The Crucible of Solitude (1)
Ahead of our entry into the next hunting ground, I caught a short nap in my cabin aboard the Becklux until sunrise—about two hours, give or take. In truth, I barely slept half that time, but I'd gotten some rest nonetheless, enough to maintain clear judgment for half a day even through intense action. Looking back on the unnatural high from our skirmishes in Mexico, it seemed best to hold off on stimulants until the critical moment.
Shaking off the drowsiness was a struggle, and in its place came a throbbing headache. Sleep deprivation, no doubt. I'd endure it without painkillers. In a situation where I might need stimulants at any moment, popping analgesics preemptively felt risky. Mixing different drugs was never a good habit.
Storing, transporting, and exporting the stolen goods fell under Suyeon's purview as head of rear support. She also handled the initial review of proposals and documents from headquarters in my absence. I received her report over breakfast.
"We've determined that a single cruise ship from Heungseong Tours on the Busan-Macau route won't suffice for smooth vessel dispersal and export. We're pursuing the acquisition of multiple Chinese-flagged fishing boats. Posing as a fleet heading to North Korean East Sea waters for group operations should let us navigate the high seas freely without drawing coastal guard attention. I've already issued orders to secure 20-ton-class vessels, with an estimated unit price of around 140,000 yuan including certificates and permits."
"140,000 yuan?"
"Yes."
The plan itself was solid. Chinese fishing boats heading to North Korean waters was commonplace, and the Chinese coast guard lacked the capacity to inspect every outbound vessel. Along that endless coastline, tens of thousands of ships went to and from the open ocean daily—who could police them all? Most were illegal operators anyway; cracking down only hurt China. Letting them slip away just invited diplomatic backlash.
But the price struck me as off. 140,000 yuan was roughly 24 million won—less than a quarter of what similar used vessels fetched in Korea. I tilted my head, voicing my doubt. Budget savings were fine, but was the plan too tight?
"That's too cheap. Can we really secure enough at that price? You're not skimping too much, are you?"
Suyeon nodded calmly.
"It's feasible. A confluence of bad factors has flooded the market, driving prices down."
"Bad factors like crackdowns from other countries?"
"Primarily, yes. Additionally, a rise in unexplained maritime disasters—likely from marine life incidents—and increased pirate attacks have compounded the issue."
"...Pirates sinking fishing boats? Chinese ones, even?"
Who'd pay ransom for crews from a country that treated people like commodities? The Chinese government cared more about politicizing hostage dramas than lives, and families lacked the funds anyway. Most crew beyond the captain were probably from the Philippines, Indonesia—poorer than dirt. To pirates, Chinese trawlers were worthless prey.
Yet Suyeon nodded again.
"Not typical piracy—armed clashes between fishermen of different nationalities. Vietnamese and Indonesian crews mainly target Chinese boats encroaching on their waters, with their authorities turning a blind eye or even tacitly encouraging it."
"Heh. China's gotten awfully soft."
"Partially, it's to create stages for Awakened ability users to shine, diverting their attention and stoking national sentiment."
Made sense. China couldn't afford saber-rattling over boat raids right now. With the U.S.—now formally recognizing Taiwan—sending warships through the strait daily, scraping at Beijing's nerves. External enemies quelled domestic unrest well, but only if clear and obvious. Admitting lesser foes overstepping red lines would cost more than it gained. Prioritization was key. Vietnam and Indonesia were thus walking a sly tightrope, responses calibrated to provoke without backlash. Risky long-term, but both nations were unstable, prioritizing short-term gains. They needed enemies too.
"Next: progress on new land acquisition in Nueva Nogales. Via indirect investment through the Diamond Casino..."
I finished my slow breakfast amid her crisp reports, then sipped coffee while approving several e-documents. Personnel changes, contingency fund allocations and expenditures, training and procurement plans—routine organizational matters.
Iris and fingerprint scans for approvals stirred old memories. Back when even basic remote office systems didn't exist. I was always the organization's ace in the hole, so trips and fieldwork were constant, but phone approvals had limits. Every outing ended with a pile of waiting paperwork. That backlog wore me down. Batching the same workload was always tougher.
The current system was thanks to Suyeon's predecessor and the one before. Tweaks continued post-handover, but the framework held. Still, efficiency differed sharply between them. Same tools, different wielders. When her predecessor bolted, I'd felt a twinge of resentment...
"...?"
Suyeon wore a puzzled, slightly awkward look.
"Something on your mind, sir?"
My stare must've lingered. I shook my head, sliding the finished tablet her way.
"No. See you in the briefing room on time."
She stood, bowing slightly.
"Yes, sir."
"Good work."
The briefing would set Triad strike points. As she turned, I tapped my empty coffee cup.
"One more cup before you go."
"No."
"...?"
Had I misheard? As I frowned, she explained steadily.
"You've been pressing your temples repeatedly. That's your habit when your head hurts, sir. Excess caffeine worsens migraines. Stop after chasing off the drowsiness."
Sure enough, my hand was there now. Stunned briefly, I cracked a wry smile.
"Got it. As you say."
"Thank you."
"I should be thanking you. Appreciate the concern."
"... "
She blinked, then bowed again, gaze lowered. Her vitals shifted in ways I couldn't parse.
Brushing my teeth, I toured the ship instead of coffee. Day two post-arrival, plenty left to fix; HQ crew had started at dawn. Swapping Chinese comms gear for Korean, adding satellite phone relays for underway use, securing bulletproof bulkheads for onboard fights.
At the stern rail, I spotted corpses tumbling along the riverbed amid debris, swaying in the deep, slow current.
Contrary to popular belief, most bodies don't float. Gases from decay make them buoyant, but fish and crustaceans gnaw flesh, puncturing escape holes. Eyes go first—softest texture. Then meat, guts, fat. Tough muscle fibers last. Feet often remain, shoes intact. So always strip shoes before dumping in rivers or seas.
Half these had shoes; half were bones. Amateurs for the shod, pros—cops, military, cannibals—for the skeletons.
In the briefing room, mid- and senior staff awaited.
"Sit."
They did. The room—sharper than yesterday—featured a massive laser-projected map upfront.
I nodded at the highlighted zone.
"Strike point already set?"
Suyeon, beside it, nodded.
"Yes. Daxing Village, abutting Panyu District's northwest boundary."
"What's there?"
"Multiple Hulong Bang operations—Triad subgroup under Guangdong Triad. Dogfight pits, casinos, auction houses."
"Gao Xusen's intel had more candidates."
"Many, but Security Chief agrees this is optimal. Abnormal clustering of sites; Hushuying's protector recently purged; she's favoring ops over home for safety."
"A big, clean bite."
"Precisely."
"Intel verified?"
"To verifiable limits, yes. But data gaps prevent 100% certainty. Drones during your sleep yielded nothing."
"Unavoidable."
Daylight limited drones. Ricardo in Houston had spotted ours from afar. Triad mid-bosses with sentries would clock them instantly.
"Location's solid, though."
The map explained the clustering: a winding waterway through the village pierced under the river road to the Beijiang mainstream—perfect for silent night hauls. Perimeter defenses amid maze-like alleys turned it into a meat grinder for attackers. Plus, a wooded rhomboid hill astern for escape.
"Prime spot like this might host real Black Sea Party feelers."
This slum rivaled Brazil's favelas; factions could coexist, walls apart, unknown—like Stalingrad Germans and Soviets.
Kyung-tae affirmed.
"Yep! Factored that in too."
"I see..."
Tap, tap. I drummed the table, then eyed Suyeon. She resumed; Kyung-tae took over midway.
Post-briefing discussion—thirty minutes—locked the target unchanged. More time meant more intel, but Gao Xusen's precarious life forced haste.
Dragging it out cuts profits anyway...
This mad hunting ground vaporized billions daily in quiet. Our future pivoted on squeezing the crooks' gold veins here.
Intel shelf-life was another issue. In this flux, how long did data hold? We'd rely on my improvisation and the team's skills.
Those who devour others must prepare to be devoured. Unlike Round Table imperialists, I claimed no divine right to prey.