09. Militaris
The rainy night felt exceptionally deep. The city's lights blurred hazily, illuminating the heavy fog that blanketed everything. Beyond it, the neon glow shone brilliantly, as if symbolizing Incheon's dignity in this era. An official population of 30 million made it a massive metropolis—the wealthiest economic hub in the world. Skyscrapers pierced the heavens, and vehicles zipped between them like molten iron from a blast furnace. Tens of millions of boiling passions and desires propped up this city.
Police Chief Jang Kyung-su loved gazing at the city's nightscape late at night. Rain made it perfect, like a movie scene where he was the star.
"One trillion?"
He stood about 2.3 meters tall, his entire left side cybernetic. It unbalanced his right side, giving him a grotesque vibe, but he forced it into a tailored suit. He chuckled, his massive frame shifting heavily.
"Whose dog is named one trillion?"
"…."
He must've weighed at least 180 kilos. He waddled to the oak desk chair and pulled open a drawer. Out came an exquisite cigar case. A faint aroma wafted already, but when he fully opened it, the deep wooden scent blended richly with the cigars' heavy fragrance.
With delicate fingers unfit for his bulk, he picked one up, clipped the end, and put it in his mouth.
"You brought it to me 'cause you can't move that much product yourself."
He lit the cigar. Sizzle. The thick smoke loosened his mind as he inhaled dreamily. But he pushed back the haze with sheer will. Enjoy the vibe, sure—but sinking in was for amateurs.
"So, listen to my terms."
"Sorry, boss. They're not budging at all."
He jabbed a cigar-holding finger at his bowing subordinate.
"Drugs are all about distribution. If you can't sell 'em, what're they good for? Trash. To distribute in Incheon, you gotta go through me. Or peddle gutter scraps like those Namdong scum."
In this hellish city—30 million registered, another 20 million ghosts without IDs—plenty sold drugs. But scale up, and you'd hit Jang Kyung-su. He ruled the police and the underworld drug trade.
"So, you ID the guy who approached us?"
"Nothing. Total fog. No clue where it came from. Sourcing that volume's tough here… even if homebrewed, every chem lab for ultra-pure stuff's in our database."
"Exactly. If it was made here, I'd know."
"Yes. We're checking mainland imports."
"Scour Shanghai hard. The brass keeps squeezing 'em with mergers and economic colonies—locals are restless. These junkies'll shake too. Like pirates raiding Joseon's ass, those chinks'll cross over."
"Got it, boss. So the deal…?"
"…."
Jang Kyung-su paused. Days ago, mystery contacts showed him a unheard-of new drug. Tests on minions? Effects blew existing shit away—paradigm shift, minimal side effects.
That stuff hitting the market's a disaster. I take it or torch it. One or the other.
Even at 100 billion, it was undervalued. Stable supply projected 1.5 trillion profit long-term. Storage and distro costs would trim it, but over a trillion seemed locked.
"500 billion. That's my offer."
"If they say no?"
He quietly extinguished the cigar.
"In this city, I'm the only one who handles drugs."
"Understood, boss."
The subordinate left; another entered. The first had a dingy black vibe—this one wore a uniform, more legit.
"Chief, the intel you wanted."
He took the files wordlessly, flipping slowly.
"Hoo… our young master's… way too active."
Untapped cigar smoke billowed out.
"He's swallowing entertainment whole. Aiming straight for it. Plus, pushing a total ban on sex tributes—our street guys are getting pissed. At this rate…."
High-end fun could collapse. Agencies funneled idols through backdoors; failed ones and trainees flooded here with prime pussy. That pipeline was clogging.
Not great for Jang Kyung-su.
"…What about Goryeo Group? Any backup?"
"Nothing special. They follow basic assists and orders, but ops are Goryeo Enter folks and a few limbs."
"Hm."
Jang recalled Ko Mu-yeol's Incheon debut—solo, no guards. Without Prestige tip-off, even he, police overlord, nearly missed it. Assigned bottom-rung escorts; now the kid stirred shit everywhere.
"You got a son, right?"
"Yes. Eight now."
"Bad example, sorry—but say he turns junkie. Tried everything, no dice. Junkies are hopeless."
"…."
"You cut losses, rent him a flop, toss pocket cash. Then he fucks up the whole district."
"…You're talking Ko Mu-yeol."
"Some punk he pisses off stabs your junkie kid. What do you do?"
"…."
The sub pondered long.
"Still my boy… I'd hunt the bastard down and kill him."
"Tch. Yeah."
Jang closed the files.
"Ko Mu-yeol's the discarded grandson. Sent into this hell solo, no protection."
"But… Goryeo Group?"
"Exactly. Gotta nudge gently. Smile polite: 'Young master~. Can't go wild here~.'"
"Think it'll work?"
"Who was the escort again?"
"Songdo civil support Team 3, Inspector Im Sua."
"She clocks in at his place daily?"
"Lives with him."
"Need a pretext to call her."
Jang rose, eyeing the nightscape again.
"Tell Inspector Im Sua to drop by HQ. Superintendent promotion."
"Guh, guh…!!"
"More! Push harder!"
"Guhh!!"
"More… more… just a bit!"
"Ughh!!"
"Almost, almosst~, yeah! Fourteen!"
"Huff."
"Don't drop it sudden. Brace. Hold."
"Ngh."
"One more."
Fuck
"Okay, one more. Raise your arms. There."
"Ughh…!!"
"Bite down! Yeah! Almost up! You got this, master!"
This psycho
"Seriously, just 3cm more! 3cm! Yeah!"
"Hngh."
"No dropping. Hold. Brace."
"Ngh."
"Slow now~. Hold to the end and lower."
I set the bar down, gut churning like I'd cummed ten times straight. Dizzy, stomach roiling.
"No more… can't…."
"…."
Sua smirked faintly beside me. That half-lift looked like mockery.
"Master~, just one set~."
"…."
"Empty bar too~."
"I'm a beginner."
"…."
"In rehab!!"
"…Y-yeah. But one set's nothing. 30 seconds rest, then set two."
"…."
October 19, Monday. Baekseol left for PMC admin training, so I squeezed in a workout. Not some gym PT—no, crammed gear into an empty Goryeo Enter office spot, getting drilled by Sua.
Ko Mu-yeol was such a drugged-out wreck that even empty-bar bench nearly killed me. But I had reasons.
Push limits, break 'em—stats rise. Vague hunch before, but stamina confirmed it.
Stamina 10 per daily max ejaculation. Exceed and fuck on? Stat up.
Learned via marathon pussy-pounding. Pre-stat max: 8/day, 10 peak condition. Barely—not fun, pure quota. After 5, sex hurt more than pleasured. True bliss? 3-4 times.
Hot bitches helped push near-limit, but endless railing bumped stamina +9 in just over a week. Nearly +1 daily. Now, 4-5 ecstatic loads/day.
Inspired, I tested other limits. Martial prowess easiest—hence gym hell.
But fucking brutal.
"Got a great idea."
"?"
"No point burning willpower here. Everyday exercise. Sandbags on arms for routine."
"…."
"Even sex—dumbbells on waist while pounding."
"…."
"Skip this shit then?"
"Set two. Grip the bar, master."
Fucking bitch