The Negotiation Master’s Letter
Chapter 29 — If I had to sum up the association president’s letter in three lines, it would be this:
1. We won’t ask who you are.
2. We’ll guarantee your freedom.
3. We will offer tribute(?).
‘Wow, that feels wildly different.’
He’d contacted me before, too.
But back then, it had felt solemn and grandiose—something about how the nation needed me, and all that.
The official request for contact I’d seen on the news had been similar.
Of course, this letter was grand in its own way, but, well...
If before it had felt like a business proposal—“We’ll treat you really well, so please help us out too”—this one was basically...
‘Lord Jinjo, I’ll do anything, so please just talk to us!’
That was the vibe.
Uh... wasn’t that a bit too grovely?
Did they really have to go this far, even if I was a super promising talent?
Hmm.
I rolled around on the bed and thought about why the Association was being so deferential.
They said the recent A-rank Gate was an unusually rare case, so maybe the nation was desperate for strong awakeners?
Or...
‘Could it be because I caused a scene on the community boards yesterday?’
Maybe I was so scary that the Association was watching its step, trying to win me over, fawning and fretting...?
Eh. No way.
No matter how you looked at it, they were a government body. They wouldn’t react that much over one community comment.
Anyway, the conclusion was simple.
‘If they’re going this far, maybe I should at least hear them out.’
My original policy had been to ignore every message, but if the Association was going this far, there was no reason not to respond. I’d also been needing help with my identity and registration issues anyway.
Still, there was one problem. Would the Association really refrain from digging into my identity?
If they found out I was a pathetic vampire, absolutely not. And it’d be a problem if they learned I was the real culprit behind the Black Cow incident, too.
Of course, now that I had reliable familiars, the state probably couldn’t just haul me off by force. Even so, I wanted to stay as safe as possible.
So I had to talk to them without letting my true self show.
How?
Simple.
I’d speak not as “Yujin,” but as the calamity-class awakener “Jinjo.” I’d set a concept, like a VTuber!
Hmm. Then how should I answer?
I stared at the floating message window and fell into thought again.
This was also something written under Jinjo’s nickname, so of course [Noble Bearing] would be in effect.
But if I got too aggressive like I did on the community boards yesterday, the entire negotiation would obviously collapse. I had to avoid that.
At least there was one saving grace.
‘This is writing, not speaking.’
When I talked, my mouth ran wild and there was no taking it back. But with writing, I could polish it in my head before sending it out.
After about three weeks of living like this, I’d figured out one thing.
The system’s idea of “nobility” was broader than I expected.
Basically, as long as I acted like “this is how an absurdly powerful vampire lord would behave,” it passed.
In fact, even rolling around on the bed, watching short-form videos, and slurping down congealed blood had never triggered [Noble Bearing] at all.
Why?
‘Because that’s the pastime of an absolute being.’
That old anime cliché where a demon lord or god-tier being comes to Earth and eats fried chicken while saying, “Hmm, so this is human cuisine?” That sort of thing comes up all the time, right?
That was how it could be interpreted.
The essence was to maintain “presence.”
As long as I kept the attitude arrogant, high-handed, and looking down on everyone from above, I could say whatever I wanted and still get my point across.
Besides, it came out naturally whether I tried or not, so roleplaying wasn’t difficult at all.
Good. Let’s do this.
I placed my hand over the keyboard.
And started drafting the reply with all my might.
A little while later.
I’d finished a message that seemed pretty convincing.
‘This shouldn’t sound too threatening, right?’
I nodded, fairly pleased with myself.
Send.
Then I flopped back onto the bed and kept munching on the congealed blood.
I was starving, probably because writing had used up so much energy.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
President’s office.
Kim Taesung, having sent off the carefully crafted message that reflected years of negotiation experience, deliberately turned to other work.
If he got impatient and started waiting anxiously right after throwing out such a big move, the next step would lose its balance.
But he couldn’t focus on the paperwork. His mind kept drifting back there.
...I wonder if she’ll respond.
Honestly, it was impossible to know.
Still, compared to the messages sent by other countries and organizations, this should definitely be different.
Because while the other countries probably viewed Jinjo as nothing more than a transcendent awakener, Kim Taesung was considering the possibility that she might be connected to a vampire stronger than an S-rank being.
That gap in information was the basis for choosing this deferential diplomatic strategy.
Then, at that moment—
Ding!
A new alert appeared in the system inbox.
Sender: Jinjo
Kim Taesung’s hand, which had been flipping through documents, froze.
...!
...She really replied.
The strategy had worked!
He swallowed dryly, took a deep breath, and opened the message.
I do not find it pleasing to waste my time on the noisy clamor of humans.
...
He could barely breathe from the very first line.
This is a warning.
All the countless messages that had poured in from around the world—including the one he himself had sent—had been classified by Jinjo as “noise.”
So it wasn’t merely that they’d been ignored. She had genuinely found them irritating all along.
Kim Taesung felt a faint chill creep down his spine as he moved on to the next line.
However, the fact that you have recognized your former rudeness and seek to show proper courtesy is rather commendable.
For that reason, I shall specially grant you the right to speak with me.
You mentioned tribute. Tell me what you, the mortals, have prepared.
...Relief. Positive response.
Kim Taesung finally exhaled.
The tone was still overwhelmingly grandiose, but in the end she was willing to talk. So bowing low had indeed been the right answer.
He began drafting a reply, one careful character at a time, like someone crossing a sheet of thin ice.
It is an honor to hear those words, Jinjo.
Nevertheless, if I may be so bold, there is one thing I would first like to ask.
I worry whether you might be concerned about the cumbersome procedures of society.
If trivial matters such as identity or the movement of assets have been inconveniencing your leisure, we have prepared tribute to resolve them for you.
If it is acceptable, may I explain one by one?
He was casting a subtle fishing hook without being too blatant about it.
It was also a quiet probe, trying to see whether the other side was truly an inhuman being like a vampire, or simply a transcendent awakener.
If it was the latter, this proposal would probably leave her indifferent.
The response didn’t take long.
Speak.
...She asked!
Jinjo hadn’t shut him down.
She said she’d listen.
Which meant—
...The possibility that she isn’t a normal human just went up even more.
Reweighting the hypotheses in his mind, he started laying out the cards he’d prepared in earnest.
First, we can provide you with a top-secret identity class known as “Special Management Target.”
All information regarding holders of that identity is permanently sealed as classified, and the bank account tied to it will be completely anonymous, exempt from all tax obligations.
Second, if you permit it, we can officially welcome you as an “unofficial S-rank” of our Association.
Then, whenever Jinjo might require anything from our side, we can mobilize every resource we have to actively assist you.
I daresay we would do our utmost to help even if the matter were outside the bounds of public law.
Of course, there is absolutely no coercion, and no obligations whatsoever.
Furthermore, all of this will never be announced publicly and will be kept strictly confidential.
Special identity, secret account, tax exemption. Tribute offered to Jinjo.
But—
‘There’s a hidden move in here.’
Unofficial Association registration.
At first glance, that also seemed like a proposal that benefited only Jinjo. It wouldn’t be public, there was no coercion, and there were zero obligations for her to shoulder.
But in reality, that was the key part.
Registration. The act of putting a name on record. It meant the beginning of a relationship.
However loose the form, it would at least bring her inside the frame of “the Republic of Korea.”
That would become an enormous potential asset for the Association going forward. But the bigger the return, the bigger the risk, too.
If this proposal somehow offended Jinjo, things could go wrong beyond just derailing the negotiation.
Please...
He held his breath and waited for her reply.
Hmm. Not a bad proposal.
“...!”
Kim Taesung clenched his fist without realizing it.
She accepted it. And with unexpected ease, too.
So this is because I’ve been flattering her? Maybe she’s more favorable than I thought...?!
The realization that the Association might actually have Jinjo’s goodwill made his heart feel light for a brief moment.
But then—
However.
“...”
How could I trust you?
If I were to place my name in your ledgers, you would not be plotting some underhanded trick to trace my movements, would you?
Immediately, a message laced with suspicion arrived.
Of course. She wasn’t going to let it slide.
Kim Taesung replied at once.
Jinjo, how could we ever dare to plan such a thing?
I swear, nothing of the sort will ever happen.
If by some chance this promise is broken, I, Kim Taesung, will gladly accept any punishment you deem fit, and I stake my name on that.
He staked everything as the president of the Association. In truth, he had no intention of doing such a thing anyway.
Trying to fool Jinjo carelessly would be the worst possible path if it only succeeded in making her hostile.
Any punishment, you say...
Very well. Let it be so.
A reply that carried a chilling implication came back.
Still, Kim Taesung didn’t stop there. He pushed one step further.
Thank you for your trust.
However, in order to properly deliver these tribute items, we would need to hand over physical objects such as an ID card or a card in person.
May I respectfully ask how Jinjo would like to receive them?
This was the second move of the negotiation today.
He would never directly ask, “Please meet us in person.”
Instead, he’d framed it as “we need to deliver physical items; how would you like to receive them?”—a natural way to induce contact.
And the result was—
I shall not personally deign to come to you.
Instead, I will send one of my servants. Deliver it through him.
...!
Complete success.
He hadn’t even expected Jinjo herself to come in person.
The important thing was that he’d gotten a clue.
...Servant.
That was the clue that Jinjo was not acting alone.
It meant she belonged to some sort of group, one with at least one subordinate under her, and that she held a sufficiently high position within that group to call that subordinate a “servant.”
He typed the next line with care.
Understood, Jinjo. Then let us decide the time and place.
After several rounds of back-and-forth, the conditions for the meeting were set.
Three days later, at midnight.
A private meeting room directly under the Association’s authority, on the outskirts of Seoul.
Attendance would be limited to a minimum number of people. All tribute would be prepared as physical objects.
“...”
The message window closed.
“Phew...”
Kim Taesung let out a relieved sigh. He was a veteran who’d weathered every storm, but even he couldn’t remain calm this time.
...But from here on out is the real test.
He had secured an incredible negotiation. Now he had to prepare to receive the envoy Jinjo would send.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
...?
After that short conversation that had lasted less than ten minutes, I organized what I’d gained.
Special identity.
Secret account.
No taxes.
And they weren’t even just registering me—they were offering to slot me straight in as an unofficial S-rank?
Uh... well...
I mean, I’m really happy, but.
Is it okay for them to just give things away like this...?!
I couldn’t help worrying a little about how our country’s Association was run.