Even an Empty Gun Can Be Loaded with Money

B-07 was a place that didn't exist on any map. The old downtown drainage pump station that Ghost Van had mentioned looked, from the outside, like a facility abandoned long ago. Rusted iron doors. Shattered glass windows. Concrete floors crusted with dried water. The NO TRESPASSING sign on the wall was half torn away, and from the drainage ditch beside the building rose the stench of rotting water.

Rat Merchant grimaced the moment he stepped out of the car.

“Is this place actually safe?”

Ghost Van checked the dented rear door of the vehicle as he answered.

“Good for shaking off trackers.”

“That’s not the same as safe.”

“Close enough.”

“No. It’s very different.”

Rat Merchant grumbled but still scanned the surroundings with quick, darting eyes. It was a habit. I did the same. There were no association drones in sight. The engine noise of the Black Dog SUVs had already faded into the distance. I didn’t believe Hound had given up completely. That bastard was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠closer to a beast than a person—a tracking dog that could distinguish the scent of blood, sweat, and fear, even catching the lingering traces of supernormal factors. He wasn’t the type to quit just because he’d lost the trail for now. Still, the distance had opened up. We had time to catch our breath. That much, at least, we had gained.

I glanced down at the wrist monitor.

It was still high. The amplification wave from the Black Sun lingered, and the sunspot stone continued to emit a low vibration from inside its temporary case. A faint white-blue glow still clung to the back of Yoon Taeha’s hand as well. Not good. But not the worst outcome either. At least it hadn’t exploded. For now, that was enough.

Ghost Van entered the pump station and pushed aside an old metal cabinet beside the basement stairs. With a long, metallic screech, a small panel was revealed behind it. He pried off the cover and turned the rusted lever inside. Moments later, a low mechanical hum echoed from within the wall.

Thud.

A section of the concrete wall slowly slid open. Behind it was a blast door. Faint lettering remained on its surface.

B-07.

Rat Merchant poked his head in and peered inside.

“Where the hell do you even find places like this?”

“Old supernormal disaster shelter.”

“Legal facility?”

“No.”

“Figures. If any place you recommended was actually legal, that would be even scarier.”

When the door opened, stale air flowed out. The smell of mold. Dust. Old disinfectant. And the faint traces of people who had once taken refuge here. We stepped inside. The narrow corridor branched into sleeping quarters, storage rooms, a communications room, a generator room, and a water tank room. Old red emergency lights lined the ceiling, and yellowed notices were posted on the walls.

I read the last line and let out a small, dry laugh. Supernormal abilities prohibited. How many of the people who had just walked in here could actually follow that rule?

Ghost Van went into the generator room. Soon after, a low vibration spread throughout the entire shelter, and the emergency lights began to flicker on one by one. The red glow dimly illuminated the corridor and sleeping quarters. Ghost Van returned and spoke in his usual clipped manner.

“Weak external connection. Can block signals. Vehicle swap possible.”

Rat Merchant collapsed onto one of the bunks.

“Not bad. Smell aside, it’s heaven for fugitives.”

“Did you just call it a good place?” Ghost Van asked.

Rat Merchant shook his head immediately.

“Nope. Cancel that. If I say it’s a good place, you’ll probably tack on extra usage fees next time.”

Seon Woo-rak had already set the sunspot stone case on the floor. He covered it with multiple layers of shielding fabric, then pulled out his old measuring devices and makeshift equipment, connecting them together. The gear looked crude—exposed wires, several connection points wrapped in tape. But it worked. The resonance from the sunspot stone grew slightly quieter. My wrist monitor responded right away.

Seon Woo-rak nodded.

“Temporary stabilization is possible. It won’t last long, though.”

“What else do we need?” I asked.

He answered as if he had been waiting for the question.

“A proper shielding case, resonance blocking filters, stabilization patches, a portable supernormal suppression device, and an analyzer to record Yoon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Taeha’s reactions.”

Rat Merchant folded his fingers one by one on the bunk.

“Shielding case, filters, patches, suppression device, analyzer.” He looked at me. “All of that costs money.”

“That’s why we came here.”

“This isn’t a hospital, it’s an abandoned pump station.”

“We catch our breath first, then get the money.”

Rat Merchant’s eyes narrowed.

“That money you’re talking about… it’s not coming out of my pocket, right?”

I didn’t answer. He understood everything from my silence alone.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Rat Merchant rubbed his face with both hands while still sitting on the bunk. “Kang Doyun. I’ve been feeling uneasy since earlier, but you’re ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠seriously thinking of borrowing money from me?”

“Lend it to me.”

“I haven’t even answered yet and you’re already pushing straight to the main point.”

“We don’t have time.”

“People who say they don’t have time always go for my wallet first.”

Rat Merchant pulled out his terminal. Even so, he didn’t refuse outright. That was just like him. He was a coward. He hated losing money. But the moment he smelled profit, he would run the numbers even while complaining. I looked at him and said,

“I’ll pay interest.”

“Of course you’ll pay interest. The real problem is the odds of recovering the principal.”

“I’ll pay it back with interest.”

Rat Merchant stared at me.

“Do you know how many guys I’ve seen lose their organs after trusting that line and lending money?”

“You didn’t lose yours, though.”

“I was the broker on those organ deals, so I know exactly how it works.”

Yoon Taeha frowned.

“Are you joking right now?”

Rat Merchant glanced back at him.

“Hero sir, in this line of work, jokes and transaction records often end up on the same ledger.”

Yoon Taeha’s face hardened even more. Rat Merchant shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I won’t sell you today. Not yet.”

“You can remove the ‘not yet’ part.”

“If I remove that, my character dies.”

I cut their conversation short.

“Association briefing time.”

Rat Merchant checked his terminal.

“Noon. They’ve announced an emergency briefing bundling the Guro Abandoned Factory explosion, the Central Waterway incident, and the abandoned port collision. They probably won’t use the term sunspot stone—more like ‘unstable supernormal material.’”

“We need to get the money in before then.”

Rat Merchant’s fingers paused.

“Where?”

“Supernormal suppression equipment, shielding fabric, field analysis gear. Association supply candidates.”

“You think they’ll all go up?”

“When the association gets scared, the budget flows that way.”

“And the sectors that will drop?”

“Guro redevelopment. Logistics around the abandoned factory. Short-term disaster insurance will take a hit too.”

Rat Merchant stared at me for a long time.

“How can you be so sure about all that?”

I didn’t answer right away. My gaze shifted to the old map hanging on the communications room wall. Guro. The abandoned factory. The Central Waterway. The abandoned port. And soon, the association’s temporary command center where the briefing would be held. All of these flows had been mentioned in passing in volume one of the original novel. After the Guro incident, the association tripled its budget ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for supernormal suppression equipment. The Guro redevelopment zone was placed under long-term lockdown, and several private insurance companies took major losses. In the black market, shielding fabric and stabilization drugs became scarce. As a reader, I had simply skimmed over it as background explanation. But not anymore. Setting details could be turned into money. Of course, I had no intention of saying that out loud.

I looked at Rat Merchant.

“Black Dog doesn’t just move goods.”

“So?”

“They move money too. People, insurance, subcontracts—everything moves.”

I dredged up Copycat Kang Doyun’s memories. Bloodstained cash bags. Black market guarantee codes. Disposable accounts tossed to couriers. Copycat hadn’t been an important organization member. But because he had been a lowly courier, there were things only he could see. The ones above read documents. The ones below carried boxes. And the ones carrying the boxes sometimes saw flows that never made it onto any paperwork.

“I rolled around at the bottom. I saw things that official members never could.”

Rat Merchant tapped his terminal with a finger. Suspicion. Calculation. Greed. The three emotions crossed his face in sequence.

“Even if I only believe half of that, it’s still pretty expensive information.”

“And the other half?”

“The part you’re keeping your mouth shut about.” Rat Merchant stared at me intently. “Honestly, you’re not just a simple courier, are you?”

“I was. Until yesterday.”

“That answer is the most suspicious one yet.”

Yoon Taeha spoke quietly.

“It doesn’t sound like a prediction. It sounds like you’ve already experienced it once.”

The communications room fell silent for a moment. Rat Merchant looked back and forth between the two of us. Even Seon Woo-rak paused what he was doing. I met Yoon Taeha’s eyes. His expression wasn’t accusatory. But he was watching. He could tell I was hiding something.

“Let’s just say I’ve seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“The way Black Dog moves money.”

Yoon Taeha didn’t press further. He didn’t look entirely convinced, but his face said he knew now wasn’t the time to dig deeper. Rat Merchant let out a long sigh.

“Fine. I’ll lend you the money.”

“Conditions?”

“Principal recovery takes priority. Thirty percent of profits are mine. Money laundering fees separate. Add danger pay if tracking occurs. Any losses are on you.”

“That’s expensive.”

“That’s a generous rate for lending to a wanted mental-type villain.”

Yoon Taeha reflexively spoke up.

“The term mental-type villain is—”

“That’s what the association calls him too, isn’t it?” Rat Merchant shot back.

Yoon Taeha closed his mouth. I looked at Rat Merchant.

“Pull up the contract.”

Rat Merchant opened a black market guarantee code. It was too crude to call a formal contract, but in this world, these kinds of agreements tended to last longer. Authentication code instead of a signature. Guarantor record instead of a seal. Black market reputation instead of a court. I skimmed the contents. There were traps, but they weren’t too blatant. It seemed Rat Merchant still didn’t want to turn me into an irretrievable bad debt. I approved it. Once the contract was finalized, a loan limit appeared on one side of the screen. Rat Merchant’s funds. A portion scraped from Copycat’s subcontract transaction records. Black market credit guarantee. Even combined, it wasn’t a huge amount. But for us right now, it was more than enough.

Rat Merchant asked,

“What if it goes wrong?”

“I’ll pay it back.”

“How?”

“By not dying.”

He let out a short laugh.

“That’s the hardest repayment plan of all.”

Rat Merchant connected his equipment to the communications room terminal. On the outdated screen, delayed legal market data, black market financial networks, and supernormal goods trading boards appeared simultaneously. Supernormal suppression equipment manufacturers. Shielding fabric futures. Field analysis gear. Disaster insurance. Assets related to Guro redevelopment. Association supply candidates. Supernormal stabilization drug distribution rights. I pointed to several spots on the screen.

“Buy these.”

Rat Merchant entered the orders immediately.

“Shielding fabric is already starting to move a little.”

“Still not too late. The noon briefing is the real signal.”

“This side?”

“Sell. Short it if possible.”

“Guro redevelopment?”

“It’s going into long-term lockdown.”

Rat Merchant’s hand stopped.

“You’re that sure?”

“If the association uses the phrase ‘unstable supernormal material,’ private developers won’t be able to handle it.”

“If you even get that part right, I might actually start being scared of you.”

“You’re not scared now?”

“Fear comes a little late when I’m making money.”

He moved his hands again. He used roundabout accounts for the legal market and credit guarantees for the black market trades. Seon Woo-rak had somehow ended up watching the screen from beside us.

“Investing in supernormal suppression equipment is logical. The moment the association makes their fear public, the budget will flow toward equipment.”

Rat Merchant said,

“Doctor, when you say something is logical, it makes me even more anxious.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never seen anything you called logical turn out to be safe.”

“If you only care about safety in research, there’s no progress.”

“That’s why I don’t like going to your lab.”

The investments were complete. Rat Merchant leaned back in his chair and flicked his fingers.

“We’re in. Now whether your organs stay intact depends on what the association says at noon.”

“That’s good news.”

“Which part?”

“The part where they’re still intact for now.”

Rat Merchant looked at me with an expression of pure disbelief. Yoon Taeha was watching the screen from the entrance to the communications room. His expression was complicated.

“What are you planning to do with this money?”

“Buy cars, buy equipment, buy information, and buy time.”

“Time?”

“A lot of people die because they don’t have enough time.”

I didn’t take my eyes off the screen.

“And when heroes finally arrive, it’s often already too late.”

Yoon Taeha’s face stiffened. I knew the words had struck him. Even so, I didn’t stop.

“Saving people on site is your method. I’m going to buy what’s needed before the site explodes. Vehicles, safe houses, fake identities, shielding equipment, medical routes.”

“Do you really think money can solve all of that?”

“Not all of it.”

I glanced down at the wrist monitor.

It had gone down a little more.

“But there are many things you can’t even start without money.”

Yoon Taeha didn’t argue. He probably knew it too. The association used equipment to save people. Equipment was bought with budgets. Budgets were money. The words were different, but heroes moved on money too.

That was when Rat Merchant’s terminal beeped.

Beep.

He checked the screen and his eyes widened slightly.

“First reaction’s here.”

“Already?”

“Black market shielding fabric futures just spiked. Someone’s started buying in bulk. Looks like some people smelled the association briefing coming.”

“And us?”

Rat Merchant slowly turned to look at me. His face held disbelief, greed, and a very small trace of fear.

“We were already in first.”

Seon Woo-rak chuckled softly.

“Capital seizes the initiative just like supernormal abilities.”

Ghost Van, who had been leaning against the wall, spoke up.

“Money comes in, contract possible.”

Rat Merchant whipped his head around.

“You only butt in when money’s mentioned?”

“Contracts must be clear.”

“That’s true, but it’s still annoying.”

I looked at the screen. The returns were still small. But the direction was correct. The flow was moving. The events I knew about had begun to shake the money in this world. I hadn’t used a knife or a gun yet. I hadn’t used Villain Manifestation either. But this was still an attack. Stabbing money into the shadow of an event before others saw the event itself and moved. Turning background explanation into a money line. The first investment for a third-rate villain to survive.

Rat Merchant asked, unable to tear his eyes from the screen,

“How far are you planning to ride this?”

I didn’t answer immediately. Names floated through my mind. Seo Yi-hyun. Cha Eun-ha. People I hadn’t met yet. People who were originally supposed to die or disappear. People who would already be too late by the time a hero arrived. To pull them out, I needed money. I needed vehicles. I needed information. I needed people.

I said quietly,

“Enough to steal people.”

Rat Merchant’s hand stopped. He looked at me, then laughed as if he couldn’t believe it.

“From an information broker’s perspective, that sounds extremely ominous, you know?”

“But it smells like money, doesn’t it?”

Rat Merchant looked at the green numbers on his terminal screen and lifted the corner of his mouth.

“I can’t deny that.”

That was enough. The shelter’s red emergency lights flickered. Outside, the association and Black Dog were probably still searching for us. The Black Sun would be preparing the next scene. But there was one thing they didn’t know. I no longer simply stepped into their scenes. I would earn the admission fee. Buy the tools. Hire the people. And if necessary, I would buy the stage itself.

At that moment, a new news alert appeared on one side of Rat Merchant’s terminal.

Rat Merchant swallowed dryly.

“Noon.”

I nodded.

“That’s when the first money comes in.”

“And then?”

“We make contracts.”

I looked outside the communications room. Rat Merchant. Ghost Van. Seon Woo-rak. Yoon Taeha. It was still too crude to call a party, and we were far from truly trusting one another. But money moved faster than trust. Contracts lasted longer than emotion. And right now, I needed contracts more than trust.

“We’re going to the Guro command center,” I said. “But we won’t go at the time the Black Sun calls.”

Rat Merchant asked,

“Then when are we going?”

I looked at the numbers moving across the terminal screen.

“When we’re ready to enter.”

Rat Merchant was silent for a moment, then slowly covered his face with his hands.

“Oh man… now the villain’s even playing the stock market.”

I didn’t answer. A low mechanical hum echoed inside the shelter. The emergency lights continued to blink red. And I realized it. Even an empty gun could be loaded. Not with bullets. With money.