Don't Get in My Way
Even without rain, the air inside the industrial complex was always damp. The sky was obscured by thick smoke and smog, makeshift planks bridging rooftops haphazardly, tangled power lines and pipes weaving a chaotic web like a massive net. The streets were no different. Chaos and disorder. Illegally expanded buildings leaned precariously against each other, crammed with shanties filling every gap. Building exteriors were plastered with peeling paint, graffiti, and grimy flyers, rusty corroded metal jutting out jaggedly. Unless it was the quieter outskirts, steam, rust water, and polluted sewage leaked everywhere, breeding foul odors and disgust. Puddles on the roads added to the filth, crawling with bugs or rats the size of a man's head—enough to send disgust levels skyrocketing. Hot steam hissing unpredictably, mud squelching underfoot and sticking to shoes, rats skulking at the edge of vision, pickpockets lurking for any lapse. It was a hellish space where you couldn't afford to space out for a second.
"This place never grows on you."
Igohyang gazed out through the massive cracked old window. The industrial complex lay covered in filth that made your skin crawl just looking at it—neglected rusty pipes overflowing with sewage—and beyond it, faintly shimmering in the distance, Incheon's grandest nightlife and richest district, Songdo Future City.
Of course, it looked tiny from here. Those massive buildings, skyscrapers casually topping hundreds of meters—they were smaller than a fingertip. Towering holographic ads piercing the sky, laser light shows blazing—they seemed pathetic and small. But the hope they embodied looked hundreds of times greater than the entire complex.
Igohyang wanted to escape this godforsaken city—no, this embarrassing slum. As soon as possible, even a minute sooner, she wanted to scrub off the grime of the complex clinging to her body and live as a proper human. For that, she needed something usable not just in this shithole but outside. Not just any valuable item, but something the locals wouldn't covet yet valuable in the outside world. That was the only way to survive this sewer.
In her mind, there was only one such thing.
'Land deeds for this shithole district.'
Papers that would never gain value as long as this sewer existed. No wonder—gangs ruling each zone printed their own deeds, turning any legitimate ones into instant trash.
But she saw hope. Someday, this district would vanish. Whether external military or police stormed in, they'd sweep away the garbage gangs and return it to the rightful owners. So she steadily collected them. Useless Namdong Industrial Complex land deeds no one valued, amassing a whopping 500,000 pyeong. Of course, no one acknowledged it. They just mocked her. Crazy bitch wasting precious money on garbage.
The crowning insult: once, hired by the southern zone gang boss, he tossed her 10,000 pyeong worth, saying, "This is all you need, right?" and cackled. His thugs clutched their stomachs laughing. Igohyang silently gripped the deeds. People laughed harder. That's when she became Danto.
Crazy bitch Danto, dagger-crazed cat (Igohyang) thief bitch, etc. Nicknames condensing her traits. The cat part came from her name but mostly her jobs: to protect herself in a place crawling with scum, she hid her form with compression bandages, skin-tight full-body suit, and cat mask. Moving only at night, roofs over roads, leaping between buildings—she got treated like a cat. Hence Danto.
"Hey Danto, heard the news?"
As usual, entering the neutral club's backroom for jobs. The bartender, always ogling her curves despite the bandages, suddenly said that. He rarely said anything worthwhile, so she tuned it out—until a line she couldn't ignore.
"They say there's someone like you out there too."
"What?"
"Someone's scraping up land deeds here."
"Scraping up... land deeds here?"
"Yeah!"
The ugly bartender—blond short ponytail, dark freckled skin, horn-rimmed glasses, one gold front tooth—grinned sleazily.
"Offering a grand 1,000 won per pyeong! Kahahaha!"
"…."
1,000 won per pyeong. Better than nothing, but not what she wanted.
"Lemme see, our little Danto's got what, 50,000 pyeong? That's... whoa! 50 million won?? Enough for a rundown villa!"
He feigned shock dramatically. Pure mockery. The whole place erupted in laughter.
"Whoa~ Our cute stray cat busted her ass for years, even half-price promos, and finally pays off!"
"...Shut up."
Danto had offered half-price jobs for deeds, even free for big lots. Yet the reward? 1,000 won per pyeong. But did he know? Danto—no, Igohyang—had been far more obsessive, collecting via jobs, buys, even theft when possible.
'500,000 pyeong at 1,000 won each is still 500 million.'
She feigned annoyance but paid attention. Way below expectations, sure. But the key was a price forming at all. Going from zero to one is hard; one to ten isn't.
'Endgame approaching.'
If true, time to vanish. They'd ignored her when worthless; now they wouldn't. If most folks learned Namdong land traded at 1,000 won per pyeong, and Danto's holdings leaked?
'Bosses might already know.'
500 million total wasn't enough to move bosses—risk of disrupting their order. But at 5,000 won? 10,000? 100,000 per pyeong??
'A pipe dream... but at 100,000, 500,000 pyeong is...'
50 billion. Even for a no-ID slum girl like her, that meant anything—properly cashed in.
"For real?"
"Huh?"
"Really just 1,000 won? Not bullshit? Who's buying?"
"Kahaha! Why deny reality? Face it!"
Seemed legit. Mocking that hard meant truth.
'Time to bail.'
Decision made: finish today's job, ghost. Escape Namdong cost big, but with value emerging, worth it.
'Get out, forge ID, housing... prep new life.'
Value emerging meant the slum's doom. Nothing else explained it. Survival demanded exit.
"Gimme today's job."
"Sheesh, so frosty. No wonder they call you furball."
"Shut up and job."
"Yes, yes~."
Bartender tsked, handed paper.
4-2-3-1-4-2
He thumbed behind. A narrow door curtained, barely one-person wide. Simple jobs via bartender; big money, secrets via backroom. Always pricey.
'Perfect for last one.'
She brushed past coldly, down endless corridor. Per instructions: right at 4th, left at 3rd, etc., finally opening client's door.
Several stunners sat there—beauties that'd make any woman gawk.
"Ah~, you're Danto? Nice to meet you. Im S... nah, just call me Team Leader Lee."