Chapter 167: [Saibaeman 1] The Extras Toiling Underneath the Stage

Meanwhile, in the residential district of the Tower of Lust.

The prime hour when two people in love were busy sharing drinks — and their fair share of anguish. Korea, of all places, and yet the coastline was lined with neat rows of palm trees like some tropical sea, and at its very center the hotel in question stood in all its glory.

A massive hotel concern that had, without warning, taken up residence in the Tower of Lust. It gave off a soft glow against a vista every bit the equal of Hawaii's Waikiki Beach, that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠most storied of tropical resorts. Even at this hour the main doors stood open, and at the front desk a clerk stood in plain view, taking check-ins.

"Welcome to Worldwide."

………

When the front manager asked whether he was there to stay, the young East Asian man wordlessly held out a card. A globe emblem — the mark of Worldwide — emblazoned on a black field. One look said it was anything but an ordinary card, yet the manager only asked, quietly:

"Are you Kim Sehyeon, Guild Master of [Cat Whiskers]?"

"Yes."

"Then please state the first digits of your resident registration num—"

"950107."

"And the number registered with the Hunter Association—"

"144-126-267."

"—Confirmed."

Cutting her off each time and reciting the answers unprompted was his way of announcing, I've been coming here for ages. The manager, naturally, took no offense. Consider the breed known as hunters, and plenty of them were far ruder than this.

"Before entering the main market, please recite the one-line rule of conduct."

Even that she asked with perfect courtesy — after all, the odds of somebody ending up murdered over a slip of the tongue were never quite zero percent. Weariness showed on his face, but he recited it without a hitch:

"—Whoever speaks of the secrets shall meet only death."

A short, heavy line. A single phrase that said, better than any sign could, precisely how dangerous the place he was about to enter would be.

"Confirmed."

The manager fitted the comm unit tucked beneath the desk to her ear and murmured into it.

"Ah, ah. One guest descending now. Open the passage, please."

"—Understood."

Someone answered, and the door set into the wall behind the manager slid open. Like a host unveiling a secret base, she swept her palm toward the entrance.

"Welcome — to the Black Market, our Worldwide's pride and joy."

She was not a normal woman, by any stretch. Evil, pure and simple. A powerless civilian in body — and yet her smile alone belonged to some wicked spirit pickled to the core in the vices of the world.

…Past the passage, down a spiraling staircase, ever deeper underground. Save for the small lights that lit the steps, it was a space so bare it was outright depressing. But even that stillness died the moment his foot touched the underground floor.

"One arrived. Closing the passage."

No sooner had he set foot below than the staircase rose up and vanished. The hulking man minding the entrance came toward him, the same comm unit the front manager had used fitted to his ear.

"Kim Sehyeon. Back again."

"Y-yes, sir. Here I am…"

The burly bald gatekeeper draped an arm over his shoulder. This Kim Sehyeon fellow was your perfectly average Korean man — set aside the fact that he was a hunter, and not one thing about him stood out. An extra at a glance. Exactly the kind of man you'd pick a lazy fight with.

"A puny little shit who can't even scrape together time for his own development — what possible business does he have prowling around a dreary place like this, hmmmm?"

"Ah, ahaha…"

He tried to laugh it off and slide on by, but the man wouldn't let him go. He cursed him out a dozen times over in his head — and opened his wallet all the same.

"H-here."

At the wad of bills he produced, the grip clamped on his shoulder slowly slackened. The lighter the shoulder grew, the lighter the tongue became.

"If you don't mind, how about a drink on your way off work sometime…?"

"…Heh. You sly little bastard. Not that I'm going easy on you because of this."

Even as he said it, he snatched the bills and tucked them away. The heavy weight pressing into his palm left the gatekeeper thoroughly pleased.

"Tossing around this kind of money every single time. Did you stumble into some honey pot the rest of us don't know about?"

"Eh, come on… what man with nothing to hide ends up in a place like this? Who knows — maybe I'm the son of some chaebol family myself."

"A grubby little weasel like you?"

"Happens all the time. Especially around here."

"Heh… hehe… HAHAK!! True enough~! We get every freak of a rich bastard you can imagine! Keeps food in my mouth, that's for sure!!"

He laughed long and loud, then spun open the vault of a door. Whatever pleasure the bundle of cash had bought him, he asked no further questions and picked no further fights. Stroke his ego, pad his palm, and the man was happy. A simple man — and for exactly that reason, an easy one to get along with.

"I've bled you for more than even I'd call fair. From now on I take nothing, so come and go with your head held high."

"Thank you…"

The freshly fleeced man offering his thanks would have been comical enough on its own, but the gatekeeper kept his amusement off his face and let him pass inside. The vault of a door thudded shut and locked from the outside.

"Fuck. All that talk, and he'll shake me down again the next time he sees me."

The moment he was out of sight, the gatekeeper's cloying warmth evaporated, and he spat a thick glob onto the floor.

Beyond the secret door lay a spotless space floored in polished marble.

"Fucking perverts, every last one of them. A den of crime if there ever was one, and they still went and made it absurdly spacious and gleaming. Well — I suppose it's their way of showing off just how much money they're sitting on."

The place looked for all the world like a shopping mall. Sinister weapons and gear that couldn't be sold above ground, forbidden monsters that couldn't be taken out of the Tower — and in the central hall, they were even selling people.

Even at two in the morning, handsome men in sharp suits and beautiful women in evening gowns drifted across the floor without end. Most of them were throwing themselves into the auction unfolding in the central hall, hungry to buy enslaved hunters — with obvious whores hanging off their arms, no less.

The rich gathered here from every world had cast ethics aside entirely, savoring the power of money like beasts.

"Devils, the lot of them. My mistake was thinking I could skim a few crumbs off bastards like those by snatching the kid."

He scratched at his neck. Hard — like a man covered in mosquito bites. And right there beneath his nails, the seed Song Seongyeon had planted squirmed about.

"Goddamn it… at this rate, who knows when my head's going to pop…"

His designation: [Saibaeman 1]. A spy Song Seongyeon had planted in the Black Market. Seeded once, long ago, and left to rot ever since, he'd done nothing but pile up worthless intelligence. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠none of that was this man's fault.

"What the hell do you want from me? At best, I'm a bottom-rung Hunter A."

A grunt laborer of the hunter world who'd lived his whole life doing nothing but culling monsters — and then, for one shot at real money, the idiot who'd reached into the plot to kidnap Rhea. Ask a man like that to gather intelligence, and normally you'd expect nothing…

"Ugh!?"

…His phone rang.

He'd been grumbling that, once again, he'd be wasting an entire day for nothing — but he ducked hastily into a corner of the mall and picked up.

"H-hello?"

"Hello."

"This is [Saibaeman 4]."

"You lousy fuck. Still breathing?"

"Oh — Jeonguk!"

"What is it? Did you actually get something!?"

"Don't call me by name from today on."

"It's fucking killing me."

The man on the other end had hurled abuse without warning, fuming. And no wonder — he was one of the victims Saibaeman 1 had strong-armed into this whole mess. A piece of trash himself, one who'd made his living off the dark jobs posted on the market boards, he'd had the misfortune of getting tangled up with No. 1 and becoming a [Saibaeman] in the process. Which meant the man now on the phone, exactly like No. 1, had his life dangling by a thread on the seed lodged in his throat.

"I really am sorry about that time! I know a hundred apologies won't cool you down! But if I can't count on you, I've got no one—!!"

"Ah~! So instead you strap a bomb to a man's neck?"

"And that's because you got flagged by Rank 3, landing us in this whole freak show?"

"You dog-fucking son of a bitch."

"I kept telling myself not to get worked up, but the second I hear your voice, I'm furious all over again, you piece of shit."

"M-more importantly! What? Did you actually find something!?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Yeah, I did, punk."

"Something important enough to keep your neck and mine attached, so cup those ears and listen reeeal close."

"O-okay!! What is it!?"

He hung on Saibaeman 4's every word. While he listened, sinister-looking hunters drifted in and gathered around Kim Sehyeon — No. 1 — one by one. Fourteen in all, No. 1 included. Every one of them a wretched [Saibaeman] with a bomb seed lodged in his throat.

"…You're telling me to comb the ventilation shafts with the bunch that just grouped up?"

"That's right."

"Especially near the elevator the VIPs use."

"There should be vents back there big enough for a person to fit through. Search that area."

"A v-vent? This isn't a movie — you're saying there's a route through there??"

"You're right that it's not a movie — which is why, normally, no one could."

"But when you've got subway lines, high-rises, or some massive structure buried underground, it's another story."

"Places like that run industrial air handlers to keep the interior air comfortable, and the size of the units in service tells you roughly how big the vents have to be."

"So they're big enough for a person to slip through? No, hold on — how the hell did you even learn that!?"

"Worked my connections and got a clean list of every item hauled into the hotel."

"Industrial-scale air handlers were on that list — and one look made it obvious they weren't meant for the hotel proper."

"And the Tower's interior development is contracted out to the Mechanic Guild, no?"

"Right? So what about it?"

"I got in touch posing as a vendor and asked a few things."

"How exactly they'd gone about developing the Tower's underground, say — and whether the sublevels around this hotel had been dug through to connect."

"And thanks to that, I can tell you some of those vents have to open onto the underground passages."

"Like a secret passage!?"

"Exactly."

"No telling whether their people are watching those, too."

"But if you find one, that's a major feather in your cap."

"Except Rank 3 struck me like she wants us to drag the ones running the Black Market in with our own hands…"

"You half-wit."

"Which is exactly why you have to find that secret passage."

"Locating a way in — a route for a surprise strike to bag the bastards — is already doing her a favor, no?"

"If that gets recognized as merit, we might actually be forgiven."

"Understand?"

"…You're right. Dragging you into this was the right call after all."

"You fucking bastard."

"Right call, my ass. Goddamn right call."

"Anyway! Do not — absolutely do not — screw this up!"

"You've been warned!?"

"Yeah… the rest is on us… seriously, thank you for the intel…!"

"If I hadn't shared, my own neck would've popped, you piece of shit!!"

"Anyway — hanging up!"

"Go get fucked!"

Beeeeeeeeep…

He'd hung up the second the intel left his mouth, with no interest whatsoever in small talk. Telling everyone else to go get fucked — while it was plain as day that getting thoroughly fucked himself was exactly how he'd come by the information.

"You all heard that? If you want to live, spread out and get moving!!"

…………

The gathered Saibaemen dispersed without a peep, every last one of them wearing the same resentful eyes. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that once this job wrapped up safely, they would be giving serious thought to exactly how to deal with No. 1 — the man who'd landed them all in this mess.

"Fuck. Am I actually going to die? Before those bastards come for my head, I'm finishing this, getting out, and retiring for good…"

Since he would be the one reporting to Rank 3 — Song Seongyeon — anyway, he'd convinced himself he would also be the first to be set free, and had been scheming quietly on that assumption. Fortunately, no one was watching them. After all, the customers who came seeking out this particular cesspit had been beyond counting.