He Kills with a Single Pen
That bastard kills people with a single pen!
……………
Cheon Jung-sa pockets the Cheolung Group emblem and starts heading back down the way he came. Without a word.
This attachment human was furious enough to wipe out every chaebol in the world after his house and her both vanished into thin air. And now he's regained his cool pretty damn quick.
Well, yeah. The house is gone for good, but as long as she's alive, he can get her back somehow. No matter how much of a chaebol they are, they wouldn't kill someone and bury them without a trace—right? Yeah, they totally would.
The chaebols in this country are the kind who strut around in hanboks worth as much as an apartment. They live in a whole different world from regular folks. Hell, clearing out some slum resident? That'd be easier than falling asleep on an electric blanket.
Still, I've gotta believe she's not dead. Cheon seems to believe it too.
Yeah. The only thing truly gone forever is that one slum house, demolished without a trace.
Speaking of which, how much was a house in this neighborhood worth?
The glasses-wearing figment pops up out of nowhere with a real estate listing.
Holy crap, even that rickety old place teetering on the hilltop goes for 1 billion? Seoul's real estate prices are scarier than your average Giga-level threat.
1 billion won. That's about 650,000 bags of snacks. So they blew away 650,000 bags of someone else's snacks.
The Cheolung Group—truly evil bastards.
Anyway, where are we headed now? Looking around, Cheon seems to be leaving the endless slum stairs behind, heading deep into the alleys.
"...To bulldoze a house that clean in just one day, they'd have to bring in outside manpower. No question."
Cheon mutters to himself.
"At least a few dozen guys. Heavy equipment too. But chaebols don't hire day laborers directly in peacetime. Obviously, they shoved cash at the local trash managing this hood and told them to do it."
Aha, got it. Street-smarts detective work only a local could pull off. The chaebol didn't bring their own crew—they paid off the native gang to handle it. The gang rounded up gear and men, and boom: house gone in a day.
Cheon Jung-sa, you've got a sharp mind.
The fierce-eyed figment nods.
……………
The slum back alleys are eerily dark even in broad daylight. The buildings crowd together, roofs nearly touching, blocking the sun from reaching the ground. Damp walls bloom with mold, and the drains reek of something I don't even want to describe.
Then the alley twists once more, and the scene changes completely. Between rows of steel shutters, one shop with no sign. Plastic chairs out front, two guys smoking cigarettes.
Tattoos, gold chains, dyed hair. I've seen 'em in that comic Lee Gyu-rin lent me. Organized thugs, gangsters.
Cheon strides right past them into the shop without a second thought.
Inside, even more guys. Five or six crammed into a tight space. Cheap soju bottles scattered on tables, a cracked mirror and pool cues leaning against one wall. One dude's got his feet up on the table, fiddling with his smartphone.
Me? I've been in slime form, stuck to Cheon's shadow since we entered the alley.
Cheon marches into a den of over ten gangsters like it's nothing. The vibe screams noir flick, and the figments in my mind-world are going nuts.
Don't know where they got 'em, but they're all decked out in black suits and shades now. One even pulls dual pistols with a toothpick in his mouth.
I know exactly who they're imitating.
I can't be outdone.
I equip a black suit and shades in the mind-world.
Suits me, right? Hehe.
I'll get Cheon a suit later too. We'll make a killer noir duo.
Meanwhile, back in reality, the standoff's already on.
The gang in the hideout recognizes Cheon. Makes sense—they're from the same neighborhood.
The guy with his feet up sets down his phone and sneers.
"Well, well. Look who it is."
He's grinning, but his eyes aren't.
"The corporate war hero, ace diver, android lover Sergeant Cheon."
"Took down a Walker solo on Gwanaksan, right? Saw you on TV."
"So what brings a lowly type like Sergeant Cheon to our humble establishment? No androids to fuck here."
The gang bursts into laughter. Each "android lover" jab layers on the mockery.
Hmm. Android lover, huh. What's that mean?
The glasses figment dodges my gaze, refusing to explain.
Cheon's face doesn't twitch amid the jeers. He strides right up to them and growls in a low, raspy voice.
"Who ordered it. Where'd you send my house stuff."
The laughter cuts off cold. The humid air in the hideout turns razor-sharp with tension.
I see the gang exchanging glances.
Feet-up guy flashes gold teeth in a grin.
"The fuck you talking about? What house?"
"I know everything. Answer if you don't wanna die."
Cheon's threat makes them rise. One grabs a pool cue, another pulls a folding knife from his pocket.
Cheon doesn't budge. His eyes scan the table: soju bottles, ashtray, a single ballpoint pen, glass cup.
"Get the fuck out if you wanna live, you crazy bastard."
The words barely land before Cheon springs like a coiled spring. The metal ballpoint rolling on the table flies into his hand—then skewers the guy's hand straight through, pinning it to the wood.
"Gwaaaaaah!"
Scream. First gangster retired.
Second: Cheon's knee shatters the jaw of a guy charging from the side.
Third: An elbow deflects a flying pipe from behind, then cracks the temple.
Fourth: Charges with a knife, but Cheon twists the wrist holding it and jams it into the shoulder.
Fifth: Swings a shattered soju bottle, but his arm's grabbed—crunch. Bone spears out through flesh as he collapses.
The figments hurl popcorn, cheering wildly.
Pro killers take out people with a single pen, huh. So that's it.
Hmm, but still. I powered him up, but not with insane strength like the others. Yeom Hana kicks with neutron star mass, Han Min-seo blocks anti-tank rockets casually, Lee Se-hee has straight-up immortality.
Compared to that, what I gave Cheon was peanuts. Guess this attachment human was a born fighter from the ground up.
No superpowers, no suit, no transformations. Just his body and a pen to flatten five or six guys.
Not even an awakener, no drugs—just pure human pushed to the limit. Feels like that.
Cheon grabs the hair of the guy moaning with the pen through his hand.
"Don't wanna die? Then talk. Who ordered it. To demolish my house."
"G-guh..."
"No answer, and the other hand gets the same."
Terror in his eyes, the guy stammers up at Cheon.
"Ch-Cheolung... Cheolung Group paid us! To bulldoze your place...!"
"The stuff."
"F-furniture all went to the dump! P-probably all shredded and burned in the incinerator by now...!"
Cheon's jaw clenches—crack. Back molar shattered from biting too hard.
"Dump. Exact address."
"Gyeonggi-do! Taechon-myeon Shinil Resource Industrial Complex!"
Thud. Cheon's fist taps the temple; the guy's head lolls. Out cold. Probably.
He drops the bloody pen and heads out of the hideout.
Wonder what this attachment human plans next. He doesn't stop walking. Out of the slum alleys, onto the main road. Pulls out his smartphone mid-stride, types into search.
Aha. Heading there, got it.
But I doubt she's at the dump. He didn't even ask the gang her location.
Gonna recover the furniture first? No clue.
Wish we could actually talk.
……………
I ride pillion on Cheon's bike all the way to Gyeonggi-do in one go. Shinil Resource Waste Disposal Site.
Trash mountains loom beyond the chain-link fence. Shredders roar nonstop, conveyor belts haul scrap appliances and building debris.
Off the bike, Cheon yanks out his phone in a panic. Fires up the Oseong Android app, punches in the code for that 10-year subscription he just bought.
Screen pops up: Find My Android.
Ah, came to find the maid android. Yeah, that's pricey. Hardware separate, needs subscription to even run—insane business model.
I know, I get it. Dropped big bucks on sub, so priority one: save the valuable android.
But Cheon, turns out you're a money-first guy. Coming for the pricier maid bot before your live-in girlfriend.
Cheon dashes between trash piles, tracking the signal. Spots the maid android on the conveyor right before the shredder, yanks her off.
Whoa. Body that rivals Yeom Hana's. Not natural-born, being android and all.
Cheon presses his phone to the nape of her neck. Short sync chime, and light flickers back in her eyes.
"Siel!"
"...Sergeant?"
Cheon pulls the maid android into a hug. She freezes a beat, then hugs back.
Clap clap clap. Watching the scene, I give silent applause with my slime body.
Owner saves maid bot from the brink of disposal. Pretty touching reunion, in its way.
That aside... are waste sites usually crawling with armed guards like this?
Sensing people hiding behind containers, by the shredders, atop the scrap yard. Hearts racing, temps up. Tense.
Not regular staff.
"Sergeant! Danger—"
The android called Siel shoves Cheon aside.
Bang.
Rifle crack splits the air. One bullet pierces two bodies.
Maid android's head erupts in flames. Blood blooms from Cheon's chest.
They crumple onto the trash heap.