Chapter 119
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: Too Big to Refuse...
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Tap, tap, tap.
The moment he leaped out the window.
His body began plummeting through the air.
Flipping deftly mid-air, Rimon hurtled straight down the sheer face of the window-covered Hotel Leviathan while muttering to himself inwardly.
‘Who knew our princess had such an unexpectedly cute side.’
It wasn’t even the first time.
Yet her face had turned bright red like a ripe persimmon from just a surprise kiss.
For Rimon, who’d expected her to brush it off with her usual inscrutable smile, it was a genuine surprise.
‘Well, not that unexpected, though?’
Li Chingwei was the princess of the Black Dragon Clan.
By rights, she was the girl of the most exalted bloodline, one who should have been pampered like a priceless treasure, basking in every luxury and privilege wealth and power could buy.
It wouldn’t have been strange at all if she’d lived her whole life without a single romantic experience—hell, without so much as brushing shoulders with a boy her age.
These days she was treated as the villain who’d brought her clan to ruin, and her sharp wits and competence made it easy to forget that simple truth.
‘Of course, that’s only if her reaction back there wasn’t an act.’
Rimon smirked.
He knew the Seven Dragon Society far too well to peg Li Chingwei as some innocent maiden based on a single glimpse like that.
The women who’d gladly thrown away not just their own lives but their entire families’ just to get close to him? He couldn’t even count them on both hands.
That was the reality of his relationship with her.
Too perilous to call trust.
Too treacherous for fiancés.
In some ways, they were farther apart than foes.
‘Eh, that’s marriage for you.’
Boom, kugwang!
And yet, he understood her.
He’d decided, for now, to trust her.
So Rimon leaped down from the still-descending hotel.
Without so much as a backward glance at the rumbling Hotel Leviathan, he hurled himself into the streets below.
The hotel already brimmed with more than enough defenders.
Besides, Li Chingwei herself had sent him off—no need to fret over those he’d left behind.
‘The real question is how long the affiliates can hold out.’
Tap, tap, tap.
Leaping rooftop to rooftop, leaving nothing but afterimages in his wake as he streaked across the city, Rimon tapped the bracelet communicator on his wrist.
He frowned at the affiliate statuses popping up on the display.
Dozens of sites in emergency mode alone.
Even for Rimon, dashing to every single one would chew up way more than ten or twenty minutes.
The one silver lining?
Affiliates enrolled in the Guardian system didn’t need him dropping by personally.
“You take our money and let even one casualty happen, you kimchi soup slurper—I’ll drill holes through your remaining peepers too.”
Grinding his teeth at the kingpin of the local thugs he’d hired at premium rates for exactly this scenario, Rimon shot forward like the wind.
Bang!
“...!”
Xie Lung, security chief of Cheonhwa Department Store, had been on the verge of heroically perishing as a true warrior—unwittingly sacrificing himself to safeguard his career.
His eyes bulged wide.
Just a split second before the knife sank into his throat.
The smirking Ryu Gangcheol vanished from view, only for a human-shaped crater to explode in the ceiling overhead.
In his place stood a lone figure.
Clad in Eastern chain mail.
Wearing Western silver gauntlets.
Topped with a blazing Middle Eastern red turban.
The man in this utterly bizarre ensemble bowed deeply to Xie Lung.
“Greetings, honored client. Nam Gimun here—Team Leader of Personnel Dispatch Service Team 1. Our motto: perfect, swift, precise.”
“...What?”
“Thank you for choosing our guild’s services. We guarantee a decision you won’t regret.”
This had to be what ‘baffled’ was made for.
Ryu Gangcheol’s sudden vanishing act.
The stranger’s out-of-nowhere spiel.
And that nationality-defying getup to top it off.
Everything from one to ten made zero sense, but Xie Lung latched onto the most pressing question first.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Ah, must’ve been too flustered to catch it. Allow me to reintroduce: I’m Nam Gimun of Perfect, Swift, Precise—”
“I heard the Personnel Dispatch Service bit, Nam Gimun! I’m asking what the hell that even means!”
Xie Lung barked, fuming.
Nam Gimun just looked at him like why don’t you know me?
“Aren’t you with Guardian?”
“Do I look like I work for some rinky-dink outfit like that?!”
Growing even more puzzled as Xie Lung geared up to breathe fire, Nam Gimun tilted his head.
“Then what’re you doing here?”
“What’s weird about me—Cheonhwa Department Store’s security chief—being here?!”
“Aha. No wonder you didn’t recognize us—you’re not the honored client, you’re their client.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Nam Gimun nodded to himself.
Then gave the still-clueless Xie Lung the short version.
“Long story short: I’m with the guild that inked a security contract with Guardian for this gig.”
“...Security contract? Guild partner?”
“Yup. Feel free to think of me as a subcontractor grunt they hired out for guard duty.”
“What!?”
Xie Lung’s jaw went slack for a beat.
Then realization hit, and shock set in.
‘Outsiders—not even clan—guarding an affiliate? Guardian, you absolute lunatics...!’
Old-school crime syndicates like the Seven Dragon Society had a tradition, a bedrock truth: security was clan business, handled in-house.
Hiring some random guild?
For a Black Dragon Clan loyalist like Xie Lung, it was beyond absurd—it was infuriating.
Of course, with Guardian’s boss being none other than the clan’s arch-nemesis Rimon, traditions and common sense had gone out the window ages ago.
Bang!
“Which sneaky bastard pulled that cheap-shot ambush?!”
That was when it happened.
Ryu Gangcheol—previously blasted through the ceiling—burst back in, smashing up through the floor for reasons unknown.
Nam Gimun blinked, puzzled.
“Huh? How’re you still kicking? That groin kick had instant-death oomph.”
“I did croak! Had to rebuild my damn body thanks to you!”
“Ah, clone-type skill, huh? What a waste of a rare one, you thieving rat.”
“Who’re you calling a thief...!”
Trauma from that brutal crotch-kick death, maybe?
His usual cool utterly gone.
Mid-rampage, face beet-red.
Ryu Gangcheol abruptly clammed up.
He stared at Nam Gimun like he’d spotted something off, his expression twisting weirdly before he mumbled.
“...Comrade? What’s your name again?”
“What, gonna do with my name?”
“Nah, just... you look kinda familiar, comrade.”
“Not your imagination.”
Nam Gimun grinned.
He clenched his gauntlet-sheathed fist and pressed on.
“Name’s Nam Gimun.”
“...!”
Right then.
Ryu Gangcheol went ghastly pale, jaw quivering as he whipped around to bolt.
Nam Gimun—as if he’d seen it coming—lunged and swung a fist at the back of his skull.
“Son of a—!”
He barely twisted away in the nick of time, but that cost him his escape window. Cursing up a storm, Ryu Gangcheol slashed wildly with his knife.
Klang!
“What the fuck are you doing here?!”
“Putting in an honest day’s work, like a good employee.”
“What kinda employee bullshit is this? Spit your lies proper!”
“Why? They tell you to work, pay up—it’s a job. You do the work, you’re an employee.”
“What kinda dogshit logic is that?!”
“Gotta use dog logic on a dog like you, yeah?”
Even as he bellowed in desperation, Ryu Gangcheol lashed out relentlessly with his knife.
But those dozens of slashes? All for naught.
Nam Gimun wasn’t even blocking.
That armor was just too damn tough—the blade couldn’t penetrate, bouncing off on its own.
Not that Ryu Gangcheol was dumb; he tried skirting the armor for vitals.
Fat lot of good it did.
No matter the angle.
No matter the stab spot.
The knife inexorably homed in on the armor like a magnet.
“Hrah! Dog-hunting day’s today!”
Bang, kwang! Pajijik!
Nam Gimun’s counters, by contrast, were savage.
Every swing of his fist lit up the ten gems embedded in his gauntlet, unleashing a barrage of special effects.
Ruby for explosions.
Topaz for paralysis.
Sapphire for slows.
Emerald for phasing.
Amethyst for gigantification.
Black pearl for buffs.
Alternating or simultaneous—it was a tempest of visual FX.
Any defense you cooked up, it carved an opening. Exquisitely vicious chain combos that danced right through your guard.
“Goddamn it... fight fair, no items!”
“HAHAHA! Yank your own head off first, then maybe!”
“You mocking me, you prick?!”
“What gives you the balls to whine about my gear? You my ex-wife or something? Eyeing another man’s loot?!”
Kwaaang!
For whatever reason, Nam Gimun’s face twisted in fury as half a dozen effects erupted at once.
“Shit, we’ll settle this later!”
No path to victory in sight?
Battered like a punching bag and flung through a shattered window for round two of fleeing.
But Nam Gimun wasn’t letting him off, same as before.
“Who sent ya? Beat it, Kabra!”
The instant Nam Gimun bellowed.
His turban writhed like a living serpent—then shot straight at Ryu Gangcheol, body elongating.
“What the—?! Kieak!?”
Uduk, baduk, drrrruk!
Wrapped tight like a monkey clutching snake eggs, snared by the viper itself.
Thrashing and shrieking horrifically till it cinched to palm-sized... then pulped him into a bloodspray.
Shururuk.
“Good work, Kabra.”
The turban slurped up Ryu Gangcheol’s blood, its crimson sharpening brighter as it slithered back atop Nam Gimun’s head. He patted it fondly, pleased.
As Xie Lung gawked, frozen at the sight.
A boy stepped into view.
“Ugh, that grotesque turban again.”
“Grotesque? Kabra’s the cutest lil’ thing!”
“And look where doting got you—divorced and still clueless?”
Dark circles stark beneath his glasses, the boy sighed like it was beyond belief.
Nam Gimun shot back, chest puffed.
“That’s on her—couldn’t grok the player life!”
“Please don’t paint all players as depraved pervs like our vice-guild master.”
“Oi, no ‘vice-guild master’ on the clock. I’m Personnel Dispatch Team 1 Leader right now.”
“Doesn’t un-vice-guild-master you.”
“Tch! Folks hear ‘vice-guild master,’ they balk at the price tag! Gotta flash a budget-friendly card!”
“Gotta squeeze every penny? We ain’t some Midas-level cash cow guild.”
“Exactly why we model Midas! Income’s tanked since Park the manager bailed—can’t even snag new gear anymore.”
“Boils down to you wanting profits for more toys!”
“So what! Crime to crave some gear?”
Xie Lung stared, dumbfounded, as Nam Gimun—the guy who’d just twice sent his would-be double-killer to the grave—bickered with a scrawny kid.
Then his eyes flew wide.
“Vice-guild master? And Nam Gimun... no friggin’ way—you’re that Item-Carry Archduke?”
“It’s Relic Archduke! Or Artifact Master, your pick!”
“What the hell are you doing here!?”
Xie Lung reeled.
He’d been thrown by the clownish getup, but if this was the Item Archduke he knew, the man had zero business being here.
Not just ‘cause he was one of the world’s scant hundred grand dukes.
His guild was the issue.
“Told ya—your security firm hired ours.”
“H-hired? Your guild???”
Xie Lung locked up, eyes fit to pop.
Nam Gimun flashed a sheepish grin.
“Your client’s security outfit? Does damn fine work. Even got Infinity Guild pulling guard shifts.”
It was too fat a paycheck to turn down, he added awkwardly.
One of the era’s overlords—the top ten guilds.
Infinity Guild’s own number two.
Xie Lung could do nothing but gape slack-jawed.