Darknet Whispers and Dangerous Deals

A week had passed since the Ida-in and Steel Skin encounter.

Nothing had really changed. My routine was waking up in the morning, grabbing a convenience store lunchbox, sorting through the memories left in Blank's body one by one, and browsing the underworld info network in the evening.

For a villain, it was an incredibly ordinary, small-time daily life. Surprisingly, the villain communities were pretty entertaining. And helpful too. They were perfect for picking up info on parts of the original story that weren't shown.

If I'd possessed a hero, things would've been easier. The original story focused on heroes, after all. As a fan, I knew a lot about that side. But villains were different. Aside from a few named ones, I knew absolutely nothing about the villain scene. So I had no choice but to gather info like this and adapt on my own.

Humans are creatures of adaptation, though. Through info gathering here and the connections original Blank had, I'd even picked up a few gigs. The problem was they weren't simple day jobs like legit part-time work—but I stuck to the least shady kinds as much as possible.

'Why not just get a legit part-time job?' The thought crossed my mind, and I even considered trying, but it was impossible. Why do you think villains are villains? I had zero legit ID that'd pass in the straight world. No citizen card, no clean bank account. Trying to work above ground in this state was a non-starter.

Still, villain work wasn't that tough. As long as I stuck to gigs a half-decent crook who doesn't randomly slaughter people would take, my conscience didn't sting too bad.

I even toyed with ignoring the original story altogether and just living like this. But the world doesn't make it that easy. The issue was that after the Steel Skin thing, rumors about Blank were starting to circulate in the underworld.

Classic underworld board lingo. Anonymity meant half the posts were dubious, but the rumors were definitely spreading.

Good or bad, I couldn't tell.

Higher profile meant more gigs and underworld cred, but it also drew Hero Association eyes. Of course they monitored the darknet. About 30% of posters were probably undercover cops. That's why no one dropped real names or specifics—get caught otherwise.

Skimming through, pages 1 to 3 were flooded with "Blank." The Steel Skin beatdown rumor had gone viral late.

'Steel Skin—didn't appear in the original, but turns out he had pull here.' I'd taken down a mid-tier guy with street cred, boosting my rep. Yeah, he was tougher than expected.

Overall vibe: "Kinda surprising." Blank was known as the quiet type, so this sudden activity was weird. Even here, he fit the low-key villain image.

'Bounty gonna go up, huh.' A few small heists, and this Steel Skin takedown where I only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roughed up villains—but if the Association overreacted and jacked the price, it'd mess with my routine. Money pinches make people desperate. Heroes could comb these slums like rats.

I pondered seriously while popping ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the lid on my lunchbox. Pork stir-fry from the nearby unmanned store. Taste was meh. Wasn't expecting much anyway.

Best play: Lay low for now. Next big original event was a month out. Chill till then, decide my stance at that point. Done.

That was the plan.

Then the studio door swung open—no knock.

"Hey."

In came a burly guy. Thick neck, arms covered in tats. Mid-tier underworld broker—Yongpal. In Blank's memories, he was filed as "shady merchant who occasionally brings useful info."

"People barging in without knocking are my least favorite type." Kinda bold expecting proper manners from slum underworld rats, but still.

"Hey hey, it's me, Yongpal. Door wasn't even locked."

"That an excuse?"

He ignored me, scanning the rundown studio and clicking his tongue.

"Yo, Blank. You're a B-Rank Wanted Villain—why live in this dump? Heard you wrecked Steel Skin. Process some decent gigs, upgrade your pad already."

"Saving on maintenance fees." Prices here were murderously high, true to near-future Korea.

"...A villain worrying about maintenance?" He'd heard all the gritty tales, so this everyday chit-chat threw him. Gotta pay bills, right? Villains are part of this market economy too.

"Electric bill's killer too." Summer AC already terrified me. What then? Hole up in a government office for "villain summer escape"? Doubt it'd fly.

Yongpal looked baffled. I ignored him, scooping some pork stir-fry. This was Blank's normal life. No evidence he lived flashy villain-style. Suited his tier, far as I could tell.

"So. What's the business?" And let me eat in peace?

"Got a gig. Perfect for you."

He plunked a beat-up tablet on the table. Unbranded look—standard here after hacking security. Very villainy. Screen showed the job deets.

I set down my chopsticks.

"Why bring a 5-million-won guard gig to a B-Rank?" One day babysitting goods for 5 mil? Sweet deal. Not for fringe B-Rank like me. Mid-tier might snag it.

"Client named you. Blank or bust."

I picked up the tablet, re-reading. Warehouse spot, date, pay. That's it. No client info.

Named request. Anonymous.

Stank. Bad kind.

"Pass." Obvious trap.

"Yo! 5 million! You said bills are killer!"

Yongpal clung to my arm like a whiny critter, kvetching. Ugh, why me?

"Bills are cheaper than my life."

He started to argue but shut up at my face. Blank's rep: Once he says no, no means no. Body memory nailed the expression.

"...Fine. I'll shop elsewhere."

He slammed out. Didn't lock. Guy never closes doors properly coming or going. And that kicked-puppy glance over his shoulder? Cut it out. Doesn't suit you.

I turned back to my lunchbox. Pork stir-fry gone cold.

...Screw it.

The Hero Association's internal database had a file on Blank.

Seo Ha-yoon was opening it for the third time.

The file was still thin. Vanished 3 months, popped back with Steel Skin. Ability pegged as shockwave, but details MIA.

'Wasn't totally idle those 3 months.' But nothing report-worthy—just petty crimes lumped with street trash.

Seo Ha-yoon closed the file, opening her on-site report.

The last two lines nagged.

No civilian casualties. No unnecessary engagements.

Odd for a B-Rank Wanted Villain. Mid-tier underworld types usually iced witnesses or trashed sites. Blank? Zero traces post-takedown. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Warning shots avoided civilian zones during their clash. Could've hit her too, even without casualties. But nope—just bolted. Coward? Nah. Cowards don't tangle with Steel Skin in broad daylight.

Intentional? Habit? Or deemed unnecessary?

She tapped her pen on the desk.

"Didn't bolt right away or attack."

Flashback: Blank froze briefly mid-fight. Could've fled first but didn't. Took out Steel Skin with time to spare, yet no preemptive strike. Just stared meaningfully for seconds.

Then bolted when her light beam charged.

Doesn't attack till attacked first?

Not a B-Rank villain principle. Not in Association DB anyway.

She opened a new memo.

She saved, leaned back. City lights out the window. Post-patrol, clock past midnight.

Blank.

Association file: "Activity motives unknown." Most villains pushed faction growth or ideology. Blank? Erratic pattern, no org ties—hard to classify.

Why no assigned hero yet: Medium-high threat but low activity, no direct damages—low priority.

Seo Ha-yoon logged into the internal system.

Opened assigned hero request form.

Target: BLANK.

Requester: Seo Ha-yoon.

Cursor hesitated, then submit.

Next morning.

Grabbing coffee from an unmanned convenience store straddling the slums and New Seoul District 23, I bumped someone. A week-plus post-possession, but stress had made coffee my chill ritual. Early mornings usually empty—till this.

"Ah, sorry!"

She apologized first. Brown bob hair. Hero Association logo jacket. Face rang a bell.

...Ida-in?

Another protagonist here. Unlike polished Seo Ha-yoon, Ida-in's rags-to-hero growth story made her fan-fave. Expressive, clumsy opposite of icy Ha-yoon—cute charm.

Ida-in bowed at me. Plain clothes, no clue I'm Blank. Makes sense. Who knows maskless Blank? Play normal citizen, no panic.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

Kept it vanilla. No reason to freak. No telepathy or whatever—she can't know. Smile nicely, readjust coffee, move on.

"I came for coffee too."

Pointless. What now?

"Live around here?"

Sudden small talk. She's friendly, sure—but this bold with a strange guy? These days?

"No."

Super senses sniffing me out? Nah. Act shady now, breed suspicion. Clean "no," imply I live far.

"Ah, gotcha. I'm on patrol here lately. Seen anything weird nearby? Reports of villain activity."

Ah, routine canvassing. Eager beaver grilling civilians.

"Nope."

Lie—one villain, one hero weeks back. Played tense hide-and-seek with Flash.

"Ah... okay."

Ida-in deflated. Grasping at straws, got zilch—disappointed but expected.

She fidgeted in her pocket, pulled a card. Apprentice Hero Ida-in, Hero Association. Real business cards for apprentices? Ego overload? Not even full hero.

"Call if you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spot anything suspicious. Citizen safety first!"

Handed it with a salute—nearly bit tongue, ignored.

Refuse? Suspicious. I took it, pure citizen mode.

"Sure. Will do if I see something."

She beamed.

"You're so nice! Most ignore or blow me off..."

Endless door-to-door had worn her down. Normal response = "kind." Heavy cold shoulders.

Higher-tier heroes get cooperation; she's just "apprentice"—no full local license. Plus rush hour—folks ain't chatty when grabbed on street.

I side-eyed her trot into the store, stared at the card.

Hero Association Apprentice Ida-in.

Her harmless, pitiful smile popped up every glance. Shoved it in my pocket loose.

Back at the studio apartment, I tossed the card onto the table.

Hero Association Apprentice Ida-in. 010-XXXX-XXXX.

I stared blankly at it for a while, then shoved it into the bottom drawer. I'd just gotten a business card from a main character of my favorite webtoon. Now that was a pretty rare experience.

Sipping my coffee, I surveyed the dingy room.

A spot on the ceiling—was it mold or a water stain? This place really is a dump.

I had planned to turn coffee time into a dark web skim for safe gigs, but my hand paused.

The anonymous, designated request Yong-pal had brought me kept nagging at me. A designated request from an anonymous client. A five-million-won warehouse guard job. The day rate was massive. Suspicious elements aside, it was tempting.

There were two possibilities. One: a Hero Association sting operation.

'Nah, Yong-pal would've sniffed that out.' He's a veteran living on his reputation, so he would have passed on it.

Two: Someone who hates Blank is trying to bait me out. I'm on a long hiatus, so I don't know my own grudges, but villains eat each other alive. It's entirely possible.

It was frustrating—Blank's phone had zilch on his relationships beyond Yong-pal and a few brokers. What kind of life did he lead? This Blank I possessed.

Since I couldn't probe these grudges directly, possibility two remained a total wildcard.

'But... five million won is five million won...' If it's a trap? Slaughter them all and make a run for it. If it's legit? Get paid and live happily ever after. The gig was too sweet—reckless bravado was sprouting wild inside me, and my heart was swaying like a reed in the wind.

Maybe I'll ping Yong-pal again and get him to probe the job details.

That moment.

Seo Ha-yoon's assigned hero request approved next morning after internal review.

Assigned Hero: Seo Ha-yoon. Target: BLANK.

Same time, Association DB auto-updated Blank's file.