God's Atlantis

First things first — I headed to the costume room with Samara. We needed evidence.

The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere was ice-cold.

Elena sat in a chair, scowling as she sipped an iced americano. Yuria was quietly lost in thought. Mi-ryeong stared rigidly at the three cameras laid out on the desk, her face set like stone. And Ju Seo-hyeon was radiating a murderous aura so thick it looked like she might draw a blade and start swinging at any second. Of course, she didn't actually have a sword on her.

"These the cameras?"

I walked up to the desk. Three identical cameras sat there, each about the size of a thumb. They looked like the kind that stored footage rather than streaming it live.

"Yes. We found them cleverly hidden in the ceiling, the wall, and the costume rack. We searched thoroughly — these three are the only ones."

Yuria said.

Just to be sure, I asked them.

"The changing scenes didn't get caught on camera, right?"

"Yuria found them the moment she arrived. I'd heard the entertainment industry in District 6700 was filthy, but to think we'd nearly fall victim to hidden cameras before even debuting… This is no ordinary place."

Elena clicked her tongue.

I glared at the cameras and activated Hacking.

The footage recorded on the cameras flickered through my mind.

The cameras had been installed that morning, and whoever planted them had carefully avoided being caught on film.

Samara, standing beside me, spoke up in a voice thick with rage.

"Producer Seong, this is no small matter. We need to call the police right now and catch the culprit!"

"Calm down, Samara. The police don't solve everything. And if we call them, this whole thing becomes public. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hidden-camera scandal before we even debut. How do you think the reporters will spin this?"

Reporters.

At that word, Samara's brow furrowed instantly.

Most of the journalists in this world were bottom-feeders. Writing vicious hit pieces when something rubbed them the wrong way was standard practice — and some of them even used scoops as leverage to blackmail entertainment companies for cash.

"…So you're just going to bury this and move on?"

"Hell no. My women — no, Pobitz — nearly got filmed by hidden cameras, and you think I'd just let that slide? What I mean is we handle this quietly, without the public ever finding out."

I scooped up the cameras.

"Samara. Tear this costume room apart and make sure there aren't any more cameras we missed. As for the outfits… we'll change in the car. This place gives me the creeps — I can't change here. You all feel the same, right?"

"Yes. There may not be any cameras left, but it's still unsettling. There's only one person allowed to see my body, after all. Please catch the culprit, Producer."

"This world is overflowing with garbage…"

That was Mi-ryeong and Ju Seo-hyeon. Leaving the costume situation to Samara, I went straight to find Director Jackson.

"Producer Seong. What's going on? Your face is awfully stiff. Haha — you look like a murderer."

Jackson laughed from the director's chair. He'd been in a good mood ever since receiving that envelope of cash.

I scanned the surroundings once. The other staff members were bustling about, prepping for the shoot. I approached Director Jackson, pulled a small knife from my pocket, pressed it against his throat, and spoke with pure killing intent.

"Director. Let's have a little private chat."

"……"

Jackson's face went ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rigid. He glared at me like he wanted me dead.

"…If you think I'll fold under a threat like this… you're sorely mistaken. Me, Jackson — I've nearly lost a hand at the gambling tables before…"

Shnk.

The tip of the small knife sank into Jackson's neck. Not all the way. I avoided the carotid artery. It wasn't a life-threatening wound — just a precise placement. But the sensation of cold steel sliding into his throat came through loud and clear.

"I said let's talk, you bastard. Or would you rather die right here?"

Jackson went deathly pale. He couldn't even nod properly, and his voice trembled as he spoke.

"I-I understand. I'll talk. Please, just spare me… I'll even give back the money I received…"

"Bathroom. Act natural."

I took Jackson into the public restroom. The moment I locked the door, I drove a kick straight into his gut. Jackson crumpled and rolled across the bathroom floor.

"Guhhh…!"

"What's with the theatrics, you piece of shit? We haven't even started yet."

I stomped on him. Crushed his head under my foot, snapped his arms and legs. Kicking him in the stomach was just the basics.

"W-why are you doing this… P-please, spare me… Hnnngh…"

Jackson curled into a ball like a pill bug, tears streaming down his face. I grabbed his right hand. Crack. Crack. I snapped his fingers one by one.

"AAAAAARGH!"

All five fingers on his right hand were wrecked.

"Hah. Still wearing that 'I don't deserve this' face? You stubborn bastard. Do I actually have to cut your fingers off before you'll admit what you did?"

"I-I didn't do anything! I'll return the money I received!"

Jackson pleaded desperately. Blood poured from his smashed nose, and shattered teeth showed through his split lips. By this point, he should have been confessing…

…Is Jackson not the culprit?

Suddenly, I remembered — Jackson never appeared in the hidden camera footage. Maybe he wasn't the one who planted them.

That doesn't mean this bastard is off the hook. What kind of director can't even manage his own set?

Furious, I smashed my fist into Jackson's skull. He let out a strangled croak and trembled violently. After beating him to the brink of death, I pulled out a potion and dumped it over his body. The minor wounds vanished, and his broken fingers knit back together.

Even after I'd so kindly restored him, Jackson couldn't get up on his own. I grabbed his shoulder and hauled him upright by force.

"AAAAAGH! My shoulder…!"

"Quit whining. Still don't know what you did?"

"I-I didn't do anything!"

"You planted hidden cameras in our girls' costume room. Not one — three of them."

"W-what are you talking about…"

Jackson's eyes went wide. The look on his face said he genuinely had no idea.

"You didn't plant them?"

"No! Why would I install cameras?! If I got caught, my entire career would be finished…!"

"You need money because of your gambling debts."

"It's not that much debt! A few months of work and I can pay it off! I may not look like much, but I'm a well-known music video director in this industry! Why would I risk a dangerous crime like hidden cameras?!"

Hearing it laid out like that… he had a point.

"Still, the fact remains that hidden cameras were installed in the costume room. Managing the set is your job. So you're the one who takes responsibility."

"R-responsibility?"

I smiled coldly and raised the knife to his throat.

"You think I'm joking?"

"I-I really didn't install them! Please, spare me. Please…!"

"If it wasn't you, then who? Anyone on the staff look suspicious?"

"Yes! The costume room is set up and managed by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Robert, the AD! Robert knows how to handle cameras too!"

"Could be some other staff member."

"The only staff member who can freely enter and leave the costume room without anyone batting an eye is basically Robert! And Robert has a motive!"

"What motive?"

"I heard it at a drinking party last time… he said he'd dumped all his savings into stocks. And those stocks… crashed recently."

"So that bastard needs money just like you."

"I-I'm nowhere near as desperate as Robert!"

"Shut up and call him here. Try anything funny… you know what happens."

"Y-yes. Yes. I'll call him."

Jackson pulled out his smartphone with shaking hands and made the call.

"—Director Jackson? Where are you? The set direction is basically done. Once you and the performers come out, we can start shooting right away."

"Uh, uh, Robert. I'm in the bathroom right now…"

Jackson kept glancing at me. I made a throat-slitting gesture with the knife. Jackson swallowed hard and continued.

"There's no toilet paper here. Y-you bring me some."

"—Ah… I'll send the junior."

"Not the junior. You come yourself."

"—Me, personally?"

"Fuck. Don't embarrass me by sending a junior. Trying to undermine my authority by making a junior do it? You come to the bathroom ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone, without telling anyone! Fuck!"

"—Y-yes, sir. On my way."

Jackson hung up and eyed me nervously.

"He's a sharp one — he'll be here soon."

"You weren't cursing at me just now, were you?"

"Absolutely not! I just swear a lot normally… if I didn't use any curses, Robert might have gotten suspicious."

"……"

I stared at Jackson with full suspicion, but didn't do anything about it.

Less than three minutes later, someone knocked on the public restroom door.

"Director! It's Robert!"

I pointed a finger toward the corner. Jackson caught on immediately. He quietly shuffled over and crouched down.

The second I opened the bathroom door, I seized Robert by the throat, dragged him inside, and slammed him to the floor. I locked the door again and beat the living hell out of him with everything I had.

"GYAAAAAAGH!"

After thrashing Robert like a madman for a while, I asked him with killing intent dripping from every word.

"Was it you?"

"W-what are you talking about?! D-Director! Help me! This crazy bastard…!"

Robert coughed up blood as he begged Jackson for help. Jackson, crumpled in the corner, met my gaze and immediately shrieked like he was having a seizure.

"It was you! You bastard! You planted the hidden cameras in the costume room!"

"Hidden cameras?! N-no! Why would I do something like that?!"

"There's no one else who could have done it!"

"I-I said no!"

I had a gut feeling.

The one who planted the cameras was almost certainly Robert.

Even if it isn't him, it doesn't matter. I'll work through the staff one by one until I find the right bastard.

The costume room was off-limits to non-personnel, so the culprit had to be among the staff. A search of their belongings would probably turn up evidence connected to the cameras.

I clamped one hand onto Robert's head.

"Still don't get the situation? You're a dead man walking. Oh, of course I won't just kill you. You pulled a cute little stunt… so you'll pay the price for it."

Crack.

I generated lightning.

Current surged from the crown of his head through his entire body. Electric torture. One wrong move and he could die… but I'd done this plenty of times. I could feel, instinctively, exactly how much a person could take.

ZZZZZZZT!

The current flowed. He couldn't even scream properly. People say electrocution feels like your whole body is being shredded into fine pieces.

The smell of burning meat filled the air.

I pulled my hand off him. Keep going and I might kill him, so I was giving him a break.

"I'll let you rest for exactly thirty seconds."

"Ugh, uhhh… I'm sorry… I'll never do it again… please spare me… please…"

"This bastard. Only a few minutes in and he's already confessing?"

I pulled out a potion.

Trying to film my women's naked bodies with hidden cameras… That was something I would never, ever forgive.