Succeeded in Getting a Job (2)

A faint smile crossed Viper's lips.

"You look just like him. Especially your eyes."

"…So you knew."

I tried to play it cool in my response. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But I couldn't stop the slight tremor at the end of my voice.

My father, Jeong In-hyeok.

I'd vaguely suspected it while reading his diary.

A run-of-the-mill thug or gangster couldn't possibly have access to classified Nebula intel like witches or witch executives.

But hearing his name straight from a Nebula executive's mouth like this? It felt strangely surreal.

"Of course. What kind of organization do you think Nebula is? You think we'd let some unknown into headquarters without checking his background?"

Viper chuckled coldly and started walking again.

Click, clack.

"Follow me. I've got something to show you."

"……."

I trailed after her without a word. At the end of the corridor stood a steel door. When Viper swiped her employee badge, a heavy mechanical whir echoed, and the door slid open.

Screeech—

A musty rush of air hit me—dust and the smell of old paper mingled together.

It was a warehouse. Steel shelves towered nearly to the ceiling, crammed floor-to-ceiling with dusty file boxes.

"This is…."

"Where the old records sleep. Most of it's useless garbage, though."

Viper strode inside like she owned the place, stopping in front of a section labeled 'J'.

She pulled out a battered cardboard box shoved into the corner of the shelf.

Thud. She shoved it roughly into my chest.

"Take it."

"Ugh, what's this?"

It was heavier than it looked. The outside was blank, save for a faded handwritten date scrawled in the corner.

"Your father's legacy."

"Legacy?"

My eyes widened. Something like that still existed?

"Open it."

Viper pulled a cigarette case from her pocket, slipped a slim menthol between her lips, and flicked open her Zippo lighter.

Clink—fwoosh.

The red flame danced across her pale face.

Fwooo…

White smoke wafted toward my face.

I coughed, carefully prying open the box lid. Inside: a few worn binders, a USB drive, and some crumpled photos. That was it.

"This is…."

I picked up one binder. The cover bore a crude scrawl: [Management List].

The first page flipped open to dense profiles of unfamiliar women.

Name, age, occupation, body measurements, and…

"…Huh?"

What the hell is this?

Next page. Another woman's photo and details.

It was like managing livestock—no, even more raw and dehumanizing. Lists for dozens, maybe hundreds of women. Some seemed to be presumed magical girls mixed in.

"What… the fuck is all this?"

"Can't you tell? It's the roster of sluts your dad kept around."

Viper exhaled smoke, her tone flat.

"S-sluts…?"

"Exactly what it says. Jeong In-hyeok used Nebula work as an excuse to drag in normal women, train 'em to his taste, and break 'em. That's how he got his kicks. The non-magical girl names on that list? Proof."

Even worse than I'd remembered. Total scum.

"…Then why give this to me?"

"It'll help."

Viper stepped closer. Her high heels clicked like they were drilling into my skull.

"You're getting assigned to White Collar."

"White Collar?"

"Yeah. Like I said before—no brute force, no blood. The clean, above-board desk job."

She flicked my tie with her index finger.

"That certification of yours, and what you showed today? Use 'em. Hide behind the 'counselor' title, lure in pure magical girls, corrupt 'em, mod 'em into useful witches, and deliver."

"Ah…."

"And your family. Famous magical girl lineage, right? Prime resource. Your dad left you a real gem."

Viper's eyes gleamed with greed.

"Nebula's short on quality 'hosts.' Not street trash mutts—we need elite witches with good bloodlines and power. You're the broker. Reel those women in for us."

She pointed at the box.

"Plenty of those bitches on the list are still active. Your dad's 'triggers' might still work. Use it right, and it'll be a goldmine for your job."

My head spun.

Dizziness hit; I pressed my forehead, staring back at the yellowed papers. I could guess his power.

Hypnosis… mind control?

Probably some mental manipulation ability like that.

But it still didn't add up. If those triggers existed—and still worked—why not do it himself? Why dig up a dead man's dirty secrets…?

Or maybe…

I shook my head at the sudden thought. Nah, no way. A scary bitch like her couldn't have been one of Dad's women…

Or could she?

Shuffle, shuffle!

My fingers trembled. Just in case, what if—just what if—one of these names was someone I knew?

Stepmom Lee So-hee. Big sis Jeong Yu-na. Lil sis Jeong Yu-min. Even baby sis Jeong Su-young.

Scum or not, would he touch family? But these records painted him as a demon in human skin. No guarantees.

Shuffle! Shuffle!

I scanned the names with fire in my eyes.

"……."

None? Really none? I flipped to the end—no family names.

"Hoo…."

Only then did my held breath escape. My legs nearly buckled. Thank god. Really, thank fucking god.

"Don't worry."

Viper's voice came as if she'd read my mind.

"That trash didn't touch family."

"……!"

I whipped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my head toward her. Viper stared back, expressionless—but her eyes oddly moist.

"Outside, he was garbage. At home? Strict patriarch cosplay. Wouldn't dirty his 'sanctuary'—the family. Some kinda obsession."

She cackled.

"Relieved? Good son you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are."

"Obviously. They're family."

"Yeah, family. Even without a drop of blood."

She approached slowly. Click, clack. Her heels echoed in the cramped warehouse.

I gripped the box tight.

"But… how do you know all this?"

Just fellow org members? Nah—too detailed. Dad's secret hobbies, family attitude, this list's existence. So she really was…?

"How?"

Viper stopped right in front of me. Her cold perfume stung my nose.

She unbuttoned her suit jacket.

Shhhlk.

"You'll see."

She grabbed her shirt hem and lifted. Her slim waist and toned abs came into view. And below—right above her pubic bone, on her pale lower belly—a stark tattoo.

A lewd heart-shaped womb tattoo.

"Th-that, th-that."

"Don't get weird ideas."

Viper smirked, dropping the hem. Shhhlk. Fabric slid down, covering her firm abs and obscene brand.

"Just info I stumbled on during your background check. Not like I sought you out 'cause you're Jeong In-hyeok's son. Not giving you special treatment. Pure coincidence. Yeah, coincidence."

She drew a cold line, feigning nonchalance.

But.

If she truly felt nothing, why drag me to this secluded spot to flash such a private tattoo? Words would've sufficed for intel.

And handing me this box—records that could expose her too. There had to be a reason.

She's after something.

As I stared, piercing her intent, Viper's brows furrowed.

"That look pisses me off. That arrogant glare like you know my insides."

Her hand shot down.

"Ugh…?!"

No time to dodge.

Squeeze.

"Krrk…!"

Not a mere touch. Crushing grip—like she'd pulverize them. Balls and shaft ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crushed in her fist; breath caught in agony.

"Told you not to think nonsense. Ha, already getting hard? Like father, like son…."

Viper looked up, locking eyes. Her face icy, but cheeks faintly flushed.

"This thing…."

Her grip pulsed—squeeze, release. Like an appraiser testing merchandise, gauging size and hardness with her palm.

"Hmm… Size and shape about match your dad's."

"V-Viper… let go…."

"Stay still."

She growled. Lips to my ear, hot breath whispering.

"Don't flatter yourself, kid. Just 'cause I was your dad's woman doesn't mean I'll spread for trash like you."

"……."

"I'm a different league. Not like the cheap whores he picked off the street. Got it?"

Her voice sharpened.

Don't lump her with the 'slut list' trash—elite pride. Maybe resentment over how Dad treated her, love-hate mixed.

"I'm not some low-class bitch who'd stoop to a punk like you."

Shlick… She withdrew slowly. Forgot to flick the tip with her finger on the way out.

"Urk…."

Viper straightened her clothes, stepping back. Cool manager mask on again, like the heat never happened.

"Get out. Your cute little girlfriend's waiting."

I clutched my throbbing crotch, bowing.

"Then… I'll be going."

Screeech—thud.

Door shut. I rubbed my sore groin, walking the hall. Heart pounding wild.

Not low-class? Bullshit.

That feel when she gripped me. Eyes mixing contempt and anticipation.

Anyone could see: she was begging to get fucked.

I huffed, dashing into the nearest bathroom. Crotch still raging, threatening to burst my pants.

Clunk. Locked the door, fiddled with the box. Might as well calm down while scrutinizing what I'd skimmed before.

Shuffle, shuffle.

Mostly junk. Retired, missing, or dead magical girls' profiles and training logs.

Sickeningly detailed, but slim pickings for immediate use.

Best bits: notes on magical girls and witches.

Mostly speculation, though.

No way to verify angels' true intent.

One thing clear: Dad felt zero guilt, blaming angels for tolerating witches. That's why he thought his crimes went unpunished.

Foolish bastard.

"Unpunished my ass."

He died. Not by angels—by humans. A magical girl's hand.

I still remember.

A-rank retiree Magical Rein—mom of a magical girl I used to cheer for. She killed my dad.

I shoved the docs back in the box. No love lost between us anyway. He treated me like air; I despised him.

"Whatever. I'll make good use of his leftovers. Won't end up a dumbass like him."

Composed myself and left the bathroom. Still had shit to handle.