The Vulture's Offer

The Vice President's office at Arc Industry.

An air of suffocating silence hung over the room.

Vice President Jin Sehoon sat in his chair, staring out the window, while the summoned Managing Director Han Taeseok sat on the sofa like a criminal awaiting sentencing.

Two full hours had already passed.

Jin Sehoon hadn't said a single word.

He simply treated Han Taeseok like an invisible man — sipping coffee, gazing out the window, nothing more.

Then, glancing at the smartphone he'd been idly holding, he found himself looking at a feed of posts from an anonymous office-worker community.

Each and every one was a gem of mockery and blame.

And here I thought the plan itself had been flawless.

Watching comments dismiss his ideas as something only a tofu-brained dimwit could have come up with, Jin Sehoon felt his reason snapping thread by thread.

As for Han Taeseok, he was thinking something else entirely — being kept waiting in silence for two hours after being summoned like this, what exactly was going on? The whole situation was so nerve-grating that he'd almost thought, I'd rather he just yell at me and get it over with —

Thud.

Jin Sehoon slammed his coffee cup down on the table.

Then he slowly turned his head and shot Han Taeseok a frost-cold look, as if only now acknowledging that the man existed in the room at all.

"What are you?"

"...I beg your pardon?"

"I said, what the hell are you, you bastard!!"

Jin Sehoon kicked back from the table and shot to his feet.

Desk supplies scattered and several objects shattered, shards flying — but Han Taeseok was in no position to even think about dodging.

"I laid out the whole table for you! The company funds you, supplies your equipment, even assigns you a PR team — I served you a full-course meal! And you kicked the whole thing over?"

"V-Vice President, sir. That is..."

In a way, it was a situation not unlike when Park Jinchul had botched an exploration.

Still, Han Taeseok couldn't help thinking — he hadn't pinned enormous hopes on it, but this plan should have worked too. How on earth had it come to this?

Well, no. Dungeon exploration was like that by nature, honestly.

Dungeons were battlefields overflowing with unknown variables, after all.

But an executive was a position that delivered results and took responsibility. No such excuse was going to fly.

"You're an executive and you can't handle a single job properly? What do they even pay you for! Is the company your playground? Performance in the gutter, stock price chopped to pieces — is that your job description, huh?"

Jin Sehoon's finger jabbed and prodded at Han Taeseok's forehead.

Han Taeseok felt heat rising to his head, but he lowered his eyes and bit his lip.

'Goddamn it... how is this my fault?'

Had he been the one who insisted on going into the field himself? Had he been the one doing the on-site operating?

The plan had been perfect. In fact, the man had put on a fine show in the opening stretch of the Crystal Cave, and judging by the footage, a slow, methodical push deeper inside would have been more than enough for success.

Just as the report — built entirely off grinding Kim Doyoon for information — had predicted, they'd even succeeded in pinpointing exactly where [Corporate Slave Life] would appear.

Seen that way, he had essentially done everything within his power behind the scenes.

The problem was the field people. And one of them above all—

'That bastard YOU brought in, Jin Sehoon... Kang Minho. If that defective bastard hadn't just flailed around digging holes in the air—!'

Some rootless nobody Jin Sehoon had picked up God-knows-where.

The cause of the disaster was that fool, brought on board to cultivate a "star," running wild completely out of control until he self-destructed.

But there was no way he could say that out loud.

Han Taeseok dropped his gaze and gave a carefully measured answer.

"...I have no face to show you. But the plan itself had no flaws. Right up until that accident at the very end, both the viewership ratings and the public buzz were at their peak. Even the encounter with [Corporate Slave Life], which we'd considered the greatest hurdle, unfolded exactly as intended."

"Then why is the result this kind of garbage!"

"That is... no matter how superb the support and backing may be, it's worthless if the 'horse' running on the ground is beyond control. An uncredentialed outsider came in and fumbled it at the decisive moment—"

Han Taeseok deftly shifted the blame onto Kang Minho.

Even Jin Sehoon would find it hard to rebut that head-on.

Flaws were one thing, but there were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠limits. What kind of idiot brings a guy like that on board.

"...Get out. Do your penance properly."

"Understood."

Back in his own office as head of headquarters, Han Taeseok's blood boiled all over again.

"...That lunatic. He shits the bed himself and then throws a tantrum at me."

There wasn't a single thing about this whole affair he didn't hate.

That dimwit Kang Minho, obviously — but those [Midas] vultures, swarming in with cameras like flies to gawk at other people's ruin, made his skin crawl too.

They'd thrown in far more personnel than usual, and that was the catastrophe they chose to broadcast?

"Vile bastards."

And then there was Park Jinchul, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the man whose failures had set this whole mess in motion in the first place.

If that bastard had simply done his job properly, there would have been no reason to greenlight the project Jin Sehoon pushed at them in the first place.

Kang Minho, Park Jinchul — why were there so many bastards fumbling things in the field these days?

"And Kim Doyoon... I don't like that bastard either."

It wasn't that he'd botched the work like the others. The report, fine — it was decently written. But if it was a project you'd planned, you should have seen it through to the end and taken responsibility for it.

Instead he'd slipped away and taken vacation?

Shouldn't he have drawn a fat red line ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠through the report — "many variables expected, exercise caution with field-level unknowns"?

...Not that it would have helped, judging by the way Kang Minho behaved. But still.

It was a nitpick that bordered on forced — but if he didn't do even this much, he felt like he'd choke on his own rage.

Han Taeseok wasn't exactly in the business of objective feedback at the moment.

The stock price was scraping rock bottom, and the company's image had cratered.

However much he'd handed the planning completely back to Kim Doyoon, and however much the man was the odd stone out in Jin Sehoon's flagship project, there was no way he could walk away entirely scot-free.

He'd bought himself time — but now, the reply from [Cheka] mattered more than ever.

Riiiiing—

The desk phone rang. The secretary's office.

"...!"

[Sir, Cheka International has contacted us...]

"Cheka? Put them through. Now!"

A Russia-backed mega-capital, and the buyer Han Taeseok had staked his life on for the 'AI Operating System.'

Right after the exploration fiasco, he'd worried sick — had they lost the interest they'd shown before? Had they flipped to a negative position?

Thankfully, it was nothing of the sort.

Once he took the call, they were remarkably aggressive in tone — practically tearing through formalities.

Blossoms of laughter bloomed across Han Taeseok's face.

At this very moment — stock crashing, exploration botched — they were pressing in hard, prepared and poised. The Cheka crowd, it seemed, saw this as an opportunity.

With [Arc]'s standing wobbling, they'd clearly calculated they could take the technology cheaper, on even more favorable terms.

Given that [Cheka] was famous as the vulture fund of the hunter industry, nothing about it was surprising.

'...Who knows. Maybe Cheka secretly had a hand in overturning Jin Sehoon's board this time.'

If so, they'd walk away with the AI system at a far better price.

Not that it mattered to him.

Even if he handed it over to [Cheka] on somewhat generous terms, once the system became the industry standard, the whole game would change.

Exploration was riddled with variables — having this didn't guarantee a successful raid — but in the end, no company would be able to refuse such a refined operating system.

One clean reversal with this, straight to an executive seat at headquarters. That was the plan.

Heaven had not yet abandoned Han Taeseok.

Incidentally, on the Friday Han Taeseok had scheduled his meeting, his calendar carried a small line of red text: [Team Leader Kim Doyoon — Resignation Date].

Perhaps it was because it was his first real vacation in ages.

Resting at home, the days simply flew by like an arrow.

A stop by the hospital to see his mother's face. Some cleaning around the house, a bit of shopping for this and that — and somehow the hours just melted away.

One thing he'd learned recently: with enough money, South Korea was a remarkably comfortable place to live.

'Not that I've ever lived anywhere else to compare.'

Anyway. After a few days of enjoying the pleasure of spending money, the day of the meeting with [Dokkaebi] drew near.

"Hyung-nim! Over here, over here!"

Park Sangwoo waved from the very entrance of the [Dokkaebi] building to greet him.

Dead center in Gangnam, the atmosphere was nothing at all like [Arc]'s opulent glass palace.

Not a high-rise tower, but a building of modest height bursting with personality. The exterior walls had the texture of red brick, yet were shaped into striking geometric forms — genuinely fascinating to look at.

Less a corporate ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠headquarters than a vast hideout for artists.

"You made the trip — thank you. I've drilled it into the Workshop Master's head until her ears grew calluses. We're bringing a VIP today, so prepare everything properly."

He'd thought it before, and it was true again — this guy called him "hyung-nim" with gusto even though neither of them knew the other's age. The man's antics were no joke.

Was everyone at [Dokkaebi] like this? Coming from a place where business ran strictly by the book, it took some getting used to.

"It felt wrong to come empty-handed, so I picked something up on the way."

I handed over a bag of bread from a famous bakery I'd stopped at on the way.

"Oh my, you shouldn't have! The staff are going to lose their minds over this."

Park Sangwoo received the bag with theatrical flair, and the moment they stepped inside, the lobby was even more colorful.

Hunters or not, companies with formal parent conglomerates did exist — which was why this level of freedom would have been unthinkable at [Arc].

People loudly chatting away in the middle of the hallway, someone sprawled across the lobby sofa napping, someone else high-fiving a passing coworker over what looked like good news.

'Definitely a peculiar place.'

And the moment I walked in, the atmosphere shifted once more. Curiosity, this time.

Everyone else was in casual clothes — meanwhile, there was me. Full suit. Face mask. Briefcase.

Shall we say I stood out, in an entirely different sense?

"Huh? Hey, isn't that the guy?"

"Whoa. Sangwoo-hyung. Did that person transfer here?"

"Transfer, nothing. Looks like he goes solo. Someone should try reeling him in."

"I watched the livestream — he's no joke. Snag him for your team and work him like an ox?"

"Work him like an ox, my foot! Mr. [Corporate Slave Life], our team is not that kind of team... please don't misunderstand."

Watching Park Sangwoo rush around chasing down his snickering juniors like a warden herding inmates, I found myself thinking that the scenery here really was something else entirely.

"Haah... please don't mind them too much. They're just teasing on purpose."

"It's quite all right."

"Anyway... this way, please. Let's head down to the underground workshop."

The basement level I followed Park Sangwoo down into had yet another feel from the black market workshop.

If that place had been a grimy, shadowy scene of crude modification work, this was...

Whirrrrr—

Inside a spotless clean room, cutting-edge precision machinery coexisted with a research staff of Awakened.

The sound of mechanized processing sliced through the air, while mana-soaked materials floated suspended overhead, waiting their turn to be worked.

'So this is the [Dokkaebi Workshop]... the name and the image don't match up at all, do they?'

A state-of-the-art laboratory where science, superhuman ability, and old-school craftsmanship converged into one.

And at its very center, a woman stood waiting for me with her arms crossed.

Sharp eyes, a stern, no-nonsense face — the general director of the [Dokkaebi Workshop], and the finest artifact artisan in all of Korea.

She looked me up and down, then gave a wry smirk and spoke.

"So you're the guest Sangwoo's been yapping about?"

From the very first impression, she radiated that peculiar blend of artisan pride and unbending rigor.

"Hmm... you certainly do look like you need plenty of things. To the point I can hardly believe you're a hunter who goes into dungeons. Is it really true you went in with that equipment? Park Sangwoo."

"You watched the broadcast yourself, didn't you, Noonim?"

"Exploration with nothing — no weapon, not even auxiliary tools? There's no way..."

As she circled me, sizing this up and measuring that—

I smiled, drew the box cutter from my bag, extended the blade, and spun it nimbly around my finger.

Shaaak—

It cut through nothing at all — but that [Killing Intent] alone carried through. The woman's eyes went round, and she froze mid-gesture.

Then she picked the conversation back up.

"True, I could use some equipment — but it's not like I have nothing at all. So? Can your people make something like this?"