Daesung Group’s Chairman.

He was this era’s superhuman who had written a legendary myth, a hero of the peninsula.

“Kuuh, uuuuh…!”

Even such a chairman pissed and shat himself upon taking a blade, no different from any commoner.

No, even worse.

His usual lofty prestige had plummeted in an instant.

Grit!

Lee Taebaek twisted the blade free. The chairman’s back slammed hard against the wall.

Sluuuurp.

The chairman slid down the wall. A bloody trail streaked the grayish-white surface.

His cheek deeply gashed, the chairman was still alive. A grotesquely tenacious life force.

Even with the knife protruding from the nape of his neck. Even with his brain pierced through. He only writhed with shrill groans, a revolting sight for everyone in the room.

Not satisfied with a man who ought to be dead clinging to life.

Breathing the same air as Saber Master Muyachi and even one who had sold his own child’s soul to the devil.

The entire Security Team’s eyes turned subtle.

They felt a tangle of emotions. Had the reality of the company they’d loyally served for over a decade truly been this ugly?

Facing that underbelly head-on left their guts churning in every way.

A sense that even the bare minimum of ethics had crumbled in the City.

Compounded by disappointment that their nation’s hero was such a hideous figure.

The chill in the air lifted. The ice crystals that had frozen them were gone.

“…”

Yet the Daesung people’s feet showed no sign of budging. Emotions colder than Lee Taebaek’s Ice Magic gripped their hearts.

And the chairman excelled at reading the room. After scanning his surroundings, he suddenly burst into guffaws.

“Ha, ha… hahaha…!”

Blood jetted from the hole in his cheek like a water gun.

“Did you think you were loyal to Daesung?”

The chairman bared his blood-red teeth.

“…”

“Tsk tsk, you fools. You weren’t loyal to Daesung—you were loyal to me. Because I am Daesung! I wrote Daesung’s myth! It’s all thanks to me that punks like you, who only know how to swing fists, get to lounge on silk bedding in the upper districts!”

The room fell silent.

The raving chairman and the Security Team both knew it deep down. It was his final deathbed spasm.

“You should be grateful to me! In this godforsaken filthy City, just working for Daesung Group let you strut around with some respect among the Megacorps! And now some piddly morals are holding you back?! Pathetic bastards!”

The chairman sighed.

“Ah, this is why egomaniacs are such a pain. When Siesta came asking for cooperation on human cultivation experiments, I should’ve shaken hands…”

“Siesta’s already gone that far, huh.”

Lee Taebaek muttered.

The chairman peered into his face before sneering.

“Come to think of it, you were a Siesta Watchdog, weren’t you? Spot on. Siesta’s adapting faster than anyone this era. Unlike top-dog Haragusa. Being second breeds sorrow that turns into fuel. Makes a man vigorous. That’s what I did—and that’s how Daesung rose to greatness.”

Human cultivation.

Artificially creating humans, plain and simple. A taboo even in the City’s end-times vibe.

Megacorps can’t ignore public eyes entirely.

Nominal as it is, the regime maintains a republican frame. Disgust for human cultivation is pure instinct. Upper-district folk swap limbs for machines, but souls? Irreplaceable.

Creating personalities from scratch, though?

Only a scant few approve. In fact, probably none except Megacorp executives.

Megacorp execs need utterly loyal appendages.

In that sense.

There would be nothing like cultured human homunculi.

Sss.

The chairman’s torn cheek knitted shut. Bizarre regenerative power.

Traded straight with gods, so no wonder his [Faith] stat’s sky-high.

Plus a full-body prosthetic forged from stuff pricier than gold by weight. Unless his brain is irreparably damaged, he does not die. He cannot but be a ‘specter’.

“Chairman, your deeds. Siesta’s human cultivation. Both forbidden fruit.”

“Haha, preaching now?”

Lee Taebaek scowled fiercely.

“Do you know what price you’ll have to pay?”

“Listen, kid. I’m a merchant. Do you know what matters most in getting and giving? Risk management. Opportunity cost.”

The chairman tapped his temple with an index finger.

“Quick math on gains and losses? That’s a dealer’s whole game. In the City, none match me there. Bet on it.”

“Arrogance.”

“Young friend. Times change. Can’t hide in old fogeys’ frames forever. ‘Ethics’? Hypocrisy cooked up by savage ancestors for self-preservation.”

The light drained from the chairman’s pupils mid-rant. Para Blade’s finisher had ravaged his brain. Flesh mends, but if the brain is damaged, a person dies.

“…I never wanted to survive by stealing my own child’s body. But I’m that old fogey.”

At the mention of Executive Director Ryu, his daughter, Director Ryu, lifted her head. A single strand of hair clung to her tear-streaked cheek.

“Barefaced greed, no lies. True enough. But I wanted these eyes to witness the era’s storms. Watch Daesung adapt on the fly. Money? Honor? Got plenty overflowing.”

“…”

“I crave immortality.”

“…”

“Not just me. Every Megacorp.”

“Not lifespan immortality.”

Lee Taebaek sheathed Para Blade, retorting. He hoped no more filthy blood would get on his sword.

“Do you know what the tyrant who coined ‘profligate,’ Yeonsangun, feared most? History. He lives immortal here, but we Megacorps? Different flavor of eternity.”

The chairman tugged bluish lips into a grin. Lee Taebaek fired back.

“Too bad. Your legacy’s trash-tier. See the stares? Is there a single friendly face here?”

“…Can’t be helped.”

The chairman tilted his head back faintly. Wall chill seeped into his crown. Shoulders slumping, he murmured.

“Man errs, man pays.”

“Fair enough there.”

“Self-aware, see?”

The chairman shut his eyelids. Self-healing kept his body steady, but his skin had gone ashen-blue.

It was then.

“Chairman—no, Grandfather.”

Director Ryu crawled beast-like toward him. Her slender hands clamped his shoulders vise-tight.

“Did you… ever see Dad and me as family?”

“…”

The chairman glanced at Director Ryu’s wretched form, then closed his eyelids again.

“Never.”

He shook his head firmly.

“Don’t take it personally. Never saw my wife’s kids as kids either. Daesung was my everything.”

“…”

Director Ryu’s eyes glazed vacant, as if her soul had fled. A beat, then her swollen lips twitched.

“I see…”

Director Ryu tore the hair from her face. She staggered up, propping herself on the wall.

“Watch from hell what becomes of your ‘everything’.”

Director Ryu spat over her shoulder. The chairman said nothing. His faint breaths had finally snuffed out.

The chairman was dead.

Three months or so passed since that day.

The days flew like arrows. They were eventful.

Daesung announced the chairman’s death. As he was the group’s symbol, the stock graph predictably tsunamied.

Plus, the chairman had way too many kids. Shareholders braced for bloody succession wars and admin vacuums.

But nope.

The succession fight, against everyone’s expectations, ended anticlimactically.

Reasons aplenty, but the will’s discovery clinched it.

『If something happens to me, Daesung passes to Executive Director Ryu. End.』

It was the self-serving chairman’s arrangement.

That brutally terse line cowed half the heirs. To the kids, he was god-tier.

Anyway.

The rest rejected it.

Daesung’s legal team had certified it, so they didn’t clash head-on. They twisted the wording to suit themselves.

-The successor, Executive Director Ryu, has vanished too!

Solid point.

The chairman’s demise plus Executive Director Ryu’s disappearance handed the heirs a rallying cry.

But it stopped at an attempt. Enter a third-party wildcard, utterly unforeseen, who snuffed the group drama flat.

In the process, ‘that one’ naturally pulled every dirty trick.

He matched the chairman’s grasp of internal power plays. He poked sore spots like a pro masseuse. And the group’s blade, the Security Team, backed him wholesale, led by Team Leader Seong Hayun.

Rumors swirled about what wind had blown through Seong Hayun. She and ‘that one’ getting cozy… juicy dopamine fodder on every tongue.

Three months after the chairman’s death, the ‘new chairman’ locked down the group. He wooed shareholders handily.

The wave-tossed Daesung stock finally stabilized over several weeks. On top of that, local people sent sympathy buys out of patriotism.

Daesung finally shed its tag as the Megacorp tail-ender. People said luck had settled on the new chairman and rushed to claim shares.

“Haa…”

A sigh rippled through Daesung’s chairman suite.

The interior had changed a lot from before. Spacious yet sparse: a simple desk, chair, and a crisp achromatic sofa. That’s it.

The huge folding screen painted with the sun and moon, an eyesore mismatched with the times, was promptly removed. The new chairman’s day-one mandate: purge all ex-chairman traces. No delays, ops be damned.

But that meant surrendering nights and days to work. The chairman ditched her specs and massaged her nose bridge.

The world swam blurry.

But when she, Chairman Ryu, put her glasses back on, a man materialized ghost-like and sat on the sofa.

“Rough gig?”

“Yeah… sorta…”

Chairman Ryu hesitated, then huffed a laugh.

“Gotta bump Security Team’s pay across the board.”

“Shouldn’t it drop? Me waltzing in here unchecked.”

“That’s why the raise. They let you in based on the person.”

“…Subtle phrasing.”

He scratched his nape and pushed off the sofa. Chairman Ryu eyed his back vacantly, then blurted.

“Today’s the day, right?”

Chairman Ryu drew a faint arc with her lips.

“Safe travels to the Ten Wings meeting.”

Doorknob in hand, he glanced back.

“Lee Taebaek.”