Chapter 37: Cyber Psycho (6)

Monterey’s Three Executives.

Baron Abigail Mallo.

A full-blown knife fight was raging at the Stiletto Club he managed.

In just an hour, roughly twenty gangsters had lost their heads under the blades.

Getting wiped out en masse during turf wars was commonplace in the underworld. That was the law of the lawless.

However, out of consideration for potential backlash, the unwritten rule was to kill only about five and leave the rest strung up as warnings.

Yet here…

Under the 9th Battalion’s lead, Baron Mallo’s forces were turning into headless corpses one after another.

The gangsters begged for their lives, but Lee Taebaek’s Para Blade showed no mercy.

Slash!

Lee Taebaek decapitated them with mechanical precision.

“Taebaek, let me help too.”

“Stay back.”

He rebuffed even Fumito’s offer to assist. He’d started this, so he’d see it through with his own blood on his hands.

“Tch. This is boring.”

“If you’re bored, gag those squealing bastards over there.”

“Fine, whatever. Oh! What about the bodies?”

“We’ll burn them later. Pile ’em up.”

Rock watched the scene from the second-floor balcony, chin resting on her hand.

“……”

The slaughterhouse-like sight turned her stomach. Even she, who’d seen her share of action, couldn’t help thinking it was a bit much.

Splatter…!

By the time about ten more gangsters’ heads flew.

‘Whew.’

Rock averted her eyes from the bloodbath and returned to Yu Dahui’s side to help with the hacking.

And as the hack progressed, she belatedly realized her earlier emotions had been naive.

“……”

Rock’s delicate brows furrowed tighter. Her breathing grew ragged even through the mask— the mark of rising agitation.

Yu Dahui’s face soured too. She repeatedly removed and replaced her glasses, trying to stay composed.

Finally, the hack completed. A suffocating silence blanketed the room. It shattered a few minutes later.

“…That bastard deserves to die a hundred times over……”

Yu Dahui glared at the baron with his face planted in the table like he was vermin. She swept back her hair.

“Not just him—all the scum dying by Taebaek’s hand right now too. I hate stooping to crude insults, but these are real fucking pieces of shit. He’s done damn near everything you can do to a person.”

Yu Dahui turned away. Her folded glasses slipped neatly into her gown pocket.

“I pride myself on a strong stomach, you know? I’ve seen psychopaths extract brains and pickle them in polymorph jars… psychos making furniture from human bones… But this Abigail or whatever the hell his name is? What he’s done goes way beyond the pale.”

“……”

She couldn’t even bring herself to say it aloud. No need to. The baron’s litany of atrocities was being projected into the air via hologram footage.

– P-Please, spare me…!

– Hey, grab that runner!

– Leave him be, you idiot who doesn’t get it. The real fun’s in catching the ones who run and crushing them—don’t you know that?!

Devils.

No other word fit.

Baron Mallo and his crew had literally disassembled humans for fun. Like a child playing with insects.

Yu Dahui dismissed the footage with a swipe. She stared into the space it had occupied, falling briefly silent. Rock mulled it over in quiet thought.

‘Even the dead speak now, it seems.’

In Lake City, hacking human brains like this was possible. The frontrunners in that tech were Megacorp.

They sought to subjugate not just Lake City, but the entire world. Monopolizing information was the cornerstone of their grand scheme.

Megacorp viewed individuals as walking memory chips. They had zero respect for life.

Their recent push fit the pattern. Lately, they’d been aggressively promoting full-brain chip implants via broadcasts, terminals, radio—every medium.

The trend caught on in the upper districts, with over half the residents drilling net sockets behind their ears. Blissfully ignorant it marked them as slaves.

That was why the Resistance thwarted Megacorp at every turn.

Freedom was their top priority. They were natural foes of Megacorp’s surveillance state. Rock shared that ethos and fought alongside them.

‘Yu Dahui seems to have her own reasons, though.’

Classified info known only to Kang Hyeonseong and the Commander-in-Chief within the Resistance.

Yu Dahui was a woman of many secrets. Her enigmatic allure captivated many male members—until they learned she was a rose with thorns and fled.

“Even if human dignity’s become an archaic joke…”

Yu Dahui drew her gun and said. With a sharp clack, she racked the slide deftly.

“…there are lines you just don’t cross.”

The barrel gleamed red under the lights. A rare spark of excitement from her usual deadpan demeanor. She turned to Rock.

“Right, Rock?”

“……”

Rock didn’t fully agree with Yu Dahui. She was the type to blast away without hesitation. Talking morals and lines rang hollow, self-contradictory. Yet…

Nod, nod.

Rock nodded anyway.

Because unlike the baron, Yu Dahui didn’t kill for personal gain. It was always for the greater good—for freedom’s sake. She stained her hands riding that noble cause.

“Thanks, Rock.”

Yu Dahui smiled, raising her gun.

“I know you don’t fully open up to me, but you’re the only other female squad member, so it means a lot to have your empathy.”

Comparing her to a baron who killed and toyed with people for sport was unfair. Gunning down such trash was a waste of bullets and effort.

That was Rock’s conclusion. She nudged Yu Dahui’s barrel downward with a fingertip, lowering the aim. Yu Dahui’s eyes demanded explanation.

Rock hooked her index finger like a ring inside her mask, then pulled it down to bare her lips. Yu Dahui’s lips parted in surprise.

“No way… Rock, you?”

Rock offered only a wry smile. She approached Baron Mallo and whispered something brief into his ear—too short for a spell.

“■■■.”

The table shuddered faintly. Baron Mallo, cheek pressed to it, convulsed.

Crash!

The man teetering on death’s edge didn’t just awaken—he thrashed wildly. Bottles rolled and shattered spectacularly.

Rock’s gifted ability.

Curse Speech.

Second time Yu Dahui had witnessed it. Rock loathed using it.

“Rock, you……”

“……”

Rock readjusted her mask. Dark fatigue had already settled under her eyes. Yu Dahui holstered her gun and looked away.

“Gaaah… Uuughk……!”

Screams ricocheted off the soundproof walls.

The baron’s pupils ballooned to devour his sclera, then shrank to pinpricks. Veins bulged jaggedly across his pallid skin; his hair fell out in clumps, leaving him bald. He looked like a true undead.

“K-Kill… m-me……!!”

Abigail Mallo squeezed out the plea with every ounce of strength. His front teeth were smeared with bloody tears and nosebleed. The blood was purple.

“P-Please… please, just kill me!”

The baron begged—not for life, but death.

The two women turned their backs dismissively and left the room. The door shut behind them.

Even through soundproofing, his screams pierced through. Abigail Mallo would writhe in agony worse than death until he withered away.

Hoping it brought solace to his victims, they headed downstairs. Yu Dahui shot Rock worried glances the whole way. Rock walked in silence.

Curse Speech didn’t curse only the target. The caster bore its weight too. “Gifted” meant divine blessing, but for Rock, it was an inescapable curse.

A perfect fit for its name.

Game studios tally stats per quest and graph the results.

The goal: study which quest types spur active player engagement.

Stats show most players love simple hunting quests.

Click-click. Hunt, level up—effortless. Burnt-out players want brain-off escapism in games.

Empty your head, feel pure controls, follow the questline—total satisfaction!

Simple hunts catch two rabbits with one stone.

‘Though devs hate it……’

Just artistic ego.

‘I crafted this epic story—you have to experience it.’ Selfish devs shed users like leaves.

Players want substance over fluff. Story? Who cares.

I won’t deny feeling miffed back then. Quests weren’t mere entertainment. I wanted to prove it.

Show and prove.

But nah.

Conclusion: wrong. Lee Taebaek had flipped entirely.

Games’ essence? Fun.

Quests? Simple hunts!

“Whew.”

Lee Taebaek exhaled hot breath, wiping cold sweat. His collar was soaked in his sweat and others’ blood. Seeing labor’s value visually doubled the pride.

Above all, it was fun. Crisp swings melted stress away—even by his standards.

Plus, beheading scum meant zero guilt. Chanting “hunt” made the blade dance on its own.

Lee Taebaek sheathed the Para Blade under his armpit and drew it clean. His side grew slick.

Tedious, but wipe blood immediately. Prevents blade damage.

Crusted blood like scorched rice? Headache. Sanding it thins the edge, risks snapping.

‘…Why do I know this so well?’

Never learned it. Lee Taebaek tilted his head puzzledly—then his eyes drifted to a corner. An alert blinked.

Oh right. Notification mid-hunt. Dismissed it amid focus; forgotten already. Too immersed in gangster-hunting.

‘Level gains were insane.’

Now he got why players crave “simple hunts.” Devs clouding views with story? Dogshit perspective. Stats don’t lie.

Anyway.

‘All done.’

The club was a demon’s den. Bones, flesh, corpses—hell’s triad incarnate.

Kang Hyeonseong, hardened to it all, nursed a drink at the bar. Thanks to Fumito’s cleanup, stray heads dwindled.

‘Time to call in the 8th.’

8th handled body disposal—hence “Scavengers” in rumors.

‘Hyeonseong’ll handle contact.’

After Lee Taebaek’s solo rampage, reaching out directly? Insult and betrayal.

Share glory, share blame. That’s team.

“First, my gains.”

As Lee Taebaek checked personal results, Yu Dahui and Rock approached.

“Something up? You look off.”

Kang Hyeonseong noted. He’d been downing liquor at the bar by the stairs.

“…Nah.”

“Spit it out.”

He pressed mildly.

“Clear the glass first. Might make you hurl.”

“Puke on my dime? Try me.”

Kang Hyeonseong smirked; Yu Dahui sighed. She recounted Baron Mallo’s atrocities.

Not a word spared—respect to victims. Vivid details painted clear pictures.

Fumito paused hauling bodies, ears perked. Lee Taebaek stayed stoic.

“That’s how it went.”

Silence fell. The grim backdrop deepened the fury.

“……”

“……”

Kang Hyeonseong’s buzz vanished. His glass-gripping hand trembled.

Clink!

It shattered under his grip.

Screech.

He snatched a bottle, glass shards still biting his palm—blood slicked it. He strode to Fumito, who yielded instantly. Eye contact sufficed.

…Pop!

Tough bite-twist off the cap. He doused the corpses. Potent fumes filled the air.

“Hyeonseong.”

Lee Taebaek blocked him.

“Burning the club with the bodies won’t fix your rage.”

“……”

Lee Taebaek stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“…What’re you saying……”

“I get the anger. That’s why I slit their throats no questions asked. But torch the club too? You’d torpedo any negotiation with the Gang Alliance. Act unilaterally without the Commander-in-Chief? She’s on your side, fine—but the other commanders? They’d pounce, colluding to dismantle the 9th.”

“I’ll take responsibility—”

“Responsibility isn’t yours alone to claim. It’s assigned—by the Commander-in-Chief. She says you shoulder it solo? Fine. But if others grill you endlessly, what can she do? She’s the decider, not dictator. Someone like that couldn’t lead a ‘freedom-first’ Resistance.”

Actions can’t stem from emotion.

Even Lee Taebaek hadn’t rushed the Stiletto Club blindly.

En route, intense calculations solidified the plan. Blind revenge? He’d be one of those headless bodies.

“So… Taebaek, hand these bodies to the 8th? Those corpse-picking bastards? You act like you don’t know ’em—they’re Resistance in name only, Megacorp sympathizers. They’ll loot info like vultures!”

“Hand ’em over. Grunts’ intel’s worthless anyway. Key stuff? Our folks grabbed it—and purged traces so others can’t touch.”

Rock nodded reluctantly. Felt like the Monkey King in Buddha’s palm. Even this guy…

“Offload the soft underbelly to the 8th. Lets us demand bigger concessions legitimately.”

“Bigger how?”

“Here.”

Thud-thud. Lee Taebaek stomped twice.

“We claim this as the 9th’s external independent base camp.”

“Uh… Taebaek.”

Fumito scratched his cheek.

“Resistance avoids outer bases not for lack of spots… but security. Idea rocks, but branding it 9th Battalion? Practical issues.”

“Who said under the 9th’s name?”

“…Huh?”

“We run it, but borrow the venue name and owner.”

Lee Taebaek flicked out the Hyeopjeon with a nail. It arced high, landing softly on his hand.

“Owner: Jin Sobang, Branch Leader of District 31.”

He swung his gaze around the club, continuing.

“Purpose: Shelter for the lowest district’s vagrants. Charity means tax-free and skips city audits, right?”

“W-Wait, Taebaek—you planned this far…?!”

“Something like that.”

Jaws dropped. Least shocked Yu Dahui stammered,

“Th-Then… the facility name?”

Lee Taebaek grinned.

“Hundred-Fold Sect Branch 1.”