Passing the Message
"Poke, you say?"
"It's an old story. From back when he was eating out of the same bowl as me."
Won-goo had one more contact with ties to Ganjeol Point—Mu Beob-sa. But he'd confirmed not long ago that the mage's connections weren't as springy as he'd hoped, so he'd shelved the idea of playing that card. Besides, the operation currently underway demanded absolute secrecy, which meant he'd had to shop around for another route.
"Wouldn't the contact have gone dead when Poke got dragged off?"
"Once a line's connected, it doesn't snap easy. Can you get me a line to Poke?"
"If it's for you, Director, no problem. The higher-ups were absolutely thrilled about this whole affair."
"I didn't hear anything about them taking a beating, though?"
"Everyone knows clearing a tower isn't easy, even in its early stages."
That much was true. If it had been easy, Baek Seol's organization would have assembled a team the moment it was discovered and sent them straight in. There was plenty to gain, after all—if her side cleared the tower, they could simply convert it into a facility.
But no matter how much backing they had from the Company, people inevitably grew cautious when lives were on the line. And from the Company's standpoint, employees were precious resources. They couldn't just throw anyone in and let them get themselves killed.
"Good. Glad you see it that way. Did they contact you about keeping the relationship warm?"
"Something like that. So Poke... do I just bring him over here?"
"No need for anything that complicated. Just find out his straw's name and how to reach him in an emergency—get me those two things and pass them along."
"Understood. But you do know, right?"
"Know what?"
"Poke still hasn't fully bent the knee. Which means he might try to pull something."
"Of course I don't believe a word out of that bastard's mouth. Don't trust his straw completely either. He's a reference source, nothing more."
"Got it. I'll find out right away. I'll bring more medicine while I'm at it."
"Sorry to keep dumping errands on you."
"That's what friends are for. You know the deal if anything good comes up, right?"
"I never forget you, Baek Seol. Always grateful. Once this case wraps up, I'll double your medicine fees."
"I told you, it's fine."
Baek Seol rose to her feet with a smile.
"Oh, right. Baek Seol."
"Yes?"
"Can you pass along some messages? Doable?"
"If they're in a shelter. Nothing too far out, though."
"Then we're fine—they're all in shelters. This one's for Sanghae. This one's for Sapiens. This one's for Danshin. You know who Danshin is, right? He'll be in full panic mode by now."
"No need to worry about that one. I warned him before I left."
"..."
Won-goo's mouth fell half open. That was a level of foresight even he hadn't expected.
"Damn. That one actually surprised me."
"Watching him leave, he looked like he was about to."
"Right. Just these two, then."
"Should I deliver them separately?"
"Doesn't matter. Those bastards will tear them open and share anyway."
"Dad. I went in trying to be nice, but they didn't take it that way."
Cain, freshly returned, stood before Ganjeol.
Ganjeol was in the middle of a meal. Despite his age, not an ounce of fat clung to his frame—and yet the sheer quantity he consumed was staggering. He ate enough to rival a competitive eater, then still had room for dessert. Few among his inner circle knew just how much of a glutton he truly was.
It was Ganjeol's defining trait: the face he showed the world and the man behind closed doors were complete opposites. His life in Slow was the same way. Only a handful of people could enter his mansion, and only a few executives knew that more than ten women classified as concubines lived within its walls.
"You bring bad news while I'm eating."
"You're the one who told me to report right away."
"Nam-seok. Look me in the eye. You really went there and spoke nicely?"
Clack.
Ganjeol set down his chopsticks. Even so, the women kept bringing food out. It was nothing like the lavish spreads of the pre-apocalypse world—the same basic dishes, mostly rough and rustic since ingredients were so hard to come by. But the portions were enormous, and the variety plentiful.
"I did speak nicely."
"There are plenty of men more capable than you. Do you still not understand why I sent you anyway? I gave you another chance."
"I know. I know, but—this time I really did."
"Then walk me through it. It truly went that way?"
"They'd laid out food. But before eating, they asked a question. What I planned to do about the shelter."
"Sanghae said that?"
"No, Sapiens said that."
"And?"
"I told him we'd make it like Slow."
At that, a smile crept across Ganjeol's lips.
"So you didn't follow orders."
"Dad, but right after that, I moved to close a proper deal. That much is my discretion."
"And yet you couldn't even finish the conversation. Haah... What am I going to do with you? There are barely a handful of my children with high-tier Gifts, and one of them veers off track like this..."
"That's why I tried to talk it through, but those bastards kept needling me—"
"Bringing Sabbath under Ganjeol Point's banner isn't just about the resources it produces. I'm looking further ahead. There's no end to the territory we could expand into..."
"I'm sorry, Dad."
"So what conclusion did you come back with?"
"I said we'd settle it in the field."
"Haah... so blood must be spilled after all."
"Should I go back there now and try again?"
"You think a Ganjeol Point executive should show his face that cheaply?"
Ganjeol was older than the world knew. The gap between him and Cain, in fact, exceeded fifty years—which meant Cain was a child born after Ganjeol had already passed fifty. And here was the more startling part: Cain wasn't even the youngest. But precisely because the latecomers came with such vast age gaps, there was an inevitable soft spot in him for them.
"..."
"If you said we'd settle it in the field, that's as good as a declaration of war. It can't be helped now."
"With Gong Won-goo cleaned up, they've got real nerve. And they've got that many heavy hitters?"
"There are quite a few Named among their active survivors. But they're laboring under a delusion."
"...?"
"The delusion that there's some grand loyalty binding the survivors to the shelter they operate out of."
"But—"
"Where did you learn to trail off like that?"
When Ganjeol's eyes hardened, Cain swallowed and stiffened.
"They looked solid."
"They've built a lot, so of course they're desperate to protect it. Who do you plan to attach to this?"
"I'll bring the teams under me. There are plenty of active fighters. More than enough."
"Tch. And you called this important."
"Dad, I don't know much else, but I've never lost a fight. This kind of thing—"
"With Gong Won-goo already eliminated, I don't believe you'd lose. But the content of a fight matters too."
Ganjeol found it suffocating that he had to teach Cain everything from one to ten, but he'd resigned himself to it. Being dull-witted in that particular way was, in the end, a matter of aptitude. Above all, Cain was younger than his looks and his sly, easygoing confidence suggested. He was still at that blood-hot age, and Ganjeol made allowances for it.
"Still, mixing hands with another team is—"
"Right. That could backfire. I'll attach my Royal Guard instead."
"Seriously?"
Numerous teams operated under Ganjeol—that was the basic structure of Ganjeol Point. But beyond the independent teams, there was also a guard force that kept close to Ganjeol himself. They were the manpower that sustained his luxurious life in the mansion, and while the guard had no single standout figure, their average level was terrifying. Every one of them was an survivor enhanced beyond the current Named benchmark. And their numbers were immense.
"Yes. I'll give you thirty. That should be plenty."
"Plenty."
"Do well. Show them something definitive. And the shelter's merchants—you keep every one of their lives attached."
"And their underlings?"
"You may dispose of them."
"You're not telling me not to lift a finger, right?"
"Repair their hands just enough that they can still work."
"Understood."
Cain broke into a bright grin. The man who'd postured as a battle-hardened veteran in his talks with Sanghae and Sapiens turned into a child in front of Ganjeol. There was no telling which was his true face. But one thing was certain: for all the ease with which he spoke, he feared Ganjeol down to the marrow.
"Do it properly, properly. Thirty guards is force enough to swallow a whole shelter. Make sure it doesn't require a second pass."
"Got it."
As Cain walked out, Ganjeol watched him go with uneasy eyes. The boy had exceptional talent—but too much still left to wobble.
"Tak."
At Ganjeol's word, a man standing far off stepped forward. Neatly cropped hair, tailored suit.
"Yes, Representative."
"Select the guard carefully. The strongest among them."
"Understood."
"That boy... has he pulled anything else besides what's been reported?"
"Not this time."
"Phew. Small mercies. What do you think? Has he come to his senses?"
"He does seem to be changing, sir, but—"
"Speak plainly. I'm counting on him as a successor."
"You have yet to formally confirm it, Representative."
"You push a promising one early so he grows fast. Isn't that how it works?"
"..."
"Gong Won-goo. Have they confirmed the body?"
"The damage was too severe. It hasn't been recovered yet."
"It was that bad?"
"Yes. Thaderson was melted past the point of recognition as well."
"Then it's certain the Fourth Seju exerted her power."
"Yes. A blaze of that magnitude—no one but the Fourth Seju could..."
"That's right. What a waste of a creature... her gift for handling incidents was nothing short of phenomenal."
"Do you still mourn her?"
"If even half my children were her equal, I wouldn't be bothering with any of this deliberation."
"The young masters are more talented, sir. In combat strength as well."
"What matters more than that is the ability to handle affairs, I keep telling—"
"..."
"Enough. Are we still tracking the Seal Collectors?"
"We're pursuing them, but... it appears someone in Black Shelter is erasing their traces."
"Erasing traces? There's a Gift for that?"
"Nothing on record, but..."
"Infuriating..."
"They won't stay on the run for long, though. Their appearance is far too distinctive."
"I'm not worried about the catching. I'm worried about how long it takes. Do you truly believe I went after Gong Won-goo because I lacked the strength?"
"No, sir..."
"Spend more money if you must. Find them fast."
"Understood."
Using the apartment complex as their base of operations, everyone split off to their tasks. Montage's people took over defending the complex, while Won-goo's crew—Fresh and Yeongyeong in tow—prepared to hit the nearby Coin Exchange.
In the meantime, Won-goo sat down for one-on-ones with his people. He'd been glued to the others' side the whole time without a proper chance to talk, and the frustration had been building.
"A fight with Ganjeol Point. What are our odds, I wonder?"
Mu Beob-sa asked with utter seriousness.
"It's not a fight you calculate odds on. It's just a fight that has to happen."
"Ganjeol himself may take the field. Could we manage that?"
Phrased carelessly, the question could have come across as an attack. But Won-goo took not the slightest offense. He believed that even an organization that moved at its head's whim had to leave room for its members to ask questions. And Won-goo believed that the more questions a man asked, the faster he grew.
"First time I laid eyes on Ganjeol was... a year and a half ago? Two years, maybe. Even back then the man had quite the reputation. But from that very first meeting, I knew he was a son of a bitch. That's why I turned down his offer. And from that day to this one—did you really think I'd have left him without a contingency?"
His crew's faces went slack with astonishment. They knew Won-goo wasn't a man to bluster or joke about things like this.
Then he added one more line.
"If Number Four had come any closer, I'd have dealt with her too."
"...!"
"...!"
"...!"
"You're joking... right?"