…Boom!

The man with the scar running across the bridge of his nose slammed the underside of his fist down hard on the round table. A cigar was stuck to his lips like it had been glued there.

“That new Ten Wings bastard or whatever he is! Do you have any idea how much the broadcasting stations are losing in total because of him?!”

The man was the NBC Director. The previous incident had happened at another station. But his eyes were bloodshot as if it had been his own problem.

And he wasn’t the only one. Everyone seated at the table was in the same boat. Each showed their frustration in their own way. The reason, as the NBC Director had said, was Lee Taebaek. The stations were going through an unexpected ordeal because the guy was rampaging through them.

That was why this meeting had been called. An emergency countermeasures conference. In any industry, executives from competing companies didn’t sharpen their knives at each other. If anything, the opposite was true. Party leaders who appeared to be sworn enemies on the surface often had close ties behind the scenes.

The broadcasting world was no different. They met periodically to coordinate so their content didn’t overlap. They even scripted fights if topics collided—how to brawl it out on air. Occasionally, they staged fake squabbles to fool the dumb viewers. People preferred conflict over harmony.

But today’s meeting was different. Far from the usual jovial atmosphere, the directors’ faces were filled with gloom.

“That bastard’s been barging into stations and causing chaos, tanking our ad revenue. We’re already scraping by on scraps from the megacorps, and now even that’s at risk!”

“…So what do you suggest we do?”

The cold retort came from a woman with a marten fur stole around her neck. She was the de facto head of the group.

She was the director of the most influential broadcasting station in the City. The other directors tacitly backed her words. Even now, they nodded in silent agreement.

“What…? I wasn’t suggesting anything specific. Just that we need countermeasures. That’s all.”

The NBC Director’s tone softened a notch.

“You know we’re in deep shit if this continues. We’re about to get royally screwed.”

“That’d be lucky. That Supreme guy or whatever’s been raiding Siesta factories. He’s not some Red-Light District regular—why’s he poking around there so much…?”

“And we’re the ones stuck bearing the backlash. We can’t let emotions rule, but as you said, NBC Director, it’s time for action.”

“VVS Director.”

All eyes turned to the head of the table. The VVS Director crossed her arms, enduring the stares from every direction.

“We need urgent measures.”

“…”

“Frankly, who cares what happens to the stations? We need to survive first. And at this rate, we’re all dead meat.”

“…”

“Dying by the Supreme’s hand might be less infuriating. Siesta’s gearing up to slit our throats one by one.”

“No. If they slit our throats, at least we’d die cleanly. I first saw it during that ‘Supreme’s Broadcasting Station Raid Incident.’ Never imagined Siesta was doing cultured human research.”

Everyone nodded.

“It’s a taboo subject we all avoid, and Siesta actually carried it out. I haven’t slept since.”

“Exactly. They’re that ruthless. If the arrows turn our way… who knows how far they’ll go.”

“We could end up pickled in polymorph jars like preserves. Be honest—who here hasn’t taken Siesta money? The Director who got hit this time just took more. We’ve all taken some.”

“Ha…”

The woman cradled her forehead in one hand.

“…We didn’t gather to whine. If you want countermeasures, stop talking and propose something viable.”

“Th-that’s…”

“My job? When I first showed up, you dismissed me as a woman and groped for my thigh. Now I’m the leader? You’ve all had a sudden awakening as citizens.”

“…”

She exhaled a long sigh like cigarette smoke.

“How much slush money have you each stashed?”

“Why do you ask…?”

“Why? You say the Ten Wings are the problem. So we counter with another Ten Wing.”

“That’s easier said than done. The Ten Wing who sold violence for cash didn’t survive.”

He meant Saber Master Muyachi. And he’d died by the Supreme’s hand. It felt like his throat was tightening.

“True. But there’s someone similar among the Ten Wings. Connected to us. And someone who wouldn’t take kindly to the stations collapsing.”

One face fit all three conditions—‘must be a Ten Wing’ included. Strength? No need to ask. He could handle three Ten Wings single-handedly. Two were exceptions, of course.

“Would the Art Master even listen to us…? Things have soured with him lately.”

The VVS Director clicked her tongue.

“Why’d you cast that idol bitch? If it had been a hit, fine. How’s it doing?”

“…”

“Disastrous, right? You pissed off the Art Master. That’s why you’re shelling out big to meet him. Why cast some no-talent hack who can’t act? Be straight, Director. You got paid, didn’t you?”

“…It’s that kind of industry.”

“I’m not saying don’t do it—be selective. Why shove a loser into a drama the Art Master was eyeing?”

“Won’t happen again.”

The VVS Director shook her head in disgust. The NBC Director placed his cigar between her index and middle fingers.

“We’ll scrape the money together somehow. So…”

“Don’t tell me to play nice at the table. Is it just your necks on the line? Mine’s burning too. Best effort? Of course. Or we’ll end up Siesta preserves.”

“Thank you, Director.”

“If you’re thankful—”

The VVS Director snapped the cigar in half, laying down the law.

“Get the cash pronto! No time. Move!”

The directors shot to their feet. The VVS Director massaged her eyelids as she watched their pathetic, scrambling retreat.

Eunko Bar.

In the empty space with just the bar counter, Lee Taebaek and Jasbi tilted their glasses.

“…I see.”

Lee Taebaek sipped bourbon.

“Yes. That’s what they said.”

Jasbi drank coconut milk.

“The directors are plotting something. Even dragging in the Art Master? Ha! Hilarious. As if that hack could catch our Creator?!”

Jasbi feigned outrage.

“Your acting’s improved.”

“Hehe. Picked it up imitating the VVS Director.”

The directors could never imagine the truth was right here.

“Harvesting prototypes like me from the Siesta factories was the haul. But anyway.”

Jasbi pointed her thumb at herself, chin raised arrogantly.

“All duds!”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re full of shit, Jasbi.”

“Creator should take more pride. You own this Jasbi!”

Jasbi struck a pose, hands on hips.

“…”

Lee Taebaek’s eyes narrowed. Jasbi sat back innocently, slurping her coconut milk. After a long silence, he broke it.

“Good work.”

“…!”

“The shell was courtesy of the Great Master. The remote-control guts came from raiding Siesta factories. But the operator matters most. Thanks to you, we got the intel first, Jasbi. Appreciate it.”

“Creator!”

Jasbi dove behind a chair into the corner.

Huddled tight, she trembled, fists clenched over her chest.

“A-are you gonna kill me now? Why the sudden praise?!”

Really want to smack her.

Lee Taebaek swallowed the urge and spoke calmly.

“Saber Master’s death hit me. He wasn’t close, but losing someone I knew stirred something big.”

Suuuuck.

Jasbi’s cheeks hollowed. Returning smoothly like taffy, she nursed her straw. Lee Taebaek smiled faintly.

The next instant, a piercing scream soaked into the walls. As Jasbi rolled away, Goeun yawned languidly descending the stairs. Routine for her.

“Jasbi. Acting up and got hit again?”

“Nobody! Nobody’s on my side!”

“Obviously. With your personality?”

“Waaah!”

The noisy lull lasted briefly. Goeun dropped ice cubes into green tea and sat beside Lee Taebaek. Wiping condensation from her glass idly, she asked,

“Where to this time.”

“Not where. Directors are pulling in the Art Master to stop me.”

“Oh my. Desperate thrashing to save their skins. Way out of their league.”

Goeun rolled two ice cubes in her mouth with the tea.

“Haragusa will approve it, though. You’re a thorn in their side, Taebaek.”

“Reason?”

“Your Siesta raids have righteous cause. Haragusa rivals Siesta in dirtiness. Next target’s obvious, right?”

“Fair point.”

“…Hate saying this to your face, but your growth’s appropriately insane. Our brawl here was barely a year ago.”

Goeun tapped the bar lightly, propping her cheek on her elbow. Sipping tea in a slouch, she continued.

“Now you’re one of the City’s top dogs. Haragusa wants you nipped quick—or recruited. But they know the latter’s hopeless.”

“Not the type to serve under anyone.”

“You’re not the type to serve under anyone.”

Goeun smirked at the silly joke. Brushing hair behind her ear, she added,

“And definitely not the type to sit back drinking without countermeasures.”

“You know me too well. Landlady.”

“Living together a year, that’s baseline. Honestly, nothing happening stings my pride a bit.”

“…”

“Kidding.”

“Phew.”

“Actually serious.”

Which is it?

Lee Taebaek didn’t ask. He downed the rest of his bourbon, slamming the glass on the bar. He glanced consciously at the wall clock.

“He’s due.”

“Hm? Who?”

As if on cue, Eunko Bar’s door opened. Goeun’s gaze shifted naturally, her expression soon turning stunned.

Even as her hand crumpled her clothes, Lee Taebaek didn’t look, replying,

“Countermeasure.”

The uninvited guest, the Art Master, glared at Lee Taebaek with seething eyes.