It's in Kyung-gi Province (3)
"Heeya—take a look at that kid."
"Ah, why? Again?"
"His face is all pretty and girly-like. If those central party old-timers with their fancy tastes saw him, they'd drop dead on the spot."
Sure enough, the little bastard already had sharp, striking features with a seductive edge—perfect bait for the immortality-obsessed geezers.
"God, you ethnic Korean uncle, stop getting greedy over nothing. Focus on the comms and quit distracting yourself."
Once the scout team locked in the target and laid out the plan, the grab team's job was to execute fast within the time limit. Adding extras now? Conditions weren't right, and time was short. Sure, the kid had market value—snatch him, sell him, rake in big cash. But past ten years old, they bulked up, got too willful, and were a hassle all around.
"These days with all the hate-crime crap blowing up, even the guys who used to gobble up whatever we supplied are playing it safe now that kids are off-limits. We've gotta watch our asses too."
Supply was drying up day by day. Han Chinese topped the preference list, but on the mainland, getting caught meant straight execution. Southeast Asians? Blood too "dirty," tough to get full price. Best bets were Japanese or Koreans. Koreans were easier—language barrier minimal, networks everywhere to cover tracks. Lately, some unexplained demand spike had prices jumping five or six times, drawing in orgs that used to pass because margins sucked. Pure kid-rush era.
Problem was the weird fake news and anti-China vibes lately. Solo operators like them were in a bind. Adoptions used to be a free pass overseas—sweet as honey—but now even that faced scrutiny, making things messy. Back in the day, human trafficking screamed China, but as society leveled up, the trash without a niche piled up. To survive, everyone banded together. East Chosun, West Chosun, South Chosun, North Chosun—full unification, street punks wielding Hwandan meat power had no fears left.
"Oh, there he is."
The van slowed as it entered a secluded alley. Target: a boy around eight. Time for the pro actress to step up.
"Grandma, wake up! Time to work!"
"Eghhh... don't nag, you rude brat—"
The van door slid open. The white-haired old man in the seat next to it called out to the passing kid.
"H-hey, kid over there."
"Huh? Me?"
"Yeah, come help granny for a sec? My legs won't move."
The driver ignored him—what kind of bullshit was this?—but the innocent kid, raised to respect elders, trotted right over without a second thought. Pure as snow, no suspicion. Where did this idea that the weak are always good come from?
The kid's face glowed with eagerness to do a good deed, but ignorance's end was set.
"Mmph?!"
A guy waiting behind snatched him in one grab, stuffing him into the van.
"Shh—shhh."
The door slammed shut. Drugged cloth did the rest—no scream, just blackout.
Targets were usually poor kids with neglectful parents, ones on rigid daily routines. Neighborhoods like this, just off the bustle with empty alleys everywhere? Prime hunting ground to a pro's eye.
Harvest one, weave through narrow lanes slow. Then the driver spotted someone, eyes widening as he leaned out.
"Huh? That kid over there. Isn't that the one from before?"
"Whoa, yeah it is. Lives around here? How'd he get this far?"
Spotted gold earlier but too many eyes—regret lingered. Now it rolled right into the back alley on its own. Game changer. Just pick it up like it was yours all along.
"Damn, work our asses off day by day, and heaven drops a gift."
The driver smacked his lips. The young guy in back sighed like he was done.
"Ugh, this uncle's greed is unreal. Totally money-mad."
"What else you gonna be mad for? Money. All those prudes spouting clouds get rich off it too. World's always been about cash."
Moralizers flip when their wallet's threatened. Geezers pretending class while eye-fucking kids, haughty bitches spreading legs for a rich old fart's word—all money. Some live fat off worship, others drive cabs taking shit from brats. The man truly believed the difference was just them having stacks, him having zilch.
"God, your mouth's filthy. Always showing you weren't raised right in spots like this. Fine, fine, kin discount. Circle around first."
They looped casual, checking eyes. Blind spot hit—one guy hopped out for backup. Lap done, van pulled up again beside the sullen-faced kid.
"H-hey, kid."
"What?" Blunt, pissy reply.
"Come help granny? Legs won't work."
Old man trembled, voice strained. Kid smirked.
"Nah."
Bold sass made the old man's eyes twitch.
'Yellow streak on him.'
But to a vet who'd seen it all, kids' attitudes were old news.
"Eghhh, then hold granny's cane? I'll give pocket money."
"Tch, annoying weirdo granny. How much? Thousand-won bills just bulk my pockets, pass."
"...Ten thousand then."
"Eh, that'll do. Helpin' ya."
Old man stalled. Man closed in, clapped hand over mouth.
"Mmph—!"
"Sigh, these bratty modern kids ain't easy."
Flopped the limp kid next to the first. Tension melted.
"Still just a kid. Flail all you want, you're netted."
"Alright, roll out."
Two prizes loaded, straight to the harbor. Dusk fell, apartments thinned, luxury cruise glittered far off under darkening sky.
Shabby coastal pier, row of rundown warehouses. Vans clustered. Farthest, slate shed hidden. Inside, buyers waited for goods.
"Cutting it razor-thin as always. Cruise sails at nine—miss the memo?"
"Not late, good enough. Schedule's too tight anyway."
Unloaders slung sleeping kids, transferred to prepped travel bags. Perfect fit for small frames, like custom cases. Pre-injected sedatives—no signs of waking.
"Move, move!"
Making money always energized. Supply dips, prices soar. Kids went for 400k yuan tops before—now 1.6, 1.8 mil easy. Honest day's work filled the dingy warehouse with grins.
"Whoa, uncles aren't just kidnapping—you got tons of bruised ghost souls here. Eyes gouged even."
High, clear voice cut through the busy grunt-fest. Stark against the rough chatter, drew all eyes.
"Uncles don't seem to know shit, but lucky break."
This grudge should've haunted people as curses, but eye-gouging acted like a spell, trapping souls lost onsite.
"What the? Why's a kid over there?"
"Who the hell left him?"
"Isn't that Chang-suk's crew?"
"Yeah? Newbie from some college, that sloppy?"
"Shut up and grab him!"
Stunned stares shifted at the boss-type's yell. Thugs lunged for the kid.
Screeeeech...
"Huh?"
Splat—thud!!!!!
Lead guy's torso flew off like hit by invisible truck. No warning, instant.
Lower half sprawled in pooling blood.
"Wh-what?!"
"B-blood... blood!!"
"Gaaahhh!!!"
Warehouse erupted in screams at the meat-chunk comrade. Calm kid's voice drowned to mutter.
"Guess Hyesun's pretty pissed. She loves kids, especially boys."
Floors littered with sprawled kids, limp like corpses. 8:2 male skew, who knows why. No real anger stirred. They just stepped into my garden.
Bugs liven a garden in measure, but pests wilting flowers? Time for work. Good fertilizer? Bonus.
This was just.
"Uncles, bad luck this time."