Doctor, Patriot, and Terrorist (5)
After breakfast, I returned to my office and sipped another cup of coffee while observing the Awakened Being spider trapped inside the high-end whiskey glass. Tok, todok—
The natural quartz glass serving as its makeshift capture cage was a tough material with a Mohs hardness of 7, but faint white marks still appeared every time the spider gathered its strength and struck. At this rate, it didn't look like a spider at all—it was more like I'd trapped a lobster. If I hadn't pinned the glass down with a paperweight, the thing would've escaped long ago.
Even as it battered the transparent walls, the spider's spinneret kept extruding translucent silk. After throwing its tantrum, it suddenly flipped over and began devouring the accumulated web like it was excrement. No doubt it had eaten the massive clump it was buried in earlier once it regained some freedom of movement. The white remnants still clinging to hard-to-reach spots were proof enough.
On top of that, the lumpy, swollen mass of Immortal Cancer only hampered its movements further. This diseased spider had sparked a small inspiration in me.
'Neural signal disruption from Immortal Cancer and malfunctioning organs...'
This could make for a decent hunter's debuff if handled right. After all, I had the ability to induce mana cancer, a branch of Immortal Cancer, through mana projection.
Of course, I wasn't entertaining absurd ideas like turning spiders into silk factories. Even this one right in front of me—once the cancer cells grew larger, it was questionable whether it'd retain any current functions. The spider's body was just suffering a temporary glitch, nothing more.
What was appealing, though, was the potential to create variables anywhere by exploiting local biological resources. For instance, securing the ability to quickly culture common natural toxins on the fly would surely prove useful in minor ways someday.
Todok, tok! The spider struck the glass again. The new white marks were shallower and fainter than the previous scratches. Its stamina was clearly waning. Its biomass seemed diminished compared to when I'd first seen it. The culprits were the cancer cells voraciously draining its nutrients, the constant silk secretion, and its persistent escape attempts.
While it varied by species, most arachnids could survive months on a full stomach. Swallowing a mole rat whole should've kept it lively for days at least. But as Immortal Cancer progressed, it inflicted bottomless hunger on its host. And creatures gripped by that hunger inevitably became incarnations of savage appetite.
Lately, people had started calling these rampaging terminal-stage Immortal Cancer cases by a special name, distinct from other high-risk Awakened Beings: Omniphagor.
Considering the rising Immortal Cancer infection rates among wild animals over time, it made sense that these would start standing out more.
Their endings were all the same. Tormented by insatiable hunger and pain that no amount of eating could sate, they eventually surrendered their remaining life to the cancer mass, becoming little more than corpses.
I wondered how long this spider could hold out before that happened.
As I observed the interplay between the Immortal Cancer lump and the spider's body, I finished my coffee and shifted my gaze to the monitor screen, losing interest in the creature.
Year-Opening Ceremony Documents - Provisional New Hire List
In my organization, the year-opening ceremony was far more than a mere formality—it was a crucial event. The personal contracts between me and each member were the very gravity binding the entire group together, and the ceremony was a periodic reaffirmation of those individual bonds.
The adage that distance breeds emotional drift applied to all human relationships. Moreover, it was during the ceremony that I formally acknowledged the new recruits who'd joined over the past year as the organization's leader.
With our scale growing and systems solidifying, recruitment without my direct involvement had surged. In a capitalist society, most miracles of life and death could be bought with money alone. I wasn't always needed as a mage to grant someone vengeance.
'But ultimately, sifting the wheat from the chaff is my irreplaceable role.'
In that sense, delaying this year's ceremony wasn't ideal, even if my hunt in China had brought massive gains. Organizational discipline was a core value that outweighed any profit. Just consider which mattered more in conquering London.
Thus, we'd decided to combine it with a commemorative event just before Lunar New Year. A bit late for a year-opening, but unavoidable. Afterward, I'd need to monitor Mashath's movements vigilantly throughout the holiday, checking our countermeasures.
The very next day after the break was the third Monday in February: Presidents' Day. Letting that pass without action would leave us without a prime date for major operations for a while.
I scrolled through the provisional new hire list meticulously. It wasn't just names—it included personal details, recruitment backgrounds, merit points, and evaluations from colleagues and seniors who'd worked with them.
'Whistleblowers for once...'
These internal whistleblowers, who popped up like needles in a haystack from society's underbelly, were my favorite type of raw talent. Take Kyung-tae's late father, for instance—he'd tried whistleblowing in the military only to be utterly ignored.
This world was an unjust stage where the honest and diligent were culled first. Scooping up those especially brutalized by it and training them to be loyal only to me wasn't hard. Offer a betrayed soul an alternative community, and they latched on.
To do that, from the first meeting, I had to say: I know all about your situation.
With the event set for three days before the holiday, we had only eight days left. My memory was sharp, but to avoid slips at such an important occasion, I'd need to memorize these prospects' details now.
About fifteen minutes of flipping through like a dull book, a video call request notification popped up on one side of the screen. It was Kyung-tae.
"What is it?"
I accepted and asked. Kyung-tae gave a troubled smile on the monitor before speaking.
"The city officials showed up again with that 'Private Forest Public Use Consent Form'."
I frowned. "Just tell them the mountain owner isn't available, like always, and send them packing. What's different this time? And why report it to you?"
"Well, we've kept turning them away empty-handed, so this time the governor himself came to negotiate. He's been blabbing on broadcasts about running around for citizens' safety—not just talk, apparently. The handlers were stumped, so they asked me. They're under me, after all."
"......"
"They won't leave without at least a call connected. His approval ratings might be tanking, but he's dragging a PR film crew as a top presidential contender. Making him wait or kicking him out might just paint us as the bad guys. Y'know, nursing a grudge like, 'Fine, we'll make an example of you.' Politicians are arrogant and petty worldwide, hyungnim."
"......Tricky."
I tapped my fingers on the desk, deep in thought. In this climate, "public use" of private forests obviously meant high-risk hunting for public safety—Awakened Being hunts. But we couldn't open our headquarters or key facilities to outsiders, not even for business secrecy. Especially not now, with Uyghurs smuggled in and dispersed here.
Letting self-proclaimed hunters wander would disrupt management of not just the Maryam Batur Group, but also Tumur Azizi, Shorat Abdikadir, Nurmemet Khan, and their groups. Tumur and Shorat's were slated for embedding in exile Uyghur communities—to fan support for Alim Shahidi's group once he rose to fame, bolstering his base from within.
Nurmemet Khan's was a wildcard without specific plans yet, but holding it gave options aplenty.
'Should've shipped them all overseas?'
Idle hindsight. Maryam's group couldn't leave me yet, and clustering the rest minimized smuggling manpower. Shahidi's crew needed quick terrorist training, so overseas camps with easy weapons access were ideal.
"I'll handle the call myself."
"You sure?"
"They won't budge without a call, right? If the governor's come personally, we should show some courtesy. Tell the kids to get his number and send it. I'll call."
"Uh, got it."
"That's all?"
"Yeah. Oh, wait."
"Something else?"
"Not really business, but today's the anniversary of Team Leader Kang Su-hyuk's death, right?"
"And?"
"You're busy, I know, but how about joining Suyeon unni when she visits the columbarium this afternoon? She looked so lonely going alone last year and the year before."
"Lonely? Her? No way."
"Heh, c'mon, hyungnim. You know her better than that?"
"......"
"You're the wisest, most thoughtful, insightful guy I know—superior in every way. But sometimes, with so much in plain sight, you miss the ordinary stuff. Your shooting plateaued past a point for that reason, feels like."
"......Shooting skill and reading people are worlds apart."
"Just try wooing her a bit. No one else she'd welcome but you. I only know Su-hyuk hyung from stories."
"I'll think about it. Hanging up."
"Yessir."
Minutes after the call ended, a contact arrived via text. I picked up the internet phone linked to the IP relay system and dialed the number from the message—a precaution against tracing. Voice modulation was standard.
Even though they were surely waiting, it took a full ring cycle before the call connected. Childish power play.
The first words from the receiver were curt.
"Governor's office."
I replied calmly. "I heard you were looking for me."
"Are you the owner of this private forest?"
"Effectively, yes."
"Effectively?"
"The land's under the company name, and I'm the CEO and majority shareholder."
"I see. May I have your name?"
"Do I have to give it?"
"Pardon?"
"I heard your PR team's filming. The governor might be recording too. Who knows how this call could be used—I'd rather not share my name."
"Hah."
The phone crackled with exasperated sighs. The governor, sounding almost like he was addressing a subordinate, spat out:
"Sir. Just come sign already."