A Chicken Worth Investing In
"You signed an actual contract with a beastman?"
"Of course, hyung-nim. I drafted it up using Sanghae hyung's official contract, no less."
"Wait, why a beastman?"
Won-goo's face twisted in sheer disbelief.
And it was no wonder. He happened to possess a considerable wealth of information about the true nature of the apocalypse currently unfolding on Earth, which made this all the more absurd.
The fact that an apocalypse was underway meant that the planet called Earth was on the verge of being sold off.
A planet could be sold off as easily as anything else, so long as the ruling class who dominated it gave their consent.
And what appeared during that sale process was precisely the apocalypse now in progress.
As the apocalypse advanced, beastmen did begin to appear in the Field — but only when monsters or items of value high enough to tempt them actually dropped.
Right now, there was no reason whatsoever for the beastmen to commit their forces, which made this even harder to believe.
"Well, there's a reason for it."
"It *is* a beastman, right?"
"That's right. First, hyung-nim, take a look at this."
The profile Sapiens held out had the face of a chicken beastman stamped right on it.
"He's young."
That was Won-goo's assessment after glancing at the file.
Beastmen each had wildly different lifespans and growth rates. Some grew at a pace similar to humans, while others matured agonizingly slowly or reached adulthood astonishingly fast.
Chickens belonged to the category that matured very quickly.
And even among the chicken beastmen, there were a great many distinct breeds.
Won-goo knew all too well how the lower castes of chicken beastmen were treated.
In the world before his regression, humans on Earth had received much the same treatment.
Canned goods.
Packaged as food rations and distributed across the universe — or else thrown onto battlefields as consumables.
Though their intellect fell short of a human's, chicken beastmen possessed superior physical abilities, which made them popular in war zones as well.
"From what I've looked into, he's seven years old. But he's already the size of an adult man."
"He'll get even bigger. This one's tall even by chicken beastman standards."
"Really?"
"So how on earth did you end up taking him in?"
"Debt."
"Gambling, I'm guessing?"
"Gambling was part of it, but the debts were all over the map. Point is, his guardian handed him over to clear the debt and ran off."
At that, Won-goo's eyebrows twitched.
"So it's not just the human world that's full of absolute trash?"
"I was dumbfounded myself. Treating their own kid like merchandise."
"Beastmen aren't human. Some of them are human-like, but there's no shortage of ones who are worse than any human you'll ever meet."
"That's what I figured, but he kept spouting nonsense while signing the contract. Claimed he was actually a *good* parent, if you can believe it."
"……?"
"He's saying there are some who drag their children around and, whenever they get hungry, eat one of them."
"That's rat beastmen you're thinking of."
"Oh, come on, even so—"
"That's hard to wrap our common sense around, sure. But how much of anything in this world actually makes sense? Just let it go. Unless he's hurting you directly, it's not your problem. And this chicken here is plenty worth raising. First things first — we check his Gift. Even if it turns out to be a crap Gift, beastmen start from a completely different starting line than we do, so the investment potential is absolutely there."
With that, Won-goo plucked a cigarette from the pack sitting on the table. There were quite a few packs laid out, but most of them were for entertaining guests.
Sapiens himself preferred injections to cigarettes.
Won-goo clamped the cigarette between his lips, and Sapiens produced a Zippo lighter and lit it for him.
"It's been a while since you've done that for me."
"You've got an eye for these things, hyung-nim. By the way — do beastmen have Gifts too?"
"Of course they do."
"Even beastmen?"
"Why wouldn't they? Gifts belong to every living thing. The moment you were born, the light of the brightest star in the universe settled into you and bestowed a present. That's what a Gift *is*."
"I always thought it only applied to survivors."
"Everyone has one. They just don't know it. That kid's got a Gift too."
"Then it's fine to give him coin enhancements, isn't it?"
"That's the idea."
"Then you, hyung-nim, could—"
"It's not my place to take him on yet."
"It's not?"
"The kid can barely string a sentence together right now, can he?"
"He really can't. I thought he just couldn't talk to *us*, but apparently he can't communicate with other beastmen either."
"That's common enough. Without the common tongue, most beastmen can't understand each other either. And even though his body's grown, his brain hasn't fully developed yet. Were you talking fluently when you were seven?"
"Couldn't tell you. I don't remember."
"Exactly. Same thing. He's still just a kid. So what's your job going to be? Basic education. Teach him to speak, teach him the rules of our world. Get all of that done. And check his Gift. If it's something worth investing in — something that could make waves out in the Field — *then* I'll raise him myself. Got all that?"
"Got it. Basic education. I'll set it up properly."
"Hm? Why is there no name on this thing?"
"Turns out they never even gave him one. He doesn't have a name."
"Unbelievable…… Unbelievable."
"Right?"
"You've got to give a kid a name."
"You'd think so."
"What about naming him Tan?"
"Tan?"
"Tandoori chicken. It's delicious."
"……"
* * *
On his way back through the plaza after meeting Sapiens, Won-goo spotted a familiar figure.
It was Il-chul — once the plaza's resident punching bag.
He looked even more wretched than the Beggar Moles did.
"Siiir Diiiirector!"
"And who might you be?"
"It's me, Il-chul! Il-chul! Don't you see the pointy bit on my head?"
"I heard Il-chul died."
"I didn't die! I'm alive right here, aren't I! Director!"
"The Il-chul I knew went out on a job and got himself killed. I've already held the funeral, matter of fact."
"I *almost* died, but I didn't! I swear. The job suddenly went sideways, and—"
"The job fell apart ages ago. Why are you only showing up now?"
"I didn't have travel money, so I've been wandering around the outskirts this whole tiiime……"
Tears came pouring down Il-chul's face.
Judging by his sorry state, he'd clearly been through hell. But Won-goo's reaction was lukewarm at best.
"Hmmm…… No matter how I look at you, you don't seem like the Il-chul I know."
"I'm telling you it's me! No! Why won't you believe me!"
"Listen. The Il-chul I knew would never raise his voice at me like this. He knows exactly what happens when he does."
"But—"
"You really Il-chul?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd remember the day we first met, wouldn't you?"
"The Trainer hack-and-slash incident, sir!"
*THWACK!*
Won-goo, at the speed of light, cracked Il-chul over the head with the Warhammer pistol at his hip.
Il-chul clutched his skull, his face scrunched up in agony.
"You little punk — *hack-and-slash*? What the hell is hack-and-slash? It's not even proper pickled radish. Where's your respect for the dead?"
"I'm…… I'm sorry."
"So. Do you remember or not?"
"I remember."
"All of it?"
"Vividly! I was sitting at that table over there having a drink when it happened!"
"You really remember everything?"
"I do."
"Then I could ask you anything and you'd answer it all, hmm?"
"Of course. Ask away! I really am Il-chul."
"Then how many times did I hit you that day?"
"…Huh?"
Il-chul's face flattened out like a man who'd just taken a sledgehammer to the forehead.
"How many times. You remember everything, don't you?"
"How am I supposed to—"
"I remember *all* of it. You get one chance. For every number off between my count and yours, today's therapy session gets that much longer. Understood?"
"W-wait a second!"
"What?"
"Give me time to do the math!"
"Oh my… trying to pull a fast one, are we?"
"Just a moment! You can at least give me that much!"
Regardless, Won-goo started walking toward him.
The moment he did, Il-chul — who'd been holding out a hand to block his path — staggered backward and bolted as fast as his legs could carry him.
Desperately.
Won-goo watched him flee with a slow, wolfish grin spreading across his face.
Then, once Il-chul vanished from view, the smile clinging to his lips evaporated, cold and instant.
He pulled out a fresh cigarette and bit down on it.
And with that, instead of heading back to the office he'd been bound for, he turned his footsteps somewhere else entirely.
A slum in all but name, tucked deep inside the market district.
The residential quarter of the Beggar Moles.
It had been nearly three years since Won-goo last visited the Moles' territory in person.
Before that, there'd never been a need.
All it took was a raised hand from outside, and the Beggar Moles would come scurrying to assemble on their own.
The Moles' eyes were everywhere, after all.
When Won-goo deigned to descend upon their domain personally, the Beggar Moles came flocking at once.
"What business brings you all the way out here……"
The Moles' representative hurried out to meet him.
What Won-goo drew from inside his coat was a coin.
And not a silver coin — a gold one.
He'd always paid generously for the work they did, but this time he'd gone overboard.
The Moles' eyes gleamed with a tangle of greed and unease.
"I need you to tail that little bastard Il-chul, and tail him properly. Can you do it?"
"We can."
"And obviously — without being made."
"Of course, Director. Shall we report every 24 hours?"
"Stay on him 24 hours a day. Write it up in a report and bring it to me once a week."
"Yes! Director!"
* * *
By the time Won-goo returned to the office, the rest of the crew was gone. Everyone except Dan-shin had headed out to enjoy some hard-earned vacation.
"Dan-shin."
"Yes, sir."
"You're free to head out and have fun too. We're genuinely not taking any work for a while this time."
"Yes, sir. I'll just finish tidying this up and head out."
Dan-shin had meanwhile procured a table and was setting it up.
Won-goo stretched out on the hammock Mu Beob-sa so often favored and lit a cigarette. He intended to rest properly for once and sort through everything that lay ahead.
That included making contact with Midnight.
Naturally, though, he had no intention of actually entering the Temporary Shelter — contact only.
Time inside the shelter began draining the moment you stepped in, and that resource had to be conserved for a truly critical moment.
"Nice table. You've got a good eye."
"You think so?"
"I do. You're doing well, Dan-shin. Keep it up."
"Thank you, sir!"
And with that, Won-goo closed his eyes, intending to drift off for a while.
*Knock!* *Knock!* *Knock!*
Someone was rapping on the office door.
Won-goo's face soured, and Dan-shin quickly went to greet the visitor. Then he exchanged a few quiet words.
"Director."
"What now?"
"He says he's an errand runner for Sanghae the broker."
"What about?"
"He mentioned it was something to do with a commission."
"Tell him we're really not taking work for a while. I mean it this time."
"Understood."
When Dan-shin delivered the message, the errand runner left without a shred of reluctance.
"Dan-shin."
"Yes, sir."
"I'm going to sleep. You head out too — go have fun and come back later."
With that, Dan-shin exited the office as well.
Left alone, Won-goo lay down on the hammock and finally let sleep take him.
Fifteen minutes or so had passed, perhaps.
He'd just sunk into a deep slumber when another visitor came calling at the office.
But this time, the knocking was nothing like as polite as before.
*BANG!* *BANG!* *BANG!*
He'd meant to grit his teeth and ignore it, but it was loud enough to drag him forcibly out of bed. The door practically rattled on its hinges.
Face twisted in irritation, Won-goo strode to the door.
"We're not taking work! Go away!"
But the visitor turned out to be Sanghae himself.
"Director Gong."
"Sanghae — word was you'd left the shelter."
"This is about a commission."
"I told you, no commissions."
"It's from the Mosquito Gang. The Queen."
Won-goo's face crumpled even further.
"The Queen?"
"That's right. She specifically named *you*, Director Gong."
"Hah……"
A sigh heavy with a dozen different meanings escaped him.
"Urgent business?"
"Urgent enough that I hauled myself all the way over here."
Even in this line of work, you had to keep your give-and-take in good order.
The Queen had already helped out his crew on more than one occasion.
Even if those instances had technically been commissions, help received was help received.
"Go ahead then. Keep it short."