I headed to the underground training facility, rapidly firing at the targets.
I pulled the necessary gun from my inventory and shot quickly and efficiently. My body, enhanced beyond human limits, allowed for absurd shooting accuracy and rapid fire.
It even felt as if the gun itself couldn't keep up with my body.
Clap, clap, clap.
Applause echoed from behind me. Turning around, I saw a blonde woman in jeans and sunglasses clapping in my direction.
"...Who are you?"
She was obviously a foreigner. And there was no way a foreigner should be able to enter the Cleaner training center. The bubble gum she had been chewing swelled and popped.
"Kim Sang-seon, right?"
"And you are?"
She smiled slyly at my question.
"Do you know Blue Barrel?"
"An American insurance company."
If Korea had Cleaners, the U.S. had companies. Unlike Korean Stigma Manifestors, who belong to the state and operate under the name of Cleaners, American Stigma Manifestors form companies and pursue profit under private enterprises.
Among them, Blue Barrel is known for its somewhat old-fashioned slogan: "Your Guardian Angel."
"I heard that if you pay an insanely high insurance premium, they'll dispatch someone when a contamination zone occurs."
The strength of the Stigma Manifestor dispatched isn't determined by the danger of the contamination zone, but by the terms of the insurance contract.
The premium is so high that individuals rarely sign up. Most contracts are taken out by states, militaries, cities, or wealthy companies.
"You know, that makes me happy."
She said that as she brushed her hair back and handed me a business card.
"I can't read English."
"Ah, pardon my oversight."
Then she handed me another card—this one was in Korean.
Blue Barrel Dispatch Team 1, Senior Director Raelin Maxwell. I knew the name. It was frequently mentioned in foreign documentaries about Stigma Manifestors. She was always cited as one of the strongest in America.
"Magnetic Lady."
Her ability was electromagnetic manipulation. A video showing her creating a massive crater with a charged particle cannon had been shocking.
"Did you get permission to come here?"
"Do you think Korea would give permission? Just boarding a plane to Korea without official documents would trigger an emergency."
"Then… how did you get in here…"
I asked, and Raelin lightly floated in the air.
"I flew."
With electromagnetic manipulation, she wouldn't appear on radar, and all the security systems inside would have been completely disabled. She could evade detection by any electronic equipment.
"I was on vacation when our team's intelligence officer told me an interesting story. I came to Korea unofficially to verify it."
In Korea, this could easily be considered an American incursion. The term "came to Korea" was far too friendly for what was actually happening.
She narrowed her eyes and looked at me.
"But that interesting story… seems very likely to be true."
There was only one "interesting story" related to me: my inventory and the contamination substances.
I felt a little uneasy. Being involved with someone of her stature wasn't always a good thing. There were people in the world whose magnitude was simply beyond handling.
"Do you need my abilities?"
"Yes. While I'm on vacation, I thought I might as well eat some pork ribs while I'm in Korea."
I wasn't sure how to respond to that. After a brief hesitation, I sighed and said,
"This is sudden, but I always approach deals with an open mind."
"Is that so?"
Raelin slightly lowered her sunglasses and looked at me, her piercing blue eyes fixed on me.
"So, should I understand that you're willing to deal with Blue Barrel?"
"If the price is right, there's no reason not to."
I wasn't some patriotic fool. If I could hand over contamination substances and receive compensation, there was nothing wrong with it. In fact, having more clients was even better.
"Take this."
Something was thrown toward me. It was a square device wrapped in leather—something I had never seen before.
"What's this?"
"A beeper. Ah, I hear it was called a pager in Korea."
I still had no idea what that was, and Raelin explained.
"It's something that was used instead of a cellphone back in the 1990s."
"Isn't that supposed to be in a museum?"
The 1990s? That was practically an artifact from the turbine era.
"Exactly. I took it from a museum and refurbished it. Its use is simple."
The ancient device in my hand began to vibrate, and numbers appeared on its small display.
"I modified it with vibrations. Technically, it's a vibrator, not a beeper, but it works fine."
I decided to ignore the odd name.
"Next cleanup, I want half of the contamination substances you secure."
I exhaled sharply.
"That's not a small amount. I don't accept money as payment."
"A barter system? Primitive."
"I need things that money can't buy."
Raelin smirked and made a trigger-pulling gesture.
"Things like this?"
"Exactly."
She made a small noise and took something out.
"How about this? Interested?"
In her hand was a small silver rod about the size of a microphone.
Before I could even wonder what it was, a cyan-white light shot out from the tip with a buzzing sound.
A lightsaber. There could be no more fitting description.
"Do you know what a lightsaber is?"
I had never heard of it. Raelin, briefly hopeful, immediately looked disappointed.
"It's a device that generates a blade of ultra-high-temperature plasma. Most things can't withstand the heat and are easily cut."
When extended, the blade reached 1.5 meters. Being made of plasma, the hilt carried all the weight. It was too light, making it hard to handle, so she added a counterweight at the top for balance.
It used a rechargeable magic battery, needing 45 minutes to fully charge. One charge gave 15 minutes of use.
I had already been thinking that having a melee weapon would be useful.
"It's quite a rare item. Companies hardly ever use it as a trade tool like this."
Fifteen minutes of use was short, but the performance seemed solid.
"Can it cut the outer wall of this underground gym?"
"You mean that dark alloy? It can cut it. Technically, it melts wherever the blade touches."
There was no reason to refuse the deal.
"Then… should I contact you through this beeper thing?"
Raelin nodded.
"Press the far-right button when the job is done. That will send me a signal. Once we're ready, we'll contact you via the beeper. Numbers will appear on your screen, and you just go to the coordinates they indicate."
I'd get the numbers, go to the coordinates, and complete the transaction.
"Can't I just come like I am now?"
Raelin scoffed.
"There aren't many places on Earth that function as independent nations. Korea is one. It's impossible without exceptional Stigma Manifestors… and I don't underestimate them."
Famous Stigma Manifestors aren't exclusive to America. Korea has Cleaners, China has the Martial Alliance, Europe has NGOs, Japan has the Hero Association…
There are many highly skilled Stigma Manifestors in the world, all operating in their own ways in different countries.
"Understood. But normally, I'll keep this in my inventory. If I'm not cleaning, I'll take it out at midnight every day, so contact me then."
"Good. Then…"
She said that and floated slightly into the air. Then she hurled the plasma sword at me.
"This time, let's do it prepaid. For the sake of our sustainable development."
"For the sake of it."
There was no reason to refuse. I caught it and immediately placed it in my inventory. She then swiftly flew away.
"One person knowing can be hidden."
But once two know, secrets become rumors. People will find out, take interest, and reach out.
Some organizations might approach calmly… but others will be hostile or try to threaten. They won't just assume I'm the only one using firearms.
It's safer to think of Raelin as an exceptional case. I checked the time, confirmed my meeting with Yu Sang-cheol, and left the training center.
The most powerful man in Korea, Lee Sam-jun, stood before the putting mat in his office at the presidential residence in Sejong City.
Even at rest, he looked like a smiling man in his mid-60s. His gentle demeanor didn't match the ruthlessness expected of someone who had held Korea's highest power for 23 years.
Click. The golf ball hit by his club rolled into the hole.
"Chief Secretary, that apprentice Cleaner… Kim Sang-seon, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Your Excellency."
The man bowed, answering Lee Sam-jun's soft question in a stiff voice.
"I heard he only graduated high school. Clearly, work sense is different from academic sense. Isn't that right?"
"He understood his own value quite well."
Lee Sam-jun was the president, holding the highest power in Korea. Naturally, he didn't want to die. He certainly didn't want to get caught in some bizarre contamination zone.
In that sense, Kim Sang-seon had properly showcased his value.
"Or maybe, the person who worked under me to protect the country, even earning stars, might have had surprisingly mediocre abilities."
"…Chief Oh-min has already taken action."
By now, he would have departed from Sokcho by boat to the Bering Sea.
"Good. Well done."
The story of a former general turned fisherman could be set aside. The real matter was what came next.
"So, do you think it's possible to keep Kim Sang-seon hidden?"
The Chief Secretary hesitated before answering.
"Practically impossible. It's only a matter of time."
Of course. He could be hidden temporarily, but it was impossible to prevent foreign nations from discovering Kim Sang-seon's existence and abilities.
"Some organizations seem to have already caught on."
It couldn't be helped.
"There's a saying: ten men can't stop one thief."
Korea had spies everywhere. Other organizations were no exception. Evading the gaze of countless spies was impossible from the start.
"When did Kim Sang-seon manifest his Stigma?"
The Chief Secretary swallowed and answered Lee Sam-jun.
"A few months after his wife died."
"I see. There must be a connection."
Lee Sam-jun set the polished golf club down.
"Have someone smart deliver a message to Kim Sang-seon."
"What should the message be…?"
With a faint smile, Lee Sam-jun whispered to him.
The Chief Secretary, after hearing the instructions, looked troubled.
"Are you sure this is okay?"
Lee Sam-jun clicked his tongue softly.
"Do you doubt my judgment? That's disappointing."
"Not at all, Your Excellency."
If Kim Sang-seon's Stigma Manifestation was caused by his wife's death, it couldn't be ignored.
"If he doesn't react to this message, we can discuss next steps."
"Understood."
Their conversation ended there.