Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Coincidence for the Protagonist (2)
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Incheon's dawn was no different from any other city in Korea.
People soaked in life and liquor began spilling out onto the streets from the nightlife districts and gambling dens that were just starting to close their doors, while all sorts of trash piled up overnight was kicked this way and that, blessing their way home.
The only ones moving busily were the market vendors, street sellers, and cleaners.
The Steel Dung Beetle melted into the dawn streets, avoiding people's eyes.
The first place he headed was beyond an alley where no one passed, in front of a filthy dumpster and a clothing donation bin.
He stripped off his blood- and dirt-caked work clothes, stuffing them into the dumpster, then grabbed whatever clothes he could from the donation bin and threw them on haphazardly.
A baggy turtleneck and jeans that were too short.
It wasn't suitable attire for the approaching summer, but as long as it didn't draw attention, it didn't matter.
After changing, the Steel Dung Beetle stepped back out onto the street and headed toward his next destination.
He kept his head bowed low the whole way, eyes fixed on the ground.
He worried someone might recognize him. If nothing else, his golden eyes were impossible to miss.
But fortunately, the indifference of Incheon's people exceeded his expectations.
Not a single passerby even glanced his way, let alone made eye contact.
'…They arrived faster than expected.'
The Steel Dung Beetle glanced up at his destination.
Incheon Market—or MacArthur Market, as it was called after the giant MacArthur statue at the entrance.
He blended in naturally with the other vendors entering the market.
The fishy stench of seafood and food smells assaulted his nose as he entered, but his target was in the exact opposite direction from the restaurants.
Deep in the market, in a back alley side street that even vendors avoided—a small bar.
As the Steel Dung Beetle navigated the winding market alleys and stepped inside, the owner, who was clearing the tables, spoke without even turning his head.
"Business is closed for the day."
"Jang Man, sir."
Only then did the owner turn around when the Steel Dung Beetle called his name.
"…Steel Dung Beetle? What brings you here at this hour?"
The bar owner, Jang Man, was an old man with the weathered, coppery skin typical of a seafarer.
They said he'd ruled the seas around here back when Incheon Port was still around, and anyone who saw his sturdy build would nod in agreement.
"Did the shift foreman send you on some booze errand or what?"
"…The foreman is dead."
"What?"
Jang Man's hand stopped wiping the table as he frowned at the Steel Dung Beetle's response.
"What the hell are you talking about? The guy who bought booze from me just a few days ago—dead?"
"…Do you know about the incident where the smugglers and fairies were all slaughtered at their rendezvous point?"
"Of course. It happened just two days ago, right? The talk's still everywhere."
Two days. So he'd revived just one day after turning into a corpse? The Steel Dung Beetle recalled the time he'd spent dead and continued.
"…The perpetrator of that incident requested a cleanup, and our team got the job."
"The perpetrator? You mean the murderer himself?"
"Yes. Right after the cleanup was done, he swung his sword at our team."
"…The Cleanup Guild isn't run by idiots. They sent you in with no precautions?"
"The Cleanup Guild sold us out to the murderer."
"…Hah."
Jang Man pressed his forehead in disbelief.
"The foreman worked for the Cleanup Guild for over twenty years. To discard a man like that like an old rag…"
He pondered something for a moment, then looked at the Steel Dung Beetle.
"Any other team members survive?"
"No. I'm the only one who…"
Jang Man shook his head regretfully. Then he stood, pulling a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind the table.
"At least you're alive. Someone's left to give him a proper funeral."
"Sir…"
"I'll look into a place for you abroad. Australia or Thailand—start fresh…"
"Sir."
The Steel Dung Beetle glanced between Jang Man and the liquor bottle. Reading the resolve in those golden eyes, Jang Man sighed and uncorked the bottle.
"Forget about revenge. Catching a murderer is the cops' job, not yours."
"That guy's a superhuman who wields mana. The cops can't touch him."
"So you can? The Cleanup Guild couldn't either. You gonna get revenge on a government agency? Become a terrorist?"
Jang Man gulped down the liquor roughly, then glared sullenly at the Steel Dung Beetle.
"I can't help you. Push you into certain death? How am I supposed to face the foreman in the afterlife?"
He took another swig. Or tried to.
The moment Jang Man lifted the bottle, the Steel Dung Beetle strode forward and snatched it away.
Jang Man stared at him in stunned bewilderment, as if to ask what the hell he was doing. Instead of answering, the Steel Dung Beetle clenched his fist.
Crack.
The bottle shattered miserably, spilling its contents. Jang Man frowned at the liquor, glass shards, and blood pooling on the floor.
'Tch, youth…'
But the next moment.
When the Steel Dung Beetle spread his hand wide, Jang Man frowned for an entirely different reason.
"I'm not planning on dying like a dog."
The Steel Dung Beetle's hand was healing in real time. The bleeding stopped, fresh skin sprouting over the wound in mere seconds.
"Regeneration? You don't mean…? Mana?"
Mana.
The power humanity had dreamed of since the moment the Nazis opened the dimensional gate and crossed over.
It was only in the modern era, after two short wars and a long invasion, that Earth's people could finally wield it.
Mages, superhumans, heroes, hunters, blessed ones…
The names varied with the public's jealousy and expectations, but they all meant the same thing.
Those who manipulated mana not with machines or tools, but with pure flesh and spirit.
Jang Man gaped, realizing the cleaner before him had become such a being.
"How the hell…? No, you wouldn't know the method either."
The officially confirmed ways to use mana were innate talent, special bloodlines, divine blessings, and certain drugs. Just four methods.
Of course, unofficial methods existed too… but none were accessible to a mere cleaner.
'A miracle? Or…'
Thinking that far, Jang Man kicked aside the spilled bottle and grabbed a fresh one.
"Fine, I get it—you're not just rushing off to die. But what can I even do to help?"
"Sir, I'm not asking for direct help. Just introduce me to someone, for old times' sake."
"Someone? Sure, I know a lot of people, but what good are a bar owner's connections?"
Jang Man shook his head.
He uncorked the new bottle and pulled out glasses from under the table, pouring the liquor. The rich aroma of rum filled the space between them.
"Smuggler. They say you were the best in the business."
Jang Man's hand froze mid-sip. His face stiffened as he stared at the Steel Dung Beetle.
"Hah, the foreman… that guy told you a lot. He wasn't one to talk much."
He didn't deny having been a smuggler.
"So, what are you planning to buy from a smuggler?"
"…Weapons."
"Steel Dung Beetle, I don't know if you'll listen to this old man's advice, but I have to say it clearly."
Jang Man's expression grew deadly serious.
"Real weapons aren't toys from action movies. Mana's the same. Why do you think the superpowers build academies to train superhumans?"
It was too grave to dismiss as youthful bravado. To convince him, Jang Man set another glass on the table.
"You're nothing right now. If word gets out you're a superhuman, forget revenge—the underworld will hunt you down like mad."
"…"
"Once they catch you? Obvious. Your body's chopped up and sold to labs everywhere, your liver on some rich bastard's plate."
It was one of those urban legends you heard all the time.
Eat a mana user's liver, and you can use mana too.
Officially debunked by the US, but that implied someone had actually tried it.
But even that grim warning didn't change the Steel Dung Beetle's gaze.
"I've been prepared for that from the start."
"Prepared? Prepared… You talk about life and death too lightly."
"That's why I'm saying it. It's the only choice I have right now."
"…Hah."
Jang Man exhaled in a mix of admiration and lament. The young man's spirit might resemble bravado, but resolve was different.
To the old and young alike. Resolve was always resolve. Life was equally singular for everyone.
"To live or die. Hamlet's got nothing on you."
He stared into his glass, lost in thought.
Time passed until dawn broke and the sun rose, the rum in their glasses rippling gently.
Seeing the Steel Dung Beetle's unwavering expression, Jang Man nodded.
"If the young one's resolved, what can this old man do?"
He filled the glass he'd pulled out to persuade him and handed it to the Steel Dung Beetle.
The cheap rum's deep brown hue reflected the Steel Dung Beetle's emotionless face.
"Fine. I'll connect you with someone useful myself."
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