That night, just as Team Leader Seong Hayun had instructed, he relayed the information to Director Ryu Garyeon. She responded with a curt, businesslike goodnight.

“I see. Good work. I’ll handle briefing Executive Director Ryu, so get some rest tonight.”

Even after hanging up, he stared at the device for a while. Beyond the double-pane window, the cityscape flowed in vibrant hues.

…I’ve said everything that needs saying.

Of course, he’d chosen his words carefully throughout. It was a necessary chore, even if tedious.

To put it in perspective, it was like weaving a spider web around Lee Taebaek at the center. His role was to lay the threads here and there, then fine-tune from the heart of it all. That’s what he wanted.

Resistance, Beggar Clan, Lilith Order, Daesung Group. He’d forged cooperative ties with organizations wielding influence across the City, from upper to lower layers alike.

In other words, those four groups were keeping tabs on him too. Truly a life like duckweed.

Throw in one more, and you’d have the ‘Kergel Magic Tower’.

The Magic Tower Master and I have some personal history.

He had no desire to tangle with her again anytime soon. For now, shove that encounter to the back burner, Lee Taebaek. When prioritizing urgency, it was definitely low on the list.

Lost in thought, Lee Taebaek let out a chuckle.

Putting memories with the Heavenly Demon on the back burner. I’ve grown up.

At any rate, the Kergel Magic Tower couldn’t be placed on his web just yet. Information on it was sorely lacking, and his only current contact was the arena manager, Kim Changsik.

‘Exclude Kergel Magic Tower—the remaining four organizations need to be pieces on my board.’

If someone called him a shadowy puppet master, he’d have no good rebuttal. It fit, more or less. But Lee Taebaek was willing to risk full chuunibyou mode to become the City’s spider.

Moreover, he planned to cultivate covert alliances with each organization snared in his web.

The kids these days called it sbuljae—self-invited disaster. Better to stake his claim at the eye of the storm. That way, he’d spot anomalies in a flash. In essence: “Let’s form a ‘grand alliance’ with me at the core.”

The first button on that grand scheme had been fastened long ago. But the true beginning started now.

The factions he’d cozied up to first held sway in the lower districts. The Beggar Clan had some upper-layer pull, but barely.

“Can’t compare to a Megacorp.”

Truth be told, in the City, nothing rivaled a Megacorp except another of equal weight class.

That’s why he’d infiltrated Daesung HQ directly—Security Team 1, to be precise—enduring office outcast status(?) while grinding to build his foothold. Night after night, gazing at the city lights from company windows. Breathtaking at first, but daily repetition bred resentment.

“Gonna drive me nuts.”

Thud, thud.

Lee Taebaek tapped his shoulders with the base of his fist. Overtime wrapped up roughly; time to head home for real.

The blood-and-guts brawls of recent weeks felt like a dream. Since embedding in Daesung, he’d been living the standard white-collar grind.

It was nice at first.

Days blurred into repetition, and boredom gnawed. He’d wandered near death multiple times, each time nearly dying, and when he faced absurdly strong opponents, he felt like a cockroach facing a human.

Disillusion with those days mingled with secret thrill. Negative or positive, it was dopamine either way.

Now, ditching dopamine highs for desk rot. Lee Taebaek craved stimulation—a fierce jolt to purge the frustration.

A Russian literary giant’s words surfaced. Betting certain safety on an uncertain future—that’s life’s essence. He’d staked his life on gambling to uphold it. Lee Taebaek felt a kinship.

…Staring at this desk partition forever is messing with my head.

His sigh fluttered the sticky note on his monitor’s edge. He swept his belongings into his bag and rose quietly.

“Hello, this is Kim Seonmu from Security Team 1. About attending this Haragusa Festival…”

“Ah, no—! Cutting the budget now? The festival’s two weeks away! What? They said that?! Finance calls Security Team 1 money pits?! You son of a—!”

From his elevated vantage, he scanned the office. Steam rose from the overtime crew who’d skipped dinner. So buried in work, not a glance spared for “hot new employee Lee Taebaek” stirring.

Busy times, yeah.

Bad blood aside, they were dead serious about the job. Haragusa Festival prep loomed, demanding round-the-clock grind.

Lee Taebaek, as newbie, got light tasks and could clock out early (thanks to Team Leader Seong Hayun’s favors and team hesitation to dump on him). Not them. Poor souls. Leaving at 10 PM made him feel guilty.

Chest heavy, he left them behind. Rare early night—perfect for hours of chit-chat with Jasbi before bed.

Plus, swap thoughts on the City-shaking Haragusa Festival. No mere fireworks show.

This edition drew the Seven Masters of the Ten Wings—now six, with the Illusion Master slain by the Heavenly Demon.

I’ve been dragged into attending.

Zone out, and he’d tumble into incidents. Consult the sharp two-legged brain beforehand. That’s why Lee Taebaek tolerated Jasbi’s rice bowl.

“Grab some yellow fried chicken on the way home.”

AI Jasbi. Machine or not, she adored oil-drenched chicken.

“Brought chicken.”

“Chicken! Thank you, Creator!”

“Eat up.”

“Hehehe, thanks.”

“Listen while you eat, Jasbi.”

“Yes?”

“You know about the Haragusa Festival coming up.”

“Of course. Why?”

“I’ve got this role there.”

“…….”

“…….”

“…Is it too much to hope for free food from Lake City’s humans?”

“You get it.”

“That’s harsh!”

“Harsh my ass.”

Lee Taebaek leaned close and whispered chillingly.

“Gotta earn your keep.”

Food parasite.

Security Team 1 bore the grave duty of guarding Daesung Group’s Madam.

Whose idea it was remained a mystery—not worth dwelling on anyway. No time for that.

Lee Taebaek and the team poured every moment into plan reviews.

Peak hit a week before the festival. As if scripted, they hauled toothbrush kits and camped in the office en masse.

One week of shared trials.

Tensions with Lee Taebaek thawed somewhat. No heart-to-hearts, just work talk.

Still progress—from invisible man to acknowledged.

Shallow bonds formed. Giant leap.

“Hey, Employee Lee, mind handling this?”

“…….”

“…Should I do it…?”

“Nah. No biggie.”

Dialogue made Lee Taebaek seem superior. But Daesung wasn’t rigid hierarchy-bound. Such firms would’ve tanked globally long ago.

Megacorps like Daesung shrugged at merit-based insubordination. Lee Taebaek skipped outright defiance, just casual speech, so prime newbie material.

He shone across domains. Past life shuttling evil corp departments (cost-cutting spin cycle) honed him.

Desk decay didn’t stall growth. Overtime feasts boosted [Mental] steadily. When his eyes dried out and became bloodshot, [Faith] rose and healed them, then even took care of the stat increase.

Don’t know the system’s origin, but convenience is killer.

The Operator account was a godsend. Carve time to explore later.

Operator Points piled; invest in the Namuwiki-style system window someday.

Unlock authorities, it said.

He felt the coffee sloshing in his empty stomach. Lee Taebaek grinned vacantly.

Neighboring deputy eyed him pityingly. Another junior fried by work. That vibe.

Yet, as the saying ‘do your best and leave the rest to heaven’ holds true, the capable group’s time investment paid off clearly.

Yes.

“It’s—done—!!”

Team erupted in cheers. Team Leader hurled papers skyward, decorum shattered.

Everyone had dark circles under their eyes, but the corners of their mouths lifted.

They’re a security team that frequents rough places like eating meals, yet…

Liberated from papers, they looked like they’d escaped a minefield. It was that grueling a week.

Lee Taebaek had extras to prep… nearly died for real, no joke.

Daesung this frantic for Haragusa Festival.

He made up his mind.

Steer clear of upper layers next year.

Thwap.

A stray paper from Team Leader Seong Hayun smacked his forehead. He dozed off. Cheers hushed for his nap.

Team glanced, then slumped arms-folded, heads down. Quiet thrill hovered over napes.

Masses upon masses. Mountains and seas of people. Heard the phrase, but first time witnessing.

Correction: glimpsed protests commuting, but this scale? Life first.

“Whoa…”

Just watching choked him.

Reporters jostled constantly. One skinny anchovy-type crushed near-flat.

Lee Taebaek savored stage perks. Plaza-center stage held VIP seats.

Plush cushions visible to naked eye.

Dustless brocade paths flanked standing rows—including suited, socketed Lee Taebaek.

Reality check loomed, but past toil quelled it.

Step, step.

City rulers emerged one by one, stepping onto the red carpet.