Salary Negotiation (1)
GeumMyeong Security's Team 1 had suffered catastrophic losses. Nearly twenty office staff wiped out from the get-go, the tail on the newbie's sister completely annihilated, and even the two cops they'd outsourced to ended up dead, spiking police tension through the roof. And to top it off, Team 2 had shat the bed, drawing Oriental Shipping and even the National Intelligence Service into the mess—the situation was spiraling into the worst possible hell.
At this rate, they'd lose the newbie and the company would crumble. All the executives except Park I-sa were already plotting their escapes or hedging bets. To sway them, they had to nail down at least one of those two rabbits for sure.
"Burn this and this too. Take every last scrap of paper in the office out and torch it."
"Yes, Section Chief."
It was meant to scare the newbie, but Jeong Gwa-jang was dead serious about unleashing a massive incident in Seoul if needed. Park I-sa's fuckup was big, sure, but coverable. They'd silenced their guns, the rocket launchers and mutants had only rampaged after civilians evacuated—it could pass for a gentlemanly scrap. But if they or the newbie went all-out without holding back, it'd be a literal "Sea of Fire in Seoul." That meant GeumMyeong Security's neck on the block.
He'd pull the trigger without hesitation if it guaranteed capturing the newbie intact, but the problem was no one knew if they could take him unharmed. Better to coax him back with words than roll the dice on high-risk bullshit.
"Team reorganization done? Gunfights won't cut it against the newbie anyway. You'd need full-body Level 4 body armor, so assemble a breach team of the strongest guys... Ah, Kang Deputy's crew—all powerhouses. Even that pig bastard."
"If you mean Team Leader Kang, he's dead. The pig too."
"Fuck. Of all the... Fine, prep guys good with blades then. Both sides in body armor? It'll come down to close quarters. That one, what was it—Kim Ju-im? The guy who handles daggers like a demon."
"Kim Ju-im's dead too."
"What the hell, everyone's dead? Fucking bullshit. We've got nothing."
Already short-staffed as fuck, and Yu Sil-jang had yanked troops to DongYang Department Store to fuck over Han Sa-jang... Forget assembling a dream team for the "Sea of Fire"; just filling ranks was desperate. How the hell did Team 1, the elite of elites, end up like this? Teams 2 and 3 overseas would piss themselves laughing.
"Whatever. Fill positions with who's left for now. Once docs are ash, collect all guns left in the office. I'll head out soon too."
The office felt cavernous. It looked fine from outside, but Team 1 had essentially bugged out. All docs torched on orders, prepped for any raid.
Jeong Gwa-jang was about to step up when his phone buzzed.
"Yeah, alright. Newbie. Made up your mind?"
[Yes. You're not just the type to bluff threats, right, Section Chief?]
That's right—this kid gets me. Jeong Gwa-jang nodded, pleased. Years rolling with some idiots who still grated on him without grasping his vibe, but the newbie was sharp, quick on the uptake. The more he saw, the more he wanted to keep this guy around long-term. Sure, he hated the gig now, but after a decade grinding? Might be sobbing over drinks: "Thanks for dragging me into this world back then, hyungnim." Who knew.
Things are looking up. Any more delays, and "Sea of Fire" it was. Now they could secure the newbie and save GeumMyeong from imploding.
Fuck—pretty bastard—so goddamn pretty—Jeong Gwa-jang's grin stretched ear to ear.
"So, where to? Where you wanna meet? Huh?"
[Hold on, Section Chief.]
"Hey."
Call dropped. This cheeky fuck? Jeong Gwa-jang nearly chucked his phone but held back. Salary talks were imminent—stay cool. How much would this pretty bastard demand? No military service, no real job history, yet handed corporate rookie pay—his money sense was probably warped. Even outrageous asks wouldn't shock. He could swing 2 million won monthly max; more was trouble.
Ah—either way, they'd meet outside the office, right? Jeong Gwa-jang shot to his feet.
Then the office phone rang—rrrring-rrring-
"Who's this."
[It's Park Seung-jun, Director! Who the fuck picked up?!]
"Team 1 Section Chief here. What is it, Director?"
[You little shit, sold your name or what? Tsk. Anyway, watch your asses. Min Cheol-woo's heading your way.]
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
[Hard to explain! Just brace—Min Cheol-woo's inbound. Can't confirm if he's inside or out due to margin of error! Might already be in!]
What bullshit? Jeong Gwa-jang bit back a retort and glanced back. The empty office stayed dead quiet, peaceful. Uneasy, he hit the intercom for security.
"Security desk. How's the first floor?"
[...]
"Security. Hey. Taking a dump?"
[...]
Guards slacking off was routine, but not today. Post-newbie escape, they'd staffed 24/7 three-shift rotations. He set the receiver down softly amid the chatter and crossed the office slow.
Vrrrrmm- Machinery hummed. Ding- Elevator halted, doors sliding open.
Moment of silence.
"Fuckin' hell...!"
A grenade sailed from inside.
***
Min Cheol-woo had called Jeong Gwa-jang plenty during work. Mostly from the man himself. He never focused on parsing background noise mid-call, but sharpened senses picked up unavoidable details.
That sound. The office.
One was the telltale background hum difference over calls. That faint whirr-whirr behind talks? Ventilation duct. More precisely, Jeong Gwa-jang's personal office vent. Sound quality sucked compared to in-person, but frequency and waveform matched.
Cheol-woo trusted his instincts.
Still in the office?
At the building, he dialed again.
"Yeah, alright. Newbie. Made up your mind?"
[Yes. You're not just the type to bluff threats, right, Section Chief?]
Clack-clack- Footsteps, then whirr- as expected.
"So, where to? Where you wanna meet? Huh?"
[Hold on, Section Chief.]
"Hey."
Hang up. Cheol-woo strode inside without pause.
Team 1's building looked like any corporate drone hive. Decent surveillance, but no upfront block for outsiders. Just swipe an employee card at the turnstile past security.
He tugged his cap low, marched to the gate.
-Min Cheol-woo
-Employee
Cheol-woo sighed at the card with his name and mugshot. Minus the killing and kidnapping, GeumMyeong Security was just another shitshow corp. Fancy systems? Useless without management. Last year he'd swiped a dead guy's card from a year back—gate opened fine. Would today?
It would. Dressed in a suit from the john, card in hand, he emerged.
-Beep. Gate opened clean. No alarms.
"Yes, Mr. Min Cheol-woo. Security's tightened, so... mind signing here just once? Huh? Min Cheo—"
Min Cheol-woo? Fuck, Min Cheol-woo? Guard rubbed eyes, double-checked name, head dropping—silencer already kissed his forehead.
Thup! Thup! Luger whispered like a fart; two guards inside crumpled side by side.
Cheol-woo caught both casings left-handed, peeked back casual, strolled on. No one clocked the shots.
Something's off.
Elevator ascent prickled his hackles nonstop. Chills crawling skin-wide.
What the fuck? First time feeling this. Not during partition shootouts with armed colleagues, not when rifle rounds grazed his skull.
Fear? Nah... thrill? Closer to that.
Ding- Doors parted.
Left down the hall to the office—dead silent. Not really. Vent whirr, wind whistling bullet-holed windows, thump-thump on cabinets. And.
[...you bastard. ...said.]
Park I-sa's voice? Not live—phone audio.
[...Cheol-woo now. ...office.]
Fuck.
Cheol-woo yanked dummy grenades, lobbed down hall.
Scatter-scramble- Dodge sounds. He drew Mike Gun, burst from elevator, sprinted corridor.
Bang-bang-bang-bang! Pistol barrel peeked from office, spitting fire blind.
Shooter firing by feel alone—duck low, zero hit chance. Cheol-woo dropped prone, bang! return fire shattered the pistol.
"Jeong Gwa-jang! Get out here, you fucker!"
Scramble- Fleeing steps. Cheol-woo bellowed, rose, pursued.
Stairs or elevator meant hitting the hall. Only escape from office: shatter window, jump. Tenth floor? For real? Bullshit.
"Fuck, where you running?!"
Bang-bang-bang! Sight of Jeong's fat ass—shots. Miss. He ducked into his office first.
Was that bulky fuck always this quick? Cheol-woo followed, head cocked.
Jeong's office: full glass front, door included. Pinned inside? Free shooting gallery.
Charge in—thud! Table flipped for cover mid-entry.
Bang-bang-bang! Bulletproof, no dents.
"Not coming out?"
Huuuuh-
"...?"
Grenade would crack it quick—why flail? Then huuuuh-cough-cough-hahhhh- from behind. Cheol-woo sighed.
Jeong Gwa-jang was turning junkie.
"Grurrrgle... grrrk, guh. Haaa. Newbie. Not too late. Wanna salary talk here? Fine by me."
Still talking clear? Street mutants lost their shit. Those were blue pills. This? Different drug.
Cheol-woo pulled grenade pin. Safety flew; tick- fuze kissed—Jeong reacted.
"Hup—"
Head peeked right of table, gun aimed. Cheol-woo's Mike Gun, aimed left seconds ago, now locked eyes with Jeong—instinct swivel before his head turned.
Fuck, monster bastard! Before Jeong squeezed, Cheol-woo's muzzle flashed.
Bang-bang-bang! All nailed Jeong's forehead, blood spraying.
No crunch feedback? Cheol-woo chucked the primed two-second grenade over.
Jeong swatted mid-air—BOOM!
"Grkhuuuh... krrgh. Hup. Huhk... krraaagh..."
"Why won't you die...?"
Alive? Impossible. Cheol-woo advanced wary, checked behind. Gore-splattered mess amid blood and chunks—a ragdoll meat lump twitched on floor.
"...!"
Lightning arm whip—inhuman speed. But Cheol-woo's eyes clocked, brain lagged—finger first, bang! Index and trigger finger on Jeong's pistol exploded off.
Twitch-twitch- No finger, no trigger—no dice. Meat lump finally quit, eye-fuck- tossed the gun.
"You the fuck Pokémon? Evolving back and shit. Bullshit."
Cheating. Supposed to be too fast for human reaction—why counter? Others needed drugs to push limits; what the hell was this guy?
Jeong looked absurd, anger gone.
"...?"
Cheol-woo toed the meat lump, flipped, frowned at brow. Two forehead holes, one on temple. Not penetrated. Grenade at point-blank should've ended it—same breed as mutants? Bones hardening, tanking hits—same nightmare matchup.
Still, close-range frag wrecked limbs to rags; breathing ragged, pained.
"Why the face, newbie? Surprised? Weirder shit's commonplace—can't freak yet. China, Southeast Asia crawling with junkie freaks; South America, thousands swarming. Gonna work together? Get used to it. Right?"
Still on salary? Cheol-woo was floored. This psycho, wrecked like this, wouldn't let go.
"Straight talk. Was thinking 2 mil monthly? Make it 4. Even Yu Sil-jang doesn't pull this; exec level at best. Deal, newbie. No—Min Section Chief now? I croak, you take my spot."
"...?"
"Fuck. Cat got your tongue? Shitty kid. Still not enough? Brat, you'd know if you'd worked life. 4 mil's huge."
"Fuck off. Kill you all, never touch a gun again."
"Krahaha! Uhahaha! UHAHAHAHAHA!"
Jeong burst laughing. Holster gun? You? Might as well say dogs quit shitting. Cheol-woo's eye twitched. This fucker knew it was a joke too.