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chapter 159
“Are you saying Zett is away?”
“I assume he left because you hadn’t contacted him. Probably went off for some personal training.”
“Ah, I see… No wonder he didn’t answer when I tried calling.”
Michael Shepard sighed as he visited Lee Hyun at Lee Gunsan’s mansion.
In truth, he hadn’t planned on coming this late. Above all, the head of Astra wanted to speak with Lee Hyun more than anyone.
But circumstances weren’t favorable. There were reports on the battle with Pingshin, and the aftermath of everything that had happened afterward.
“You’ve been quite busy lately, haven’t you? With the committee collapsing, Luuchen coming into the light again, and Peng Jinghao escaping and causing incidents… it must’ve been chaotic.”
“…How on earth do you know all that? In China, very few places can track such things while keeping them secret.”
“There’s always a way to know.”
Lee Gunsan smiled kindly as he watered orchids with a watering can, humming a light tune.
‘…How did someone like him end up losing in the power game?’
Michael shook his head.
Lee Gunsan, the former head of Cheongrae, always watched closely by the CIA and Astra, was now officially retired. Yet he remained a person of interest to multiple intelligence agencies.
If anything, that made him even more of a figure to watch. Not only had the restrictions of active duty disappeared, but he still wielded formidable influence in the shadows.
A seemingly endless network of connections, funds, and private intelligence organizations operating behind the scenes.
In fact, most of the Crevasse Operation had been carried out thanks to his efforts, and Zett and the Z-Team followed him like a godfather.
The problem was:
‘He doesn’t seem particularly keen on hiding his own power.’
He might have concealed it initially, but once Cheongrae was fully resurrected as the Z-Team, he apparently felt no need to hide anymore.
He even boldly invited an Astra executive like Michael into his mansion.
Was it audacity, or confidence?
Michael found Lee Gunsan as formidable as their own director.
‘And as far as I know, he has no children… If his network goes to Zett… huh!’
Michael could almost see who would inherit the next generation’s power.
“Do you know when Zett will return?”
“Hmm… He’s not exactly the type to follow instructions. But he should be back before the company’s return date.”
“So, it looks like we won’t see him until next weekend. That’s late… What should we do?”
“Why? Is it urgent?”
“It is, in fact.”
Michael didn’t speak of the mission, but he suspected Lee Gunsan might already know, judging by the faint, knowing smile.
“Well, I’ll be leaving then. Coffee was good.”
“Take care.”
Michael gave a slight nod and left the mansion.
Lee Gunsan muttered as he watched him cross the yard from the window:
“Going to Lee Hyun’s place, huh? No one will be there… What is that kid thinking?”
He guessed there were probably several places trying to contact Lee Hyun besides Michael. His house location was likely exposed as well. Yet, Lee Hyun had chosen not to move.
Was it confidence, or some other hidden plan?
A moment later, he recalled Lee Hyun’s answer about a fun way to definitively separate Zett and Gwilae’s alibis.
“He’ll handle it well. Always has.”
Lee Gunsan looked at the empty sky above the yard where Michael had disappeared.
“I wonder if he’s arrived in Guam. It’s about time we meet… If he had arrived, he could’ve sent a message. Why no word? Making people worry for no reason.”
He muttered like a father worrying about his child.
In ancient India, there was the caste system.
Modern Guam worked similarly.
Respect came with strength.
Even outsiders, even those without backing, could attain a high rank if their personal power matched it.
Gwilae was precisely like that.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m from ‘La Sombra’—”
“Ah, meeting you in person. I’ve heard much of your reputation. We are from the mercenary group ‘Red Spear’—”
“‘Iron Tilapia,’ a small seafood trading company. If you’re ever at the port, please feel free—”
“‘Black Maria.’ I hope we can work together someday—”
In an Irish pub located on the outskirts of Tumon Strip, several figures approached and greeted Lee Hyun as if they had known him for years.
Roke silently swallowed beside him.
These were figures he wouldn’t dare speak to.
‘Why is he even here? Just for a beer in the heat? But he hasn’t even removed his mask or touched a drink… Is he waiting for someone? A backer? Or a cartel hitman…?’
Roke had no way of knowing Lee Hyun’s thoughts, which frustrated him. But he didn’t dare ask either. He had seen too many cartel members die while recklessly chasing their grudges.
Eventually, as time dragged on and Lee Hyun’s business cards accumulated,
creak!
“May I join you?”
A man sat opposite Lee Hyun.
A middle-aged Black man with a square jaw and a charming smile, dressed in a fine suit entirely out of place in the pub.
“I didn’t say you could sit yet.”
“Ha! Unlike your appearance on the Strip, you’re strict. I’ll buy a drink, so let’s sit together.”
Roke immediately recognized the man.
Ramon Marques, a famous figure known to everyone living on Tumon Strip. Owner of the underground fighting arena, “The Slaughterhouse,” nicknamed “The Matador.” Once a showman who staged matches like bullfights.
“I have plenty of money here too,” he said casually.
Roke noticed Lee Hyun seemed different than before.
“Ha! Isn’t that the money you stole from the cartel’s operations? Using that will make them furious!”
“If they’re upset, they should’ve protected it.”
“That’s fair! If they cared, they should’ve defended it! Hmm… Then, what gift should I give your masked friend to please him?”
Ramon exaggeratedly pretended to ponder, then smacked his palm with a fist.
“Ah! Of course! If he doesn’t like money, how about a spectacle? I have two tickets left in a great spot.”
Ramon slyly pulled out two tickets from his welt pocket and offered them to Lee Hyun.
Roke’s eyes widened.
VVIP tickets for The Slaughterhouse. Even Guam’s influential Black Zone players would struggle to get these.
“Oh, you seem to know what these are,” Ramon grinned, winking.
“These are expensive. Exchange them for these seats. Perfect for tonight’s match. Bring an assistant if you like.”
Lee Hyun quietly nodded to Roke, signaling him to take the tickets. Trembling, Roke accepted. One ticket alone was worth three years of his salary.
“Ha! You’re as bold as I thought! I wasn’t wrong!”
Ramon laughed, clearly pleased, even without Lee Hyun responding.
At that moment,
‘So he appears… the contact Colonel assigned.’
Lee Hyun’s eyes beneath the mask flashed.
Throughout the conversation, Lee Hyun didn’t miss Ramon’s hidden signals: the drink, the gift, the tickets—all indicating a private conversation away from prying eyes.
‘He seems influential in Guam. How did he meet the Colonel?’
Lee Hyun didn’t respond hastily. In espionage, premature contact could be fatal; sometimes people posed as HUMINT sources to lure you into traps.
Above all:
‘Something’s off. Iza.’
A gut feeling. Instantaneous.
But he couldn’t ignore it.
[Artifact: Kingoa] strengthens the pineal gland, sharpening intuition and inspiration.]
Lee Hyun’s instincts, already sharp in battle, were now hyper-sensitive. Something was definitely amiss.
‘Even the impressions I see through Yoma senses are strange. Better to watch a bit longer.’
He narrowed his eyes. Until this strange intuition passed, he wouldn’t engage.
Ramon lingered, laughing and talking alone, before finally leaving. He gave parting words about meeting again.
Once Ramon was gone, Lee Hyun asked:
“Where did you say the arena is?”
“You… want to go there?”
Roke’s eyes widened. They had received countless invitations before, all trying to recruit Lee Hyun or gain his favor. But now he suddenly reacted this way.
“…”
Lee Hyun silently stared at Roke.
“Ah! Sorry! I’ll guide you immediately!”
Roke, realizing his mistake, hurriedly led them to the outskirts where the arena was located.
“Big,” Lee Hyun remarked.
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“Down below. It’s wide.”
“…??”
They arrived at a shabby warehouse facility. Roke, still confused, showed the tickets to the guide, and servers and security politely escorted them.
‘This really is the right place…? For VVIP, it’s far too run-down. H-hope there’s no trap…’
The servers led them down narrow stairs. The damp air reeked of mold, alcohol, and sweat.
Roke, accustomed to luxurious VIP casino rooms, was overwhelmed.
Lee Hyun followed unfazed.
creak!
When the security opened the door,
WAAAHHH!
A deafening roar crashed over them.
Shouts and cheers of bloodlust, mixed with men’s screams, women’s shrieks, clinking glasses, and waving bundles of cash.
Overhead, the announcer and arena owner Ramon’s voice boomed like lightning:
“Ah, guests! Once again, a feast of blood where even angels avert their eyes! Welcome to Carnarium (The Slaughterhouse)—both hell and cathedral!!”
“KILL! KILL! KILL!!”
The lights shone in gold and red. Cheap neon flickered wildly, while blood still flowed down the central cage.
The audience didn’t sit. They shouted like worshipers around an altar:
KILL!!
All eyes bloodshot, craving slaughter.
Every time Ramon shouted, the excitement intensified.
“A beastly crowd drunk on pleasure,” Lee Hyun murmured, reclining in a luxurious lounge chair.
For Brahmin VVIPs, private rooms ensured comfort. Red wine mimicked blood, accompanied by truffles, caviar, and foie gras—luxuries the lowly Sudra below could never dream of.
“….”
Roke stood stiffly beside him, unused to Guam’s decadence and frenzy.
Suddenly,
PAA-POW!
A sword pierced the neck of a dying gladiator. His head rolled. Ramon raised the victor’s arm.
The crowd erupted further. Winners cheered, losers cursed.
Yet Lee Hyun rested his chin, eyes fixed not on the victor but on Ramon.
‘The Colonel’s contact is correct… But why does it keep giving off…’
Lee Hyun’s eyes beneath the mask darkened.
‘The scent of a heretical cult has been here since earlier, right?’
Ramon, scanning the crowd, suddenly turned to the VVIP lounge, bowing politely. His exaggerated gestures, typical of Tumon Strip showmen, fueled excitement.
But Lee Hyun noticed: Ramon’s gaze was fixed on him as if appraising.
A vein of blood raced beneath his mask.
‘Something’s definitely here… Let’s see what happens if I prod a bit.’
