Kill All the Chaebols!? The Vanished Home
"Kill all the chaebols!?" ……………
"Little miss, don't be too upset. Come sunrise tomorrow, I'll take you to a nice orphanage. It's the one I grew up in... the director's a really good person."
He's a good guy. In the visual novels Oh Deok-hwan plays, that's a +1 affinity with the Outer God Girl.
A mercenary who darted through the battlefield in mad high-speed maneuvers, blasting through bullet hells. But seeing him like this, he's got a tender side.
"Just ten more minutes up this hill, and you'll see this uncle's super cool proposal."
As if changing the mood, Cheon Jung-sa's voice suddenly brightened.
"Truth is, we're already living together. So hang in there, little miss. Crash at our place tonight."
Cheon Jung-sa's face, saying that, swelled with expectation like he owned the world. He fiddled with something in his pocket. The bulge in his suit jacket—a ring case.
Ahh. So that's what it was. They've been cohabiting, so no death flag triggered.
Come to think of it, cohabitation counts as common-law marriage. A proposal in a common-law relationship versus a dating one—different flag judgment, right?
The glasses-wearing and doctor-coated clones nodded too.
Climbing the last steep alley, our eyes occasionally met with the slum dwellers. But the vibe's been off for a bit.
Cheon Jung-sa greets them warmly, but no one responds.
"Hello!" And the lady hanging laundry whips her head away; the old man smoking dodges his gaze and slips into the alley shadows.
"What's with everyone? They're acting weird today." Cheon Jung-sa tilted his head.
Then, at the alley mouth, a grandma picking up trash spots us and calls out.
"Aigoo, young Cheon... your house, well—"
The lady next to her yanks her arm. Whispers follow, and grandma clamps her mouth shut, eyes dropping.
"What the hell?" A bad premonition flickers; Cheon Jung-sa's gaze shifts toward where his house should be.
And the next instant, his eyes start shaking wildly. He flings his duffel bag and bolts up the hill like a madman.
I trot after him, panting, and find Cheon Jung-sa on his knees. The sight at the end of his stare.
At the narrow alley's end, the house that should be there... isn't.
Just an empty lot presumed to be the foundation. Flanking houses intact, but the middle one's gone. Astonishingly, no concrete base, no bricks, not even a slate roof shard. Like nothing was ever there.
"What... is this...."
Cheon Jung-sa's hollow gaze sweeps the vacant lot. Neighboring houses show no damage. Laundry flaps on the right eave in the breeze; a flowerpot sits untouched by the left door. Only the center—Cheon Jung-sa's lot—is empty.
He steps into the bare earth, drops to one knee, scoops up a handful of dirt. Dry sand trickles through his fingers. He sniffs it. Sniff sniff. Smelling it.
Hmm. No char from the soil. Definitely not a gas explosion. That'd damage neighbors, leave debris, scorch marks. But no rubble, no soot, no fragments here.
Glasses clone pushes up his specs with analysis.
> No damage to neighbors. This guy's house vaporized with surgical precision.
> Earth tech for this? Hundreds of personnel, serious cash.
Same as my thinking. Probably mobilized hundreds overnight to dismantle the whole house and recycle it. Dragging that manpower and gear to this remote slum peak? Insanely expensive.
Way overkill for one mercenary's home. Overwhelming retaliation.
"Who the fuck... does this to someone's house."
Cheon Jung-sa swallows boiling rage, rummaging the lot. I pace the dusty emptiness. Just dirt underfoot. No glass shards, no nails.
But in one corner, where soil mounds slightly, something glints. I squat, brush it off: a smooth metal fragment. Oval with embossed emblem.
This looks familiar. Ah. Cheolung Group's emblem. Identical to the one on the walker plating at Gwanaksan.
I pick it up, approach Cheon Jung-sa, place it gently on his palm.
Dirt-caked fingers take the emblem. First, eyes that don't get it. Then, eyes refusing to. Finally, eyes that do.
"...Those motherfucking bastards."
A word ground through clenched teeth. Veins bulge on his emblem-gripping hand. Metal edge digs into flesh, but fingers don't loosen.
No wailing or screaming. Reaction milder than expected, but the emotion's taste crashes like furious waves. Hot. Like molten iron poured in my mouth. Scorching my tongue, searing gums, sliding down my throat.
Like Han Min-seo's killing intent, same family. But concentration differs. Hers a sip from a teacup; this a furnace-ladle full.
And beneath the blazing iron, a faint saltiness. Barely detectable drop in the metal sea. His rage rides on sorrow.
……………
Then. At some point, the air grows eerily still. Cheek-brushing breeze halts; distant slum dogs' barks cut off. Total silence, like the world's under a giant glass dome.
Something's coming.
At Cheon Jung-sa's feet, suppressing his roar of fury, his shadow on the ground darkens like spilled black ink. Edges blur, spread, soak the floor outward.
Something crawls up from within, piercing the earth. Outline wavers; edges smoke-dissipate and reform. Humanoid? Maybe not.
The embodied black shadow whispers in Cheon Jung-sa's ear.
"Do you desire revenge?"
Hmm. Threat entity obvious. Where'd this one crawl from?
> Seen this type before.
Glasses clone flashes his frames, briefing.
> Approaches humans radiating intense rage, despair, hatred.
> Grants revenge power to the pitiful, but ultimately seizes body control for slaughter. Parasitic type.
Yeah. Classic demon pact cliché.
Meanwhile, the black form tempts Cheon Jung-sa relentlessly.
"I'll give you power. Power to sweep away those who crushed you."
"Accept me. Kill all the chaebols."
Urgh. What, a Rebel Slayer or something?
Cheon Jung-sa's canines bare. The grin of a raging beast threatening.
"—Sounds good."
His hand rises toward the black form.
Oh no. Bad choice.
Determined to do anything for revenge? But no. Cheon Jung-sa, you're my attachment human. Can't let some other entity take you.
I raise my right hand, gather energy in my palm. Same trick as busting the isolation room's phase-reinforced barrier.
Tzing. A pea-sized black dot blooms in my palm. Gravity's absolute swamp, no escape even for light: Micro Black Hole.
Take that, Rebel Slayer.
Shoooooo— Spacetime twists; surrounding dust and air suck into my palm.
The black shadow lunging for Cheon Jung-sa can't escape gravity either.
Kiiiiieeeeeee—!! It thrashes to hold form, but outlines flap, edges unravel like thread, stretching toward the black hole.
Light can't flee this gravity. A mere Tera-grade entity can't resist.
Under three seconds. The black form—the Rebel Slayer—gets sucked in.
I pop the spent Micro Black Hole in my mouth and erase it. Nyam.Kuehng. Tasteless.
Sorry. But can't leave a Micro Black Hole on Earth.
Anyway. Taste sucks, but the ingested info's intriguing.
> Everyone, check this out.
Doctor clone drags out a chalkboard. Glasses clone joins.
> Just-absorbed entity knew human empowerment in detail.
> Converts its energy into human-usable form and infuses. Structure's intricate.
Both clones scribble equations on the board. Arrows link, diagrams form; bitter-protesting little clones gather to watch.
Until now, my human empowerments were physical. Neutromium Suit for Yeom Hana, Magical Girl Brooch for Han Min-seo, immortal jellyfish and tardigrade genes for Lee Se-hee.
Gear crafting or hair-in-body cell tweaking.
But this entity's method's fundamentally different. Converts energy itself to seep into the human body. On contact.
> Apply right, we can use it too!
> Weaken to extreme levels so human body/mind doesn't collapse. Even Mom couldn't do this!
Yeah, main body—Mom—devoured all organics and inorganics except herself. No growth chances like this.
But I'm different. Good Outer God who eats even tasteless entities and learns.
Satisfied with unexpected gains, Cheon Jung-sa looks down at me. Eyes that blazed with rage and vengeance now fill with bafflement and confusion.
Natural reaction. Shadow whispering power sucked into my palm vortex.
"What... the hell was that just now? Little miss, didn't you swallow a ghost with your hand?"
Urgh, explaining's a hassle. But I can't talk. So I just shrug.
Then extend my right hand.
Attachment human. Need power?
I intone dark-lord lines inwardly with full gravitas. Outwardly, just a girl offering her hand to an uncle in a dusty lot.
Ahem. Quiet.
Cheon Jung-sa stares blankly at my palm. For a long while. Fist clenched so hard blood oozes; he rubs it on his own hand, then grips mine with his cleaner one.
Even now, considerate of the Outer God Girl? Like that mindset. Affinity +1.
Anyway, contract sealed. Through our clasped hands, I apply the entity's tech. Convert and infuse energy.
Like making dust mites do strength training, human-wise. Tricky work—but impossible level, really—but my clones handle it, so fine.
"—Ugh."
Cheon Jung-sa grunts short; faint purple glow spreads from contact, then fades.
Do what you want. Smash if you wanna smash, hunt if you wanna hunt. I'll munch popcorn from the best seat right beside you.
Unghihihi.