Jericho's Legacy

An empty warehouse. I frantically began stuffing weapons into bags. The place was packed with things I wanted to take. There were even strange, exotic weapons I had never seen before.

As you know, my Inventory operates on a slot system. Storing a single gun takes up one slot as "Gun x1," but storing a bag takes up one slot as "Bag x1." In the space meant for a single pistol, I could fit twenty or thirty pistols if they were packed inside a bag. That was why I always needed bags.

I had bought a massive quantity of bags from Namdaemun Market to organize the guns I took from the rebels last time, and that purchase was paying off handsomely now. Back then, I had bought every type and size of bag available. I pulled out as many bags as I could and stuffed them with any weapon that looked decent. I could worry about organizing them when I got back.

But more important than hoarding weapons in my Inventory was keeping this place running. I couldn't let such a goldmine go to waste after a single raid. I had to make this operation sustainable. That was the real reason I had told Scott to bring the survivors back. I needed information. You can't make a decision without knowing the facts.

Just as I finished packing the essentials, Scott returned, leading the three men who had now become our hostages. The trio seemed startled to see their dead boss, but that was the extent of their reaction. None of them showed anger, vowed revenge, or shed a single tear over Jericho's death. They seemed to accept it with a numb, detached resignation, as if thinking, Well, I guess that happened.

Even so, I felt the need to clear up any misunderstandings. "Don't get the wrong idea. I didn't kill him. He was taken out by his own security system."

"It certainly appears so," replied one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the men, who looked to be in his thirties.

"How do you know that?"

"I was the one who planned and oversaw the design of this warehouse. Judging by where he fell, I figured the security system got him. If you had killed him, Boss, you probably would have done it outside before coming in."

What the? Why is he so smart? Why is he being so logical and scientific?

"Oh? What's your name?"

"I'm Dennis."

An ace. I had caught an absolute ace in my net.

"Good. I like you, Dennis. What else do you know?"

"As Jericho's secretary, I handled all the practical operations. I know everything there is to know about this organization."

"Really?"

"It's the truth."

"Then do you also know where these weapons come from and how they're brought in?"

"Of course. I was the one who established the smuggling routes."

"Oh? Does that mean you can still smuggle them in even without your boss?"

"I can't speak for other regions, but bringing them here to Zamboanga is well within my capabilities."

"That's more than enough. I like you more and more."

"Thank you."

"How about working with me?"

"If you'll have me, I'll do my absolute best."

"You might have to take over the entire organization here. Can you handle that? Won't there be infighting if you suddenly become the boss?"

"I was already running almost everything anyway, and I'm second-in-command. With Jericho gone, I'm next in line."

"Oh, look at you, so sharp and cooperative. I like it. But you know, before we start working together, shouldn't we be completely honest with each other?"

"Ah... yes, of course."

"In that spirit, let me ask you one thing. What were you planning to do with Scott after you caught him?"

Dennis, who had been speaking without a hint of hesitation until now, faltered. He looked deeply uncomfortable.

"If you don't answer, the guy standing behind you will. And instead of you, someone else will take over the organization. Oh, and you'll end up with a bullet hole in your forehead."

As Dennis continued to hesitate, Scott, standing beside me, raised his gun. Look at him, knowing exactly how to intimidate. He was a remarkably fast learner.

Only then did Dennis reply in a trembling, sheepish voice.

"We kidnap anyone who comes alone, take photos of them, and contact the people saved in their phones to demand a ransom."

"Is that all?"

"And then... we harvest their organs to sell, keeping both the ransom money and the organ money." Dennis's voice dwindled to a barely audible whisper.

I looked at the men standing behind him. "Is this true?"

Scott aimed his gun at them again. The men quickly nodded in unison.

"Yes, it's true. That's usually how we handle solo targets."

"Wow, you guys are some seriously wicked bastards. You never had any intention of letting them live from the start, did you? You pocketed the ransom, the organ money, and even the transaction cash? What a bunch of thrifty, efficient entrepreneurs."

"We're sorry! Jericho ordered us to do it, we had no choice!" Dennis blurted out, launching into a desperate stream of excuses.

"Scott!"

"Yes, Boss."

"These bastards were planning to kill you. What do you want to do with them?"

"Isn't it proper etiquette to repay death with death?"

Huh? Where on earth did he learn to say something so cool?

"Right? That's only fair, isn't it?"

"Please, forgive us! If you spare our lives just this once, we'll live honestly and work hard!" Dennis's expression completely shifted. His smart, composed demeanor vanished, replaced by sheer desperation.

"But how can I work with someone who tried to kill my guy? Put yourself in my shoes. Would you work with someone who tried to murder you?"

"There was absolutely nothing personal about it! We only met today, how could there be any personal feelings? We were just following Jericho's orders. I'm so sorry! I beg for your forgiveness!" Dennis bowed so low his forehead practically scraped the floor. The men behind him, realizing they were on the verge of death, fell to their knees and began begging for mercy as well.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, absolutely!"

"Scott, they're begging for forgiveness. What do you think?"

"Since they seem genuinely repentant, I'll just take one of their Achilles tendons."

What is wrong with this guy? Isn't this the part where he's supposed to say we should forgive them? That's how the script is supposed to go!

"Let's go with something else. If you cut their Achilles tendons, they won't be able to work."

"Ah, good point. Then I'll take four of their molars instead." Scott barked at Dennis, glaring down at him. "You can still work even if you can't chew properly, right?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Absolutely!"

At that moment, Dennis felt a deep, burning resentment toward the deceased Jericho. He had only done what he was told, and now he was in this pathetic state. First he almost died, then he almost had his Achilles tendon sliced, and now he was about to have four of his molars ripped out. That greedy, selfish bastard. Even in death, he's completely useless. I'm glad he's dead.

"So, how do you want to do this? Pull them now, or later?"

"I'm a bit tired right now, so I'll keep them on tab and pull them out one by one whenever I feel like it."

"Oh, that's a great idea. Dennis, you agree to this, right?"

"...Yes..."

"And the guys in the back? You agree too?"

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"......Yes."

"Excellent. Now that our grievances are settled, let's talk business, shall we, Dennis?"

"Yes, please go ahead."

"From now on, how about you work under me, stop doing bad things, and live an honest, upright life? You know, just doing some modest arms smuggling on the side?"

"Excuse me?" Dennis was utterly bewildered. He seriously questioned whether "honest and upright" and "arms smuggling" could ever belong in the same sentence.

"Jericho is dead anyway, but this warehouse is still here. There are plenty of weapons, and you even know the smuggling routes. Wouldn't it be a waste to just let it all sit here?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"You seem smart enough to handle it well. I'm asking if you'd like to live a diligent, honest life as an arms dealer, rather than ripping people off like you did under Jericho."

"If you give me this chance, I will do my absolute best."

"Alright. I'll take your word for it. From today on, you're on my payroll. I can only pay you a monthly salary of forty thousand pesos—about eight hundred dollars. But in exchange, I'll provide social security, health insurance, and a housing fund. Oh, wait. Dennis, you should get a bit more. The head of an organization naturally deserves a higher cut."

"What? Excuse me?" Dennis was stunned. A salary? Had he ever received such a thing in his life? A steady, guaranteed paycheck every single month? Jericho had only tossed him some cash whenever he felt like it; there was never any concept of a regular salary. And on top of that, social security, health insurance, and a housing fund? He had always assumed those benefits were reserved for the privileged elite, but now he was about to step into that world himself. As he stood there, dazed with shock, I spoke up again.

"Even if it seems low, there's nothing I can do. It's company policy. But I'll give you incentives for every transaction we make. How does that sound?"

"Thank you so much! I will do my absolute best!" Dennis and the men behind him bowed deeply, their faces flushed with overwhelming gratitude.

"Great. Let's make it official then. Scott, do these guys have their IDs on them?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Take photos of them and send them to Patrick right away."

"Understood."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Patrick.

Dennis still couldn't believe what was happening. Just moments ago, he had been begging for his life, terrified he might be killed. Now, he was a legitimate, gainfully employed worker. On top of that, he had been granted full authority over the local organization. When he first entered the warehouse and saw Jericho's corpse, a fleeting thought had crossed his mind: If I kill this guy right now, can I take all of this for myself? But that thought had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

The man standing before him was truly terrifying. He had dismantled their entire organization in the blink of an eye. In a place like Zamboanga, crawling with rebel factions, their group had managed to survive solely due to their overwhelming firepower. Yet, against this single man, they had been utterly powerless, thoroughly toyed with. No matter how much he simulated it in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his head, Dennis knew he stood zero chance of defeating him. They were operating on completely different levels.

Above all, there was a strange, inexplicable energy radiating from the man. He looked young, yet he possessed an irresistible aura that suggested he had weathered every storm the world could throw at him. He seemed casual, almost lighthearted, but he was completely invincible. Dennis had no desire to defy that aura. Foolish greed would only hasten his death, just as it had for Jericho. At the very least, Dennis possessed enough reason to suppress his primal instincts.

"Dennis, how are the guys who got shot earlier?"

"They should be fine if we get them treated quickly."

I pulled twenty thousand dollars out of my Inventory and handed it to Dennis.

"Use this to take them to the hospital, buy them some food, and maybe host a team dinner. Can you handle that?"

"Of course. I'll make sure to smooth things over with them."

"Good. I knew you'd do well, Dennis. Also, within a week, take an inventory of all the weapons here and send it to me. I've already taken photos of everything, so if you want to lie to me, go ahead. Just know that if you do, your head will be the next thing I take."

"I'm too faint-hearted to even dream of doing such a thing."

"Excellent. Contact me if anything happens. And pick out any decent guys left in your organization who aren't here right now, and send me their IDs. I'll get them hired too. Limit it to exactly ten. Selecting the right people is a skill in itself."

"Thank you for the opportunity. I'll make sure to select only the most capable talent."

"Alright, I'll be on my way, so clean up nicely here."

"Um... excuse me, Boss..."

"What is it now? Aren't we done?"

"To open and close this warehouse, we need the master code, but I don't know it. Only Jericho knew the number."

"Really? I'm not sure if this is the right one, but come here."

I leaned in and whispered the numbers into his ear.

"543987. Did you memorize it?"

"Yes, I've got it."

"Then I'll leave it to you."

"Have a safe trip back, Boss."

On the way back to the hotel, Scott's face looked quite flushed with excitement. Come to think of it, Scott had played a massive role today.

"You worked hard today, Scott. You did a great job. Thank you."

"No, Boss. I'm just glad I could be of some help."

"I'll be relying on you in the future too. Hanging around me might lead to a lot of dangerous situations, but I feel reassured having you by my side."

"I'm also incredibly grateful to you for saving my life today, Boss."

"By the way..."

"Yes, Boss?"

"Are you actually going to pull Dennis's molars?"

"Pfft. I don't have a hobby of pulling teeth. I just felt like that was the right call to make in that situation. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all. You did great. Excellent job, haha."

"Thank you, Boss."

I felt incredibly satisfied. With a mere twenty thousand dollars and a promise to employ a few of his guys, I had completely taken over an arms smuggling syndicate. The weapons I had already stashed in my Inventory alone made this an incredibly lucrative venture, but now I had swallowed the entire organization whole.

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Of course, there was plenty of room for trouble. There was a high probability that Dennis or other members of the syndicate would betray me. I had managed to suppress them for now by instilling fear, but there was no telling when their minds might change. Since I was so far away and couldn't actively manage them, it was only natural that the temptation to betray me would arise. But it wasn't as if I could live here, and even if I did, those prone to betrayal would still find a way to do it. It was simply unpredictable.

I also had to worry about inventory going missing. Just as handling rice cakes inevitably leaves flour on your hands, handling weapons and cash meant some of it would inevitably leak along the way. Honestly, those kinds of incidents were so common that I just had to accept them as a cost of doing business. If I tried to micromanage and catch every single discrepancy, it would drive me insane.

I had already made a massive profit. My Inventory was packed to the brim with weapons. There was no need to get anxious just because I didn't have absolute, flawless control over every single detail. I only needed to take what was reasonable. My reason always stayed a step ahead of my instincts. I would delegate the work, granting them trust and authority. If they betrayed me, I would simply fire them—and perhaps file a few embezzlement charges to make their lives miserable. I had already secured everything I wanted. But what if they actually worked hard? Well, that would be fantastic. I'd absolutely adore them. I'd make sure to reward them handsomely.

Back in my hotel room, I sipped a cold beer while scrolling through the phone left behind by the late arms dealer, Jericho. The password? It was indeed 543987. I didn't usually have a hobby of snooping through other people's phones, but I had suddenly developed one. Wow... what on earth was this guy doing every night? His photo gallery was an absolute sea of flesh. Damn... there are no words to describe this... This bastard really lived like a king.

To be fair, I hadn't opened his phone just to snoop. I was curious about how arms dealers communicated and conducted their transactions, which turned out to be not much different from drug dealers. But then, I spotted a familiar app. It was the very cryptocurrency exchange app I used to trade coins back when I was in the military. Though my own coins had been delisted, leaving me with nothing but worthless digital dust, curiosity got the better of me, and I tapped the app open.

But wait... is this for real? Can there really be this many zeros?

As I stared at the screen, I couldn't help but gasp in sheer disbelief.