Chapter 172: Progress (1)

A massive secret room.

Two people sat facing each other inside a room whose four walls were meticulously sealed with soundproofing material.

A light hung from the ceiling, dangling on a long cord. It was a neat yet somewhat tacky fixture. What kind of serene lighting was this in a secret room extravagant enough to dazzle the eyes with just one piece of soundproofing foam?

That incongruity made it clear this clandestine meeting was highly suspicious. At a glance, it resembled an interrogation scene.

Moreover, the woman was trembling under the desk. Considering her status, it was a rare sight.

After all, she was the top figure among broadcasting station CEOs.

Yet despite that…

“Hoo…”

The smoke the man boldly exhaled collided with the light. It swirled around the glow for a moment before vanishing.

In that instant, he blew out a long stream of smoke. This time, it clawed at the woman’s skin. She was someone obsessed with skincare and loathed cigarettes.

“This is troubling, very troubling.”

“We’ll make sure it doesn’t—”

“Talking to myself. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from responding.”

No one who lit a cigarette in front of her had escaped her sharp glare.

Correction.

It was rare. And yet, here was the man sitting across from her, bold as brass.

“That Supreme or whatever he is.”

The man spoke with the cigar clenched between his canines.

“How did it go?”

“…It should have been wrapped up nicely.”

“Ho. And the basis for your confidence?”

The woman hesitated. An excuse slipped out unbidden. As if she had any real grounds for certainty.

But she invoked the name of an existence that brought her close to certainty. Hoping this man would accept it.

“The Art Master stepped in.”

“…So Haragusa is involved in this too…?”

The man’s brow furrowed unpleasantly. The mink fur around the woman’s neck bristled.

“N-No way!”

She thrust out her hands in hasty denial. She was someone who normally prized dignity and propriety.

“Then why did the Art Master get involved?”

Gulp.

“A-As you know, the Supreme ransacked the broadcasting stations…”

“He did.”

“That pissed him off royally. It was like shitting on his own turf. Several dramas that were scheduled for filming got canceled because of it.”

“So she got pissed and went after the Supreme?”

“From what I heard, yes. Th-This much is certain. I secured ph-photos of the Art Master entering the Supreme’s lair!”

The woman pulled out a few photos from beneath her mink fur, showing the Art Master’s back and a sign beside her.

“Silver Nose Bar?”

“Yes. After a full investigation, we found the Supreme has set up base in this lower district spot.”

The man wedged the cigar between his fingers. He scratched his forehead with that hand and said,

“You knew his lair and still couldn’t take him out. How am I supposed to take this?”

“…We tried our best, but we lacked suitable volunteers.”

“Hm.”

The man grunted. He knew her excuse wasn’t half-hearted.

She was excellent enough for him to acknowledge. That’s why she was a broadcasting CEO. Why he was meeting her one-on-one.

“I get it.”

“…Thank you.”

“It’s only natural. Against a Ten Wings, who would volunteer? No amount of money matters once you’re dead.”

“That’s… true.”

Her response was lackluster. The word ‘money’ from his mouth felt out of place.

Those at the top of the food chain rarely talked about money. Just as we don’t suddenly remark on how fresh the air tastes today.

To them, money was like oxygen. Too fundamental to mention.

“Well, if the Art Master stepped in, I can rest easy, as you say. That monster doesn’t care about anything once she snaps—not water, not fire.”

“Exactly.”

The woman nodded vigorously. Her mink fur slipped down to her elbows. She seemed too flustered to fix it.

“From the reports, the Art Master stormed into the Silver Nose Bar fuming. At that point, it’s game over.”

She poured out words in a rush. The man listened silently before suddenly jerking his chin and asking,

“No reports after that?”

“Well… the informant reporting live went missing.”

“Cause of death?”

“Unknown.”

“How they died isn’t the point. Who killed them is.”

The woman fell abruptly silent.

“What relation was that informant to you?”

“My…”

The broadcasting CEO bit her lower lip. But under his piercing gaze, she had to let it go.

“…concubine.”

“Impressive that you sent your concubine as an informant. There must be a reason.”

“She was the one I trusted most. Lives with me, talks to me the most.”

“I see.”

The man ground out the cigar in his palm. A reddish burn mark remained.

“Does she know about your ‘connections’ with us?”

“……”

“Lying isn’t good. Tell the truth.”

“To… some extent.”

“Hm.”

The man leaned back. After a moment of contemplation, rubbing his brow with his thumb, he spoke again.

“Thinking about it, nothing too concerning. Your broadcasting station’s frequent exchanges with our ‘Siesta’ are public knowledge. From what I know of you, you’re not the type to leak secrets pillow-side.”

She had braced for death to confess that. Yet empty flattery returned.

Normally, she’d bow deeply. But her face paled. His analysis of her was spot-on.

As if he saw right through the mink fur.

That was why this dignified, allure-wielding CEO feared him so. His gift was Clairvoyant Eyes—eyes that pierced essence and attributes with a glance.

“Good.”

The man said.

“Thanks to you, I’ve got a decent idea.”

“…?”

“To get closest and talk the most, what do you do?”

“…Live together… right?”

“The Supreme must have someone like that. Say, the owner of that Silver Nose Bar.”

As his gaze fixed on the photo, his pupils swirled for an instant.

“A little kid too. Grab these two, and the Supreme will react. One way or another.”

“You’re suggesting a kidnapping.”

“Yes, well. Sometimes you gotta play dirty.”

“Understood.”

“We’ll send personnel from our side. Got some useful test subjects ready.”

“…Success?”

The man smirked mockingly. The woman felt her throat crack dry.

‘Success with cultured humans.’

Not mere copies. They were raised as combat personnel. That was key. Cultured humans were human replicas—fragile in durability.

Hence, Siesta insiders deemed them unfit for battle, per this man.

“Wasn’t it incomplete just recently?”

“Not perfect, but decent disposables. Cost us a fortune, but results are in.”

“Congratulations.”

“Save it for when we hear the Supreme’s taken care of. Anyway, shall we?”

“Ah, yes.”

They rose, pressing the desk. The secret room’s walls and floor opened simultaneously. The entire room ascended.

Their meetings worked this way. Never fixed locations. He summoned her position. A container box awaited where none had been.

‘Harbor today…’

Dockside summons had chilled her before. She’d lost sleep fearing some back-alley tryst.

Her former informant-concubine had warmed her bed then. Lost days ago. Ah, hiring anew was a hassle.

‘Sigh.’

The CEO inhaled deeply to clear her mind. Salty sea air hit her. Fitting rust, fishy tang…

‘Fishy?’

She fixed on the suddenly exposed exterior. The man beside her noticed too. Visible panic crossed his face. Understandably.

His gift was Clairvoyant Eyes. A glance revealed all.

Yet he’d sensed nothing just now. The surroundings felt colder than usual. Frigidly so…

“Cold?”

Looking again, container walls and floor connected to white frost. As if ice had been peeled away. Lee Taebaek’s ice magic.

Lee Taebaek had scattered an ice force field like a barrier to erase his and the Art Master’s presence. If she was right, that man was Siesta’s Executive Director Seong. A key figure risen via Clairvoyant Eyes.

Knowing that, Lee Taebaek poured all his mana. Froze the whole area solid. Why the guards became ice chunks without dying.

Falling guards would alert Seong. He’d learn eventually, but timing mattered.

‘After hearing these bastards out.’

That marked the coup’s start. Now.

Ah, not sparing guards, of course. Killed and frozen. Like frozen tuna. Fitting for the spot.

“Plotting here, were you?”

Lee Taebaek laughed. Seong froze in place, untouched by the ice magic.

Original plan: crane lifts container. Instead, tow truck changed—to human.

A woman hoisting the steel structure one-handed. She cocked her head cutely and continued.

“Hi, CEO?”

“Y-You…!”

The Art Master!

Her eyes darted sideways.

The CEO clamped her mouth shut.

The Supreme, Lee Taebaek, stood right there.

“If you’re gonna romance, this is overkill, no? Don’t make a scene in someone else’s business—go to a motel, a motel.”

Cheap wording for an actress. The Art Master lived off her talents, but drew lines with her benefactor CEO.

That swagger implied two things. She had the CEO’s weakness. Or…

‘No lingering attachments…’

If quitting the industry, such recklessness fit. Her mind tangled. Unsure if this conclusion held.

“Ja-Jamukha. Why on earth.”

The CEO stammered. Then the Art Master hefted the container. Hurled it far. It splashed near the horizon.

“Cultured humans, huh.”

As the CEO and Seong gawked, footsteps echoed. The Art Master cracked her knuckles approaching them.

“I just made bad memories there. Public figures need public service announcements too. Right, CEO?”

With that, the Art Master unleashed Tremor Stomp.