Chapter 124
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: Cleaner
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[Top-Grade Tough Leather]
[Type: Possession]
[Description: Tough, high-quality leather from a top-grade monster. Suitable for item crafting.]
[Seller: dontgo95]
[Price: 2,000,000 won]
[Negotiation: Not allowed]
[Chat: Not allowed]
[Transaction method: Parcel delivery]
Ryu Min flashed a satisfied smile at the item Joo Seong-tak had posted.
It was a piping-hot legendary material, just uploaded.
‘He must’ve taken down the 8th-round boss ogre and looted this.’
There would’ve been plenty of human corpses for him to use corpse explosion to his heart’s content.
He never could’ve done it alone, of course, but catching that ogre was a stroke of luck for Ryu Min all the same.
‘Even a psychopathic killer can be useful now and then.’
He pressed the purchase button with those idle thoughts running through his head.
Since the phone wasn’t his, the account was naturally Lost Ark’s, not Ryu Min’s.
He’d set the delivery address to Lost Ark’s studio apartment.
Ryu Min smiled at Joo Seong-tak, who was still face-down, staring at his phone.
‘The legendary material you snagged? I’ll put it to good use. And I’m sending living expenses your way, so don’t feel shortchanged.’
With only one arm and one leg left, the guy couldn’t even dream of landing a part-time gig.
The sale proceeds would no doubt pad his living expenses.
‘One more legendary material to go.’
As Ryu Min pondered whether to craft a weapon or a necklace, his phone rang.
Not Lost Ark’s phone—Ryu Min’s.
“Yeah.”
“Master, it’s Kim Ye-dam.”
“I know. Don’t use your real name—say Yamtti.”
“Ah, right!”
“Calling me means you finished what I assigned, yeah?”
“Yes. I compiled the PleSeBa membership list as instructed and sent it via email just now.”
“Got it. Lay low until I give further orders. Congressman Lee Seong-hyun’s probably got people combing the earth for you.”
“Understood.”
“Keep the chairman from getting any funny ideas.”
“No worries.”
“Hey, don’t pull that cute act with me. Who do you think you’re flirting with, huh? Tsk.”
“S-sorry! I’ll correct it.”
“Good. Good work.”
Ryu Min ended the call and opened his email.
There was a message from Yamtti.
[PleSeBa Kill List.xlsx]
‘Why the hell’d you name the file that? You trying to get us both busted?’
He made a mental note to chew her out later and opened the file.
The list of PleSeBa members scrolled up on his screen.
[Nickname] [Real Name] [Age] [Join Date] [Occupation] [Crime] [Status]
MinchoLover / Park Sae-rom / 20 / April 11 / College student / Aiding murder / Alive
GooYeonSheng / Koo Yeon-seung / 29 / April 5 / Actor / Murder / Alive
ChickenBeerTruth / Park Hyun-min / 28 / April 11 / Office worker / Aiding murder, rape / Alive
……………………
………………
…………
From nicknames to real names, occupations, and crimes confessed during interviews.
Everything was neatly organized at a glance.
Yamtti must’ve picked up some office skills, because she handled this kind of busywork like a pro.
‘This many pieces of trash to deal with?’
Exactly 1,031 in total.
The number alone drew a sigh from him.
‘Can’t run a cafe with scum like this.’
PleSeBa’s direction had shifted from the old days.
Interviews now focused purely on personality, regardless of skill. Any criminal record meant automatic rejection.
Unlike before, when they took anyone with a rap sheet.
They were in the middle of purging the roster, but the old members were the problem.
‘Can’t just boot out the ones already in.’
Forcing them out could lead to who-knows-what chaos on the outside.
It’d be like unleashing prison inmates back into society.
‘So the right move is to list them out like this and clean house gradually.’
Call it a purge, or a cleanup if you’re feeling polite.
‘Time to hand off the trash duty first.’
A job this big called for a pro.
And Ryu Min had just the trash man in mind.
‘Maybe I’ll go pay him a visit.’
A crooked grin tugged at Ryu Min’s lips.
* * *
A rundown warehouse.
Five players had gathered inside, chain-smoking.
“Haah, fuck. How the hell did we end up like this?”
“Tell me about it.”
Laments and curses spilled out naturally with the smoke.
And they weren’t wrong—right in front of them were wanted posters.
With their faces plastered on them.
“Fuck, they picked the shittiest photo of me.”
“I don’t look that bad.”
“Nah, you’re ugly as sin. Spot on.”
“Fuck you, don’t you got mirrors at home? Talking out your ass, moron.”
They chuckled, only for sighs to leak out again.
It was forced laughter, just to ease the tension.
Deep down, they all knew how dire things were.
“Can’t even move around freely with these wanted posters out. What now?”
“Plastic surgery, maybe.”
“Surgery my ass. Tracking skills’ll sniff us out eventually anyway.”
“Oh, right. Fucking hell, forgot about that.”
Sighs poured out in unison with the cigarette smoke, like they’d rehearsed it.
“Heard Congressman Lee Seong-hyun pushed that bill. Creating some anti-player task force.”
“Then they’ll track us down easy with those skills.”
“Great, now we’re fugitives. Damn it.”
“Fuck, think changing our names would dodge the tracking?”
How had players like them ended up as wanted criminals?
As they reflected amid the gripes, there was only one cause.
“It’s all because we joined that cafe.”
“Yeah, first kill we did was for them…”
Plenty joined because they liked the slogan: Players will change the world.
But nobody signed up planning to murder.
“Those fuckers tricked us into it.”
That’s right—they’d fallen into a trap.
If they hadn’t been strong-armed into killing, things never would’ve escalated this far.
“Hey, but honestly? It was kinda fun back then.”
“Mm…”
“Heh, yeah. Thinking back on it now…”
A few wore ecstatic expressions.
When they heard joining the cafe required a kill, they’d all been stunned.
What kind of cafe is this?
But the world runs on power, plain and simple.
Players survive; normals get weeded out.
To normals, players were basically livestock.
Who’d want to live getting sneered at by cattle?
Show them how scary players can be—that logic started to make sense after a while.
Plus, after round 4, killing didn’t even faze them.
Even if it had, they all had red marks on their records anyway.
“Still, never murdered or raped in real life before that.”
“Same here.”
“But damn, it wasn’t half bad. Heh.”
Others smirked in agreement, curling their lips.
Fugitives or not, the memory of that first kill wasn’t so bad.
Hell, that woman they’d gang-raped kept popping into their heads.
Some even thrust their hips like they were reliving it.
“But we’re not the only ones wanted, right?”
“Nah. Everyone who joined the cafe killed or aided a murder.”
“So we don’t have to sweat it alone?”
The five found a sliver of comfort.
Knowing thousands of comrades shared their boat eased their nerves.
Worst case, they’d rat everyone out to the cops and sink the ship.
“That’s probably why the cafe chairman called us. Scared we’ll snitch, so he’s shipping us overseas.”
They’d all gotten the same text from the PleSeBa chairman that day.
[Player, this is cafe manager ‘Chairman.’ Police are investigating the murders from the April 8 interviews. Apologies, but you’ll need to flee the country. PleSeBa will cover all costs. Details at the marked location on the map by 11 PM…]
No way it was some prank from a dumbass.
A photo of their wanted poster was attached.
And sure enough, the promised spot was littered with flyers.
Reason they were chain-smoking.
“Now it clicks. He’s rushing us out before we can report him—otherwise he’s screwed too.”
“Ha, fleeing abroad out of nowhere.”
“So, how we going? Smuggler ship or what?”
No need to pack, the message said, so they hadn’t.
Too frantic for it anyway.
“First time living abroad.”
“Always bitched about Hell Joseon, but leaving for real? Kinda bittersweet, fuck.”
They’d cursed Korea daily, but facing exile soured the thrill.
“No better country for crooks to thrive…”
“Was. Fuck Lee Seong-hyun—players are fucked now.”
They lit fresh smokes and heaved heavy sighs.
“But when’s this chairman showing?”
“Yeah, time’s almost up.”
“Desperate guys always show last? Fuck that.”
“Might as well call the cops.”
That’s when their frustration boiled over.
Rrrumble—
The warehouse door slid open, and a man stepped in.
“The chairman?”
They didn’t know his face, but it had to be him.
Right on the dot.
Thud—!
He shut the door and stared at the players.
A clean-cut guy, but something off about his vibe.
“You the chairman?”
“…….”
“Hey, you really flying us overseas?”
“…….”
“And covering living expenses there too?”
“…….”
“No issues, right?”
Questions flew, met only with silence.
“Come on, fuck, say something. This is all because of you…”
“Trash blaming others.”
“What?”
“Fine. I’ll send you.”
With that, the players saw it.
His body armed head to toe in gear, in an instant.
A sword gripped in his hand, black energy rippling along its blade.
Tsss—
“I’ll send you. To hell.”
Ma Kyung-rok’s sword danced.
Limbs flew with sickening chops.
“Gaaah!”
“Argh! You psycho fuck!”
Screams and blood filled the air in seconds.
No escape.
In ten seconds flat, all five lost their limbs.
“Don’t worry. Not killing you yet. Not till you cough up your items.”
Dark aura slithered from Ma Kyung-rok’s blade like snakes.
“Devour them. Don’t kill.”
At his command, the dark aura lunged like a living thing.
Crunchcrunchcrunch—!
“Gaaaaaaah!”
A wicked grin spread across Ma Kyung-rok’s face.