Baron Mallo regained his composure in no time.

The despair that had clouded his face faded quickly. Abigail Mallo was the kind of man with the guts to sit in that position. His martial prowess might not match the other two executives, but when it came to boldness, he was second to none.

He ran his steady hand over his solar plexus.

“Urgh.”

It seemed his ribs had snapped inward like a bent hook. He could feel the sharp tip of a rib piercing his lung—a fatal wound.

But it wasn’t quite enough to threaten his life. After all, organs could just be swapped out with implants. It was an era where even hearts could be replaced with steel.

The brain, however, was the exception.

Damage to the brain shut down all functions.

Thus, modern humanity had achieved near-immortality in lifespan, but true undying remained a distant dream.

Anyway.

That pretty-boy “Butcher” knew how to kill. He’d invaded the brain with his blade, ensuring a sure death.

And despite his slender build, the guy packed some serious power. He’d managed to sever the neck with that thin knife, clean and quick.

Human neck bones aren’t that easy to cut.

Even in an age flooded with prosthetics, the toughness of natural flesh held up decently.

For instance, the repulsive force between blade and bone often broke the wielder’s weapon instead.

Yet this guy had harvested that natural body like a farmer scything rice in autumn? At a glance, he didn’t even have cybernetic limbs.

So, to sum it up: the Butcher was strong. Top-tier strong, no doubt.

Where the hell did they send a guy like that from? This was supposed to be a happy time, not some bolt from the blue…

The baron reflected as he stared at the Butcher.

…Someone with a grudge against me…

There were too many to count.

Way too many. No point narrowing it down.

If you compiled his misdeeds into an autobiography, it’d dwarf most epic novels in length.

At least the recent friction was with…

Those moth bastards flitting around in wingsuits came to mind. Their group was called the “Lilith Order,” if memory served.

A cult he’d put out of his mind because a woman’s name was embedded in the title. It suddenly resurfaced in his thoughts.

I’ll look into it later.’

For now, back to reality.

First, I need to buy time.

He’d wired ECG monitors to his lovers. If they died, it would automatically alert the lobby.

They’ll be here in under five minutes, no doubt.’

Then he’d smash that arrogant Butcher’s nose flat.

Actually, no. That sleek profile was appealing. Better to shatter the limbs and keep him as a toy.

Heh heh heh.

That was when it happened.

Splat—

The sound of bloody grime and flesh scraps sloughing off the blade. Moments later, the Butcher hopped up onto the dais.

Thud thud.

The Butcher strode across the table toward the baron.

Baron Mallo nearly suffered cardiac arrest on the spot, as if his earlier smirking had never happened. The Butcher’s swaggering gait felt downright insolent, like the Grim Reaper making his rounds.

The Butcher halted at mid-range distance. He loomed over the baron, close enough to touch with an outstretched foot.

The baron bulged his eyes wide. He tried to feign calm and gasp in outrage.

“…I don’t know where you’re from, but—”

But he couldn’t finish.

The Butcher swung his leg like a club, kicking the baron square. The smack echoed off the soundproof walls. A dental implant ejected from the baron’s jaw.

The gold prosthetic ricocheted off the wall a couple times before embedding in the wall display. It lodged perfectly into the jaw of the man on screen.

Noise erupted from the wall display.

The man on screen roared in ecstasy.

The baron clutched his jaw, groaning in agony.

“Grrraaah… F-f-fuck.”

The unprovoked first strike shattered the baron’s nefarious plans along with his jaw. You need dialogue to hatch any scheme.

…This guy’s insane.’

The Butcher had outright revoked his right to speak. Even in the world of violence, such a lunatic was rare.

The only comparable was the Gang Alliance’s leader, who named her bike “Red Hare.” That lunatic woman.

With his guts already mangled, thinking of his girls twisted his intestines further.

“Hey.”

“…”

The Butcher, now squatting in front of him, spoke.

He patted the baron’s cheek lightly. No response. So he grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back like snapping a chicken’s neck.

The baron’s exposed face was a sickly blue-gray. Gone was the thug who tormented others with his pride.

“Wanna die?”

“…”

“Quit scheming.”

The Butcher stood haloed by the dim, reddish-pink glow unique to hostess bars. In his other hand, he held up a liquor bottle.

“The last one left standing—especially if they’re an executive—always tries to stall.”

“…!”

“Probably wired ECGs to your underlings’ hearts or something.”

“…!!”

Damn, how’d he know?

The baron’s hand over his philtrum trembled uncontrollably. Blood gushed between his fingers like vital essence.

“How? Play about two thousand games, and your type gets auto-sorted and filed in my head.”

“…”

Baron Mallo realized anew that the Butcher held his life in his hands. He was a hamster in a psychopath’s grip.

“Spare me. Gangster plots are all the same anyway.”

“…What’s your business?”

“Business…”

The Butcher, Lee Taebaek, tapped his forehead lightly with the bottle’s base.

“Got it. The business.”

Lee Taebaek’s motion stopped.

“Any underlings with the surname Lionheart? I’ll hit the other executives’ bases too, but it’d be nice if he’s here.”

“The other executives’ bases… why?”

“None of your business.”

“…”

“Lionheart. Know ’em? No? Die quick, and I’ll check the next.”

How could someone talk murder without a whiff of emotion? Thinking that, the baron replied.

“…Spare me if I talk?”

“You’re dense.”

“At least… give me a shot to negotiate my ransom…”

“Depends on the price.”

Lee Taebaek jerked his chin.

“Spill. Got a Lionheart?”

“I know all my gang’s internal members’ names. Men only.”

The baron emphasized the last part.

“Anyway, only one Monterey Gang guy fits: male, surname Lionheart. Leon. That’s your man.”

“…Leon Lionheart… A wife-and-child beater with a hero’s name.”

“Hero in bed.”

“Fuck. Where’s he now?”

“Wandering the afterlife by now.”

Lee Taebaek furrowed his brow.

“No games.”

“Straight facts. He’s dead.”

“When.”

“Three minutes ago.”

“By who?”

“Who else?”

The answer was curt.

“…By you, of course.”

With his hair still gripped, the baron nodded toward the door. At the end of his gaze, the first casualty lay nose-deep in blood.

“…I see.”

Lee Taebaek sighed softly. Good—he’d achieved his goal by accident.

But a guy with a family, off robbing with the boss…

That’s gang life—selling your manhood to survive.’

Posing as the baron’s lover must have made his pent-up anger explode. And that became abuse toward his own family. Cycle of violence.

“Damn! That one screw-up underling…!”

The baron berated his dead subordinate. Calculated. To downplay his own presence.

“Looks like he was your target, the rest collateral. How about we call it here? Only I saw your face. I shut up, no more blood on either side.”

The baron dangled the bait.

Abigail Mallo. The man who’d clawed his way to one of Monterey’s three executive seats with just his silver tongue and balls of steel.

He eyed Lee Taebaek like a fisherman watching a nibble. Then continued.

“And I swear on my honor, I won’t breathe a word. I’ll pay clean cash for my life.”

“How much?”

“When your life’s on the line, does the amount matter? Name it. I’ll match as best I can. You know Monterey’s funds.”

“…”

“If I must, at least ten billion from my accounts.”

The baron snickered inwardly.

After a few exchanges, the guy didn’t seem totally immovable.

Kicking first without warning was startling, but if grudges were involved, it tracked.

People got emotional when resentment boiled over. As a gangster swimming in grudges, the baron knew victims’ psyches inside out.

“Ten billion.”

Lee Taebaek mulled it dryly.

“Big money.”

“Damn right! Even retiring from a megacorp might not net that!!”

“Exactly.”

Lee Taebaek nodded.

Only then did the baron outwardly brighten. For a moment, he glimpsed hope—

“—Kidnapping boys and girls, selling them to megacorp perverts. Once they’re grown, straight to the labs as guinea pigs…”

“H-how do you—?!”

“Knew it all, so I targeted you first among the three execs, you piece of shit.”

Killing intent. Lee Taebaek showed expression before Abigail Mallo for the first time.

“Squeezing ten billion from one—no, hundreds, thousands of lives. That blood money. To save your trash life? Told you scheming meant death.”

“That was under megacorp threats—!”

“Hear that? That’s what he says.”

In a flash, the door opened. Two people entered with clicking heels. Faint perfume made the baron retch again.

“Urghhh! Fuck! Daring to defile this sacred space…!”

The bottle whistled past the baron’s mouth. He face-planted on the table and passed out. Foam bubbled in his vomit.

“Going out in style.”

Lee Taebaek left the sour stench behind.

He pivoted in his squat. Two women came into view. Battalion members he hadn’t seen in a while: Yu Dahui and Rock.

“The man confessed?”

“…”

“…”

They both stiffened, pinching their noses in unison. The smell was brutal. Lee Taebaek donned his mask again.

“All true?”

Yu Dahui asked nasally. Lee Taebaek thumbed over his shoulder.

“That’s why Hyeonseong sent you and Rock up. Socket behind that bastard’s ear. Hack it.”

Before entering Stiletto Club, Lee Taebaek had informed Kang Hyeonseong of his plans and requested 9th Battalion support.

Naturally, Kang had exploded. For the record, he wasn’t one for self-preservation. Far from it.

But the scale was too big. Without justification, the 9th would shoulder full blame. It could spark a feud with the Gang Alliance.

Unless the full Resistance mobilized—but that required tying in their archenemy, the megacorps. So Lee Taebaek planned to deliver evidence from the scene.

“Hit the bathroom first. Unless you wanna puke shoulder-to-shoulder with him.”

“…”

“Taebaek… how’d you…”

“Anonymous tip.”

Lee Taebaek tossed the bottle as he spoke. It shattered like sand. Nerf power.

“That’s the external agent’s role. Gather intel, pass to HQ, plan ops.”

In the end, the baron confessed.

Lee Taebaek had deliberately not [nerfed] Abigail Mallo’s mind. The extra effort was for vivid on-site impact.

It minimized battalion doubts. Yu Dahui and Rock’s saucer eyes confirmed it worked.

Had it all been planned?

Affirmative.

As I said before.

Bad games? I don’t even start.’

Here, “game” isn’t limited to click-clack.

For a gamer, all of life is quests and obstacles to conquer.

“Where’s Hyeonseong and Fumito?”

“Downstairs… probably tying up all the gangsters on the first floor by now.”

“No deaths among them?”

“Doubt it. Casualties? One or two at most. Just in case.”

“Good.”

Stepping off the table, Lee Taebaek brushed past them.

“Hack Baron Mallo here.”

“Taebaek, you?”

Lee Taebaek just smiled quietly. Couldn’t say he was off human hunting.

Time-honored farming basics: mob hunting.

Confirmed they’re all fair game.

Now, time to level up.