Closed for Business
The Jung-gu District Office conference room buzzed with people.
Chief Kim Jaesang of the Dongdae sat at the head of the table, flanked on either side by Kim Minseok’s party, Choi Yeon, and a line of district office staff.
They had gathered after a long, grueling night—yet their night was far from over.
Choi Yeon, seated beside Kim Minseok, raised a hand and drew every eye in the room.
“When I asked them nicely, the bastards said they were planning to head back to the lab on Maebang Mountain.”
“Maebang Mountain?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect timing. As for that place—”
“Excuse me, just a moment.”
The mage cut the Chief off mid-sentence. Every gaze swung toward her.
“Moon Ki-seop was a failure they discarded. He was so shaken by it that he spilled everything—but most of it was information we already knew.”
“And?”
“The new intel involved Maebang Mountain.”
“A place even a cast-off knew about?”
“Would they keep using somewhere like that?”
“…No. They wouldn’t.”
The Chief scratched his chin and conceded the point. Once their trail had been picked up, proper procedure demanded they scrap the site.
…Was that all for nothing, then?
“Yeon. Did that bastard know anything else?”
“Not really. The only things worth salvaging were… roughly the abilities of each executive and how they related to each other.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm…”
The Chief folded his thick arms. Given how things were unfolding, the executive who had poured information out to Choi Yeon was probably next on the scrap heap. He hadn’t been in quite the same boat as Moon Ki-seop—he’d been ordered to kidnap the children and bring them back—but still.
In that case…
“…A chicken rib, maybe?”
“A chicken rib?”
“The kidnapping was a kind of test. Succeed in bringing them back and you pass. Fail, and—”
“Disposal?”
“Yes.”
“Mm. That tracks.”
“He was too stupid to be a real executive, but that staff he carried was extraordinary. He wasn’t the kind of trash you just throw away.”
The Pagyeolbong flashed through Choi Yeon’s mind. Swollen with poured-in mana until it looked like a building pillar, it had been no ordinary weapon. Its maximum output was at least B-rank by rough estimate, and it even carried a barrier-breaking attribute…
“It held because it was the orphanage barrier. Any other barrier would’ve shattered.”
“True enough. The noise was deafening. Folks were losing their minds asking what the hell was going on…”
The Chief nodded in agreement. When the district office had heard the blast, he had thought some kind of explosion accident had gone off. The streets had nearly plunged into chaos, but Nubyeok had rolled up their sleeves and stepped in, so things had settled without too much trouble. Without them, the office would have had far more headaches to deal with.
“Mm…”
A dissatisfied sound escaped the Chief’s clenched teeth. There was no new lead to chase next. This was a dead end.
The rest of the room seemed to share the thought; every face looked grim.
All except one.
With those naturally sleepy eyes of his, it was impossible to tell whether Choi Yeon—the man of the hour—had them open or closed. At the moment, he was…
“Zzz…”
—snoring. Asleep. The Chief had only been lost in thought for a moment.
The faint smile at the corner of Choi Yeon’s mouth suggested he was having a pleasant dream. Every person in the conference room stared at him in pure disbelief.
“…Yeon?”
“Zzz…”
“Hey, you little—! Choi Yeon!”
“…Zzz—huh? Did you call me?”
“Are you—right now… actually sleepy?”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just thinking for a second.”
“…….”
Look at that shameless face. Just because no one can check those eyes of his, he’s going to brazen it out?
A single shared thought gathered in the room and landed on Choi Yeon like a scorching glare. Reading the room, he spoke up with a look of pure injustice.
“I’m serious. I was agonizing over the fact that we’re going to have to run around on foot from here on out.”
“On foot…?”
“Yes.”
Blink. The Chief closed his eyes, then opened them again. A moment later the corner of his mouth twitched up in a dry little smile.
Well. That was the right answer, wasn’t it?
What dead end? There was always a path. There just wasn’t a shortcut straight across it.
While the Chief and everyone else who had caught Choi Yeon’s meaning were steeling themselves again, the conference room phone began to ring.
Many eyes turned toward it, but no hand reached out. They all assumed it would stop after a few rings.
It kept ringing. And ringing. Until someone finally picked up.
“…Hello?”
A district office clerk who handled odd jobs around the conference room answered. The voice on the other end made his eyes go wide.
“…It’s Yoo Seo-jin.”
“Huh? Who did you say called?”
“The strategist of Jeokryeohui—”
“No, that ain’t what I asked.”
The Chief waved the clerk’s words away. He had wanted to know why the bastard was calling, but of course a district clerk wouldn’t have the answer.
With a sour look, the Chief decided to take the call himself. Beep—he switched it to speaker so everyone could hear.
“Yoo Seo-jin. Who the hell do you think you are, callin’ this place?”
—Yes, I’m glad to hear from you as well, Chief Kim Jaesang of Seonhwa Dongdae.
“Glad you feel that way, at least. So. Why’d you call?”
—I thought I’d offer a few words of greeting. I figured you’d all be gathered by now.
Tch. The Chief laughed like he was clicking his tongue. The bastard’s idea of a “greeting” rubbed him the wrong way. He swallowed the urge to slam the receiver down and spoke.
“Fine. Go on and run your mouth.”
—You all worked very hard today. Thanks to you, we were able to dispose of the failures without lifting a finger ourselves.
“Hard work, my ass. Every last one of ’em was so weak it barely counted as work.”
—Haha. That’s why they were failures, no?
“That’s what I’m sayin’. For a job that small, wasn’t the gift a little too generous?”
—Pardon?
“The Pagyeolbong. Gift’s so big I’m startin’ to worry we’ll get in legal trouble for it.”
—Ahh…
A sigh full of regret came through the line. Feeling generous, the Chief twisted the knife.
“Want it back? If you do, come down to the district office right now. I’ll wait.”
—Aigoo. No need, really. Why go to all that trouble?
“You sure you’re fine with it?”
—Of course. Please put it to good use. Think of it as a gift from me.
The voice saying “fine” seemed to tremble. It wasn’t just their imagination.
Well done, Chief!
Buoyed by the silent cheers of everyone watching, the Chief laughed heartily.
“Appreciate it, really… I’ll be droppin’ by with it real soon.”
—Ah, that won’t be possible.
“Why not? Don’t be shy.”
—We’ll be going into renovations starting today. Every business location is closed.
“Ahh, that so? No problem. Do we need formalities between us? When I show up, you just stick out a wrist.”
—Hahaha.
“Heh heh!”
Laughter filled the conference room. It was almost warm enough to make the two of them sound like old friends—except the Chief’s face was ice-cold. The man on the other end was almost certainly the same. The laughter died just as quickly as it had begun.
—I suppose there’s no choice.
“Huh?”
—I’ll just have to help you avoid a wasted trip. Could you wait a moment?
“What are you tryin’ to do?”
—Begin.
Behind Yoo Seo-jin’s flat voice came the sound of some device activating.
What is that noise?
A few people strained to identify it—but there was no need. The blast that followed announced itself with unmistakable force.
KABOOM!
—Whew, that hurt the ears. Did you hear it clearly?
“My ears ain’t so far gone I can’t hear an explosion. Where?”
—The Maebang Mountain laboratory.
Several pairs of eyes met across empty air. That was the very place they had been discussing moments ago. Exactly as they had predicted, the site had been abandoned and destroyed.
Kim Minseok rose from his seat at once—and Yoo Seo-jin’s voice continued as if speaking directly to him.
—There’s no need to bother coming. There won’t be anything left.
“…….”
As Kim Minseok froze mid-step, Choi Yeon cut in.
“Mr. Yoo Seo-jin. I have a question.”
—A voice I don’t recognize… Ah. You must be Choi Yeon of Seonhwa-dong. A pleasure.
“You know me?”
—Of course. You’re the one who made a fool of Song Jong-in from Amhyanghoe. Well… tonight you made fools of Jeokryeohui as well. So. What did you want to ask?
“The children. Are they safe?”
—The children? Ah. The ones who were in this lab? Well, naturally they’re all dead.
“…….”
—If I say that, will all of you get very angry?
“…I think we might, yes. Quite a bit.”
Puh-heh-heh. Soft laughter spilled through the speaker. Yoo Seo-jin made no effort to hold it back as he went on.
—Your voice is rather bloodthirsty.
“Isn’t that only natural?”
—Natural? Natural, natural… Is that so. Is it natural…
With every repetition his voice grew hazy, as if he were muttering half-asleep without realizing it.
What’s wrong with this guy?
“Mr. Yoo Seo-jin?”
—Hm? Ah, what was it again? The children? Ah… They’re fine. Perfectly fine. They’re precious, precious test subjects. We wouldn’t just kill them for no reason, would we?
“…….”
The reason was nothing to like—but at least they were unharmed. That was something. They could still be rescued.
He had publicly declared the businesses closed, so finding them would be hard. But they would find them, and they would save them.
—Mr. Choi Yeon. Do you have any other questions?
“And if I do?”
—Ask away. If it’s something I can tell you, I will.
“Your headquarters? Or at least a base?”
—Haha. Looks like you don’t have one. In that case…
“Why children?”
Choi Yeon’s voice turned cold without warning. Yoo Seo-jin’s cracked as if he had been stabbed.
—…Obviously for the efficiency of the experiments. Results progress far faster in children than in adults.
“Is that the only reason?”
—Yes. That is the only reason. Simply that.
“…And a cure?”
—A cure? A cure for… what, exactly?
Yoo Seo-jin answered the question with a question of his own. Hearing the genuine confusion in that voice, Choi Yeon narrowed his eyes.
—Oh dear. Mr. Choi Yeon, you seem to be under a misunderstanding. Those children are not sick.
“…….”
—They have gained power. Tremendous, unknown power…!
“Power they never asked for. They should at least be able to set it down.”
—Well. If that’s how you feel, that’s something you’ll have to figure out yourselves, isn’t it? And look—you even have a test subject right there with you. How convenient.
This son of a bitch?
“You son of a bitch!”
Bang!
The mage slammed her fist onto the table. The others tried to restrain her, but her fury did not cool easily; the stream of curses kept coming—bastard, animal, and worse. In the end she was dragged out bodily by a fellow fighter from the party, and that was how the outburst ended.
…I almost said it out loud myself without realizing.
—Whew. More hot-blooded than I expected. Miss Yoon Se-ha.
“I don’t know. Seems like a perfectly justified anger to me.”
—Is that so? Justified, you say. I see.
“…More importantly—I heard you always leave yourself an escape hole nearby.”
—Oh my. You’ve already heard about that embarrassing little habit?
“There should be one there too. An escape hole.”
—Pardon? What do you mean by—
Yoo Seo-jin’s words trailed off. At the same time the far side of the speaker erupted into chaos—overlapping voices tangled too tightly to make out. One name, however, struck the ear with perfect clarity.
—Choi Heeseok…!
It was the name Choi Yeon heard more often than any other besides his own. If Jeokryeohui had spotted Choi Heeseok, then Choi Heeseok had almost certainly spotted them as well.
—How rude. I already told you we’re closed for business.
“If you’re closing anyway, maybe try shutting down for good instead of remodeling.”
—We can’t do that. Do you have any idea how far we’ve come to get here…!
“What, crawling through the garbage, I assume.”
—Haha! Exactly right! That’s precisely why we can’t stop now, Mr. Choi Yeon.
Tch. Choi Yeon clicked his tongue once. A rotten human, it seemed, simply kept on thinking rotten thoughts.
—I should hang up now. Until next time! Mr. Choi Yeon and the rest of you hunters…!
Click.
A hurried farewell, and the line went dead.
That’s right. Run. It suits you.
Choi Yeon stared at the silent phone and thought.