August's Street Trees (2)
“There are no issues with bodily functions.”
What a functional answer.
“I know that.”
I'd adjusted it myself and checked the results every day.
“I was wondering if there were any inconveniences in daily life.”
Suyeon, who had sunk into brief thought, faintly shook her head.
“None at all.”
“I see.”
I watched Suyeon's breathing closely. Except when she needed to speak, she drew in the faintest breaths at an excruciatingly slow pace. It wasn't deliberate restraint; her respiratory efficiency had simply improved that much.
Once I'd tuned my own soul's circuit to match the Mana Essence concentration, I began the task of awakening circuits starting with my most essential manpower. Kyung-tae, Suyeon, the security office and international business division, the action strike team, and other executives and headquarters personnel—anyone with a high probability of exposure to intense combat in a sudden crisis.
The first ability unlocked by a stable soul circuit was, with rare exceptions, always an enhancement to basic life functions. But there was no guarantee those enhancements would be balanced.
For instance, excessive immune system boosting could trigger allergies or autoimmune diseases. Muscle strength might keep growing while skeletal durability stayed the same, causing problems. What if lung gas exchange efficiency—the oxygen absorption rate—skyrocketed, plummeting blood carbon dioxide levels?
I'd die. The body's alkalinity would spike fatally.
Of course, one could adjust breathing beforehand, but human respiration was largely habitual. Without prior knowledge and preparation, it would be tough.
This was how natural primitive magic-induced human enhancement, unlike my artificially designed life incantation, harbored countless risks.
When it came to adapting to primitive magic, animals were far inferior to plants. Plants could endure trial and error by sacrificing parts of themselves, but animals couldn't. Humans were no exception.
Thus, my subordinates with awakened circuits underwent continuous monitoring at our organization's hospital, with detailed reports sent straight to me. My meticulously engraved circuits were undoubtedly superior, more precise, and stable than naturally awakened ones—but "what if" scenarios existed.
Once a circuit settled enough to form its own mana field, I could no longer intervene. Their fields would repel my magical interference. Problems had to be caught early.
Even as I drifted into thought, the announcer's voice continued delivering fresh updates.
As the news made clear, the world's gradual shifts over the past half-year were now manifesting in ways humanity could perceive.
They appeared as record times shaved by seconds, surging cancer rates, rising wildlife attacks on humans, and tree roots cracking roads.
306,972 trees...
The number of street trees in Seoul alone. Per the report's weight estimates, even trees with a 10cm trunk diameter exceeded a ton each. Awakening probability scaled to biomass put them at over 13 times an average adult male. At 30cm, 34 times; 40cm, 70 times; 50cm and up, over 100 times.
That explained why August's street trees could fully awaken and grow grotesquely while humans notched mere seconds off world records.
I focused on one countermeasure in the report.
“Hm. National Arboretum? Did that mountain strawberry have a niece like this?”
One executive's niece majored in crop life sciences, moonlighting as her professor's side piece. Proposal: Throw money at fast-tracking her PhD, bribe contacts, and plant her there. Proposer: Suyeon.
Not bad?
The National Arboretum centralized tree stats and national research. Its prestige would explode soon. Beyond info access, it offered indirect sway over research directions. Especially since entrusting it to unreliable hands was risky. Buying off researchers wouldn't let me divulge my knowledge freely. Even plant-focused, Mana Essence and circuit insights applied to animals too.
This was per my special order to the secretariat: Find a way.
Have to do something like this to check the Round Table Cabinet's monopoly.
If the Brits led magic research standards, their influence would swell. Couldn't let global intel funnel to London. Knowledge imbalance aside, clues about me might surface.
As these thoughts swirled, I felt Suyeon's unwavering gaze.
“What?”
She wore a rare, odd expression.
“You just... called Director Song Heungju 'mountain strawberry'...'
“...”
Damn. Kyung-tae's influence. He always called him that, and now I'd slipped.
Mountain Strawberry came from the police nickname: Ansan Mountain Strawberry faction. A dispatch team that left traces in Ansan by chance, cementing their mysterious status. We'd paid to keep it that way.
Suyeon schooled her face and returned to the topic.
“We're pushing similar plans for other facilities, but finding suitable people is tough. Foreign institutions even more so.”
“No one from your alumni?”
“No.”
“Shame.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Enough with the apologies. I'm just surprised you recruited anyone there at all.”
“...Yes.”
She'd always been book-smart. Testing her limits, I suggested studying abroad—and in just two and a half years, she graduated from Emory University, a solid name. She'd skipped high school via GED.
'To join the organization sooner.'
Even amid brutal studies, she networked, roping three scholarship students into local collaborators—our org scholars. Her email explaining, seeking approval and funds, still burned fresh.
“I know you'll hate this, but—”
Suyeon opened cautiously.
“Things have changed. Shouldn't we change how we recruit?”
“Change how? How?”
“Instead of scouting desperate souls then picking talent, make the talent desperate for our 'debt.'”
“Dig a trap?”
“Yes.”
I scowled deeply.
“You call that talk?”
Suyeon held her composure against my revulsion.
“The key is academic feats checking Round Table imperialists can't come solely from Korea. My sole, absolute goal is your final victory, hyungnim. Everything else is just a tool.”
“Even if it's the organization's core identity?”
“Extremes demand extremes. I'll obey any order unwaveringly and keep secrets forever. Fragment ops so participants know only pieces.”
“...”
Couldn't say I didn't fully trust her. But her scheme risked imploding the whole org.
Suppose we executed it, and word leaked internally. What then?
My debt-bound subordinates start doubting each other. Maybe even me?
Not those I'd saved beyond suspicion, but boss trust wouldn't match now. Blind savior faith becomes dry duty to flawed humans.
A creaky org couldn't rival the Round Table. Couldn't hand Suyeon a bomb's fuse.
She wanted trust, but I trusted no one that way. Competence and blind faith were different.
“No.”
I stressed.
“Absolutely not.”
“Understood.”
Fleeting regret crossed her face.
“Second best: Indirectly back right-minded researchers. But can't convey your knowledge directly—efficiency drops sharply.”
“Have to bear it.”
“If minor risks are okay, another option.”
“Speak.”
“London.”
“...?”
I eyed her questioningly; she laid it out calmly.
“If the Round Table of Light and Truth aims to lead magic worldwide, they're likely sharing intel with UK government or political heavyweights by now. Government cybersecurity? Maybe. But Round Table mages are magic masters, not cyber experts. At best, pricey outsourcing. And UK government-Round Table ties aren't seamless, right?”
Ha. Sharp as ever.
Even pre-government cutoff, Round Table was isolationist, exclusionary. Never fully shared secrets. Why trust government security? They saw themselves above it.
“Assume yes. Next.”
“You know their internal dynamics to infer links.”
Dead mentor's knowledge. Decades old, but masters' "noble" ties ossified by elect supremacism.
“London's secrets always draw major powers—especially China, Russia. Spot odd project signs, they'll dig themselves.”
“Indeed...”
“We just nudge.”
Not easy, but worth trying. Spreading magic seeds covertly checked them efficiently.
Her poised, hands-folded wait looked endearing.
“Draft details.”
I tapped the report, greenlighting.
“Money, manpower—use freely.”
“Yes.”
Suyeon dipped her head.