Why Is That a Regulation? (3)
Taking photos and fingerprints for storage. Assigning serial numbers. Updating personal info like residence and job every time it changes... Huh? Why's that a problem? Cheol-woo froze in place, lost in thought for a moment. Wasn't it just a standard resident registration system? He felt no particular unease, no reason to refuse.
"Fuck, why the long face? The government's gonna surveil us 24/7!"
"So what?"
"You fucking Korean—"
That wrapped up the interrogation. A sharp crack as he smashed the pistol grip into the guy's temple, and his head lolled forward. Pretty damn useful bastard. This could make for some good trading material.
He soon pulled a carry-on from the truck and popped it open with a click. Mi-young, trembling inside, flinched and opened her eyes.
"It's... all done?"
"Done enough. Handle this guy for me, would ya? Foot's severed below the ankle."
"It's not a clean cut, though... this is...?"
"Getting shot off counts as severed, right?"
"..."
Mi-young recoiled in horror as she inspected the mangled stump. This wasn't a cut—it was more like it'd been ripped off. There wasn't much she could do right here; best to staunch the bleeding and rush him to a surgical hospital ASAP.
Cheol-woo watched her struggle with her slender hands to tighten the tourniquet, pondering for a bit.
"I've patched him up... but aren't you taking him to a hospital? With the stump exposed like this, infection'll kill him quick..."
"Yeah, we'll move him. Sis, load this onto the truck."
"Got it."
"By the way, Team Leader Kim Mi-young. Time to start studying English."
"Huh? English?"
"You think we're in an English-speaking country and won't bother learning the language? English first, then get that medical degree. I trust your skills and experience, but handing surgeries to a nurse all the time is kinda scary."
"Ah, aha... Yeah, that makes sense... But I'll need some time..."
"Time? Why?"
"A year's salary barely covers one semester of med school tuition, right?"
"What tuition? I'm covering it, obviously. But if you flunk with an F and need extra semesters, that's on your dime."
"Whaaat?!"
Mi-young's eyes went saucer-wide. He'd just pay for med school? The priciest one around? Under Han Si-yeon, she'd had to buy her own laptop. Was this the legendary employee welfare she'd only heard about? She nearly fainted.
"Study! I'll work my ass off! I'll master that damn Anglo language as fast as I can!"
"Good, good. Keep that fire."
Mi-young bobbed her head repeatedly, tears streaming, while Cheol-woo flashed a satisfied smile. Two months' interest on his deposits covered a full year's med school tuition—no big burden. Invest that little to turn a skilled, experienced nurse into a doctor? Cheaper than hiring both separately. Best damn investment ever.
> [Incoming call received. What is it?]
"We caught an ability user. Seems like he can spot them, so I figured the Secret Intelligence Agency would love him. That's why I'm calling."
> [...I'll be right there. Where are you?]
Not long after the brief call, Jason arrived at the hospital with his agents in tow. His eyes had lit up at "ability-spotting ability." Keeping the guy would've been a hassle for Cheol-woo—no plans for an ability user club or anything. Handing him to the Agency was best.
"You sure about this guy's ability? All the ones we've ID'd so far are just enhanced physical traits. Spotting ability users? No clue on the mechanism."
"Beats me. It's his claim. So, you buying or not? I can dump him on the cops or regular security instead."
"Not saying no. But I'd like to verify the ability first, then pay up. Cool?"
"Works for us. We don't need much. No cash demands, so relax."
He'd already gotten plenty of financial backing from the Agency. They'd secured the radar base land for him and covered bunker costs—pushing more might bankrupt them.
"Then... what do you want...?"
Jason's pupils shook. Money's the easiest fix. If not money, what the hell? Only anxiety.
"Some leeway on firearms possession."
"We're already pretty lenient. Most of your gear's technically illegal."
"Wanna buy more on top."
"Shoot."
"Anti-air missiles and a CIWS."
"Say what?"
"Patriot. And Phalanx."
"..."
Jason felt his head throb. He'd braced for overreach—maybe an armored vehicle or mortar—but Patriot and Phalanx? Phalanx was for warships. A civilian wanting that?
"It's not just legal hurdles—cost too. Both are top-tier military gear, pricey as hell."
"Just lift the ownership restrictions. I'll scrape the cash somehow."
"..."
Jason mulled it. A pair of Patriots neared ten million Australian dollars; Phalanx more. Even stripping the radar base bare, could they afford AA missiles and CIWS? Plus radar systems to fire them? Unless they hit the lotto dozens of times—impossible. Might as well approve.
Decision made. "Fine. I'll push for possession and self-defense launch rights. But form a corporation—it'll streamline permits as a defense contractor over personal."
"Got it. I'll spin up a company if needed."
No real risk approving; they'd never afford it anyway. David Min's wealth exploding tenfold? Nah. No worries otherwise.
"Buy some stocks, sis."
"No."
"..."
Cheol-woo's mouth snapped shut at the razor-sharp refusal. He hadn't even named a ticker.
"We need the cash. A lot."
"That's why we're holding dollars and waiting for the US to rebound."
"Not enough. Bunker's one thing, but we need AA defenses too. Anti-air missiles and CIWS—rapid-fire cannons."
"How much?"
"Together, about 20 billion won?"
"Eek!"
We had under 10 billion won total. Missiles and cannons for the radar base? Another 30 billion? Triple via stocks? You're insane! Yuri's gaze turned feral, like eyeing a wild pup.
"Absolutely not! Touch stocks again, and I'll hack your hand off!"
"Coming from you, that ain't funny."
"Not a joke!"
"Hear me out first. Judge after. Yeah?"
"...Fine, spit it."
"X-ray makers and arms companies are too late—obvious catalysts, already pumped. But the public doesn't know what we do."
"Which is?"
"Blue-drug ability users shrug off bullets—we just saw that. Cold steel's most efficient. Sword makers'll be swamped soon, right?"
Mutants dropped to rifle-caliber fire, but armored ability users? Tough. Cheol-woo sniped vitals at range, no issue, but ability user clashes? Melee sweat-fests. Swords weren't perpetual—consumables. Blade firms' sales would skyrocket.
"But sword stocks are tanking. Ammo makers are the only ones ripping."
"Exactly—prime entry. Your new longsword order's a week late, right? First one came in three days."
"Huh? Yeah... shipping's slowed big time. Backlog?"
Hiss—it clicked. Yuri's eyes wavered.
Anti-rifle gear was common; now machine-gun blockers too. Back to medieval melee era?
"Sis, how much worse can it get? Can't drop further."
"R-Really buy?"
"Buy. Dollar-denominated for currency play."
"How?"
"Buy shares, then borrow dollars on securities margin."
"Ooh... Fuck, what? Loans? You're nuts?"
"Dollars rise, stocks rise—double long. Gotta."
"Too risky... What if we wipe?"
"Even half-gone, 5 billion left. Downgrade to a cramped 10-pyeong bunker. Bold wins in crises."
"Th-That so...?"
Eyes squeezed shut, go for it? Half-loss still 5 billion—tempting. Yuri wavered.