Jeonse Fraud
The title could have read I Became an Apocalyptic "Physical" Therapist (60) — but the word that mattered this time was simpler: Jeonse.
Won-goo's Gift was the Blessing of Machine Civilization.
Judged by the grading standards that would come later, it ranked among the very highest. Rarity: top tier. Potential: top tier. And yet in practice, making the most of the Blessing of Machine Civilization was anything but easy.
For one thing, if he tried to use it as a combat-oriented Gift, most of the abilities inside it turned out to be consumables. Abilities engraved through coins didn't burn through coins every time they were used — but the Blessing of Machine Civilization worked on a different mechanism entirely. Nearly all of its powers consumed coins with each activation, and since the combat-related ones were the worst offenders, Won-goo had no choice but to agonize over every single use. One careless decision, and he might as well be flushing coins straight down the drain.
That didn't mean the Blessing of Machine Civilization lacked advantages, though. Its scalability was in a league far beyond ordinary Gifts. A typical Gift came with somewhere between three and five linked abilities — sometimes only one in the early stages, and some Gifts had no related abilities at all. The Blessing of Machine Civilization, by contrast, granted more than twenty related abilities from the very first special-trait stage. Which was precisely why developing them properly was no small feat.
There's just so little intel on the Black Shelter bastards…
Won-goo stood inside the Coin Exchange, pondering with a grave expression. Recent events had earned him a considerable pile of coins. He had breathing room now, but he couldn't afford to get careless. What made the machine-civilization Gift so irritating was that a fair number of its abilities couldn't be used without paying up front.
The prime example was the 'emergency bag' Won-goo had hidden away in the Trailer. He had organized a great many of these bags by number and stashed them inside the Trailer, and not a single one of them was anything other than a consumable.
Ten gold coins for a single bag…
After a long stretch of deliberation in the Coin Exchange, Won-goo purchased the LJS-04 Emergency Briefcase. He had weighed the other abilities too, but in the end he judged the LJS-04 to be the best option. A consumable worth a full ten gold coins. Its appearance was a little different from the previous bags as well — where most of the bags hidden in his Trailer were backpacks, this one was a rectangular briefcase.
Once he stepped out of the Coin Exchange, Won-goo bought a mountain of hamburgers from a nearby burger joint. They tasted far worse than the hamburgers from a franchise that had gotten terrible reviews in the old world, but he ate them from time to time anyway. At least nobody in his crew was picky about food.
That disposition was shared by most survivors. Those who had known true hunger didn't turn their noses up at much of anything.
Arms loaded with enough hamburgers to require both hands, Won-goo headed back toward the office.
"Director. Good day to you."
It was Dinosaur, that hulking mass of muscle, popping up out of nowhere with a respectful bow.
"Hey. Business going well?"
"Yes, sir! Working hard every day, Director."
"Have one."
He tossed one over, and Dinosaur caught it in an instant. For a body that size, the hamburger looked absurdly tiny.
"One won't cut it for you, huh."
Won-goo threw him two more.
"Much obliged, Director!"
"Right. You'll let me know if anything interesting turns up?"
"Of course. You're always number one in my heart, Director."
"Cut it out, that's creepy. None of that number-one stuff."
"Yes sir!"
"And don't go hanging around with shady characters."
"I don't hang around with anyone!"
"Good. Keep it up."
Back at the office, Won-goo found someone sprawled out as if the place belonged to her.
Ah-bal. If Fresh was smooth-talking, Ah-bal was flat-out shameless. She'd shoved a couple of chairs together and was lying across them like she owned the joint, while Dan-shin knelt beside her, sweating buckets as he kneaded her shoulders.
"You're back early?"
"Shit… Buri Island…"
"Hold it right there."
Ah-bal was just sitting up, ready to raise proper hell, when Won-goo shot her a look that had gone ice-cold. An utterly frigid face. The one he rarely showed to the people around him.
"Did you hit Dan-shin?"
"I didn't hit him."
"He's one of mine. Hands off."
"I was just petting him a little. He seemed so weak. And what if I pet him again, huh? Maybe he'd get attached."
"What the hell would I gain from being attached to you? I just don't look your way. I told you — don't lay a hand on my people. Consider that a warning."
"Shit…"
Ah-bal scowled deeply and swore under her breath.
"And who's that over there?"
Won-goo pointed at a woman kneeling in the corner, bound hand and foot in chains. She was a beauty with remarkably clean skin — not the conventional kind of pretty, but with something hawk-like about her features.
"What, you like her?"
"You sure have a lovely way with words."
"If you like her, say the word. She's mine now."
"Who is she?"
"Respect's wife."
Ah-bal said it flatly, then pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between her lips.
"Respect was married?"
"Funny, right? Well, he was."
"I don't remember anything like that."
"Of course you don't. He did it before the apocalypse."
"…?"
"That adorable little weasel Respect is an onion, I swear. Just keeps peeling back layers of fun. That woman really is his wife. For real. The two of them—"
Thwack!
Ah-bal stopped mid-sentence and moved. In one motion that was nearly acrobatic, she rose from her reclined position and struck Respect's wife — a light blow to the solar plexus, barely more than a shove. Even so, the woman rolled across the floor like a worm, writhing in agony. That was how much power was packed into Ah-bal's strikes.
"Hold your posture! I told you not to relax!"
"That's enough of that. Was Respect really that old?"
"Nope. Got himself into trouble real young and married early. You know what Respect's original job was?"
"Con artist?"
"How'd you guess?"
"The people who thrive in a world like this usually are. Either they've got exceptional abilities, or they've got a slick mouth. Respect, no matter how I look at him, is the latter."
"The two of them were famous for it long before all this. Fraud, I mean."
"What kind? What was their specialty?"
"Jeonse fraud. Ran a pretty big operation, from what I hear."
"You mean like those villa-king landlords who pocket deposits and vanish?"
"What else would I mean? And after raking all that in, they supposedly fled abroad — turns out they never left the country at all, just hid out and lived high on the hog. There were even people who killed themselves because of that woman and Respect—"
Ah-bal stopped talking. But this time it wasn't her who moved.
It came from the other side. Jo Mu-sa, who had been listening in silence, sprinted over in a frenzy and laid into Respect's wife.
It was a clean, certain kick — a vicious blow to the side of her head from an angle. Then came the pounding. No hesitation whatsoever. Jo Mu-sa rained down blows indiscriminately, paying no mind to vitals or anything else. Like a man possessed.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
It all happened in the blink of an eye, leaving everyone else stumbling after him.
"Right! Jo Mu-sa! Pull him off!"
Everyone lunged and tore Jo Mu-sa away from the woman.
"What the hell was that?"
Ah-bal asked, staring at the scene.
"He's a jeonse fraud victim himself. The moment he hears that word, he snaps."
"Huh? And here I thought he was the docile type. Guess not?"
"Everyone's got at least one berserk button."
"Still, reacting like that? And here I figured Won-goo's Services was a tightly run ship?"
Ah-bal laughed like she was thoroughly entertained. The woman Jo Mu-sa had beaten, however, was in no state to laugh. In that brief span she'd been turned into a bloody mess. The unconscious woman couldn't get up off the floor. Even for Jo Mu-sa, who wasn't an enhancement-type, killing someone with a determined beating was no trouble at all.
"Jeonse fraud is exactly that vile. It's not like the victims lost everything chasing some grand ambition. The scammer takes their life savings, dumps debt on them, and bolts. Vile to the core. And if it's Jo Mu-sa, specifically… never mind. What's the point of telling you all this."
"Why not? It's interesting. Keep going."
"Enough. So the plan is to use the wife to reel in Respect?"
"That's the idea…"
"You think that'll work? Respect's judgment is anything but ordinary. Anyone who's stirred up trouble that big usually has a narrow window to bolt before they get caught. Slip up once, and they're done. But look at Respect — we haven't caught so much as a whiff of him. The man moves fast."
"Yeah. Well, he'll get caught."
"Because you'll chase him down until he is?"
At that, Ah-bal broke into a bright grin.
"Sure, keep smiling. You've got one more thing to smile about this time, too."
"How big?"
"How would I know if it's big?"
"Because you called for me."
Won-goo held out the contract from inside his jacket. Ah-bal glanced over it and signed on the spot.
"What is it?"
"Time to put down the Black Shelter."
"Oho. Big operation."
"Join up."
"Mm. Debatable. Why should I be the one joining?"
"You've got history with the Black Shelter too, don't you?"
"I can shelve that kind of grudge whenever I want. Right now, Respect comes first."
"So that's a no?"
"How much are you offering?"
"How much do you want?"
Ah-bal swept her gaze around the room.
"Too many ears for negotiating."
"I do the negotiating, so it's fine."
"I said I don't like it."
Won-goo looked over at Lee Hyun-sung and tilted his head toward the door. Lee Hyun-sung led the crew outside. Dan-shin followed.
"So. How much do you want."
"You know me. I like getting paid for exactly the work I do. Let's settle it per head. Sounds fair, no?"
"You can actually keep track of that?"
"I can. All I have to do is remember the numbers."
"That'll do?"
"And there'd better be drinks."
"Drinks?"
"With you."
Ah-bal smiled openly, unmistakably.
"Tch."
So that was why she'd waited until the crew cleared out.
When Won-goo frowned, Ah-bal frowned right back.
"What am I, a praying mantis? You think I'll bite your head off after? Fine, I admit it. I even admit to that cow you've got locked up in the Trailer who never shows her face. So what's the damn problem?"
"Like I keep telling you — you're not my type."
"I'm plenty good enough. Full B-cup, even. You want me to come back as an F before you'll say yes? Why the hell not. Shit…"
"It's not about that, you lunatic."
"Then what? What makes you so high and mighty? You think you're some once-in-a-generation pretty boy or something?"
"Spare me the nonsense and name a different condition."
"Then at least tell me the reason. Why exactly won't you? 'Not my type'? Is that really it? Is it the way I talk?"
"Your way of talking is genuinely unlikable, yes."
"You shit-eating…"
Ah-bal growled low, looking ready to lunge at Won-goo then and there.
"Ugh. Fine. Will it satisfy you if I tell you?"
"Give me a reason I can actually believe. The mood is serious — say something stupid and you'd better be ready to die."
"You remind me too much of my little sister."
"What?"
Ah-bal's eyes went round.
"Don't flatter yourself. Every time I look at you, I keep thinking of my sister. That's why it's a no."
"I look like her?"
"Not your face. But everything else about you — all of it. So no matter how much of a legendary beauty you're supposed to be, the answer's still no. Because I can't stop thinking of her."
"…"
"…"
"Shit… and here I always liked you because you reminded me of my dad…"
"What?"
"Forget it. Can you take responsibility for what you just said?"
"Believe it or don't. Your call."
"I asked if you can take responsibility. Would you put it in a contract?"
"Fine. If you need it verified that badly, I'll write it up."
"Shit…"
"…"
"…"
An awkward silence settled between them. Even so, neither looked away from the other. Before they were survivors clawing their way through the apocalypse, they were people first — the kind who could be shaken by a brief glance, by a single careless word.
"Okay. Settled."
Ah-bal straightened her posture as she spoke.
"Settled what, exactly?"
"Your position's clear enough now. But let's drink together now and then."
"You mean that as just drinks?"
"That's right."
"Payment per head?"
"We split the payout by contribution after the operation's done. You'll be pulling in every big player in the area anyway, won't you?"
"They've all joined already."
"Then we divide it up by merit. That's the unwritten rule."
"You sure you can handle it alone?"
"Worry about your own crew. This is a hamburger, right? I'm taking a few. And drinks tonight."
"Fine."
Ah-bal rose, grabbed a handful of hamburgers, then took hold of the unconscious woman's collar and dragged her out of the room.
Once she was gone, Won-goo shook his head and shoved a hamburger into his mouth.
Jo Mu-sa — jeonse rental fraud trauma.