Chapter 162: The Terror Live (1)

Jang Chwiyen had been by Tang Jihye’s side through virtually her entire life as the 3rd Battalion Commander.

From her cradle days, when she first toddled on unsteady feet, right up to the present. He’d witnessed every step of her journey—or rather, he was that journey itself.

That was him.

He’d even awakened a superpower: the ability to read her thoughts from the slightest twitch of her eyebrows. Limited strictly to Tang Jihye, of course.

Bang!

Jang Chwiyen’s malatang shop.

“Damn it! Kang Hyeonseong, that bastard!!”

Tang Jihye gnashed her teeth and let out a roar. The battalion members pretending to be customers burst into snickers.

“Commander! You keep smashing the tables like that, and they’ll all break!”

“Hit it harder! You call that strength?”

“Shut up, you idiots!!”

“Eek, scary!”

Tang Jihye snatched up a flyswatter and smacked the battalion members playfully.

The shop descended into lively chaos. Jang Chwiyen lowered his newspaper just a fraction.

“…Hah.”

He sighed and lifted the paper back up.

‘The commander really can’t be honest with herself.’

Tang Jihye had been seething lately.

The reason? The 9th Battalion was soaring high on the wings of that guy named ‘Lee Taebaek.’

Kang Hyeonseong was raking in special bonuses at every battalion commander meeting for his merits, or so the rumors went.

The 9th Battalion, which they’d dismissed as a trash unit not worth a second glance, had suddenly overtaken the 3rd. Tang Jihye’s pride was bruised black and blue.

‘…That’s the official story.’

As mentioned before.

Jang Chwiyen had shared nearly her whole life with her. He’d even joined her when she ran away from home.

He’d been like a nanny, communicating more with her than most parents did with their kids. Their ages were close enough for that—it was easy when you understood each other’s mindset.

‘She must regret letting Lee Taebaek slip away. It stings to the bone.’

Well, she should’ve scored those points when she had the chance.

Jang Chwiyen shook his head with feigned dismay. Tang Jihye’s gaze snapped over like a hawk spotting prey.

“I wasn’t thinking anything.”

Jang Chwiyen hid behind his newspaper and made his excuse.

“That’s basically admitting you were, though? What do you think, Deputy Commander Jang Chwiyen?”

“Just take it at face value. And I don’t need your permission to have my own thoughts. It’s my freedom.”

“Jang Chwiyen… you…”

The flyswatter trembled in Tang Jihye’s grip.

After a moment, she tossed it aside and slumped over the bar table in exhaustion.

Jang Chwiyen rustled his newspaper.

“We’ve eaten, so back to work.”

“Boss, today’s malatang was spicy as hell.”

“Coming here makes me look forward to bathroom breaks, heh heh…”

The members bantered nonsense but tactfully cleared out.

The shop was a mess, uncleared and cluttered.

Tang Jihye mumbled into her arms, her voice glum.

“Why does nothing… ever go my way?”

“How often does life go exactly as planned?”

“I mean, why does nothing go right?”

“That’s because you’re too greedy, Commander. Empty your mind a bit. You’ll find satisfaction in the small things. Think about it—you’ve got a lot already.”

Tang Jihye jerked her head up. Jang Chwiyen continued scanning the paper casually.

“Getting lost in self-pity is a bad habit. But really, you’re far more blessed than you think.”

“…Didn’t you once call my life a documentary?”

“Even that’s on you. Not exactly shop talk material. Anyway, Commander, you were born with a lot.”

“……”

“If not, could you have left the Tang Clan and still live this noisy, fun life with your battalion? That’s because you’re strong. That’s why they follow you without complaint.”

“Jang Chwiyen, you too… right…?”

“Me, all of a sudden?”

“…Yeah.”

Tang Jihye scratched the back of her head awkwardly. She rolled her eyes dramatically before squeezing out her next words.

“Do you follow me because I’m strong…?”

Jang Chwiyen folded his newspaper in half, peeking over it. He answered bluntly.

“Commander.”

“…What.”

“Did you hit your head or something? No sarcasm—I’m genuinely worried.”

“You jerk!”

Tang Jihye jumped up in a huff.

“…I know it’s an embarrassing question!”

“Of course it is. If ‘strength’ was my only criterion for a boss, would I have followed you? Betraying the Family Head? The one called Poison Master?”

“…Fair point.”

Tang Jihye nodded in agreement. Jang Chwiyen set the paper aside and cleared the empty plates.

Tang Jihye fidgeted in place before pitching in to clean. Just as Jang Chwiyen was about to stop her.

Crash!

Sure enough, disaster struck.

A dish shattered spectacularly.

“…Uh.”

“Whoa…”

Tang Jihye froze. Jang Chwiyen nearly burst out laughing.

Her reflexes were lightning-fast in battle, shockingly agile. But daily chores? A total disaster.

As he swept up the shards with a broom at her feet, Jang Chwiyen said.

“See, you’re blessed, Commander.”

“……”

“Having someone like me to wait on you.”

“You just… won’t shut up…”

“Who’s been whining nonstop?”

“Fine! I get it!”

“Ow, my ears hurt.”

As the two bantered lightly.

-Here’s the hottest news lately! Right.

NNTV was in the middle of a talk show.

The host invited guests and lobbed innocent jokes. It was the same show where Sword Master Muyachi had been interviewed to celebrate joining Daesung Group.

Jang Chwiyen and Tang Jihye paused their cleanup to watch. The topic had piqued their interest.

That was when it happened.

Static… crackle.

Noise disrupted the city nightscape backdrop. Lights winked out one by one like old man’s loose teeth, then pop—the fuse blew.

The studio buzzed. The host smoothly carried on.

“Looks like a brief blackout! Staring at bluescreens too long can blind you!”

“In this day and age, just swap in cybernetic eyes. Daesung Group’s latest model’s pretty decent, Smart.”

The guest’s quick wit eased the host’s damage control.

A few seconds after the show went dark.

The displays lit up all at once. The host was about to sigh in relief.

“……!”

Everyone froze in shock.

The cityscape was gone. Instead, a ghostly young man was projected. Black hair, masked face.

A stranger to everyone in the studio.

…But not to the viewers.

“Why’s that guy on there?”

“You know him, but the commander knows him best.”

Jang Chwiyen and Tang Jihye recognized him instantly.

They’d just been talking about him. The show’s hot topic was him, after all.

But the panelists seemed clueless about the intruder.

“PD!”

The host summoned staff with a furious glare, a stark contrast to his prior warmth.

A headset-wearing crew rushed out, signaling frantically.

They planned to cut to commercial.

But this was unprecedented; they lacked the readiness.

Out of options, staff approached the display. The host’s piercing stare, arms crossed, urged them on.

As they reached for the power button.

The man on screen finally spoke.

Shock rippled through the faces.

The host, whose expression had twisted villainously, now grinned eagerly. He waved off the staff and turned fully to the screen.

“The new Ten Wings, Supreme himself!”

[……]

“We’ve wanted to invite you! Meeting like this… Any interest in appearing on our show?”

[A show… Not bad.]

“Oh! Then let’s schedule right—”

[First…]

“…?”

The man shifted aside slyly.

The revealed background stunned participants and viewers alike.

[This is Siesta’s human cultivation zone.]

Rows of incubation tubes crammed the space. Bald figures curled inside green fluid, chests rising and falling, bubbles foaming up.

[They’re probably planning to replace their private army entirely with mutants.]

“……!!”

[Siesta has watchdogs, but a bad example showed up. Yeah, me. So they scrapped the watchdogs and switched to mutants.]

The man seemed to walk with the camera, the view shaky enough to induce nausea.

[But get this—they’re also making humans to sell. For ‘organ donation’ obviously. Too obvious, right?]

Yet the next face captured was crystal clear. The man had stepped back, adjusting focus meticulously.

Thud!

The host bolted from his seat. Inside one tube…

“W-Wait!”

…A man identical to the guest sucked his thumb…

[I looked into your show. Siesta holds the biggest sponsorship stake—57%. Kinda makes you wonder about deals. And your guest lineup? Star-studded.]

“S-Staff! Staff, now!”

[If it’s just a bit, fine. But 57%? Your guests are big shots—why slum it here? They lose face. Even with solid backing.]

“F-Fuck!”

[Pimping them out feels good, huh?]

“Turn it off! Kill it! Off!”

The man’s gaze was unwavering.

Hatred. Loathing piercing the screen.

[Enjoying your middleman gig?]

The display finally died. The host panted raggedly. The guest collapsed in despair.

“Hey, you useless staff!”

Before catching his breath, he rallied the crew.

This was dire. Live or not, priorities first.

The staff hesitated. Stepping up meant risking a punch to the nose.

Then.

A staffer in a deep-brimmed cap climbed the stage. Slim build, male.

“You bastard. What the hell are you doing?”

The host grabbed his collar and snarled. The cap flew off in the scuffle.

“Answer me.”

The staffer spoke.

“Enjoying your pimping gig?”