Black Market (3)
“What on earth is this?”
“What the—!”
The trio from the Disciplinary Committee tried to unravel the threads binding them, but it was nowhere near as easy as they'd expected. Even after drawing up their mana, the threads refused to snap—if anything, they cinched down tighter.
I watched them squirm for a moment, then exaggerated a look of sudden realization, like someone who'd just remembered something important.
“Oh no! Senior, that thing!”
“Huh? Oh, right, that! I completely forgot about that!”
I had no idea what “that thing” was supposed to be, but Dang Gyu-young caught on with impressive speed. Putting on a display of utter panic, she grabbed my hand and shot a hasty farewell at Gwak Seung-jae.
“Hey, we've gotta run! We'll swing by the Disciplinary Committee room some other time! Keep up the good work!”
“Hey—”
And before Gwak Seung-jae could get another word out, we kicked off the ground and vaulted to the next building.
After running for a good while, I checked behind us. No trace of the Disciplinary Committee. Apparently they still hadn't managed to cut themselves free of the fishing line.
We paused briefly to catch our breath, and Dang Gyu-young called out to someone.
“Thank you for the help.”
“That wasn't free, you know.”
From the darkness emerged the slick graduate alumnus. Something thin and glinting got sucked back into his hand—probably the fishing line he'd just been using.
So he really was a graduate.
All three Disciplinary Committee members had been subdued in an instant without managing any real resistance, and they still hadn't broken loose by the time we left. Two of them were third-years, to boot. A graduate was the only explanation.
Dang Gyu-young asked, “How did you know to come, though?”
“Da-bin tipped me off while I was passing by.”
When the alumnus answered so offhandedly, Dang Gyu-young immediately connected to the control tower. Chae Da-bin's worried voice came through.
“- Did you two get out okay?”
“Yeah. Great response time, by the way. You really stuck it to Seung-jae.”
“- He's a person of interest. I've been keeping tabs on him the whole time.”
Gwak Seung-jae was the key figure behind last year's spike in Black Market arrest rates. To the Thief Club, he was priority target number one.
Which was why several members of the control tower had been focused exclusively on tracking his movements, and the moment he summoned his wooden door, they'd traced his next location.
Then, when two third-years piled on as well, they'd sensed something serious and called in the slick alumnus for backup.
“How's the situation looking?”
“- It won't be long before they find Exchange C. They're searching Exchange A, too.”
“That was fast.”
Things should have bogged down at Exchange B for a good long while, but the Disciplinary Committee's own graduate had simply demolished the entire building in one stroke. That meant they could throw their manpower straight into searching the next exchange.
“Well, we can't just sit here and take it. Let's get in their way, nice and busy. Da-bin.”
“- Yes, President.”
“You're taking command from here on out.”
“- …!”
“The Committee kids will have their guard up by now. No more barging in blindly.”
Take, for instance, how Dang Gyu-young and I had ambushed Geum Johan and the Hell Ax senior to help a customer escape. But the same trick wouldn't work a second or third time.
Geum Johan aside, the Hell Ax senior would be watching his surroundings far more warily now—ambushing him had just gotten a whole lot harder.
Go in half-cocked and we might end up on the receiving end instead.
So we needed to be more careful on our end, too, which meant Chae Da-bin securing eyes on a location before we moved in.
And to spare herself from asking Dang Gyu-young's permission every single time, the command was simply being handed over wholesale.
“- But… do you really think I can handle it?”
“You'll have to someday anyway. You're next year's president, aren't you? I trust you.”
“- …I'll do my best.”
Hearing the resolve in Chae Da-bin's answer, Dang Gyu-young smiled.
Chae Da-bin did not let Dang Gyu-young down.
Making full use of the sightlines provided by the commercial district's surveillance crystals, she fulfilled her role as control tower to the letter.
One customer was on the verge of getting caught in a spot check when Dang Gyu-young asked, “Go in now?”
“- No, it's a trap. Eight o'clock.”
“Oh, you're right. Clever girl.”
Checking the direction Chae Da-bin had flagged, sure enough, several Disciplinary Committee members were lying in wait. They'd dug a trap and were waiting for thieves to come interfering.
Rushing in to save a single customer and getting ourselves caught instead would defeat the whole purpose—this one we had to let go.
Next, when we spotted a customer being chased, Dang Gyu-young asked again. “That one?”
“- All clear. Go ahead.”
“Okay. Kim Ho, let's move.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
We harassed the Disciplinary Committee with a blend of wind magic and shadow butterflies.
The Committee weren't just rolling over, either. With an overwhelming gulf in raw power separating them from the Thief Club, thieves were getting arrested one by one despite Chae Da-bin's able command.
Then Chae Da-bin delivered some stunning news.
“- Exchange C has fallen.”
Looking at the feed she was sharing, I saw the Disciplinary Committee pouring into the Exchange C building like a flooding tide. They'd finally cracked the formation and the Throughwalk maze.
Dang Gyu-young asked, “You got everyone evacuated in advance, right?”
“- Yes. Not a soul left inside.”
“Then we haven't lost anything major. Exchange A next?”
“- About half of them are headed for A. The rest split up and started searching D, E, and F.”
“We can concede A. But the rest, we stop no matter what it takes.”
“- Yes, President.”
“Not much longer now. Hang in there, everyone.”
As night deepened, the once-bustling commercial district was thinning out, and a good number of the Black Market's deals were already wrapped up. All we had to do was hold out for the remaining time.
And to do that, we had to interfere with the Disciplinary Committee's search all the more aggressively.
Dang Gyu-young took the lead. “Let's go, Kim Ho.”
Just then, my personal line rang.
“Yes, Senior.”
“- You remember what I asked you about?”
I'd made one separate request of Chae Da-bin: while I was touring the commercial district today, if anyone of suspicious appearance came into view, I wanted to know immediately.
“- …Found one. Suspicious person.”
“…!”
“- Judging by their direction, they're headed where you said.”
Meanwhile, Dang Gyu-young noticed I'd connected a private call, perked up her ears, and narrowed her eyes to slits.
“…Senior? Which senior?”
“Chae Da-bin.”
“Oh, Da-bin.”
Whatever thought had crossed her mind, Dang Gyu-young's expression smoothed over at once. But then some new question raised its head, and her eyes narrowed again.
“Hold on. You've got a separate line to Da-bin?”
“….”
Dang Gyu-young's eyes bored into me, interrogating. Judging by that look, the odds of her sulking were quite high depending on my answer.
But that wasn't what mattered right now. I put on a grave face and spoke up.
“Senior, there's something I need to tell you.”
“Huh? Uh, sure. What is it?”
“During the reconnaissance trip—do you remember the graffiti?”
“…The coded message.”
Dang Gyu-young's face stiffened with gravity as well.
Back when we'd scouted the commercial district, I'd found a coded message scrawled among all the graffiti on that wall—and subtly altered it. I hadn't explained the details to her at the time, but—
“- I know it's dangerous. Still, I want to help.”
“- Not yet. When the time comes, I'll tell you everything.”
“- Fine. You promised.”
“That time is now.”
“…Tell me. I'll help.”
“There's no time, so I'll explain on the way. If you can, please call the slick alumnus too.”
“Right. Let's do that.”
Not long after Dang Gyu-young sent word, the slick alumnus joined us. He glanced back and forth between our two faces and asked, baffled, “What's with the sudden mood change? You two have a fight?”
“You'll hear it from him.”
Dang Gyu-young handed the floor to me, and I took point toward our destination.
Leaping from one rooftop to the next, I began my explanation. “That graffiti was, as you probably guessed, a coded message.”
“Figured as much. What did it say?”
“A time and a place.”
And if someone had gone to the trouble of writing a time and place in code, their purpose wasn't hard to infer: a clandestine meeting, arranged to dodge other people's eyes. Which also meant the people who wrote it were the kind who had to meet in secret. Suspicious characters.
“But you tweaked that message a little, didn't you?”
“I did.”
I'd swapped the time and place so the two sides would completely miss each other—scattered them to entirely different coordinates.
“And the time you changed it to is now.”
“Correct.”
“Then where's the place?”
“….”
I pressed on in silence for a stretch, then stopped dead without warning. Raising a hand slightly, I signaled, and Dang Gyu-young and the alumnus halted behind me.
Standing at the rooftop railing, I tilted my chin downward.
There he is.
A lone figure stood below. A huge bamboo hat was pulled down over his head—and on its own, that was suspicious enough. That was what had prompted Chae Da-bin to call me.
Bamboo hats were usually worn to keep the rain off your clothes or to shelter from the sun. Anyone who donned one in the dead of night was wearing it for a different purpose—namely, hiding his face.
The slick alumnus seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion, though plenty of questions still clouded his expression.
So what do you want us to do?
From this point on, please take every word I say seriously.
When Dang Gyu-young and the alumnus both nodded, I pointed at the man in the bamboo hat.
I'd like you two to hit him with a restraint skill.
Huh? What?
The alumnus's bewilderment was understandable. He'd been asked for help, only to hear this was about something entirely unrelated to the Black Market. And now, out of nowhere, I wanted him to slap a restraint skill on a complete stranger?
What if we grab the wrong guy?
That's exactly why a restraint skill.
Believe me, I wanted to ask for a killing blow—but I'd settled for restraint, for one simple reason: if that was the wrong person, at least nobody would get hurt.
I added one more thing.
I'll take full responsibility for whatever happens.
….
The alumnus shot Dang Gyu-young a look that said talk some sense into this kid, but she was already preparing her restraint skill, just as I'd asked. Even as she did, she answered him.
I trust him. I want to do everything I can for him, for as long as I'm able.
….
A strange look came over the alumnus's eyes. He clearly hadn't expected Dang Gyu-young to go that far. Then he let out a silent, resigned sigh and asked me again.
Fine, say you're right about everything. How strong is this guy?
If my hunch is correct… A-Rank.
…!
…!
Both their faces hardened even further.
A-Rank was a realm reached only by the very few—even among graduates, it belonged to those at the absolute peak.
So you need to go all out. Use your strongest skills. The moment combat begins, I'll call for support.
…I really stepped in it this time.
The alumnus grimaced. He'd been planning to lend a light hand at the Black Market, pocket a tidy fee, and stroll off. Instead, he was suddenly set to tangle with an A-Ranker.
And yet he showed no intention of backing out. Reading the situation, if he didn't help, Dang Gyu-young would go into that fight alone—and with high probability, he'd end up watching his junior die.
The alumnus pulled a glove onto each hand. Around Dang Gyu-young, shadow butterflies fluttered and gathered, layer upon layer.
Thus, spirits wound to the breaking point, the two readied their restraint skills—and leapt from the rooftop in the same instant, unleashing them.
From each of the alumnus's ten fingers shot a strand of thin, gleaming fishing line.
“!!”
The bamboo-hatted man finally noticed them, but before he could react, the lines had already wrapped him tight, coil after coil. Then countless shadow butterflies swarmed over him, and a cocoon of shadow was complete.
At the same moment, I fired one of the remaining Discipline Committee flares. A streak of brilliant light cut across the sky.
- Fwoooosh—BANG!
Meanwhile, the two of them were already preparing their next attack. If the bamboo-hatted man really was A-Rank as I suspected, this ambush would buy us only the briefest window of advantage.
Sure enough, the shadow cocoon heaved violently—
- KRAKOOM!
—and blood-red sword aura burst out, shredding the cocoon apart.
The aura gradually congealed into a fixed shape: a monster with six arms.
At the sight of it, the alumnus's eyes went wide. “The Asura Blood Demonic Art!”
Six arms of blood-red aura, wreathing its wielder like a demon of legend—a high-tier art of the Blood Cult.
Anyone who had mastered the Asura Blood Demonic Art to the point of manifesting sword aura belonged to one organization and one organization only.
The Blood Cult.