Blood & Flag (1)

The match was over.

A modest little party was thrown at my senior's house to celebrate my undefeated promotion. His wife and Soyeon, neither of whom I'd seen in far too long, welcomed me like I'd never been gone.

"Tae-min, why has it been so long? Have you been well?"

"Ah, Sister-in-law. I nearly couldn't make myself walk in empty-handed. I came in such a rush I completely forgot."

"Oh, stop. A gift? I heard you had a rough time of it out in that brutal place in Africa. Seeing your face, healthy and in one piece, is the greatest present I could ask for."

She smiled brightly and gave my shoulder a pat. For the record, she was one of the very few people who knew I had served in the 9th Operations Unit, and that I had been working as a mercenary ever since.

The peaceful small talk did not last. She was setting chopsticks on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠table when she went straight for the throat.

"Speaking of which, Tae-min — when are you getting married?"

"Uh... married? Well, I'd need someone to marry. I don't exactly have a suitable person yet."

"And children? Don't tell me you're planning not to have any."

"Haha. I haven't really thought that far..."

At my lukewarm answer she retied her apron and settled in for the siege.

"Isn't it about time you started thinking about it? You're not going to meet someone and get married in a day or two. You'll need at least a year or two of dating to really get to know each other."

"Th-that's true."

"And you think a baby just appears? You'll want to enjoy being newlyweds for a while after the wedding. So the earliest you'd have a child is two years from now — have you done the math on how old you'll be then?"

The nagging came down like a baptism. Pinned under the airtight logic of it, I hurriedly pulled out my wallet and swung the line of fire toward Soyeon, who had been staring at me from the side with open fascination.

"Haha. Soyeon, hi! Have you been good? Here — allowance from Uncle!"

"Waaah, Uncooole! I missed you! But Uncle, do you still make hamburgers out of pork belly?"

The question caught me so off guard I choked.

"...Huh? Soyeon, what are you talking about?"

"Daddy said! He said when he goes out for meat with you, he's so embarrassed he wants to pretend he doesn't know you. You stick the meat between lettuce, slap bread on top, make a hamburger, and grin like it's the best thing ever — he said it's seriously pathetic to watch!"

"Haha. Daddy said that, did he?"

I smiled at Soyeon, and ever so casually shot my senior a glare.

This guy...

"What, was I wrong? Last time I watched you wedge garlic in there like it was a pickle, and I doubted my own eyes, you bastard."

He shrugged, infuriatingly, and topped off his soju.

Ugh. I should really keep my mouth shut. Even as I thought it, my hands were already packaging a perfectly cooked slice of pork belly with great care between two slices of bread I had set aside in advance.

"Here, Soyeon. Say aaah."

"Aaaaaaah."

I popped my lovingly crafted pork-belly hamburger straight into her mouth.

"Well? Uncle's hamburger is good, right?"

Soyeon worked her stuffed cheeks.

"...Not yummy."

"Hehe."

Watching from the side, my sister-in-law finally lost the fight and burst out laughing. The recipe I had privately considered perfect collapsed in disgrace before the palate of a seven-year-old niece.

This wouldn't do. Stay here and I'd never dig myself out. To shut both their mouths, I applied myself to the pork belly with desperate, wholehearted devotion.

"Here, here! Sister-in-law, please eat the meat first. This came up from Jeju Island just this morning, you know? Soyeon likes it with kimchi, right? Come on — aaah."

Sssss. The sound of pork belly cooking on the grill filled the gaps in the conversation. My sister-in-law's radar, however, showed no sign of powering down.

"Tae-min, shall I set you up on a blind date? There's a new hire at our office — very poised, and pretty, too."

"Sister-in-law, the meat's going to get cold. Let's eat first, and then we can talk..."

"Is the meat really the issue right now? It's a crime, letting a face that handsome go to waste, and now that you're back in Korea you need to start thinking about settling down properly. Your hyung says you've been playing some kind of game lately?"

A game...?

I slid a look at my senior. He was now openly pretending not to hear, fiddling with his soju glass and gazing off at nothing.

"It's not just a game. There's real business potential in it, in its own way..."

"Sigh. Men are all the same. It's always a business, or else a dream. Soyeon — if Uncle plays computer games in his room all day, can he grow up into a cool adult, or not?"

Soyeon took the baton and mumbled through her puffed cheeks.

"Nope."

"And what do you have to do to become a cool adult?"

"Don't be picky, go to bed early, and get up early! If you only stuff yourself with bread like Uncle, you'll get fat, and you won't even get married!"

"..."

"Pfft — bhahaha—!"

I set the tongs down with a trembling hand and looked at my senior. He had his head practically buried in the table, shoulders shaking, wheezing as he tried not to laugh.

...Just what kind of moron has he been making me out to be?

"Uncooole. You have to sleep over tonight. Okaaay?"

Once the evening had mellowed and Soyeon started wobbling on her feet, declaring she was sleepy, the situation finally wound down. My sister-in-law took her into the master bedroom to put her to bed, and at last the living room held only me and my senior.

All that remained in the wake of the storm were empty soju bottles and a grill gone cold. He tipped the last of the liquor into his glass.

"You're looking flustered an awful lot today."

"It's been chaos. Worse than Africa."

He let out a short laugh.

"Noisy or not, this is what living looks like. A hundred times better than scraping by where the bullets fly."

"That's true."

I nodded, turning the empty glass in my fingers. This place was peaceful, no question. Even if I had to sit through a scolding until I'd cleaned out a whole bag of sliced bread, I didn't have to stake my life on making it through the night.

He looks happy.

My senior had been a man with no family, and no home to go back to. Seeing him finally find his place and live an ordinary life set something in me at ease.

He looked for a moment at the bedroom door Soyeon had disappeared through, then cleared his throat and set his glass down.

"Anyway, congratulations. Watching you drive in at the end gave me chills. How the hell did you even see an opening that small?"

"Not bad, right?"

"Not bad? I checked the communities. The place is in an uproar."

"See? People do have eyes."

We burst out laughing and smacked each other's forearms. Honestly, it still didn't feel real. To think I had actually pulled off an undefeated promotion. That last moment in particular — slipping into the ninja's guard and driving a strike into his chest — even I had to admit it looked pretty damn cool.

"I knew you'd be good. I didn't think you'd jump to the pro league this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fast."

"So making a fortune is just a matter of time now, right?"

"Obviously. I looked into it. For people who promote undefeated, the first fight purse usually starts around ten million won — call it seventy-five hundred dollars."

I was bringing the soju to my lips and stopped, frowning.

"But I heard I can't fight whenever I feel like it. Then it isn't all that different from the Amateur League, is it?"

"Come on. The pro league is much better. From here on, what gets tacked on afterward is different."

"And what gets tacked on?"

"Bonuses and sponsors."

He held up two fingers.

"A win bonus is the baseline, and the ad sponsorships that follow your view counts and popularity are enormous. Slap a title like undefeated promotion on someone like you, and the companies won't leave you alone. There are bonuses, too."

"Ah, I heard about those. Fight of the Arena, Performance of the Arena, was it?"

"That's right. A hundred million won apiece, I think. Something like seventy-five grand."

For a moment I was speechless. I just stared at him.

"They hand out a hundred million won as a bonus?"

"That's why everyone bets their lives on the main card and the top billing. Winning alone pays decently, and if you pick up a bonus on top of that, clearing into the hundreds of thousands of dollars off a single match is possible."

Listening to him, I grinned and knocked the drink back. So that was how it was. The liquor going down my throat tasted far sweeter than it had a moment ago. Ahh. That's good. A few hundred thousand a match...

"Guess I'll have to aim for the bonus, too."

"If it's you, it's more than possible. Watching today, your movement's even better than when you were on active ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠duty."

"You think so?"

We cracked up and slapped each other's forearms again, harder this time. Maybe it was the good mood, but it felt as if we'd slipped back into those days when we moved as one.

Just then a chime went off on my senior's smartwatch.

"Oh. Hey. It's here. The contract."

He had handled everything from the application through to acceptance, so the alert had been set to come to him. We abandoned the drinks and went to the monitor, and the moment we checked the contents with our hearts racing—

"Hmm."

"...?"

Both our brows furrowed, deep and simultaneous.

Summed up, it came to roughly this. They congratulated me on my promotion. Having no Legion, I would have to compete in the Pro League under Nova Japan Arena, and to do that I would have to meet them in person and sign a contract. For reference, my handler belonged to NJA; no one among Nova Arena's current staff knew my information; and they wanted to know when would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be a good time to come find me.

I rubbed my chin and frowned.

"So I need a Legion. Where do I join..."

At my muttering, my senior scolded me as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"Hey, you moron. That scowl — you were worrying about which Legion to join? That's it?"

"Then what am I supposed to be worrying about? This is the biggest problem I've got right now."

I looked at him with an expression of genuine bafflement.

"You idiot. You wore a mask and fought so you could hide your identity. Don't you remember?"

"Ah. Right."

That was true. I'd forgotten for a moment, lost in the joy of an undefeated promotion and a purse worth a small fortune. The people who had been hunting me in Africa would still be out there with their eyes narrowed, and if I carelessly joined some famous Legion, getting my identity stripped bare would only be a matter of time.

"What do I do?"

When I asked, my senior let out a long sigh.

Ugh. He's already drunk. Get a whiff of that liquor.

A moment later he opened his mouth, voice thick and slurred.

"I'll handle it."

"Handle it how?"

"I throw together a dummy Legion and slot you in under it. That ought to do it, right?"

"You're going to make a Legion? Is it really that easy?"

"Who do you think I am? Knocking out a document or two is nothing."

I turned his words over, then nodded. For now, it really was the best option. My senior was a capable information broker, but he also doubled as a fixer, the sort who used information to clean up troublesome messes after the fact.

"And the cost?"

"Forget it. I'll do it for free, you little shit."

"Oh, come on. From a hyung with neither blood nor tears in him... Just tell me how much, quickly."

At my thoroughly distrustful reply, he raised his voice as if he'd been wronged.

"I mean it! Hey — would I squeeze money out of you, of all people?"

"Judging by what you usually do, you're more than capable of it."

"This is really — a man's sincere feelings...! Fine. I won't take it. When you make the pro league and land a bonus, you can shout me a fat spread of hanwoo then."

"You mean it? I'm recording this conversation. No saying one thing and doing another!"

"...What sin did I commit in a past life, to end up with a junior like you. Fine — just drink, damn it!"

Fuming, he knocked back the soju. It was an outrageously generous offer, one the usual him would never have made, but looking at that attitude, this time he might actually have meant it. Then again, once in a while the sun does rise in the west.

I quietly slipped my phone into my pocket.

I'll just have to edit out the hanwoo part. Very carefully.

I didn't doubt for a second that hanwoo — Korean beef, raised on the very life-force of the peninsula — was the greatest meat in the world. My wallet, however, was far too light to bear the weight of something so magnificent.