Chapter 9
Chapter 9 - Signal Lost. Completely Missed.
"What?"
The voice filtering through the communicator made Kim Hyun-woo grimace in irritation. Deep wrinkles furrowed his brow as displeasure spread through his entire body.
"Missed him? Even after mobilizing the clan's tracking system?"
"M-my apologies. But the lower residential districts are so densely populated that there are just too many signals being emitted. Tracking them all is..."
Tch.
Kim Hyun-woo cut off the surveillance agent's report with a sigh laced with frustration. Useless idiots. They just kept repeating that they couldn't do it without trying anything else. He couldn't entrust them with a damn thing. To think these were the ones handling the Andong Kim Clan's surveillance network.
His mind raced with thoughts of how to deal with these incompetents.
"Young master."
But that lasted only a moment. The voice from behind him softened Kim Hyun-woo's expression slightly. It was his bodyguard, Ho-cheol—one of the few useful ones amid all the worthless bugs.
"The plan's gone awry. That bodyguard Seo Tae-woong must be more capable than we thought."
"No. That's not all."
Ho-cheol's voice was as precise as a machine. With that, he transmitted a video to Hyun-woo's display.
"This is...?"
Kim Hyun-woo's puzzled look didn't last. His eyes widened as he watched the footage.
What appeared before him was the battle after a missile struck Chang-un's car. Chang-un wielding a military compound bow like an extension of his own limbs. Smooth, precise shots. No one would believe he'd only trained for a day or two.
"Seo Tae-woong has been loyal to the clan for years. I know his capabilities better than anyone."
Kim Hyun-woo nodded silently. He'd reviewed Ho-cheol's ambush plan himself. He'd calculated Seo Tae-woong's power output, his likely actions, how to take him down—all the variables, optimized with the perfect team.
"But the plan failed. Which means..."
"The element that disrupted the plan wasn't Seo Tae-woong. It was Young Master Chang-un."
Ho-cheol's words hammered home Hyun-woo's own suspicions, buzzing in his ears.
"And by burning the assassins alive, he covered up the attack itself. This... isn't ordinary, young master."
Tch. Not ordinary. Kim Hyun-woo clicked his tongue in disgust at Ho-cheol's assessment.
The wretch he'd dismissed as lowly trash had humiliated him to his face, slipped his plans, and was now scheming something beyond his sight. Utterly revolting. Like a mosquito wriggling in his grasp that had suddenly vanished, buzzing just out of earshot.
"If word of this reaches the patriarch's ears, how the lord looks at Young Master Chang-un..."
"Enough."
Ho-cheol shut his mouth at Kim Hyun-woo's curt command.
"The Andong Kim Clan is an ancient lineage of aura users. A powerless bastard like Chang-un won't catch Father's eye."
"...Understood. My thinking was shortsighted."
Kim Hyun-woo spat the words roughly. Sensing his master's foul mood, Ho-cheol stepped back.
Irritated? No, more like...
'Uncertain. That's the better word.'
Reading Kim Hyun-woo's inner turmoil, Ho-cheol swallowed a faint smile and spoke.
"But it's clear Young Master Chang-un is plotting something. Ignoring him completely like before isn't wise."
"...Yeah. You're right."
Ho-cheol flowed seamlessly into Hyun-woo's thoughts, as if reading his mind. Nodding, Kim Hyun-woo quickly sorted his ideas.
"Assign someone. A man to watch his every move and report back."
"..."
He wouldn't let the bastard slip from his sight again. Not after this.
Ho-cheol bowed politely, grasping the implication.
"You mean plant an inside man. I'll arrange it immediately."
By the time Hyun-woo glanced back, Ho-cheol was gone.
"Hmm."
No questions asked, sharp-eyed, competent tool. If only there were one more like him, his plans would be so much smoother.
The thought lingered only briefly. Kim Hyun-woo turned and quickened his pace toward the center of the estate—the aura training facility, accessible only to the main house heir.
'One month until the Grand Audience... Time's tight.'
Crackle. Crackle.
Faint electric currents flickered around him, mirroring his displeasure.
In that month, he had one task: secure even a sliver more aura power.
The grand sparring matches at the Grand Audience. He needed to etch himself into the minds of Joseon's power brokers who would attend.
Who the next head of the Andong Kim Clan would be.
And who the true master of this Joseon was.
"Grrraah—!"
A week had passed since Moo-young signed the bodyguard contract.
Atop the skyscraper piercing the heavens, the Andong Kim Clan Main House—which had always been serene—was now bustling unlike ever before.
The reason? Preparations for the Grand Audience in one month.
Held every five years, it gathered all young people who had awakened their aura. With the nation's future leaders convening, it was a crucial event for the power elite.
Yangban nobles, Joseon's tycoons, Japanese enterprise city overlords, warlords from the Central Plains—all mingling in one massive festival.
And this time, the Andong Kim Clan, Joseon's most powerful noble house, was hosting. Even more dignitaries were expected than before.
So, while the entire clan buzzed with Grand Audience prep, where was I?
"Hoo..."
What else? Making money.
In my private quarters on one side of the estate, a spacious room lined wall-to-wall with monitors. One displayed real-time stock markets from Joseon, Japan, and China.
A dizzying array of numbers and graphs assaulted my eyes. I scrutinized them intently for a moment.
"This isn't working."
With a sigh, I tore my gaze from the screen.
Profit-wise, it wasn't bad. A week immersed in the markets had yielded about 10% returns on my investment. Seeing the bank balance swell warmed my chest—but this was my limit.
'Earning money itself isn't hard.'
In my second life, monopolizing future knowledge, ways to get rich were endless. Invest in promising companies or people, or start a new venture to swallow them whole.
'The problem is time. It takes too long.'
I rested my chin, lost in thought. Normally, I'd hum contentedly at the growing balance, but time was short now.
One month to the Grand Audience. If I couldn't secure the gear and weapons by then, my plans were dead.
'Plus, even with Moo-young and Tae-woong as cards, I still need more people.'
Two urgents: First, gear for the Grand Audience—or funds to buy it. Second, talent unaffiliated with the Sedo clans, with a sense of justice to join my cause.
The first I could manage. The second? Daunting.
Goodwill? In this godforsaken Joseon. In Hanseong, no less? Finding 'good guys'? Insane.
Where the hell would I even—
"Young master."
I looked up at the voice outside the door. It opened to reveal bodyguard Tae-woong, with Moo-young beside him in crisp black martial robes.
His deathly pallor from a week ago had improved to tolerable. That gloomy outfit must be his taste.
"Your right arm's still a stump? No plans for a prosthetic or anything?"
I wasn't pushing if he didn't want one, but curiosity got me.
Moo-young hesitated at my question, then nodded faintly.
"I think I need one. But..."
He had the money. Eyeing the empty sleeve hiding his right arm, I prodded. Moo-young glanced around, then lowered his voice.
"All prosthetics I can get are under 'Control Bureau' oversight."
"...Ah."
Control Bureau. At that name, I nodded and gazed out the window.
Beyond, Hanseong's nightscape glittered. Atop this mechanical megacity loomed the Control Bureau, overseeing every function.
Whirr— Countless buildings, thousands of transport drones zipping between. Surveillance cameras in every alley, linked to security combat bots.
They watched Hanseong's citizens—their prosthetics too. Joseon's nerve center, monitoring, managing, remotely shutting down every electronic device.
'Said my goal's revolution, so he hesitates on Control Bureau-managed prosthetics.'
Surprising. I'd pegged him as a brute good only for muscle, but he was sharper than expected.
Moo-young might be far more capable than I'd thought.
"Even so, working as a one-armed bodyguard? You saying you can protect me with one arm? Huh?"
"N-no! That's not what I—"
I teased him with a mischievous grin, but my eyes stayed fixed on his right arm amid the flustered protests.
'He's right, considering future plans.'
Not just the imminent Grand Audience.
The Control Bureau's oversight fell to the Royal Guard. And those Sedo clans pulled its strings.
Using a prosthetic in Joseon meant your position—your life—was live-tracked by them.
"But a prosthetic off the Control Bureau's grid? Where's a doctor who can make one...?"
"...Hold on."
Tae-woong muttered, but replaying Moo-young's words, I shot to my feet.
"Young master?"
"..."
There was one. A maker of unmonitored prosthetics. Who'd passed that tech to the revolutionaries, sparking the uprising.
"Prepare the car, Tae-woong."
"Where to?"
No hesitation, he straightened and asked.
Obvious.
I grinned broadly and answered.
"Hanseong's lowest level. The waste processing district."