Advance Reconnaissance (2)
"President? The floor is yours~"
The smarmy man had opened the meeting with all the gravitas he could muster, but actually chairing the thing was apparently too much bother, and he promptly handed the floor over.
Dang Gyu-young, standing at the head of the table, picked up from there.
"I'm sure you've all heard already, but last year's Black Market saw quite a few... regrettable incidents."
By all accounts, the arrest rate at that market had hit an all-time high. The way it was run hadn't changed much from years past, so results like those could only mean one thing: the other side — the Disciplinary Committee — had grown dramatically more capable.
And at the center of it all had stood Gwak Seung-jae, who had joined the committee as a fresh first-year. His combat power was nothing special by their standards, but he possessed detection abilities keen enough to occasionally pin down the movements of second- and third-years. His insight was every bit as sharp — handed the smallest clue, he would seize the trail in an instant and pursue it with dogged persistence.
Worse still, he wielded a signature magic that linked spaces together with wooden doors. With those doors popping up here, there, and everywhere, more than one or two deals had come crashing down as a result.
"I want to keep that from repeating this year. Losing a contest of force, I can accept — but if we fall behind even in the war of intelligence, the Thief Club loses its very reason to exist."
At that, Graduate Uncle A chimed in.
"Well said. True, we live our lives getting called thieves and crooks, but thieves have their own pride and dignity too. And there are moments when retreat is simply not an option."
The woman with the teardrop mole added her own two cents.
"It isn't only pride on the line, either. The mentors are already whispering that this year's trades might not happen properly at all. If that worry hardens into certainty, the very foundation of the Black Market could start to shake. We have to win back people's trust."
And trust that had cratered after last year's failure was not something a few well-chosen words could restore. There was exactly one way to do it: see this Black Market through to a resounding success.
Dang Gyu-young dipped her head in a light bow.
"You're both entirely right. Which is why, to leave even less to chance this year, I have asked you seniors to join us here today."
Nor were the graduates lending their strength out of mere sentiment — old ties to Dang Gyu-young or the Thief Club. Each of them had been promised a considerable price, and there were five of them. The bleed would be enormous.
In other words, this was will made manifest: this Black Market would succeed, whatever it cost them. It also spoke to just how seriously Dang Gyu-young was staking herself on the Thief Club's revival.
Graduates A and B wore satisfied smiles.
"President Dang certainly has nerve to spare. But... you're telling us all we need do is guard this one building? That's really everything?"
"It is. Calling this place the nerve center of the entire operation would be no exaggeration."
As they must have guessed from the room bristling with monitors, this building was the control tower — a space prepared for Chae Da-bin alone, with support staff to assist her slated to be attached as well.
Last year, the previous president of the Thief Club had refused to make use of Chae Da-bin on the grounds that she was only a first-year. This year, however, Dang Gyu-young had finally taken the reins, and she was throwing her full weight behind letting the girl exercise every ability she possessed.
At a glance from Dang Gyu-young, Chae Da-bin reported in her level tone.
"We are currently seizing eyes on the contact points, the Exchanges inside and out, and their surroundings."
When the group had passed through the monitor-filled room earlier, the screens had shown streets, blind alleys, empty rooms inside buildings, and the like. In other words, what Chae Da-bin was taking control of were the security crystal balls installed all over the island — the plan being to quietly steal their sight and put it to work for the Black Market.
"Progress?"
"About seventeen percent so far. We'll have every one secured by Wednesday, then move on to stabilization."
"...That's fast."
One of the graduates let out an admiring whistle. Security crystal balls were guarded so thoroughly that cracking even one or two properly was a challenge — and she was tackling dozens at once, on top of planning to finish within days and move straight into stabilization. No wonder he was impressed.
Dang Gyu-young went on.
"On the day itself, the control tower crew will monitor every corner through the screens, and the instant we spot anything suspicious, we will pass word to you."
To sum it up, this place was as good as the Thief Club's second pair of eyes. Whatever happened, it could never be allowed to surface. If the Disciplinary Committee seized it, the club would be struck blind on the spot — and worse, it could hand the committee everything it needed to round them all up in a single sweep.
"For those reasons, I would like to ask the two of you to keep this place hidden — and keep it safe."
"I see. Understood. Not so much as a single ant gets anywhere near."
The two Graduate Uncles replied, their expressions several degrees graver than before. Back when they'd been firing off questions, there had been a hint of doubt in their faces — two men posted to a single building, wasn't that a waste? — but now they seemed to grasp exactly why it mattered.
Dang Gyu-young next cast her gaze in turn on the smarmy man, the teardrop-mole woman, and Graduate Uncle C.
"As I told you in advance, you three will be lending your strength in the field."
Then she raised an open hand for all to see, and shadows came wriggling in from every side, pooling and spreading until they had drawn out a map. To me, who had seen it more times than I could count, one glance was enough: a map of the commercial district. One after another, buildings of solid shadow then sprang up at several points across it.
"We've leased several buildings on short-term contracts. I ask that you commit the location of each and every one to memory."
It was critical information they would surely have memorized long ago, yet every last one of them bored their eyes into the shadow buildings as if swearing never to forget.
These buildings were the 'Exchanges' mentioned earlier. Every last trade of the Black Market would be conducted inside them.
When Dang Gyu-young's gaze shifted to the teardrop-mole woman, she took over with a gentle smile.
"I've personally woven formations into each of these Exchanges. Uninvited guests won't get past them — that alone will be enough to send them packing."
Say some ordinary civilian, or a student with no connection to the Black Market, happened to set foot near an Exchange — the formation would trigger on its own and quietly turn their steps elsewhere. After all, the moment anyone sensed they'd been caught in a formation, it would stir up needless suspicion, so it had been made natural and subtle enough that they would never notice a thing.
And a formation woven by the hand of a Dragon Slayer Academy graduate? Its quality was beyond question. Disciplinary Committee or not, nobody was punching through that lightly.
Even then, the Exchanges' security didn't stop there.
Next, Graduate Uncle C picked up the thread.
"My part's much the same. The only difference is that I need concern myself with the inside of the Exchanges alone. The magic I've prepared goes like this. Watch closely, all of you."
He rose from his seat and stood with his back to the wall. Then, slowly, he stepped backward — and from the chest up he simply melted into the wall, as though sinking into still water. A moment later, smooth as you please, he strolled back out of it as if nothing whatsoever had happened.
Throughwalk.
Throughwalk — a magic that did exactly what its name promised: it let a person pass straight through walls. In dungeons that stacked wall upon wall like a labyrinth to leave people wandering in circles, it was an absolutely decisive tool for scouting.
Skills and traits tied to space and time were, one and all, punishingly difficult to handle — yet this uncle apparently intended to tinker with it until not only he but the 'guests' entering the Exchanges could pass through as well. Just as the teardrop-mole woman had layered formation upon formation, he was flexing the kind of muscle only a graduate could show.
The end result: the Exchange buildings would have walls that existed and yet didn't, each one effectively turning into a miniature labyrinth. Security would grow that much airtighter, and for a Disciplinary Committee that knew nothing of these arrangements, giving chase would become a serious ordeal.
Dang Gyu-young carried the explanation forward.
"Of course, this could end up confusing our guests just as thoroughly. Which is why — to keep that particular misfortune from ever happening."
Right on cue, a Thief Club member came trundling in, dragging something cart-like behind him. Painted across its front, in lettering big enough to read from across the street, was one impossible-to-miss word: ICE CREAM!
Dang Gyu-young rested a hand atop the cart.
"From here — from the 'contact points' — this is how the tickets get handed out."
The Black Market's contact points — whether they peddled ice cream, corn dogs, or fish-shaped pastries — would all disguise themselves as street-food stalls and slip tickets to their customers.
As if to demonstrate, Dang Gyu-young slid the ice cream cart open with a rattle and drew out a single cone. She wrapped it in a napkin and held it out — for all the world as if to say, careful not to drip.
But a heartbeat later she flung the ice cream over her shoulder as though it hardly mattered, and gave the remaining napkin a light, unhurried wave. And there, between the two layered sheets, a script of densely written inscriptions flashed briefly into view. The ice cream and every other snack were pure misdirection; the napkin was the real thing — a signpost and a ticket in one.
"These tickets will do the guiding for our guests."
Meaning: they would keep everyone oriented so that no one wandered lost or got thrown out by the formations — and even inside buildings tangled into mazes by Throughwalk, they would show precisely which wall to pass through.
To compress the whole process into a nutshell: anyone hoping to take part in the Black Market would first stop by a contact point disguised as a street stall and be handed a napkin inscribed with a special script — in other words, a ticket. Following wherever the ticket led, they would make their way to an Exchange, slipping past formations and through walls. Finally, buyer and seller would meet at the appointed spot, trade the goods they'd brought, and be done.
And overseeing it all, Chae Da-bin's team in the control tower would monitor every development and issue directions as needed.
Just then, the smarmy man raised his hand. Every graduate's role had been settled, and his was still the only one that hadn't come up.
"President? And what would you have me do?"
"You, senior, are our reserve force. You'll stand by, and pitch in if anything goes wrong."
"And if nothing goes wrong, can I just goof off?"
"If nothing goes wrong."
Dang Gyu-young flashed a grin — and somehow that grin seemed to carry an unspoken don't count on it. The Disciplinary Committee had gone half-mad trying to sabotage the Black Market; did anyone honestly believe nothing would happen?
The smarmy man knew it too, which was why exasperation dripped from his face. Look at him however I liked, this gentleman was none other than the 'handsome' Shin Byung-cheol.
Dang Gyu-young paid him no mind and turned to Chae Da-bin.
"How far along are we on securing the sightlines?"
"Exchange A and Exchange E are perfect."
"Good."
Dang Gyu-young swept her gaze around the room.
"Then let's put everything I've described to the test. Everyone except the control tower team — we move out to the commercial district."
[135] The Support Ate It All