novelraw Chapter 75
Chapter 75
Chapter 75
Anyway, the fact that the Paradoxical Flame had finally reached the point where it could even burn away the concept of thought itself was extremely positive.
It was not just that it could burn thoughts. This was a kind of standard, a sign that my Paradoxical Flame had succeeded in surpassing a certain height.
If someone got caught in it properly, I could drag them into a state close to unconsciousness for at least a minute, no matter how short. And more than that…
“The mist covering Jaun Valley won’t be able to affect us.”
I could use the Paradoxical Flame like a gas mask filter. Jung Oh-hoon, who had only just come to his senses, looked at me with a very uncomfortable expression.
“It felt like I was being forcibly put under general anesthesia. Honestly, I never want to experience that again.”
That was Jung Oh-hoon’s impression. Still, burning thoughts was something I could never do on myself. If my own thoughts burned up, who would control the Paradoxical Flame?
“Tell me exactly what it was like.”
At my words, Jung Oh-hoon slowly began to describe what he had experienced as his thoughts burned. Through that, I was able to confirm the extent of the effect I could expect, within the boundaries I could currently control.
While we were discussing this seriously, talking about how to apply it to our team’s future operations, there was a sudden knock at the door.
Nanami had gone to meet the President of the Korean Hunter Association, and Lee Se-eun was out handling a newly received request. So no one was scheduled to visit today.
“Hello. I’m Woo Sang-sik, representative of Friendly Friends, the National Erosion Zone Victims Relief Alliance.”
A middle-aged man in a suit smiled as he greeted us.
“Yes, hello. I’m Yoo Chan-seok.”
At my words, he made a delighted sound and held out his hand.
“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”
He was a suspicious person, whatever purpose and intention he had brought. The Erosion Zone Victims Relief Alliance, was it.
“Mr. Woo Sang-sik, this is our first meeting. Could you tell me why you’ve come?”
At my question, he laughed awkwardly. Since he had come, I brought out some simple refreshments and tea.
Once seated, Woo Sang-sik started talking about all sorts of things. To put it simply, it was a self-promotion session about how much activity this victim alliance called Friendly Friends was supposedly carrying out.
Listening, Han Sang-ah turned to me.
“He sounds like he’s asking for money… Am I right?”
I nodded slightly, and Han Sang-ah clenched her fist and whispered, “Yes.” She looked pleased at having guessed right.
“Now, don’t put it that way… it’s simply asking for a meaningful donation to a good cause.”
Han Sang-ah responded to Woo Sang-sik’s words.
“The Erosion Zone Victims Relief Alliance, Friendly Friends. That’s quite a large organization. Let’s see. Last year, 35 percent of total expenditures went to administrative management, 10 percent to special expenses, 5 percent to development cooperation, 35 percent to miscellaneous costs… meaning only about 15 percent was spent on actual relief projects, right?”
At her words, Woo Sang-sik’s expression stiffened slightly.
“Ordinary relief organizations usually allocate about 90 percent of their total expenditures to project costs, including fundraising activities.”
Han Sang-ah scratched her head and continued.
“Of course, I think that ratio is too extreme. For long-term organizational sustainability, I think around 70 percent for project costs would be reasonable. But if the percentage of actual relief expenses is too low, public criticism becomes fierce, so there’s no choice.”
But this man who had come before us, in his case it was only 15 percent.
“You’re the CEO, your wife is the secretary-general, your son is the head of planning and management, your daughter-in-law is in the sponsorship division, and your younger brother is a research fellow. Most of the members are school friends or other acquaintances.”
Han Sang-ah kept scrolling on her smartphone as she spoke.
“Among the relief supplies purchased with project funds, there were electronics. A Galaxy S2 3G model…? Was that even still circulating? It says you purchased them at 850,000 won each. On the used market, SIM-free, they sell for 15,000 won.”
She tucked her phone back into her pocket. Jung Oh-hoon, listening, made a dry comment.
“Mr. Woo Sang-sik… do you wash your hair with dog shampoo at home and chew kibble instead of eating meals? You’re a real son of a bitch it seems.”
“Don’t insult dogs like that.”
What fault did dogs have that they should be compared to the bastard sitting in front of us?
“Doesn’t it worry you, how people will see you shirking noblesse oblige with excuses like these?”
“Instead of worrying about us, you should be more concerned about the tax audit that’s coming.”
At Han Sang-ah’s words, Woo Sang-sik turned his gaze toward her.
“There will be articles. There will be a tax audit... You’ll probably end up in prison.”
There are people you shouldn’t mess with. Han Sang-ah held a weapon almost invincible against people, even if it didn’t work on monsters: a fortress built of money.
Just because she had stepped away from the inheritance war in the Geumyang Group didn’t mean she had ceased to be Han Sang-cheol’s granddaughter.
We sent Woo Sang-sik away.
“I bring skill, Han Sang-ah wields money like a blade to strengthen our team… Jung Oh-hoon, don’t you have anything?”
At my question, Jung Oh-hoon answered.
“Ahaha, of course I know plenty of people. But my nickname is Jung O’Hare. The only contacts I have are friends who stab people in the gut with sashimi knives over dinner.”
“Do you think I care about that?”
If it was useful, that was enough. At my words, Jung Oh-hoon replied.
“Even if it’s an organization that smuggles equipment or byproducts from the Erosion Core to sell to civilians, is that fine?”
“Do they pay well? No, wait. Even if they pay well, security matters more. We can’t afford to get caught.”
At my words, Jung Oh-hoon let out a low chuckle.
“I wouldn’t recommend it. They brag that they’re safe, but it’s on the level of illegal gambling dens.”
Like those endless spam texts about “safe playgrounds.”
So, not worth relying on. Still, the fact that Jung Oh-hoon knew plenty about illegal organizations could be very useful later.
“Alright, pick up your weapon.”
I spoke to him. He immediately grabbed his rifle and stood in front of me.
“Come closer.”
“Oh my, don’t be like that.”
I shot him a displeased look, and Jung Oh-hoon sighed and took a few steps closer.
“Could you at least let me keep some distance, so I can die with a bit of dignity?”
“So you can make excuses before God after you die? Buddha, the King of the Underworld, Jesus, even Cthulhu, they’ll all laugh at you if you say you lost because you were too close.”
Jung Oh-hoon moved with his characteristic slippery style, doing his best to balance attack and defense. After about thirty minutes, I nodded.
“Your power has improved, your accuracy has improved… most importantly, you’ve met the minimum standard I set.”
“Does that mean I’m a full-time member now?”
I nodded and held out my hand.
“Welcome, Jung Oh-hoon.”
He clasped it firmly and grinned.
“But have you decided on a team name yet? Can I suggest one?”
“What is it?”
Jung Oh-hoon smirked.
“We mostly take on grade 1 Erosion Cores, right? So I was thinking.”
So what. Why drag it out.
“How about Team Big Head General.”
“This bastard has lost his mind.”
I was about to snap back but Han Sang-ah raised her hand. Fine, go ahead and say it.
“I like it.”
“You guys are really maniacs. I’d rather have hot pepper poured into my eyes by the shovel than accept a stupid name like that.”
Big Head General? Was he insane? And what did that have to do with us hunting grade 1 Erosion Cores anyway.
“Then what do you want to call it?”
“…”
After some thought, I cautiously suggested.
“Headhunter?”
At my words, Jung Oh-hoon clicked his tongue.
“No impact. No attention-grabbing. But shout Big Head General! and it’ll stick right in people’s minds.”
It would stick, sure. But not in a way I wanted. People would mock us endlessly. Better to go with something plain but respectable, like Headhunter.
“Just make it Headhunter. Please.”
Han Sang-ah, still lying down scrolling on her phone, said.
“I don’t care. A team’s name is just a brand. A brand’s value isn’t in how flashy it sounds, it’s in what it achieves.”
“I still think Big Head General was a good idea… but fine. Ignoring a good idea, that’s the mark of a useless boss.”
Both of them agreed with me in the end, and so the name we would use publicly became Headhunter.
“Now we’re ready.”
Unlike the Bratsk Refrigerator, Jaun Valley had no limit on the number of participants. The more the better, that was the straightforward path.
“But we don’t have any information inside.”
“Officially, no one has ever returned alive from Jaun Valley.”
The Association’s “glass candies” could let someone escape the Erosion Core alive, but those were not items that could be wasted freely.
“We’ll bring more people. We’ll need Hunters who will join only for this raid.”
To accept such people, we needed a kind of proof of qualification. Like in games, gear checks, or damage cut requirements.
“Anyone who enters Jaun Valley must have enough resistance to not be incapacitated immediately by the smoke.”
Han Sang-ah, Jung Oh-hoon, and Adakawa Nanami could rely on my Paradoxical Flame for a gas mask effect. But it was impossible to extend that to hundreds of Hunters.
We already had information from Sa Seung-hee about the Hunters who had attempted to enter Jaun Valley. If we set that level as the minimum standard, it would be fine.
“Do you think many individuals or companies will want to join?”
At Jung Oh-hoon’s question, Han Sang-ah nodded.
“Plenty. We can expect as many as a thousand.”
“If that many gather, it’ll be impossible to expect real cohesion.”
At my words, Han Sang-ah nodded.
“That’s why Hunter companies thrive.”
When it’s not just temporary contact but a long-term relationship, control becomes easier.
“Besides, skilled operator teams have experience working with temporarily combined groups of Hunters. They’ll be able to control them well enough.”
At Jung Oh-hoon’s words, Han Sang-ah nodded.
“It’s a kind of command through information control.”
Hunters would report the information they secured from their own perspectives to the operators, and the operators would combine that information and guide the Hunters.
In other words, each Hunter’s individual view inside the Erosion Zone would be limited, so they would have no choice but to follow operator instructions.
“Then Seagull?”
At my words, Han Sang-ah nodded.
“Seagull. If it’s Lee Se-eun’s team, she’s trustworthy. And the operators who work with her can be trusted too.”
The only issue was the high cost. But thanks to Nanami’s advice, that could probably be managed. After all, going to fight a grade 1 Erosion Core with the state-run Korea Operating Corporation would feel like hiring a public defender for a lawsuit against the Geumyang Group.
Not that I’d ever disrespect public defenders. Their efforts deserve full respect.
But even so… honestly, it just wouldn’t feel right. And besides, could the Korea Operating Corporation really control more than a thousand operators? Doubtful.
“Then I’ll contact Seagull. You two confirm that Jaun Valley is our next target, and recruit Hunters to join us.”
Finishing my words, I stepped out the door.
“It’s not Big Head General, it’s Headhunter! Remember that! If I hear a single word in the press about Big Head General, I’ll beat the two of you flat that day!”