Simon
Preparations for the art competition proceeded at a breakneck pace. Every resource of the CCAD (Center for Culture and Arts Development) was mobilized. As an agency under the Bohol provincial government, the CCAD was responsible for preserving and developing Bohol's culture and arts.
Two months. The submission window would open in exactly two months. Until then, the participants had to create and submit their works. They could search for new tourist spots to photograph, or they could reinterpret existing landmarks in their own unique style.
We aren't looking for entirely new places. Even a common street scene we see every day is more than enough, as long as it contains the artist's unique reinterpretation. What we want is a different perspective.
It wasn't as if Bohol lacked souvenirs. In fact, they were overflowing. Yet, the reason they never gained popularity was that they failed to express Bohol's true colors. People didn't buy them because they were generic, run-of-the-mill items like "I ♥ BOHOL" that could be found anywhere in the world. Through this competition, they aimed to find those true colors—works that would once again evoke the unique charm of Bohol. They would use those designs to manufacture merchandise and establish various souvenir shops.
A slightly different Bohol, rather than the same old one.
In that sense, Alex decided they wouldn't be the ones choosing the official award winners. There was no need to stress over the boundary between winning an award and being viable for merchandise. They told the organizers that they would separately select the entries they wanted to turn into products, and the hosts could handle the official awards however they pleased. Their sole objective was fresh, practical ideas that could be manufactured into merchandise.
When the Governor heard that Alex's team wouldn't interfere with the award selection, the gears in his head visibly began to spin. He was undoubtedly calculating who to give the awards to, who to favor, and what kickbacks he could extract in return. He was incredibly easy to read. If you dangled money and power in front of him, he was the type of man who would willingly walk straight into hell.
"To the successful launch of Candy Coin and TrustBit!"
"Cheers!"
Clink. The crisp sound of glasses colliding rang out cheerfully.
"Everyone worked incredibly hard. Thanks to you, we barely managed to pull it off. Tonight, eat and drink until you can't anymore, and take a good, long rest tomorrow."
"You worked hard too, Manager Nam!"
"You did great, Ana. And to the coin team and exchange team, thank you all. Eat up!"
The employees of GoGo Casino, Candy Coin, and TrustBit—collectively known as the online team—were having a celebratory dinner at a hotel. They had launched the coin and the exchange just recently. To ensure nothing went wrong, they had practically lived in the office for over a fortnight, barely even going home. Those fifteen days had been nothing short of a war.
"Manager, traffic is surging! If this keeps up, the servers are going to crash!"
"Didn't we prepare the servers? How is this happening already?"
"We prepared plenty of headroom, but this is way beyond that! It's unprecedented traffic!"
"Secure more servers right now. Immediately!"
"We'll have to use cloud servers, but the cost..."
"Don't worry about the cost, just get them! That's our top priority right now!"
"Yes, sir!"
"DDoS attack incoming!"
"We're running out of server capacity!"
"The hackers are keeping up the pressure!"
"Deploy the WAF! Block all bypass traffic. Maximize CDN distribution!"
"Applying now. It's stabilizing a bit."
"How's the server status?"
"There's a slight delay, but we're holding."
"Traffic has stabilized."
Every day, every hour, had been a battle. No one could leave their monitors. They sustained themselves on coffee and pizza, catching catnaps face-down on their desks just to survive. After fifteen days of desperate defense, they finally had some breathing room. In the meantime, they had continuously patched and reinforced the system's vulnerabilities. Now, they could finally take a breath.
This was their first company dinner since the launch, arranged specifically for the exhausted staff. Though their faces were etched with fatigue, they carried a clear sense of accomplishment. GoGo Casino, Candy Coin, and TrustBit were all running stably, and their user base had grown exponentially. Having passed the initial chaos, the systems were now operating normally. The services had officially entered a phase of stability.
Alex received a call from Dennis, who was guarding the armory in Zamboanga.
"Boss, a rebel faction has reached out to purchase weapons."
"Rebels?"
"Yes, sir."
"How much do they want?"
"About two hundred firearms in total—a mix of MP5s, AK-47s, and M4s."
"Dennis, you can handle an order of that size on your own."
"I was planning to, but the representative of their faction insists on meeting you in person."
"Then don't sell to them."
"Pardon?"
"They're buying a measly two hundred guns and they're already pulling the 'let me speak to the boss' card? Just don't sell. Tell them to go buy their toys somewhere else."
"But... still..."
"We're distributing weapons at dirt-cheap prices. They should just say thank you, take the guns, and go fight amongst themselves. Why are they demanding a face-to-face? I don't care about making a measly six hundred million won. Don't sell."
"Well... the thing is..."
"What?"
"Their faction is extremely powerful here in Zamboanga. If we cross them, it might make things difficult for our business here."
"I don't care if it gets difficult. I can still pay your salaries with no problem."
"Boss, it's not something we can just reject so easily."
"Really? Then you go. Go pretend to be the big boss."
"I've already done business with them a few times. They won't believe me."
"Then tell them to come here to Bohol. The thirsty dog digs the well."
. . .
"Are you the bastard who dragged me all the way here?"
"You actually came?"
"What?"
"I thought you'd be too chicken to show up."
"Ha. Look at this punk. Quite the comedian."
"Sit down. Are you going to talk standing up?"
The rebel representative slumped carelessly into a chair.
"Food? Alcohol? Coffee? Since you came all this way, the least I can do is buy you a meal."
"You think I can stomach food right now?"
"We're all doing this to make a living, might as well eat. They make a great sisig here. You sure you don't want some?"
Alex asked as he ate his sisig, "Aren't you afraid of me?"
"Why would I be afraid of you?"
"With one wave of my hand, you're dead. I can tear you to shreds so there's not even a trace left."
"Go ahead."
"What?"
"Punks who start barking the moment they meet someone aren't scary at all. You're no different from a dog yapping because it's terrified."
"What? You little bastard—"
The moment the rebel representative reached toward his waist to draw his gun, a weapon pulled from Alex's Inventory was already gripped firmly in Alex's hand.
"So? Should I shoot, or what?"
"..."
Staring down the barrel of the gun, the rebel representative froze, his hand hovering near his waist.
"Answer me."
Instead of answering, the rebel representative slowly raised both hands, signaling surrender.
"Take out whatever you've got on your waist and let's talk."
At Alex's command, the rebel representative carefully drew his gun and placed it on the table. Alex picked it up, ejected the magazine, cleared the chamber, and disassembled the weapon, laying the pieces back on the table.
"If you came to work, let's work. If you came to eat, let's eat. I'll buy you a meal, so eat up and get lost. Go buy your guns somewhere else."
The rebel representative was left utterly speechless.
"I'm done eating. If you have nothing else to say, get up."
"Well, the thing is..."
"Don't mumble. Speak clearly."
"We... we need a partner."
"What kind of partner? Are you going to prom? If you're looking for a date, you've come to the wrong place."
"Not that kind of partner. A strategic partnership, so to speak. Let's become comrades sharing the same cause."
"Hmm... Do you and I have the kind of emotional connection to be having this conversation?"
"We can build that starting now."
"Oh, so it's like a 'sleep together first, date later' kind of deal? If we partner up, what's in it for me?"
"First, we'll buy weapons from you."
"I don't care if you buy them or not. Exclude that."
"Once we take over the government, we can help your business."
"Pfft! Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but that's just too absurd. My bad. So, you're going to take over the government? And once you do, you'll help us?"
"Yes."
"And what do we have to do?"
"We'd like you to sponsor us with some weapons."
"Bwahaha! What a shameless bastard."
"What? Watch your mouth."
"You're the one who needs to watch out. Walking around with that kind of mindset is a one-way ticket to getting shot. This isn't Mindanao where you guys hide out. This isn't your home turf where you can do whatever you want."
"Anyone with half a brain wouldn't let those words leave their mouth. Because there's zero chance. You guys haven't even taken over Mindanao, let alone Zamboanga, and you're talking about taking over the government? Ahahaha! Seriously, this is the funniest thing I've heard all year."
As Alex laughed and mocked him, the rebel representative's face flushed with anger. Offended, his voice dropped to a low growl.
"I suggest you stop testing my patience."
"Hehe, but it's funny. Laugh with me. Didn't you tell me that as a joke?"
"..."
"Do you know why the UN Peacekeeping forces don't deploy to the Philippines? Have you ever thought about it? There's only one answer. Because you rebels are absolute jokes. They think if they just leave you alone, you'll destroy yourselves. Or they think the Philippine military is more than enough to handle you. That's why the UN doesn't bother. Because you have a zero percent chance of succeeding."
"Did you think I'd be an easy target just because the armory got a young new owner? Did you think if you came here and barked a bit, I'd shake in my boots, sign a partnership, and open the armory doors for you? Did you think the world was that easy? Must have grown up nice and sheltered, huh? Are you some rich kid?"
The rebel representative trembled with sheer humiliation. If he had a gun, he would have shot Alex on the spot, but his weapon had been taken. The confiscated gun lay disassembled on the table, its bullets rolling on the floor. It had been a mistake to leave his bodyguards outside the restaurant for the sake of security. If he had known it would turn out like this, he would have kept them right by his side.
He regretted it, but it was already too late. Realizing it was all over, the strength drained from his body. The entire trip to Bohol had been pointless.
To be completely honest, the young man was right. His organization had no money. That was why they had tried to sweet-talk the young arms dealer. They hoped he would be swayed by the promise of future government favors. They wanted to get sponsored with weapons, and if it worked out, great; if not, well, they had nothing to lose. But it had failed completely. His smooth-talking was utterly useless here. There was nothing to be gained.
The rebel representative stood up.
"Leaving?"
"I have to. You're not giving me weapons anyway."
"Do you always give up this easily? Tucking your tail and running the moment things look slightly difficult without even trying to negotiate?"
Unable to contain his rage any longer, the rebel representative swung a fist at Alex. But Alex was not about to let himself get hit by such a punch. Easily dodging the reckless swings, Alex delivered a heavy blow to the man's abdomen, knocking him to the floor.
Doubled over from the impact, the rebel representative immediately began to gag and throw up.
"Ugh, gross... Seriously, if you don't even know how to throw a punch, why swing? Now you're making me feel bad."
"Hahaha... Ahahaha!"
The rebel representative started laughing while wiping his mouth. Is this guy crazy? Alex thought. There's not a single sane person in the Philippines. They're all out of their minds.
Alex handed him a bottle of water.
"Your mouth must taste bitter. Rinse it out."
The rebel representative stared at him with a bizarre expression. Was it strange to offer water to someone who had just thrown up? Vomiting left a bitter taste, so rinsing was only logical.
"See? We could have just talked, but you had to pull a gun and swing a punch. Now you've just made things hard for the cleaning staff. Leave some cleaning money before you go."
Even at those words, the rebel representative kept his head bowed, unable to look up.
"What's your name?"
"Simon."
"Simon. Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. Simon, I absolutely despise rebels. I lost my family to rebels."
Only then did Simon lift his head to look at Alex.
"If I had it my way, I'd grind every last one of you to dust. But the only reason I leave you be is because even if I wipe you out, more will just pop up somewhere else. Like cockroaches in a house. No matter how many you kill, they keep coming back. In a situation like this, what do you think I should do?"
"Do what?"
"How do I get rid of the rebels I hate so much?"
"..."
"By creating one incredibly powerful rebel faction. A faction so strong that it devours all the other rebels."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You might be a bit dim, but you don't seem inherently evil. So I'm going to give you a chance. A chance to become that incredibly powerful rebel faction."
"What?"
"How long would it take you to gather information on all the rebel groups in the Philippines? Their leaders, numbers, influence, bases, everything."
"Maybe... a month? Two months?"
"Too long. I'll give you ten days. Bring me the information. And a plan on how to deal with those rebels. If I like it, I'll sponsor you. No, actually, I'll buy you."
"What..."
Alex pulled twenty thousand dollars in cash from his Inventory.
"Think of this as... not a down payment, but a donation. You'll need money to investigate, hire people, and all that. Take care of yourself and don't overwork. Just bring it to me within ten days. That's plenty of time, right? Put it in a clean, neat PowerPoint presentation. If you bring me some scribbles on a piece of paper, I'm going to be pissed."
"Uh... uh... okay."
"Then get going. See you in ten days."