Conspiracy Theory (1)
"Sis. I got a job."
"A job? Where? Did the boss pull some strings?"
"Yeah."
Yuri took the business card Cheol-woo handed her with both hands and carefully read it over. Her expression soured as she did.
GeumMyeong Security. It was a company she'd heard plenty of bad news about.
"You got a job here of all places? You?"
"Ah, why're you looking at me like that? It's a pretty big company, you know."
"It's just GeumMyeong in name only—they've got nothing to do with the GeumMyeong Group anymore. This place is straight-up a gangster outfit now."
"Gangster outfit? Starting salary's 5 million won."
"Thugs always make bank like that."
Tap, tap—Yuri searched GeumMyeong Security on the portal site.
Iraq Civil War: Accused of Prisoner Massacres
Kosovo War: Allegations of Illegal Intervention
Domestic: Charged with Illegal Firearm Possession
She found articles far worse than she'd imagined, and Yuri's jaw dropped.
"This is like a global mafia!"
"Hey, hey. Not mafia—mercs. They call 'em PMCs these days. Sure, some of it's shady, but most of it's legit work."
"No way, it looks dangerous as hell. Guns are everyday business."
"That's only overseas. I can't even get a passport 'cause of that drug bust—how'm I supposed to go abroad? I'll stick to domestic gigs."
"They've even been caught firing guns domestically?"
"..."
Cheol-woo's mouth shut. No matter how he spun it, the company had a dirty underbelly. But the fact that it was still kicking despite all the scandals meant it wasn't outright illegal. Probably cleaned up a lot since the old days.
"Let's find something else. Yeah?"
"Where else am I gonna go? Nowhere else pays 5 mil a month. Gotta pay off that debt quick."
"Haaa... Fine, promise me this one thing. If they make you do anything that pricks your conscience or straight-up illegal, you bail. Quit on the spot. Got it?"
"Got it, sis."
"Don't just say it."
"I said I got it."
Only after he repeated it a few times did Yuri finally seal her lips, shooting him a distrustful glare. Who the hell's gonna put up with that picky woman?—Cheol-woo tsked inwardly and focused on prepping for tomorrow. His one suit was caked in dirt and mud... But they said casual clothes, so... should be fine?
"You show up in ripped jeans and a tracksuit just 'cause we said casual? What a stellar new hire we've got."
"..."
First day on the job. Cheol-woo entered what looked like a sleek building for a global mob outfit, only to be led straight to the basement. Training officer Jeong Gwa-jang burst out laughing the moment he saw him.
"Manager Yu tested you herself, huh? Must be some skills."
"Y-yes, sir..."
"Grab this first. .22 caliber Ruger pistol—slap a suppressor on, and it's whisper-quiet."
"This is a real gun...?"
"Yup."
"You won't shoot people with it, right?"
"If needed. Quit with the questions—got a ton to cover. By week's end, you gotta be able to disassemble and reassemble every gun down here."
"..."
If needed? Quit vibes hit hard already. Might as well advertise: Day one, we're doing unethical, illegal shit galore.
"Sir... I..."
"Heard you're strapped for cash. Just prepaid this month's salary—use it for living expenses."
"...Thank you, sir."
5,000,000 KRW deposited
Ding. Phone chimed with the deposit notice, and the "I quit" lodged in his throat vanished. Ethics and laws be damned—if the pay was fat, who cared. Hell, he'd hop a plane to the Middle East and start blasting right now if they asked.
"You little shit—what're you doing? Line up the sights with your right eye and fire."
"Oh. This thing's for that?"
Disassembly rundown wrapped quick; they moved to the range, and bewilderment crossed Jeong Gwa-jang's face. Grip, stance, aim—all total noob. But bang-bang-bang—every shot dead center.
Jeong's eyes twitched.
"What the hell were you aiming at?"
"Just eyed the barrel direction... eyeballed it..."
"What the...?"
What kinda freak is this? Eyeballing? That possible? Does this punk see a crosshair like in an FPS game? Jeong was floored. They'd just needed bodies, but Yu Sil-jang dragged in a monster. All he could do was chuckle in disbelief.
Thud, thud. Jeong Gwa-jang bowed entering the spotless, gleaming office. Yu Sil-jang waved him off like what's with the formality between us, and he finally straightened, handing over the file.
"New hire eval."
"Dunno. Charts don't tell me shit—spell it out. Not graphs, I want your take."
"Min Cheol-woo. He's the real deal."
"Sniper-grade?"
"Nah. S-tier across the board. Could snipe with the best, but his close-range is too good to waste on that."
"First time I hear you hype someone. That fast? Faster than you?"
"Speed's still behind mine. But his spatial awareness? Insane."
"Meaning?"
"One shot, and he memorizes the ballistics. Hits at 100m, 200m, 300m, no difference. His brain auto-adjusts zero instinctively. No sights needed, weird stances—still nails it."
"Impressive."
"Damn right."
If Jeong admitted the speed lagged his own a bit, that put the kid at pro-shooter level. And accurate at that speed? Yu Sil-jang smirked, satisfied. She'd ragged on the chairman for wasting cash on some no-name agency—how much was that again? 10 billion? Roll this new hire right, and it'd pay back fast.
"Your read—can the rookie handle the drug?"
"Yes, sir. Guaranteed."
Jeong answered without hesitation. Yu Sil-jang pulled out her phone, played a video.
"He'll really hold up? Can't have footage like this leaking in Korea."
"..."
Screams erupted as it started. Blurry screen—a shadow blurred past, residual image lingering. Next, it charged a fleeing man roaring, kicked him lightly—or so it seemed. His spine snapped back, body flying.
"Where's this? China?"
"Yeah. Drug side effect, they say."
"Rookie'll manage. All the freakish ones sailed through without issues."
"Oh? Calling me a freak now?"
"..."
Jeong eyed the longsword on the wall—untouched since she went managerial. Back when she was field-active? "Freak" felt like a compliment.
"If you say so. Throw him on a real op soon, then. Gotta see him work before deciding on the drug."
"Yes, sir."
"Think he'll perform?"
"I'll make him."
"Good."
Sciiik—Yu Sil-jang's lips curled. Jeong flinched, hid it with a bow. Boss or not, that grin was creepy as hell sometimes.
Why the live ammo on a first mission...? Cheol-woo stroked the pistol in his inner pocket aboard the rattling van. Team called him out, so he rode with 1st Team—but everyone strapped? Sketchy. Figured remote mountains, but they stopped at a suburban high-rise. Big "Oriental Shipping" logo.
Van door slid—team hopped out, guns drawn.
"Got your holster?"
"Y-yeah."
"Keep the pistol in your inner pocket holster always. Pockets or pants bulge—gives it away. You, stay here. Guard the van."
"Uh, wait—what's the mission...?"
"Eh, nothing big. Think of it as training. Subcontract from up top—normal stuff."
"..."
Team leader Woo patted his shoulder laughing, led the crew inside. That easy smile built trust. Yu Sil-jang's intensity unnerved him, but this guy...
Training? Like training mercs? Felt too rushed for that... Company was sus, no doubt. But Cheol-woo shrugged it off. Whatever dirt the company did behind closed doors, as long as he stayed clean...
"Done?"
Commotion from inside. Cheol-woo perked up mid-yawn. Everyone coming out? Something off. Screams? Roars? Faint weird noise...
"Kieeeek!"
"!?"
Crash—glass shattered as a monster burst through, missile-straight into the van. It tore free from the crumpled side with a bone-crack.
Person? Nah—joints moved wrong, beyond human limits. Couldn't imagine it human at first.
"What the—!?"
It lunged; claws raked concrete. Crunch—gouges left behind. Cheol-woo dodged, eyes wide. Human-looking, but acts wrong.
Decision instant: pistol out. Bang-bang-bang—two to chest, one between eyes.
Not dead?
It staggered—then righted, stood. Skull didn't breach. This P226's 9mm punched through helmets—couldn't crack a human head?
As it lunged again, mind blanked white. Body reacted on judgment: skull-proof? Go elsewhere.
"Kieeeek!"
Dodge claws, dive in. Barrel jammed eye socket—bang-bang-bang. Blood sprayed; it spun, slammed floor. Stayed down.
"Fuck... what was that...?"
Dazed, main entrance glass shattered—sedan burst out. Instinct-roll dodge; it drifted onto road with a screech. Locked eyes with an older woman inside shattered window—pistol up.
"..."
Vrooom—the car peeled away leisurely. Cheol-woo couldn't fire blind, lowered it.
Can't shoot what you don't know.