Chapter 104
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: Do I Look Like a Pushover?
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"Thanks for today."
"Cut it out with these gifts already. I still have leftovers from last time."
"Hahaha, got it. Next time, I'll prepare different kinds of tea leaves and cookies."
"That's not what I meant."
"Anyway, coffee and snacks are always on the house, so come by anytime without worrying!"
To sum it up.
Rimon could only finally leave the live cafe when closing time rolled around.
The customers' requests had poured in nonstop, forcing him back onto the stage several more times after that.
Perhaps feeling guilty for working him for free.
Manager Jeong stuffed Rimon and Yujin with bags overflowing with coffee beans, tea leaves, cookies, and more.
It wasn't anything new.
Every time he visited this cafe, Rimon ended up on stage, doing encore after encore for free, and leaving loaded with gifts.
"Partner, I've got a question."
"What is it?"
"Why don't you take money from the manager?"
That was why Yujin wore such a curious expression.
She might have her reasons, but there was no need for Rimon to perform for free every time.
Rimon answered indifferently.
"If I took money, it'd look like you were singing for cash too."
"......Just for that?"
"It's not 'just' anything when your soul's on the line."
Maybe because it was so unexpected.
Her eyes widened for a moment.
Then Yujin grinned and slung her arm around Rimon's shoulder.
"Thanks, partner."
"No need to thank me. I just played because I felt like it."
"Yeah, that's why."
Whatever pleased her so much.
Yujin clung to Rimon, giggling for a while before waving furiously goodbye.
"See ya! Come play again sometime!"
"Sure."
After Yujin left.
Yuna Kyung poked her head out from above Rimon's and asked awkwardly.
[What was that?]
"What?"
[That cryptic exchange just now.]
"Cryptic? I just volunteered because my friend hates singing for money."
Rimon chuckled.
Yuna Kyung looked even more awkward at his response.
[I don't get it, honestly. She happily takes cookies and beans as gifts but draws the line at cash?]
The one condition Yujin had set when she started working part-time at Manager Jeong's live cafe.
No performance fees.
Yuna Kyung couldn't fathom how Yujin diligently collected her part-time pay but stubbornly refused pay for her singing.
Rimon's answer was simple.
"Is the birthday gift your little siblings scrimped and saved for the same as the number in your paycheck?"
[That's different!]
"No, it's the same."
Rimon shook his head.
Then, gazing at the spot where Yujin had left, he continued softly.
"People treat gold like stone not because they lack greed, but because they fear it."
Even to someone she'd just met once, Yujin had shamelessly asked to borrow money.
And while not as much with Rimon's accompaniment, her street performances alone could scrape together enough for meals.
Yet she hadn't sold her singing until she was on the verge of collapsing from hunger.
Rimon didn't know why.
Nor did he care to find out.
His long life had taught him there was no point in digging into such things.
[Do you think you're some grand duke spouting Zen koans out of nowhere?]
"Why compare me to her? I'm way older."
[Compared to you, who's just wasted years, the grand duke outshines you in fame and character.]
"Wanna test that theory against this old geezer who's only wasted years?"
[That's exactly why people say you've wasted your years...! Ouch!]
Whether Yuna Kyung hopped around after a flick to the forehead or not.
Rimon continued calmly.
"Anyway, she won't have to sell her songs for money anytime soon."
[How can you be so sure?]
"She's rich."
[......Huh?]
"More precisely, she has more than enough talent to become rich."
[What kind of monster runs away from a dungeon nonsense is that?]
Yuna Kyung was utterly baffled.
Chased by debt collectors, collapsing from hunger on the streets, working part-time at a live cafe.
Yujin reeked of poverty from every angle, so Rimon's claim was incomprehensible.
"Sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth."
[So how do you know?]
"I can just tell."
[......I want to call BS, but when you say it, it feels real, so I can't argue.]
"Of course. It is real."
[Ugh, so annoying.]
Rimon snorted lightly.
Then, strolling along, he muttered.
"She seems content wandering as a street musician for now...... But how long can that nail in her pocket stay quiet?"
"Hm."
As if to show that a family head possessed intellect and culture as basics.
He toyed with his mustache while immersed in a book for quite some time.
Then Wang Gineung closed the book.
And asked casually.
"So, what do you think? Your mind's changed by now, right?"
"Aye, just as you said, comrade."
The young man with ferret-like eyes, bound in the rack, grinned at the words.
"I planned to keep my mouth shut no matter what, but this boredom's too much. How 'bout turning on some radio?"
"Oh? Bored, are you?"
"Obviously. They say the Seven Dragon Society's torture techniques are legendary, but they fall flat."
"To say that in your state means your nerves are thicker than you look."
"I hear I got more substance than meets the eye plenty."
Wang Gineung was genuinely impressed.
The young man's condition was wretched.
His left foot skinned bare, his right foot melting in real-time from some blackish drug, his body pierced by countless needles.
Any normal person would've begged for death and lost their mind by now.
"Embarrassing for me. I poured my heart into it personally, yet no results."
"Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault I'm too tough."
"Thanks for the kind words, at least."
It was a strangely amicable scene.
The torturer and tortured chatting like pals.
And it was clear who controlled the mood between the young man and Wang Gineung.
It's easy to make the torturer smile, but only the exceptional can smile under torture.
For Wang Gineung, who'd captured the young man by striking Rimon's head to extract info on the beast, this was infuriating enough.
"But I don't need empty courtesy."
That was why.
The reason Wang Gineung smiled.
He was, after all, head of the Shanghai Wang family.
No half-baked leader fretting over a tough opponent could helm the Seven Dragon Society.
Above all, Wang Gineung had reason to watch the young man's defiance leisurely.
"I don't have to learn everything from your mouth."
"What's that crap, whistling out your ass?"
Ignoring the young man's sneer.
Wang Gineung simply reopened the book and read a passage aloud.
"Name: Ryu Gangcheol."
"Childhood nickname: Dogshit."
"From the Zhonghua Seventy-Seven Federation's Northern Gan Nation, age 29, birthday July 9th."
"Raised by single mother, abused by stepfather for 3 years after remarriage, then ran away. Mother and stepfather vanished around then—suspected murder and flight."
"Similar figure spotted in nearby dungeon afterward—likely became unregistered player post-runaway."
"Player disappearances in dungeons where Ryu Gangcheol operated surged 300%, probable murder-robberies targeting players."
"Registered as mercenary in Free Cities League upon adulthood, trained militarily, carried out civilian massacres, terrorism, assassinations—multiple illicit contracts confirmed."
"Trace ends 5 years ago, presumed dead—likely joined secret organization or corporation."
Reading from the book like a biography.
Wang Gineung leisurely recited, then looked up.
He stared straight at the now-silent young man and grinned.
"Thoughts, Mr. Ryu Gangcheol?"
"......You dug deep. My info's supposed to be hard to find."
"Records vanish, but people don't."
"Tracking it all down is even more impressive."
"Not really. Nothing money can't buy."
Unlike his nonchalant reply, unearthing Ryu Gangcheol's past hadn't been easy.
If he hadn't heeded Rimon's earlier advice and backtracked via military records, even the Seven Dragon Society's network might've taken years.
Ryu Gangcheol's records were thoroughly erased.
That was why Wang Gineung asked again.
"So, ready to come clean?"
"Why bother asking? If money buys anything, figure it out yourself."
"True, but why spend big when it's free?"
"Don't get too hooked on freebies. You'll go bald."
"No interest in your proverbs. If I can save, I should."
It was just a matter of time anyway.
So come clean already.
To Wang Gineung's meaningful smile, Ryu Gangcheol grinned back.
"If you're so confident, stop begging and find out yourself, comrade."
"Hm, that's your answer?"
As if half-expected.
Wang Gineung showed no disappointment.
He just nodded slowly, then stood.
Crash!
It happened in an instant.
Wang Gineung's casual kick smashed into Ryu Gangcheol's temple, toppling him rack and all.
"Tch. I tried to settle cheap, but ungrateful types don't deserve mercy."
Clicking his tongue once.
Wang Gineung strode forward.
He ground his heel into Ryu Gangcheol's head and continued.
"Listen up, Ryu Gangcheol. Think your polite talk makes me a pushover?"
"Don't...... worry. Comrades don't need...... gah!"
Ryu Gangcheol spewed blood.
Cyonics from Wang Gineung's foot surged through the needles, wringing agony from his organs.
"I get it. Enduring 108 of our famed torture arts? You've earned that confidence."
The Seven Dragon Society's torture arts.
Each the pinnacle of human torment.
Withstanding triple digits proved superhuman.
Qualification to scoff at any torture.
"But don't get cocky. Our arts don't end here."
Thus, Wang Gineung sneered.
They'd only tasted appetizers.
At Ryu Gangcheol's folly in thinking he'd conquered it all.
"Oh, and ditch hopes of rescue. Even your fine comrades can't save you."
And one more thing.
Recalling the clue unearthed by mobilizing not just Shanghai Wang but the entire Seven Dragon Society network.
Wang Gineung flashed a cold smile.
"Mr. Liberation Brigade Ghost."