A luxury hotel in downtown Tokyo.
Daehoon and I were meeting with the yakuza in a suite.
One group at a time.
We were holding separate, individual meetings so they wouldn’t run into one another.
There wasn’t much to it.
We were simply putting into concrete terms our promise to pay them 100 million a day in exchange for their cooperation.
We weren’t just handing over 100 million for nothing.
Included in that 100 million was the task of collecting and reporting the stories circulating in their world.
Politics, police, defense industry, casinos, brokers.
Anywhere was fine.
No filtering was needed.
No sources were needed.
They just had to write down what they heard, exactly as they heard it.
The yakuza laughed when they heard me.
They didn’t believe it.
“You’re saying you’ll pay 100 million a day just for telling you useless rumors like that?”
“You’re not going to change your tune later, are you?”
But when we paid them 200 million on the spot for the meeting fee plus that day’s expenses, their eyes went wide.
Of course, we paid in CandyCoin, not cash.
From the yakuza’s point of view, it probably felt like they were getting paid for doing nothing.
But the yakuza didn’t know.
They seemed to have no idea just how valuable and expensive the information they knew was.
They were astonished that we would pay as much as 100 million just for passing along stray rumors.
They said if that was all, they could do it for the rest of their lives,
and offered their hands, saying we should maintain a good relationship.
If it were merely paying 100 million to relay random rumors, then yes, it could be called expensive.
But we had the system Chen Zhihao had built.
Even three bushels of beads must be strung together before they become a treasure.
The yakuza carried beads around without even knowing they were beads.
Because they didn’t know how to analyze and process information.
But in the system Chen Zhihao created, even trash could become jewels.
Once information was entered into the system, it was automatically categorized, cross-verified, and assigned a level of importance.
If words like the Defense Equipment Agency, the Ministry of Defense, radar, or the names of specific politicians were entered, tags would be attached and a separate verification process would begin.
It was, quite literally, a system optimized for analyzing information.
It was originally made to compile information gathered by the Triads, but it was shining in Japan as well.
Honestly, if we had tried to gather the information ourselves, it would have taken an enormous amount of time and effort.
And there was no guarantee we would have obtained proper information.
Looking at it that way, it was cheap.
“If there are any movements in the defense industry, please be sure to let us know.”
“Even trivial things are fine.”
“Things said over drinks, things you hear in passing—anything is fine.”
The yakuza nodded.
They would receive 100 million just for organizing rumors once a day.
There was no reason to refuse.
And then...
One last person remained.
Geunsu came over and spoke.
“The person coming in this time is Kurokawa Renji of Kurokawa-gumi.”
“Kurokawa is the largest and most influential among Japan’s yakuza. In effect, he’s the leader of the Japanese yakuza.”
I nodded.
The door opened, and a man entered.
As expected, it was the white-haired man in question.
The one who had sat in the seat of honor and cut me off earlier.
For someone who had entered our lodging—
for someone who had walked into enemy territory—his demeanor was relaxed.
His movements were slow, but there was strength in them.
So this was the man standing at the summit of the yakuza?
Earlier, he had looked as though he would storm out of the place at any moment.
In the end, he had come here.
It seemed he, too, was short on money.
Even a man at the summit had no choice in the end.
“You came.”
I greeted him with a smile.
“Hm. I came because I was curious what you had to say.”
He sounded us out while hiding his true feelings.
“You did well to come. What would you like? Coffee? Liquor? Let’s just have a drink.”
I poured him a drink and held it out.
The white-haired man accepted the glass but didn’t drink, merely swirling it around.
“I am Kurokawa of Kurokawa-gumi.”
“I’m Seo Daehoon from Korea.”
Daehoon greeted him.
Kurokawa looked at me and asked,
“And you?”
“My name is Alex.”
The look Kurokawa gave me was anything but ordinary.
His expression said, Who the hell is this bastard, acting so full of himself?
“But who are you, that you step forward when the boss is here? Do Korean organizations have no concept of face?”
If the boss of an organization had come, but the boss remained silent while some underling dealt with you, it was only natural to feel offended.
For example, if the president of our country visited another country,
and instead of the president, a minister or prime minister came out to meet him, it would naturally be insulting.
“Ahaha. I can see how you might misunderstand. But it’s not what you’re thinking. You can consider him the de facto boss.”
Daehoon explained.
“What? De facto boss?”
“This friend has a lot of work to do. That’s why I’m in charge of Korea. It wouldn’t be wrong to say the real boss is him.”
Kurokawa looked at me again.
His expression was still saying, Who the hell is this bastard?
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m starting to feel offended.”
“Before doing business, verifying the other party is the most basic of basics.”
Kurokawa spoke as if making an excuse.
“Yes, please do all the verifying you want on your own. For now, let’s talk business.”
“What? I don’t work with people I haven’t verified.”
Listening to Kurokawa, I leaned back deeply into the sofa.
My body sank into it.
“Heh. Anyone listening would think I invited you here with honors. You’re the one who came here, old man. Not me.”
“You were the one who came to us first.”
As they say, old ginger is the spiciest. He didn’t lose a single exchange.
“Fine. Let’s get the verification over with. I’m Alex.”
“I heard that name earlier.”
The old man had a good memory, too.
“Alex from the Philippines.”
“What?”
Kurokawa’s hand, which had been swirling the glass, stopped.
The liquor no longer moved.
“Why, do I not look the part?”
“You’re really Alex from the Philippines?”
“If you can’t believe it, just leave.”
“......”
In truth, Kurokawa had sensed it to some extent.
That I wasn’t an ordinary bastard.
If I had been ordinary, I wouldn’t have been able to act so arrogantly in a place full of yakuza.
But Alex from the Philippines?
That much had never even crossed his mind.
Alex from the Philippines was like an urban legend.
A being who seemed to exist, yet whose true form no one had confirmed.
Someone who existed only through rumors that began with “I heard.”
No, who would believe that a gangster had unified the gangsters of the Philippines, then unified politics and the business world on top of that?
They said he received VIP treatment even in China, but no such person existed in the world.
It was the kind of story that had been exaggerated into an urban legend.
Even so, Kurokawa did not deny it.
He thought that if it was the man before him, even if he wasn’t quite that much, he was still a fairly impressive fellow.
The spirit he had shown in a place where the yakuza were gathered.
And the sharp gaze that contrasted with his light way of speaking.
Kurokawa had lived as a yakuza for forty years.
If he hadn’t had an eye for people, he would probably have been stabbed several times in the stomach or struck from behind and dumped in the waters off Tokyo long ago.
The Alex Kurokawa saw was quite outstanding.
For a moment, he thought it might not be bad to work with him.
“So what do I need to do?”
We explained the situation to Kurokawa in detail.
What information we needed, and that he simply had to input that information immediately.
Kurokawa nodded in understanding and left.
When he left, he was no longer slow.
He moved nimbly, like any other yakuza.
But his actions were extremely cautious.
Very different from the beginning.
******
The effect of the yakuza was tremendous.
No, the effect of money was tremendous.
Every single day, an enormous amount of information was uploaded into the system.
Who met with whom.
At which bar, at what time, and where they sat.
Which neighborhood in Tokyo someone’s mistress lived in.
Whether she lived alone or with someone.
What they ate for lunch.
Which restaurant they went to for dinner.
Who took them there.
What kind of car they rode in.
What had changed when they came out of the bar.
Whether they were carrying anything in their hands.
Rumors, backbiting, words spilled while drunk. CCTV footage. Photographs gathered.
Taken one by one, they were meaningless fragments.
No one knew which was important and which was trivial.
It was information that could easily have slipped away,
but in the system Chen Zhihao had made, it was different.
When the same names repeated across multiple organizations, the same places overlapped, and the dates coincided, the story changed.
The system automatically connected the fragments, emphasized the overlapping parts, and stripped away meaningless information. Then a picture emerged.
‘Ah, so this was it.’
‘So it was to cover for the defense companies?’
‘They were going to do nothing but issue a warning to Korea to buy time until the defense companies could export the radar, then sell off the radar in the meantime?’
These bastards had picked the wrong opponent.
What I’m good at is fighting,
but among those, what I’m best at is a dogfight.
And causing a ruckus and making a nuisance of myself in a dogfight is my specialty.
They picked the wrong guy.
I’ll make as much of a scene as I please.
I called Hwang Onyu.
******
“Are you insane? Do you think this makes any sense?”
The director of the National Intelligence Service’s Overseas Intelligence Bureau cut Team Leader Hwang Onyu off before he could even finish speaking.
It seemed he thought there was no need to hear any more.
“No, why exactly can’t we do it?”
“Do you have no sense? What have you been learning all this time? Has anything ever ended well when we went up against Japan? We can just wrap this up moderately, so why are you trying to make a fuss? If we can end it quietly, then ending it quietly is the best option.”
The director of the Overseas Intelligence Bureau instead raised his voice at Team Leader Hwang Onyu.
He told him not to make the matter bigger.
It was an implicit threat.
Seeing the director cut him off without even properly listening, Hwang Onyu realized.
This man wasn’t going to respond properly.
This man wasn’t going to try anything.
No matter what evidence Hwang Onyu brought him,
it felt as though this man would kill it all at his own level.
To the director, the conclusion of this matter already seemed decided.
Even so, Hwang Onyu tried pushing once more.
“I’m not saying we should go up against them. I’m saying we should clarify the part we’re being suspected of.”
“We’re just refuting, as it is, the suspicion Japan raised against us, aren’t we?”
“What exactly is the problem with that?”
The director of the Overseas Intelligence Bureau looked at Hwang Onyu with an expression that said, You don’t even know that?
“Japan lodged a protest unofficially because they were thinking of us too, weren’t they? But if we go and say it in public, what happens to Japan’s face?”
For a moment, Hwang Onyu thought he had misheard.
Did he just say Japan’s face?
Not our country’s face, but Japan’s?
No, why was a civil servant of the Republic of Korea worrying about Japan’s face?
He couldn’t understand it.
Even if he had studied in Japan on a scholarship sponsored by a Japanese company, this was not right.
Even if he had many connections in Japan, he had to distinguish between public and private matters.
He was angry, but more than that, he felt suffocated.
He had no face to see Inbae.
Had Inbae anticipated this situation?
Was that why he had spoken so strongly?
The current situation was similar to the conversation he had had with Inbae not long ago.
A person arguing for a strong response, and a person saying to let it pass.
Hwang Onyu could now understand, at least a little, how frustrated Inbae must have felt listening to him.
Hwang Onyu, annoyed by what the director was saying now, felt just like Inbae back then.
It seemed the situation had changed.
“What about our face? Haven’t we become thieves in an instant? So why should we endure it?”
The director let out a deep sigh.
“Onyu. The world doesn’t flow according to reason alone. Especially not diplomacy. It’s not about right and wrong.”
“Then what does it flow by?”
“The current. The current. In diplomacy, depending on the situation, something wrong becomes right, and something right becomes wrong. So let’s let this matter pass quietly.”
It didn’t seem the situation would change no matter how much more he said.
The director was not prepared to listen at all.
It was like reading scripture to a cow.
“Understood. I’ll withdraw this matter.”
“Good. You made the right decision. Don’t pointlessly make this bigger, and let’s settle it here.”
It seemed to be over, but the director hesitated.
Then he asked cautiously,
“By the way, are you certain that data exists?”
“I haven’t confirmed it myself either. He said he’d give it to us once it was decided how the data would be used.”
The director gave an order in a rather dignified tone.
“Get the data. We don’t know what might happen either. We need to prepare a Plan B.”
Hwang Onyu felt a chill.
If he gave the data to him, it felt like the data would disappear somewhere.
He felt uneasy.
He did not even have it, but he thought all the more that he absolutely could not hand it over.
“I told him I would not hand over the data unless the plan was certain. And besides, he said he would release the data himself.”
The director’s expression crumpled at once.
“Who is he?”
“He is an informant.”
“I’m asking you, who is he!”
“This is difficult for me to tell even you, Director.”
The director’s face twisted.
He seemed angry that something was not going his way.
But not revealing an informant was an unwritten rule of the National Intelligence Service.
Even if it was to one’s immediate superior, an informant was not revealed.
“Handle it yourself. But that must not get out into the world. Make absolutely sure it never comes out. Understood?”
The director spoke as if furious.
Hwang Onyu could not hide the suspicion he felt toward him.
No matter how he thought about it, there were many parts of the director’s response that were hard to understand.
.
.
.
After leaving the director’s office, Hwang Onyu sat alone in front of an empty vending machine.
A sense of helplessness wrapped around him.
Bzz— bzz— bzz—
It was Inbae.
That ghost of a bastard.
He answered the call, but he could not say a word.
Only after some time had passed did he barely muster the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think things will work out here.”
—I figured as much.
Inbae’s voice over the receiver sounded not merely calm, but almost bored.
“Then what are you going to do?”
—Didn’t I tell you not to fucking ask me that? Didn’t I say thinking about that was your job?
Hwang Onyu’s mouth snapped shut.
—For now, I’m here with the yakuza digging up some information. But…
Over the phone, Inbae explained the situation.
That it had been done to look after the interests of the defense companies.
Hwang Onyu understood the situation at once.
“So you’re saying they did that to sell their own radars?”
—Putting together everything I’ve found so far, that seems to be it. I’m more than ninety percent sure.
“……”
—You guys can’t solve it anyway. I’ll have to try whatever I can on my own. See you later.
The call ended.
Hwang Onyu felt ashamed of himself.
Even a mere gangster bastard.
Though he was too inscrutable a man to simply call a gangster,
even that man was working for the country somewhere out of sight,
and yet Hwang Onyu, despite being a team leader at the National Intelligence Service, had been trying to avoid conflict. The thought made him reflect on himself.
No, he was sick to death of this organization.
Hwang Onyu thought again.
About this situation.
The National Intelligence Service—
No, at least the director of overseas intelligence wanted to bury this information.
There was no need to know the reason.
It was enough to know that this problem could not be solved through the NIS.
But when he thought about it, the NIS was not the main actor in this incident.
It was nothing more than a little swallow that fetched the necessary information.
The true core of the matter was the Ministry of National Defense and the Agency for Defense Development.
Would they be thinking the same way as the NIS?
He did not know.
For now, he discreetly put out a feeler in that direction.