90. Preparation (1)
Even within the Balhut Cult, the National Tax Service had a notorious reputation, so when they declared they would deploy it into the field, Jeong Dong-gun's claim that he was afraid was no exaggeration—it was the plain truth. Above all, the National Tax Service...
"Of course. Jeong Dong-gun, please hand over the information on criminal organizations in the Balhut Cult territories that the military has identified."
"Ah. Yes."
Even against remnants of Jo Sun-do entrenched in North Gyeongju or other criminal groups, they conducted ruthless tax collection without exception. For that purpose, they collaborated with Jeong Dong-gun, who handled public security, and in fact, the National Tax Service often uncovered criminal movements that the military hadn't detected first. As the group that tracked money flows better than anyone, even illicit cash streams were already in their grasp.
Of course, from the National Tax Service's perspective, as long as these criminal organizations paid their taxes diligently, they didn't bother sharing information. To them, if you paid up properly, you were a model taxpayer! They treated you like any Balhut Cult citizen.
"...Handing it over is fine. But do we really need to touch them?"
"Why not?"
"We haven't secured solid evidence of their crimes yet."
Even for the National Tax Service, digging into organizations without proper evidence was bound to raise concerns. If the military hadn't identified criminal histories, it meant they weren't committing overt or obvious crimes visible to outsiders—they were sticking to petty offenses. With the military and National Tax Service already creating psychological pressure, poking them could backfire spectacularly, plunging North Gyeongju's recovered security back into chaos.
Jeong Dong-gun wasn't leaving them alone out of fondness; he had to, to maintain order. As long as they behaved, he let them be.
"I know about their crimes too. But arresting without evidence would spark backlash over lack of justification."
"Ah, we only need one organization. You can handle the rest as you see fit, Jeong Dong-gun. Oh, if there's no evidence, our National Tax Service agents can gather it in advance. Want to collaborate?"
Jeong Dong-gun voiced his concerns cautiously, suggesting they drop it, but Lee Hyun-ah brushed it off without issue, insisting she only needed one group and he could deal with the others. She even grinned confidently, seeing it as a chance to nail the evidence on the criminal headaches he'd been nursing. Horrified, Jeong Dong-gun waved her off.
"No... I'll pass."
If the National Tax Service got involved now, North Gyeongju's security would truly slip from his control. Better to sacrifice one group for the stability of the underworld—that seemed the wisest call.
"Haha, is the great Jeong Dong-gun afraid of a mere National Tax Service agent?"
"Haha, 'mere agent'? You tell jokes well."
Mistaking his horrified refusal for banter, Lee Hyun-ah teased if even he feared her underlings. Jeong Dong-gun's face soured; he itched to snap back, Are you serious? After all the chaos she'd unleashed, who wouldn't be scared? Only a beast.
"But why do you need a North Gyeongju criminal organization?"
"Oh, we plan to impersonate their members—my agents or myself. This operation won't be under the Balhut Cult; it'll use an anonymous criminal's name."
"...What exactly are you planning? Sabotage inside Daegu? Political maneuvering?"
He had to know her intentions, so he held back and asked. Her answer baffled him. It screamed sabotage or political ops, yet Lee Hyun-ah opened her mouth confidently, unfazed by his jab.
"No. We're going to gift supplies to Daegu. Under a criminal organization's name, not the cult's."
"Not the cult's... but a criminal organization's..."
Not sabotage or politics. Gifting supplies to Daegu under a crime syndicate's banner? Jeong Dong-gun pondered.
Two possibilities. First, a ploy considering the Balhut Cult's external image.
Like in Pohang, it could be to counter perceptions. To outsiders, the Balhut Cult was still just a rising pseudo-cult, nothing more. The US had acknowledged Bahamut's existence upon contact, thanks to their intel, but on this peninsula, the cult's rep was tainted. Using another name to aid regions made sense.
But why a criminal group? A normal civilian outfit would do. First theory's shaky.
If it was just external aid, they could use a civilian group's name. In this era, anyone could claim a group, and trust came from proven results—infinite potential.
Second... selection. Sorting cult-friendly from unfriendly via a criminal alias.
If they insisted on a crime syndicate's name...
"...Understood."
Jeong Dong-gun halted his thoughts, weighing it briefly before sensing no harm to the cult. He provided the organization she wanted, in full detail. Pulling out neatly compiled dossiers like resumes, he recommended one himself, showing her the boss's photo attached.
"Her name's Kim Ha-yeon. Post-apocalypse, she worked under Jo Sun-do, and lately she's been playing small-time in North Gyeongju. Notably, a female boss."
"Sharp eye. Great pick—especially as Jo Sun-do's former subordinate."
As if she'd had her eye on it, she beamed in satisfaction. Jeong Dong-gun had astutely selected exactly what she needed—especially the tyrant's connection. She took the dossier and read slowly.
"Hm. Harvesting poppies somewhere in North Gyeongju?"
"Just speculation. No illegal opium circulation in Gyeongju yet."
"Opium, huh. Makes sense—lately, communities are seeking it for anesthetics or painkillers."
Per the dossier, Kim Ha-yeon's crew had set up poppy fields somewhere in North Gyeongju for cultivation and harvest. The issue: the military hadn't found the fields.
"Considering opium found in Jo Sun-do's old warehouses, probably a hidden legacy we missed."
"That guy's tyranny was top-notch."
"Just suspicions—no hard evidence. We haven't located their fields."
Suspicions aplenty, proof zilch. But if Jeong Dong-gun wanted, arresting them for drug trafficking would be trivial—they were Jo Sun-do remnants, easy pretext for purge, no resistance possible.
"If they vanished suddenly, weirdos might fill the void. So we leave them be unless they cause trouble."
"Annoying short-term pests."
The problem was the vacuum—some nut could take over, worsening shaky security. Jeong Dong-gun chose the lesser evil: monitor until they slipped majorly. Petty play didn't justify straining limited forces.
"What'll you do? We're just watching unless they spark big incidents."
But once the National Tax Service—Lee Hyun-ah—targeted them, their fate was sealed. Eyes closed, Jeong Dong-gun asked her plans for Kim Ha-yeon's doom.
"Rumors of drug production—no proof, just hunches?"
"Yes. No overt arrest justification. We've found stray poppies not under their name, but pre-apocalypse, rural homes grew a few for ornamental or medicinal use—no big deal."
He confirmed no solid proof. They'd scoured Gyeongju, found illicit patches, but excuses like "for flowers" or "emergency pain relief" made crackdowns awkward.
"Especially in the apocalypse. Opium's a cure-all anesthetic and painkiller."
Easiest to obtain post-end times. Plausible deniability.
"Our hospitals are short on stockpiles too—small-scale cultivation permits issued."
"Yes, with Yu-na so busy."
Even the Balhut Cult permitted tiny amounts for meds. Yu-na and Seol-hwa had healing magic, but weren't always at HQ—traveling for duties, so routine care was local hospitals.
"Hiding it with paper companies?"
"Yes. They know we're watching—pretend to run legit businesses to avoid scrutiny."
Permits were site-specific; elsewhere was illegal. Lee Hyun-ah probed for shells; confirmed.
"Paying taxes?"
"No reports of diligent compliance."
Paper companies owed taxes—the National Tax Service's domain. Non-payment? Perfect excuse. Lee Hyun-ah rose gleefully, documents in hand, heading out.
"Perfect then. I'll handle it."
"You sure? Since we're involved, our troops—"
"Who do you think I am?"
"Balhut Cult's National Tax Service, equipped like you?"
"Ah."
No issue for them. Taxing awakeners? Their forte. Time to show tax dodgers the terror that silenced crying babies. Proving efficiency, Lee Hyun-ah dispatched elite collectors to North Gyeongju right there.
"Freeze! National Tax Service agents! You're under suspicion of tax evasion! Inside scum, fulfill your tax duties quietly!"
"Aaack!?"
Kim Ha-yeon's hideout got the infamous service: agents smashed the sturdy iron door with batons, storming in. Normally, you'd expect fierce resistance from boss and crew.
"T-Tax Service! That dreaded Lee Hyun-ah's dogs made it here!"
"God help us! We're dead! They'll pawn our organs and lives!"
"Oh Lord! Why this trial?!"
But Kim Ha-yeon's gang panicked at the sight, screaming doom—no fight, just pale faces kneeling meekly.
"How dare petty crooks defy sacred tax payment? Evaders, off to hell."
"T-T-Ta-Taxes! We'll file! Back taxes... all here! P-Please, mercy once!"
"No mercy. No deals."
Known as Jo Sun-do's underling, Kim Ha-yeon begged an agent on her knees, head to ground, promising instant payment. No pride as crime boss?
They've already crushed how many groups and awakeners in North Gyeongju!
Lee Hyun-ah's agents had built quite the rep. But infamy turns to fame: to dutiful citizens, their equal-fist public power was satisfying justice.