One Lead After Another (3)
This was how Blue Dust moved through Korea now.
There was one enormous supplier. Yongmun took the product and pushed it out to the neighborhood dealers across the country, and those dealers sold it on to the addicts. Young or old, every last one of them was shooting it up.
To put it plainly, Yongmun was the bridge in the middle. A major distributor, and nothing more.
The real joke was that the police couldn't lay a finger on it. What year did they think this was? Drugs were circulating in the open on the street, and they still claimed there wasn't enough evidence?
If that excuse was actually true, the truth was even more frightening. Because no evidence really meant someone upstairs shut it down.
Police. Prosecutors. Judges.
If even one of those bastards had done his job, Blue Dust never would have spread this far.
So there was a backer. There was no way the police didn't know about an operation of this size.
They weren't that stupid.
Yongmun was a middleman in name and in fact. They'd never had the skill to make the stuff themselves, and they didn't have the brains to build a nationwide network on their own.
In other words, they were nothing but dogs—fetch the product, scatter it, done.
I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms.
I kept it simple. In this racket, only two things mattered.
The ones who make it, and the ones who spread it.
No matter how many people were manufacturing it, cut off the ones moving it and the market stalled. The channel that caught the flow and carried it on would be gone.
That was my method. I couldn't hit the top from the start.
I hadn't even confirmed who those people were yet.
But if I ripped out the bridge first—Yongmun?
The supplier would have nowhere to sell. The users would have nowhere to buy.
A market collapse, plain and simple.
The ones upstairs would have no choice but to crawl out themselves.
I rolled the mouse and pulled up the list With Crime had posted, checking it again.
The boss's name, the key lieutenants, the rank-and-file beneath them. Photos and criminal records, all of it neatly compiled.
"......Nothing but trash."
My throat went dry on its own. Every single name on that list was a vicious repeat offender.
Drugs were the baseline. Assault, murder, prostitution, fraud.
They'd wrapped themselves in every crime there was and were still strutting the streets, and the fact of it turned my stomach.
That scum like this was still alive was an insult to the victims.
I closed my eyes for a moment, then faced the glow of the monitor again.
I couldn't take them all down at once. Yangbap had its limits.
Not anymore.
A-Rank
A curse that may be applied in addition to one already laid. Usable only when the target is an evildoer. Upon application, the same curse spreads to nearby evildoers who share the identical criminal charge. Contagion is possible for up to one hundred people.
The corner of my mouth curled up on its own as I stared at the screen.
Yangbap alone hadn't been enough. This was a different story.
Lock it onto one of them for certain, and it spread straight to everyone carrying the same charge.
The victims' screams and hatred would crash down all at once and propagate together.
This was the board I'd been waiting for. Bastards like Yongmun all shared the same charges.
Drugs. Violence. Prostitution. Tag even one, and the rest would come strung out in a line.
I tapped the mouse and muttered to myself.
"Time to tear this thing out by the roots."
The order was simple now. Pick the one man with the major distribution network in his grip. He becomes the origin point of the Contagion Curse.
I let out a slow breath and shut off the monitor. The room went quiet.
Inside my head, dozens of screams were already overlapping, ringing together.
The stairs down into the basement were thick with damp.
An iron door stood at the end of the narrow, clammy passage, and beyond it lay a space where cold air mixed with the stink of mold.
Yongmun's boss, his lieutenants, and a handful of rank-and-file members stood in a line.
Black suits. Shoes polished to a shine. Gold chains still hanging at their throats.
Not one of them made a sound. The whole crew was soaked through with tension.
Then the door opened, and a group of men came in. In that instant a voice—thick, the way only a gangster's gets—boomed through the basement.
"Good to see you, boss!!"
For a greeting, it was loud enough to be excessive.
The lieutenants and the rank-and-file bent at the waist, folding themselves to ninety degrees as they shouted in unison.
Behind them, a man slowly showed himself.
Sunglasses that flashed even in the dark. A vile smile hooked at the corner of his mouth.
A man who hid even his own name and went by an alias. This was P.
He stopped walking and took the top seat as if it had always been his.
He crossed his legs, drummed his fingers on the table, and swept his gaze around the room.
"Hey."
One short word cut the air. Yongmun's boss kept his waist bent and swallowed his breath.
His broad shoulders were hunched, but the sweat soaking his back showed through all the same.
"The hell do you think you're doing? Why are the sales this shit?"
P's voice was low, but it had an edge like a blade. The boss's face twisted as he bowed even lower.
"I'm sorry, boss. I'll work harder."
The same words, over again. P's sneer only deepened.
"Work harder? Trash like you making real money, driving a nice car, living like an actual person in a Gangnam house—whose doing is all of that?"
He lifted his head to answer. His eyes were beaten down, but the voice came out mechanical.
"All thanks to you, boss."
P drummed his fingers on the table, then stopped. A thin, damp smile spread, unsettling.
"Then do better. You gangster piece of shit."
In that instant the boss's teeth clicked. His face had gone rigid, as if he'd swallowed his rage.
"......Understood."
Then the big boxes started coming in, one after another. A few of the members carried them in both hands and set them down beside the table.
A little white powder leaked from a gap between the boxes.
P nodded as he spoke.
"Lucky for us, the guild expanded their exclusive rights on the gates this time. Quality's better, and the volume's up too."
The boss and the lieutenants bowed their heads as one.
"Thank you."
"Don't just thank me. Do the job. You hear me? Sell all of it within the month."
The boss hesitated. It felt impossible. He raised his head, and his lips moved.
"Boss...... one month is going to be rough, I think."
In the next instant the sound of a palm tore the air. P rose from his seat and slapped the boss across the face.
Smack—!
The boss's head snapped sideways. His cheek flared red. Far from hitting back, he only ducked his head and held his breath.
P's face came in close.
"You son of a bitch. I told you not to talk back. You forget who I am?"
A pressure of fear and rage crushed down on the basement. The boss clenched his teeth and nodded.
"I'm sorry."
"Fucking mutt. Making me use my hands. Anyway, sell all of it this month. We're going overseas soon. We've got a line to the Mexican gangs."
The last line was spat like a declaration of victory. P shoved his chair back and stood.
His footsteps echoed through the basement as he walked slowly out.
Those left behind kept their heads down in the silence. The boss bit his split lip.
In the stare he fixed on P's retreating back, the rage he'd been holding down gleamed.
The basement sank once more into the cold dark.
A black sedan ran down a dark road.
Only the engine lay low against his ears.
The young member in the driver's seat kept his eyes on the road ahead. In the passenger seat sat a lieutenant who had stayed at the boss's side for a long time.
When the air in the car stretched heavy, the lieutenant finally spoke.
"Even so...... isn't Boss P taking it too far? Think how much work we've put in. Treatment like today feels a little harsh."
The slow, thick way a gangster talks. Resentment seeped through it, but so did caution.
The boss didn't answer. He stared out the window and just drew on his cigarette in silence. Pale smoke spread thick through the car.
The lieutenant read his mood for a moment, then went on.
"By the way, boss. You hear Kim Euiri's dead?"
The boss's eyes slid slowly sideways.
"How would I not. It was all over the news."
The lieutenant nodded, mixing in a hollow laugh.
"Crazy bastard. If you're gonna die, die quiet. What's he doing turning on a livestream and cutting his own guts open......"
His voice dropped lower and lower.
"We're not gonna catch any blowback from that, are we?"
The boss took a long drag.
"What blowback? Off some asshole who already washed his hands and went civilian."
For a moment the air in the car sank. The lieutenant hesitated, then opened his mouth again.
"That...... there's been that string of suicides lately, hasn't there. They all died the same grotesque way, and it looks like Kim Euiri got it the same. People are saying the Unnamed Awakened is controlling them, making them die......"
In that instant the fist of the boss—who had been smoking in silence—flew like lightning.
Bang.
The lieutenant's head snapped sideways and slammed into the window. His lip split, and blood ran.
"I'm already in a shit mood, and you're yapping in my ear?"
The boss's voice cracked low.
"You believe ghost stories like that and call yourself a gangster? Dumb fuck."
The lieutenant wiped the blood and lowered his head. He killed his breath and didn't dare speak again.
Only the engine and the smell of burning tobacco remained in the car.
The boss tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a moment.
Then, from somewhere inside his body, a cold current seeped in all at once.
On instinct, his eyes flew open.
The lieutenant in the passenger seat had his arm out and was driving a syringe into his own forearm. The liquid spread fast into the vein.
The same syringe was already buried deep in the driver's neck.
A face twisted pale. Veins standing out black.
"You crazy bastard! What the hell are you doing!"
"Aaaaaah! The speed...... it's wrong!! It's wrong!! It's wrong!! It's wrong!!"
"Too fast!! Too fast!! Too fast!! Too fast!! Too fast!! Too fast!!"
The moment he looked at the instrument cluster, the boss's heart dropped. The digital speedometer was clawing upward like something insane.
A speed that didn't even make sense.
He looked outside. Beyond the windows, it wasn't a road anymore.
Everything was darkness.
In a black world without end, the car was running like something insane.
"Hey!! Stop!! What the fuck is this!!"
The instant he shouted, the passenger and the driver turned their heads at the same time.
Expressionless faces.
Lips moving with a strange slowness.
Then the mouths split. Skin tore, and from the opened gaps thousands of insects poured out.
Things you could barely call insects. Human faces hung from spider legs. Mantis arms were stuck to the bodies of deer.
Sharp pincers flashed and shot forward.
They crashed over the boss like a wave.
"Gyaaaaaah—!!"
Tiny teeth tore his flesh away, little by little.
Blood sprayed, but death didn't come.
Only the pain went on, as if for hours.
He screamed as if his mind were about to break.
His eyes opened.
Right beside him, the lieutenant's face was shoved into his.
The face had already become a mantis.
Compound eyes, red, stared straight through him.
A mantis arm flashed up—then a blade split his belly and drove in all at once.
"Aaaaaagh—!!"
His eyes opened again.
His hands were soaked with sweat, and under his fingers he felt the knife hidden in his sleeve.
Eyes drowned in madness wavered. He drew the knife and swung it into the front seats.
"Die!! Die, you fuckers!!!"
The blade sank into the passenger lieutenant's throat. He stabbed the driver's shoulder, his ribs, dozens of times.
The inside of the car became a smear of blood.
Under the sudden attack, the wheel lost all control.
The sedan slammed into the guardrail at the roadside.
Steel crumpled with a scream. The car lifted into the air.
Down into the black ravine.
Falling toward the deep abyss.
The next day. Yongmun's office.
Every member of the organization had a knife out, threatening one another.
All of them looked as if they'd just woken. Their eyes burned red, as if they might burst at any moment.
Around them, some were already dead from the stabbing. Others had hanged themselves.
Chaos, pure and simple.
The action chief, knife leveled, screamed.
"You fucking monster bastards!!"