Samjeong's Lob 1
Samjeong Chairman Kim Manbok rustled open his newspaper. Everyone else read the news on their smartphones, but he didn't use one. He had a firm belief that information should come from print.
Seeing his son's photo in the headline, he clicked his tongue.
"Tch… that fucking idiot."
His wife, who was peeling fruit beside him, glanced at her son's face in the paper. "Honey… Myeon-hyeong's been arrested. Are you just going to sit there? You've raised hundreds of prosecutors and judges…"
"That little shit. I loaded up his prison account so he can live comfortably. Don't worry about it."
Kim Manbok felt irritated by his wife's nagging. He was already furious that his son was tangled up with Japan.
"Tch… ruining the fruit, woman butting in like this. Butting in!"
Venting his frustration on his wife, Kim Manbok stood up and headed to his annex to cool his complicated head.
"Crazy bastard… cozying up to Japan? But his actions are just like mine… tsk tsk."
Kim Manbok smirked, one corner of his mouth curling up. The fortune he'd built was money earned by selling out his country. The evils he'd committed up to his ninetieth year were beyond counting.
Every time the presidency changed, he'd helped create their slush funds. Under pretexts like resource diplomacy or nuclear power, he'd laundered dirty money.
The pinnacle of his treason came in the early 2000s: a nuclear power technology completed under government lead with three conglomerates jumping in. He'd sabotaged it by swapping parts with cheap Chinese knockoffs, making it shoddy on purpose.
Then, using prosecutors and judges he'd groomed with scholarships as bribes, plus the president's power, he'd raided and crushed the conglomerate from all sides. It had grown under the previous president's protection, so it was an eyesore anyway.
Korea's media led the charge, broadcasting the nuclear scandal worldwide and airing the nation's dirty laundry. Korean nuclear tech was booted from the global market, and the company went bankrupt.
All this villainy was orchestrated by Kim Manbok and the president, bankrolled by the American nuclear mafia. After that, Samjeong thrived under presidential protection.
"Teaming up with Japan's nuclear mafia… not bad, huh?"
After Kim Myeon-hyeong's arrest, Kim Manbok had investigated his son's tracks thoroughly. Tracing back from Japan's hunter groups and Oni Guild led to Japan's nuclear mafia, the "Atomic Village," pulling the strings.
His son was copying him exactly—teaming up with the American nuclear mafia. Proud that the kid had inherited his nose for money.
"Right. Now it's not nukes—hunters are national power."
Arriving at the annex, nude beauties greeted him in dogeza.
Choi Secretary bowed crisply, paying respects to Chairman Kim Manbok's visit.
"Chairman. Top university students with brains and beauty. All virgins, deeply faithful girls."
"Good… good… My patriotism for this country is fathering as many kids as possible."
Kim Manbok straightened his hunched back with a crack-crack and eyed the beauties. Their pupils were unfocused, souls seemingly fled.
He pulled a blue pill from his pocket and swallowed it. Then he undid the string of his modified hanbok.
"Hrrm…"
The pill's effect was miraculous. Muscles rippled as his frail body stretched tall. Crack-crack… grind-grind.
His wrinkles smoothed, bones realigned. From 170cm, Kim Manbok shot up past 185cm, muscles bulging. His thighs thickened, tightening the baggy hanbok pants.
Now youthful, he checked himself in the large mirror, accustomed to the change. Pecs, biceps, abs—all developed. He grinned at the strange pattern etched on his lower abdomen.
"As expected… nothing beats this over shitty stuff like Oni's Blood."
Kim Manbok grinned at his reflection.
"Chairman. And… a call from America looking for you."
His brow furrowed as he took the bulky satellite phone from Choi Secretary. Pressing it to his ear, his movements were no longer the slow shuffle of an old man. Like a hunter deftly wielding mana.
He casually held the heavy phone and covered the mouthpiece, sighing deeply.
"……"
"So… what do we get out of it?"
"……"
"Understood. We'll premium-buy all WJ Games stock and secure control. The Zero Simul Lacra project won't see the light of day."
Hanging up, Kim Manbok's face soured. He'd never had superiors in his life, so he hated this guy playing the boss.
"Choi Secretary."
"Yes, Chairman."
"Are you my subordinate? Or theirs?"
Kim Manbok shook his head at Choi Secretary, who adjusted his glasses without answering.
"…How many years have you worked with me?"
"17 years, 10 months, 21 days."
"Damn… a long time. I'd buy your loyalty with money if I could."
"I serve you, Chairman."
"Haha. Then can you put my word above theirs?"
"I serve you… but faith is another matter."
Choi Secretary's glasses glinted.
"Whatever… sigh…"
With a light sigh, Kim Manbok murmured quietly.
"You heard the call? Execute it. 10 trillion budget. Secure over 51% stock for control. Once we hit 51%, call an emergency shareholders' meeting and halt development immediately."
"Chairman. We could buy it amicably at that price. Why hostile takeover…?"
"It's the fastest way. They'll reimburse costs, so we trust that."
Kim Manbok gazed skyward with a soft lament.
"Ah. Is this faith too? Trust because we must?"
"One more thing, Chairman."
"Speak."
"We need to kill someone. The one who provided the core idea for Zero Simul Lacra."
"…I didn't hear that."
Choi Secretary bowed in reply.
In his twenties body, Chairman Kim Manbok stripped fully and walked slowly among the nude beauties.
"I told you to report suspicious signs immediately."
"What is it?"
"……"
"??"
"You saying Manager Shin Bomi's a Crawling Head?"
I recalled the eerie feeling when I first saw Manager Shin Bomi, introduced by Manager U Mi-young that day. I'd suspected she was a Crawling Head too.
"Baal using a low-tier demon like Crawling Head as his apostle? Doesn't make sense. No mana surge symptoms either."
"Meaning Baal, creator of this world, moved directly."
"So… spreading Zero Simul Lacra worldwide is Baal's intent?"
I pondered deeply. So deep I nearly rear-ended the car ahead while driving.
"Baal… trying to reveal the hell dimensions' truth to his creations… why???"
To clear my tangled head, I pulled over.
1. T-12 hell dimension. My reality. But a copy of another reality.
2. Zero Simul Lacra's story: "This world is a simulation." A copy of the real world.
3. Hell dimension bureau's "Dimension Creation Module" matches Zero Simul Lacra's principle exactly.
4. Baal uses the game to teach his creations—humans—the structure and mechanics of hell dimensions he made.
5. Baal conquers demon kings to unify hell dimensions. Some followers join his war.
To understand Baal, I needed more intel.
"Jejeop. What kind of guy is Baal?"
"Cancer and aging."
Other hell dimensions' humans lived 1,000 years. My body too—a T-16 shell with millennium lifespan.
I'd thought T-12 hellish for its cancer, aging, constant death. But why deliberately chop 1,000 years to 100?
"No way…?"
I clenched my fist.
"Innovation… and evolution?"
Long life breeds stagnation, kills change. As a neuroscience buff, I knew best. Human brains are conservative, experience-based. People live 60-80 years and resist change, sticking to the familiar.
Studies show: at 100-year lifespans, progress stalls, conservatism reigns. Just look at Japan, elder-heavy long-life nation.
Macro-wise, long-lived species can't handle rapid environmental shifts. Short life favors species survival—quick adaptation, evolution.
Science's progress? All because human lives are short. If humans lived 1,000 years?
…Terrifying to imagine.
"Jejeop. If elites hold power for 1,000 years?"
"Stagnant, rotting water. No innovation, no progress. But T-12—this world—keeps advancing."
"So T-12 preset means… science and infrastructure progress saved to module, free for other dimensions?"
I sighed softly. T-12 humans' progress, bought with cancer and aging pain… other hells use it free via "presets," no sacrifice.
"That's why T-16 mirrors T-12 infra…"
Now Belphegor's maintained T-16 made sense. I'd thought it copied from some original reality. But advancing science was replicated from T-12—my perceived reality.
Goosebumps rose.
Finally grasping Baal's moves.
"Fuck. Even my country wants that fucking… evolution."