bulletproof vests, and tactical vests. I was a veteran myself, but these weapons were better and far more diverse than anything I had seen in the military. There were everything from state-of-the-art drones to vintage firearms. If a military geek stumbled in here, they would lose their mind. Staring at this staggering mountain of weapons, a sudden question popped into my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head. What should I do now?

Leaving with just the twenty thousand rounds of ammunition as promised was out of the question. No matter how much of a promise-keeper I was, this was different. We had just stared death in the face, and we deserved compensation for it. The situation had changed, so the terms had to change too. I agonized over what to take from this vast sea of weaponry. I couldn't fit all of it into my Inventory anyway. I had to choose and take only what I needed, but leaving anything behind felt like an absolute waste. I wanted it all.

Then, an idea struck me.

"Scott, go back to the other warehouse and bring those three guys who surrendered at the end."

"Yes, Boss."

Scott grabbed a handgun and headed back toward the abandoned factory. Left alone in the warehouse, I stared at the massive arsenal before me, my mind racing to calculate my next move. But for some reason, I couldn't stop a grin from spreading across my face.