Sandro had never been to Seoul before.
The city where Alex was born.
He had been curious.
He had wanted to visit, at least once.
And after spending several days there, he found that he liked Seoul.
So much so that he wanted to live there.
The streets were impossibly clean, and the people dressed impeccably.
It was a city where you ordered at your table and robots served your food.
A city where you could check your phone to see exactly when the bus or subway would arrive.
A city where the seats at bus stops had built-in heaters.
Services unimaginable in the Philippines permeated every corner of daily life.
Seoul felt like a city living in the year 2050.
He liked Seoul.
He even liked the cold air clinging to the tip of his nose.
It was a city he could enjoy without doing anything at all.
Just passing the time there made him happy.
He would have liked to enjoy his vacation a little longer, but apparently, his business here was finished.
The only thing Sandro had done was visit a few hotels in Seoul at Daehun’s request.
Not that he had done anything particularly significant at those hotels.
He had merely sat in the lobbies drinking coffee or eaten at the reserved restaurants.
To Sandro, this was a vacation and a new experience, so he had enjoyed it.
He was happy to be able to enjoy Korean food.
Meanwhile, Daehun had secretly circulated photos of Sandro at the hotels.
Along with some very trivial suspicions.
“The Godfather of the Philippines met with Group A.”
“He met with Group B too.”
“They say he met with Group C as well.”
The rumor that Sandro was going around meeting with organizations kept spreading like a snowball.
The named organizations denied it vehemently, but no one believed them.
Everyone naturally assumed they were lying.
They had met with a potential partner during such an important and sensitive time, and they were going to officially confirm that? It was impossible.
Because everyone naturally assumed they would lie and deny it, no one believed the truth—that they had never actually met.
Spreading lies was even easier.
There were no official media outlets here, nor any journalists who could cover the story.
Rumors were everything.
Rumors that came out of bars, hotels, and the mouths of organization lackeys spread as quickly as the truth.
And once a rumor spread first, it was difficult to correct.
A lie took only one line, but clarifying it was difficult even with an entire book.
It must have been unfair for the named organizations, but there was nothing they could do.
The more they tried to explain, the more suspicion would pile up.
Sandro walked around with organization members, drank coffee, and enjoyed his vacation.
He had done nothing since coming to Korea, but his influence was tremendous.
The organizations of Seoul were shaken.
*******
The Namseoul Gang.
They were one of the fairly large organizations in Seoul, with the Jamsil area as their main stronghold.
Their top brass were gathered for a meeting.
“Boss, it’s fifty billion won. And it’s not a one-time thing—fifty billion won flowing in steadily, year after year. Where else is there a business like this? We have to take it no matter what.”
“No, Boss. This isn’t certain. We need to wait and see a little longer. We don’t have enough information.”
“Not enough information? What more information do you need to hold off on a fifty billion won deal? If you like things so safe and certain, why are you a gangster? Go put your money in a bank and live an honest life.”
“What? This bastard doesn’t know when to shut up. This is a matter of the organization’s fate. How can you decide something like that so easily?”
“So we should wait for everyone else to take their fill and then scavenge for the leftovers? Is that what you want?”
“That’s not it. I’m saying it’s not too late to move when things are more certain.”
“So that’s why you’ve been sitting on your ass? While other organizations were all meeting with the Philippine Godfather, we couldn’t even meet him.”
“They said they didn’t meet him either.”
“You believe that? You really believe that?”
“They said they really didn’t.”
“They didn’t meet him? Then why were they at the same hotel? The same restaurant?”
“They could have run into each other by coincidence.”
“So you get married by coincidence, have kids by coincidence, buy a house by coincidence, and die by coincidence too?”
“What did you just say, you bastard?”
As their voices rose, Nam Munho, the boss of the Namseoul Gang, intervened.
“Enough!!”
But even though the boss told them to stop, their fight did not cease.
On the contrary, unable to reach a clear decision on what to do, their frustration only grew worse.
Fights always start from trivial conflicts.
To resolve a conflict, one must respect each other’s opinions.
If the other person says so, you simply accept it and move on.
It is easy.
Even if I prefer pouring the sauce, if my opponent says dipping is better, I simply accept it and move on.
But if they fail to acknowledge each other and clash.
If things cross from the realm of understanding into the realm of emotion, the problem becomes serious.
Then it is no longer a matter of taste or right and wrong.
It is no longer about mixers or dippers; only the selfish desire to beat the other person remains.
Only the stubbornness of having to win by any means necessary remains.
The solution to this is simpler than you might think.
It is establishing logical superiority through force.
Literally, you crush them with force.
Once you beat the dippers half to death, pouring the sauce becomes the truth.
But unintentionally, the boss’s order stopped their conversation.
It became neither about mixing nor dipping.
Nor was it peace.
It was only a pause, not a concession.
Both wanted to win this argument.
Neither wanted to lose.
No, they absolutely could not afford to lose.
There was a reason.
If they lost here, they would lose their position as number two and be reduced to number three.
No, even the number three spot would be precarious.
If they lost the position of number two, they would never become the boss either.
In other words, win here and you become the boss; lose, and you remain just another ordinary member.
So they absolutely had to steer this conversation their way.
The two men, each convinced he was the rightful number two, were already plotting strategies in their heads to defeat the other.
Both were thinking that they had to crush the other.
There was only one way to do so.
‘Civil war.’
To become the number two.
To become the boss of the organization.
To clearly seize the upper hand in logic, there was no other way but civil war.
But this phenomenon was not occurring only in the Namseoul Gang.
In Seoul’s major organizations, fights over whether to enter the fray or hold back had become more frequent.
Internal conflicts were happening more often.
. . .
“Boss, I’m sorry.”
Lee Hyeong-sik, the second-in-command of the Seodaemun Gang, one of the fringe organizations, plunged a knife into his boss’s stomach.
“You… why… why would you?”
The boss of the Seodaemun Gang, forced to endure his junior’s betrayal without understanding why, looked at Lee Hyeong-sik with pitiful eyes.
Even in his dying moments, he seemed unable to believe the situation.
He was a junior he had raised with love.
He had intended to hand the organization over to him.
For such a junior to betray him.
If he had simply stayed put, the Seodaemun Gang would have fallen into his hands anyway.
He could not understand why.
“Shouldn’t our organization grow too, Boss? How long are we going to keep scraping by on bean sprouts in the back alleys?”
“Hurk… is it because of that Philippines business?”
“I’m sorry, Boss. If you hadn’t refused so adamantly, I would have followed you.”
The Seodaemun boss choked up.
He spat out a mouthful of blood.
With a voice that was fading away, he mustered his remaining strength to speak.
“This isn’t right. Protect the Seodaemun Gang.”
“Don’t we have to step on the gas at least once, whether it works or not? That way, we won’t have regrets. I’ll be joining you soon enough, so don’t take it too personally. I’m sorry, Boss.”
Lee Hyeong-sik plunged the knife deep into the Seodaemun boss’s abdomen once more.
The boss moved no longer.
Taking a deep breath, Lee Hyeong-sik gathered the members of the Seodaemun Gang.
“Draw your weapons. This is the beginning of war.”
. . .
A club in Gangnam, Seoul.
Five in the morning, after business hours.
All the customers had left, and the staff were cleaning up,
when suddenly the door opened and a group of strange men appeared.
They were people no one had ever seen before.
Naturally, they were people who bore no grudge or enmity toward anyone there.
But the words they spat out were completely unexpected.
“Waste them!!!!”
“Don’t let a single one escape.”
“The cops aren’t coming anyway. Take your time and catch them all, one by one.”
“If we let them escape, it’ll come back to haunt us. So we handle everyone right here.”
At the sound of the intruders, several members of the Axe Gang who were guarding the club stepped forward.
As if the club were some inviolable sanctuary,
they blocked the men, insisting they could absolutely not enter.
But before the sharp knives, they collapsed like scarecrows,
and the intruders who had taken down the Axe Gang began to indiscriminately slaughter the people inside.
“Block the exits first.”
“Hey! Grab that bastard.”
“He’s running away. Block the emergency exit!!”
“Don’t let a single one out.”
“Even if they call the police, the police won’t come.”
The Axe Gang was bewildered.
No, they were too terrified to do anything.
A fight where people wielded knives and stabbed?
A fight where blood splattered and colleagues were dying?
They had obviously never experienced such a thing.
These days, gangsters didn’t even carry knives.
Occasionally some carried them for show, but they never used them.
The only times they drew knives were when several of them killed one person.
When they were perfectly safe.
When they needed entertainment.
When they wanted to instill fear.
Only then.
To barge in wielding knives in such an unprepared situation—
they had only heard of such fights before,
never actually seen or fought in one.
They had only heard about them from their seniors.
Stories of “such things happened in the old days,” nothing more.
This was no longer an era where fools fought with knives and fists.
These days, you crushed them with words, you played dirty, and if you were cornered, you called the police.
That was the modern gangster.
A modern gangster who was praised for doing his job well and showing respect.
Such modern gangsters could only collapse helplessly before the intruders pushing in with knives.
The intruders were not merciful.
They showed no mercy, truly afraid the Axe Gang might come back to haunt them.
The inside of the club was drenched in blood.
. . .
“Yes, this is 112.”
“I think there’s a fight going on here?”
“A fight?”
“Yes. It seems like gangsters.”
“Understood. We will dispatch immediately.”
The 112 dispatcher issued a dispatch order to the nearest police substation.
The officers who received the order rushed to the scene immediately but did not enter the club to suppress the disturbance.
This was due to the guidelines recently handed down from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.
“Seoul is currently in a state of war between organizations. Stopping and suppressing the war is important, but more important than anything is the lives and safety of our officers.”
“According to intelligence, this war will be extremely cruel and violent. Therefore, do not try to stop it unconditionally. The first rule is to wait until the fight is over.”
“The lives of our officers are ten, twenty times more important than the lives of those scumbag thugs. Don’t throw your lives away for some pointless sense of justice. The justice we should have is not stopping their fight, but preventing that fight from harming civilians.”
“One way to put out a wildfire is to wait until everything burns out. Wait until the fight is over. Just keep the fight from spreading.”
“Never try to suppress it. Don’t bother trying to arrest them. Once the fight is definitely over, you may clean up then.”
“The first and second priority is the safety of the police.”
The dispatched officers waited outside the club to prevent the fight from spilling over into the civilian area.
But even that proved unnecessary.
No one came out of the club.
And shortly after, another group of people entered.
************
“Boss, these guys are no joke.”
“What do you mean?”
The one who came to report to me was O Eutteum.
He was one of the guys Sandro had picked up during the Bohol subjugation.
In Bohol, while Sandro was cleaning up the people running phishing sites and online casinos without his permission,
O Eutteum had come forward.
They had raided an illegal phishing site run by Koreans,
and people who had been imprisoned there came tumbling out.
They had been coding programs and building sites while held captive.
Some of them reported it and were forcibly deported back to Korea,
but a few Sandro had brought along.
“What about these kids? Why did you bring them? Send them to Korea.”
“They’re the best at it.”
“At what?”
“Programs? Coding? Ah, I don’t know. Anyway, these guys are the best. So I sent away the scrubs and only picked out the aces.”
It was absurd.
This wasn’t the nineteenth century; he had brought them like he was buying slaves? Like he was kidnapping slaves.
Something like that shouldn’t be possible in the twenty-first century.
So I apologized to them and gave them the chance to return to Korea.
I even told them I would buy their tickets.
But when these guys saw our sign and asked if this was GoGo Casino,
they begged for a chance to work here instead.
They said GoGo Casino was a legend in the casino industry and got down on their knees, asking for a chance to learn the know-how.
Really?
I gave them a chance.
The door to employment opens to those who knock.
These guys were really quite skilled.
They were true aces.
Especially the one named O Eutteum—his skills were no joke.
With Manager Nam gone, O Eutteum was now acting as the top administrator.
I gave O Eutteum a mission.
“Analyze this site for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
And today he came with the analysis report.
But the first thing he said was:
“Boss, these guys are no joke.”
“What do you mean?”
“These guys. They analyze the user’s situation in real-time and manipulate the win rates.”
“Win rate manipulation? We do that too. Don’t tell me they raise it even higher than we do?”
“It’s a completely different system from ours. Ours is fixed, but these guys are real-time. The system tracks the user, raises the win rate in the beginning, and then drops the odds when it becomes a big game.”
“So what?”
“That system is incredible. It’s extremely well-made. If we acquire it, it would be a huge help to us.”
O Eutteum looked at me with a strange gaze.
It was the same look Aena had shown me.
Strange.
It was scary.
I was starting to think that no one here was normal.