Coffin Lid
"If someone had come to me with that kind of threat, I wouldn't have cared one bit."
"Right. But my mouth's a different story. I've made quite a name for myself around these parts. Especially after handling a few big jobs recently—it's only gotten worse."
"……"
"So what about a board seat? Outside director, something like that. Sounds legitimate enough, doesn't it? There's no surer way to seal my lips than that."
"That's not a question I can answer on my own authority."
"Go negotiate with them. And tell them I'll want a clause guaranteeing I don't interfere in management."
"With the current terms……"
"Of course they won't take it. Baek Seol, if you were me, would you?"
Baek Seol nodded and rose from her seat.
"So what changes if I take the director's chair?"
The familiar voice came the moment Baek Seol stepped out.
It was Pacific, who had been sleeping quietly in the office.
"You're awake? I was starting to think you'd died without ever waking up."
"Why would I die? I just had a fun dream and got up."
"You slept two days past the point you were supposed to wake. You know that? I only kept watching because you were still breathing fine. Almost called a doctor. A mortician."
In the meantime, Pacific had wrenched free the rings and tubes dangling from his body. The needles still embedded in his skin must have hurt like hell, but he didn't hesitate for a second.
Dan-shin, who had been watching, hurried off and came back with a glass of water.
"Why does every word out of your mouth have to be a curse?"
"So how was the dream? Worth the sleep?"
"I beat everything and came out."
"Beat what, exactly?"
"The nightmares."
"You're posturing the second you open your eyes."
"It's not posturing, I'm telling you I went and met the Nightmare Dokkaebi."
"……?"
"The nightmares inside this mask come in stages, you see. I cleared every one of them, and when I got out, the Nightmare Dokkaebi was waiting for me."
"Are you serious right now?"
"Dead serious. So the Dokkaebi said don't come back for a while. He's preparing the next stage of nightmares. Told me to come back then."
"Hyun-sung. Pack your things. Looks like we're taking that mask back for a refund. He's turned you into an idiot. We are absolutely getting our money back on this one."
"Aish…… why would I lie about this? I'm telling you, it's true!"
Pacific hastily put the mask back on. Mask on, he stood up and roamed around freely for exactly one minute.
The moment the clock ticked past one minute, he tore the mask off.
"See? Nothing happened."
"So you're really saying you can just wear it freely for the time being?"
"That's what I'm—"
Mid-sentence, Pacific closed his eyes and keeled over.
"……"
"……"
"……"
Not one of the crew could hide their exasperation.
"There it is…… lay him back down. Ha…… nobody said anything about the kid getting weirder…… do we really need that refund?"
"Why are you set on accepting the Sugar Company directorship? That is the part I wonder about."
After laying Pacific down, the crew had gathered for a meal.
Today's menu was tteok ramyeon—noodle soup with rice cakes.
It featured rice cakes half-extorted from Sanghae as a special addition.
The crew inhaled the ramyeon with great relish.
"Because it's good to have."
"Wouldn't it be better to take something else instead?"
Jo Mu-sa offered his opinion.
"You saw those bastards. Stingy to the bone. Rather than that, better to plan for the future."
"What future would that be? That is the part I'm curious about."
"Watching how those bastards operate, there's internal politics going on too. And the way they hand out compensation, it doesn't look like an organization built to last. So wouldn't that mean we could strip it bare later on?"
"……!"
"……!"
Every crew member who heard that wore a stunned expression.
"The Sugar Company? It's a corporation, no matter how you slice it……"
"Not right now, sure. But later? Let's say, for example, all the people you could call the heads of that place die early. Then on paper, we're the ones holding a directorship—who ends up eating it? You're telling me a company doesn't run on that kind of structure?"
"Well, it doesn't necessarily—"
"Even if it doesn't, we've got the directorship as our justification. We just make it run that way."
"……"
"……"
"Think simple. Simple. If you think complicated, there's no end to it. Make complicated things simple, and simple things complicated."
Normally the crew would come around as soon as Won-goo made his pitch, but this time the response was lukewarm.
"Not feeling it, huh? Maybe I've gotten too full of myself?"
"Honestly speaking, that is how it looks. Director Gong has been taking on and solving so many big cases lately, it feels like his brakes have broken down."
"I never even touched the gas pedal—what's with the brake lecture? Old man, you're always pouring cold water on things."
"The Sugar Company is no small operation, that's all……"
"When you tear down a castle, you start from the foundation. That's the only way the whole thing comes crashing down at once. And we happen to be on good terms with the very important grunts rolling around at the bottom."
"You mean Baek Seol? That is the part you mean, is it?"
"If not Baek Seol, who else? Let's wait and see. Whether breaking their trust really was all there is to it, or if there's more. The way I see it, I doubt that's everything. Ramyeon's done. Let's eat first. Eat up."
The crew quickly inhaled the rest of their noodles. Just as they were finishing, the rice was timed perfectly done—as if by magic.
They mixed it into the broth and drained the bowls to the last drop.
"By the way, Director."
"What is it, Jo Mu-sa?"
"The Wabulgwi capsule. I thought you'd bring that back with you, sir."
At that, Mu Beob-sa immediately chimed in.
"That is a fair point. I had the same thought as Jo Mu-sa."
"The Wabulgwi capsule—that's a good one, right? Our Cheol-soo handles Dulla so well, it'd be a perfect fit for him."
"Exactly. That's why I expected you to bring it back."
"But it's also exactly what Fresh needs right now. The man's in a very precarious position."
"Precarious how, sir?"
"Fresh can feel it himself. That with the Gift he's got, he's slowly reaching his limit."
"He is reaching his limit? That is the part you mean?"
"I told him ages ago to build a crew, but the guy was stubborn about it. Alone, you have limits. To overcome them? Either get a crew or go for overwhelming coin enhancement—slap on seals layer over layer, or land a jackpot item. By now you need something, anything, to survive. But that guy's stuck in the middle of everything. Decent at all of it, exceptional at none of it. Doesn't have a signature piece of gear worthy of being called his main weapon. And don't even get me started on a crew."
"And the coins he's saved up are nothing to speak of either, is that it?"
Jeon Hye-ji, listening quietly, cut to the heart of it.
"Exactly. Look at Fresh's style. He uses the right item at the right moment. And what does that mean? That he burns a lot of money solving cases. He'll have some savings, sure. But not enough to reach 2-Star. The second special trait, I mean."
For survivors, even whether they'd unlocked their first special trait divided them into vastly different leagues. The second trait went without saying.
"So reaching 2-Star changes things that much, does it?"
"Obviously. Combat-type, even without anything exceptional—at that point you've passed the stage of dying in a ditch somewhere. But right now…… like I said, he's stuck in the middle. The odds of him dying in a gutter are very real. The Wabulgwi would be an enormous help to a Fresh like that."
"What if……"
"……?"
"What if Mr. Fresh joined us as crew……"
"No. Even if Fresh joined us now, it wouldn't help us much. Then why do I look after him? Look at the situation long and wide. Fresh and us—we run on the same wavelength, broadly speaking. That kind of thing comes back around as something big later."
Won-goo knew what was coming as this era passed. Survivors across the entire world would compete, tearing into one another.
In a time like that, a community of shared fate—his crew—mattered, but trustworthy friends mattered just as much.
In that spirit, Won-goo hoped Fresh would make it through this period cleanly.
There weren't many survivors as reasonable and sharp as Fresh.
"Awake now?"
Pacific finally got up a full 24 hours later.
"You really are…… naive. How do you plan to survive this treacherous world, going on like that?"
"Director Gong, this is a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding, my ass."
"The Nightmare Dokkaebi called me because there was something he couldn't tell me last time. He wanted to ask about the design direction for the nightmares."
Won-goo shook his head slowly.
"That's it. We're getting that thing refunded."
"I'm telling you, no! It's the truth. I really won't sleep this time. I'll show you."
"Stop it! You lunatic!"
"But it's true!"
"Enough! Anyway, a lot happened while you were out. Lie there if you don't want to hear it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Won-goo gave him the highlights of what had happened—brief and to the point.
"So you stashed that engineer, Gombang, in the warehouse?"
"That's right."
"You taking him into the crew?"
"We'll see. The guy's got a real rebel streak. No matter how good his skills are, if he's going to stir up discord, we can't take him."
"Good call. Fixing up your inventory was a smart move too."
"His skills turned out better than expected. Anything he works on, we'll probably be able to sell for at least double the original price."
"Now that's a jackpot."
"Anyway, keep that in mind."
Gombang was hard at work on a weapon.
He was in Pacific's warehouse.
Only, the warehouse that had once been a chaotic mess was now transformed.
Dan-shin had steadily organized the original space, and parts of it had been renovated for Gombang's use.
It was barely a tenth the size of the Nero Family Warehouse, and only about a fifth the size of the office the crew used—not a big place by any means—but it was more than enough for Gombang to work in alone.
Since Gombang worked through his Gift, he didn't need much room anyway.
Screeech!
The warehouse door swung open. The visitors, naturally, were Won-goo's crew.
"People come all this way and you can't even say hello?"
Gombang merely glanced at the crew and kept working.
"You told me to work hard, didn't you."
"Honestly…… a kid with zero sense. I brought the stuff you asked for. But is this right? Why do you need peanut butter for metalwork?"
"I don't know either. The moment I take hold of something to work on, things just come to me. If I use them, the results come out better."
"So that's why you set aside every piece that sparks something?"
"That's right. They're all sorted over there."
They had smuggled Gombang in and were putting him to proper use.
One of those uses was reworking the mountains of stock equipment sitting in Pacific's warehouse.
It was a drawback that the items' original purposes changed, but Gombang's modifications delivered better performance than before, whatever else you said.
So there was no reason not to put the stockpile to work.
Tik.
"This is a Shelter necklace. You're a face nobody's seen, so the administrators might stop you for inspection—wear it every time you go out. No exceptions."
A nod.
Gombang bobbed his head up and down.
"Stop nodding and answer me. Keep it up and I'll yank that neck off and screw it in place."
"Understood."
"And keep the outings to a minimum. If you need anything, ask Dan-shin. Dan-shin's agreed to stop by here once a day."
"Yes, sir."
"Like I said, you're bunkering down here for a year. Baek Seol's company has eyes planted all over the place, more than you'd think. Get spotted by one of them and this whole affair gets tangled. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Remember this. I took out two nasty pieces of work that Baek Seol's company was going to hand over—ones who would've sold you out to save their own skins."
Keeping Gombang hidden meant shutting mouths was essential.
So Won-goo had handled the matter. He'd dealt with two fugitives who intended to survive, go back, and cut a deal—then buried them.
Then he'd asked Montage's crew members and Fresh who'd been along to keep their lips sealed. Naturally, he'd paid handsomely for the favor, too.
"And let's change that nickname of yours. Gombang, was it? What'd be good…… Gombo-bbang? Mole-crater bun?"
"……"
"Gombo-bbang's too obvious, right? Gongdol-i? Engineering nerd? Engine? No, wait—you're supposed to be dead, so a coffin? Coffin's too readable, looks too much like food…… how about the best part of a coffin—the Casket Lid. Casket Lid."
"……"
"Casket Lid's good, isn't it?"