I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 185

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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185 – Yakuza Alliance
185.
“Press harder. I said press harder. That’s how we get better efficiency.”
“No, that’s not how you do it.”
Japan.
A coastal area far removed from Tokyo.
A dilapidated factory stood alone in a desolate wasteland devoid of human presence.
Not a factory, but an industrial waste disposal facility.
Inside, yakuza who looked even older than the building itself labored away.
Bickering back and forth—you’re right, no I’m right—
yet their hands never ceased their work.
Sweat poured from them like rain, but their faces were not dark.
Rather, they appeared content.
At least, they seemed satisfied simply to have work to do.
.
.
.
Kurokawa had accepted Alex’s proposal.
Whether to call it goodwill,
or investment,
or consulting as he put it—the distinction blurred.
Yet Kurokawa decided to trust Alex’s words.
He chose to accept his kindness.
He didn’t know how this new life would unfold, but it seemed it had to be better than his current existence.
His present life was truly bleak.
Living in hope of not being caught,
praying not to die,
enduring in such a manner—he didn’t want that anymore.
It felt like a life with an expiration date, counting down to death.
He didn’t want to live that way, but there seemed no other path.
No escape route appeared.
So he accepted.
His pride objected, but it seemed better than now, so he accepted.
Kurokawa moved himself.
He discreetly met with other yakuza.
“I’m starting a business venture. I’d appreciate your help.”
“Let’s merge. I need your Amagi Alliance.”
“The Shiranui Faction is the strongest around here. Let’s work together.”
“I’ll acknowledge your position.”
“I’ll pay salaries monthly.”
“The work is grueling and dirty instead. But the money we handle is clean.”
“We can live like human beings.”
The words about living like human beings stirred something in the Yakuza members’ hearts.
Kurokawa’s approach was gentle.
He didn’t crush them with force.
He resolved everything through dialogue.
He used the word “merger” instead of “absorption.”
He asked them to join him.
He acknowledged all their positions and organization members as they were.
On top of that, he said he would even provide salaries.
There was no reason to refuse.
Above all, the man making this proposal was Kurokawa.
The man at the apex of the Yakuza.
It was burdensome for the Yakuza to simply accept this proposal.
Before accepting Kurokawa’s proposal unconditionally, one final hurdle remained—pride.
Kurokawa cleared that obstacle effortlessly.
If someone else had made the proposal, they would have refused out of pride.
But because it was Kurokawa, it was possible.
The Yakuza members nodded.
Thus the Yakuza Alliance was born.
They didn’t use any organization’s name.
They simply replaced the organization’s identity with the term “Yakuza Alliance.”
.
.
.
They purchased a waste disposal company.
It was a company with no legal issues.
The paperwork was clean.
Waste disposal isn’t difficult.
You just throw away garbage.
Whether you bury it, burn it, or dispose of it any way—as long as it’s handled, that’s all that matters.
The problem was the regulations.
Incineration temperature, dioxins, carbon monoxide concentration, heavy metals, lead, cadmium, hydrogen ion concentration, exhaust filters, and so on.
There were far too many regulations and standards to maintain.
But the Yakuza didn’t follow them.
Rather, they pretended to follow them while conveniently exceeding the standards.
They began the waste disposal business by violating rules in small, trivial ways.
These regulations are difficult to meet perfectly.
For example, if the standard is 90 points, the Yakuza’s current score is between 60 and 70 points.
Rather than us matching 20 to 60 points,
Going from 60 to 80 points is harder,
and 90 to 95 points is even harder still.
The same applies to standards.
To meet the 90-point standard from the current 60-point baseline requires substantial investment and facility management.
But the Yakuza merely pretended to comply.
They had no intention of meeting the standards.
The Yakuza don’t fear the law.
If problems arise, they simply shut down and open elsewhere.
Whether they face fines or imprisonment in the process hardly concerns them.
Prison? It’s not so bad.
They’ve been in and out of it regularly.
The Yakuza Alliance has truckloads of members willing to go to prison.
That’s why they give little thought to legal violations.
From the customer’s perspective, however, it’s exceptionally advantageous.
Processing the same volume of waste costs over 30% less.
There’s no reason not to use the Yakuza Alliance.
The Yakuza Alliance doesn’t advertise saying “we are the Yakuza.”
They were simply a legitimate waste disposal company with no legal issues whatsoever.
Just a new startup with competitive pricing.
The aged, menacing appearance of the Yakuza who came to collect waste made them look like seasoned professionals worn down by the grueling work of waste disposal.
Their rough speech and mannerisms made them appear like experts who’d been doing this for decades.
Unintentionally, it made them seem like veterans in their field.
The Yakuza took it one step further.
They completely stripped away their yakuza identity.
All external channels were staffed exclusively by female employees.
The receptionists and salespeople were all female employees.
As a result, the company became even more approachable.
Thanks to this, the Yakuza Alliance became a company with affordable prices and expert staff crawling everywhere.
A company with excellent customer service.
There was no reason not to use them.
Customers didn’t need to know how the Yakuza Alliance disposed of the waste.
If asked, they could simply claim it was confidential.
And so the Yakuza Alliance’s waste disposal business grew at a rapid pace.
The expressions on the faces of the Yakuza doing the work were bright.
They no longer had to patrol alleys with blades in hand.
There was no need to worry about being struck down by a knife.
They didn’t have to flee at the sight of police or live in constant evasion.
They clocked in at set times, did their work, and received their paychecks.
The materials were filthy and dangerous, but there were no real problems.
If anything, their minds seemed to grow clearer.
After work, I grabbed a beer with my colleagues over dinner.
I’d drunk plenty during my Yakuza days, but the taste was different now.
That single beer after finishing a hard day’s work and sharing a meal tasted exquisite.
It felt like a weight lifting from my chest.
And so the Yakuza were building their new lives.
.
.
.
I was on my way to Kurokawa’s factory.
He’d been so insistent that I visit, so I reluctantly stopped by.
Kurokawa was waiting for me at the main gate himself.
“You came?”
Kurokawa’s face lit up.
His expression was different from when we were fugitives in Wakkanai.
Working had given his face a vitality it lacked before.
“It’s been a while.”
“This is our factory—impressive, isn’t it?”
To my eyes, it was a dilapidated old factory, but Kurokawa seemed to find it endlessly magnificent.
“Yes, it’s quite impressive.”
“Come on, let’s head to the office.”
I moved to the office and was introduced to the executives by Kurokawa.
The executives were all former bosses.
They all bowed their heads in gratitude to me.
“Thank you.”
“We’ve heard much about you.”
“We’ll serve you for life.”
I simply nodded in acknowledgment.
After the greetings ended, I headed back down to the factory floor.
Then I asked for some time alone and went to the incinerator.
By myself.
I retrieved the bodies of the missing Cheongwha Society members I’d brought in my inventory and laid them out at the crematorium.
I planned to dispose of them here.
In fact, the Dae-hoon Faction also has this high-temperature incineration facility.
We used it last time when we incinerated the Disand.
Yet there was only one reason I came all this way with the bodies.
To keep a promise.
A promise to scatter their ashes in Japan.
I came here to honor my promise to give them a proper Japanese funeral rite.
And I could inspect the factory while I was at it.
Two birds with one stone.
I gazed quietly at the flames dancing within the incinerator.
The incinerator, as if nothing had happened,
quietly and faithfully burned everything to ash.
********
[Congratulations. K-ORIGIN SCHOOL Opening Ceremony]
A large banner hung across the front of the Auditorium.
The Auditorium was extremely bustling.
Languages from various countries mingled and echoed.
Camera shutters clicked from somewhere,
and people were making calls here and there.
Some were already trying to make friends, conversing with those beside them.
Their skin tones, ages, and clothing were all different.
Some wore formal suits, while others dressed in jeans and t-shirts.
They had gathered for the same reason, yet they looked nothing alike.
Kwon Sang-yeol, who oversaw the project, stood at the podium,
and Dae-hun also sat in the guest of honor section as the representative.
I too took a seat beside Dae-hun under the title of investor or major shareholder.
But there was an unexpected person in that seat.
The Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism.
The Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism had attended the opening ceremony.
Just this single fact alone made it clear—without needing further explanation—how the government viewed this project.
Everyone gathered here shared the same awareness.
That K-culture must not end as a mere trend.
That it must become sustainable culture, not just a fleeting fad.
That it must be original, not a copy.
And K-ORIGIN SCHOOL was proclaiming it would fulfill that role.
To truly become K-ORIGIN, the students mattered, but the faculty was even more crucial.
In that regard, K-ORIGIN SCHOOL was flawless.
Not theorists, but practitioners from the field served as instructors.
Michelin-starred chefs, YouTubers with millions of followers, choreographers, composers, visual artists, fashion designers, hair designers, makeup artists, and more.
People at the forefront of their respective fields came as instructors.
They were people whose names alone commanded recognition.
They too shared our vision.
They gladly participated in K-ORIGIN SCHOOL with genuine enthusiasm.
As a result, the pool of instructors overflowed with talent.
Instructors rotated on a semester or yearly basis.
Everyone was busy, after all,
and it also allowed students to experience diverse curricula.
They were no novices.
Every student possessed fundamental skills.
The goal was to infuse K-culture into the children’s abilities and create something uniquely their own.
But the moment classes began, the classroom descended into chaos.
Problems erupted from every direction.
Too many diverse people were mixed together.
Their cultures clashed.
While their passion to learn was identical, the way they expressed it differed completely.
Some asked endless questions,
while others wanted to jump into practical work before explanations were even finished,
and still others disapproved of the entire spectacle.
Students clashed with each other, and they clashed with the instructors.
Cracks seemed to be forming.
– Makeup Class.
“Please don’t apply it so heavily. I prefer something natural.”
“But this area isn’t covered at all?”
The instructor shook her head.
“It doesn’t matter. As long as it reads properly on camera, that’s all that matters.”
The students tilted their heads in confusion.
Seeing their expressions, the instructor spoke.
“I understand it’s hard to believe. So don’t overthink it—just film it. Then check the results. Which looks better?”
The students applied makeup to each other and shot footage.
The natural appearance in person was starkly different from the natural appearance with camera and lighting.
– Hair Class
“Teacher, how about this?”
A student showed the instructor a neatly arranged hairstyle.
The instructor shook her head.
“It’s too neat, too honest.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not a problem, exactly. But it doesn’t stick in people’s minds. It’s like plain wallpaper with no pattern.”
The instructor picked up a tail comb and let a single strand fall loose from the otherwise neat style.
A subtle dishevelment.
The eye was drawn to it.
– Food Class
This was even worse.
The kitchen already had a strict hierarchy.
Since the pecking order hadn’t been established yet, they growled at each other.
The atmosphere felt like one more word would result in fists flying.
The instructor assigned a mission.
“Create fusion food that complements K-FOOD.”
Immediately, every student added kimchi to their dishes.
Some minced it in, some blended it in, some added kimchi broth.
Kimchi found its way into the pasta, the hamburgers, the rice noodles, the donburi—everything.
The food tasted revolting.
The instructor spoke up.
“This isn’t it. Throwing kimchi into everything doesn’t make it K-culture.”
The student who heard those words said nothing and bolted from the classroom.
Three days later, he returned with a dish that was actually quite impressive.
Of course, kimchi was still in it.
Just in an entirely different way.
.
.
.
The students had come to learn, but they refused to accept things passively.
Even as they studied K-culture, they strived to blend it with their own traditions.
Many people watched K-ORIGIN SCHOOL’s situation with concern.
Worried that conflict might break out.
That fractures might form.
They poured out their anxieties and doubts.
But Kwon Sang-yeol simply smiled in silence.
This situation was exactly the vision he had designed.
This wasn’t a fracture at all.
It was the process of cultures colliding and creating something entirely new.
Through collision and experience, they were accepting each other’s cultures.
It was the process of K-culture becoming richer.
It was blending and merging as it exchanged with and absorbed other cultures.
Through this process, K-ORIGIN’s spectrum was expanding—broad enough now to embrace other cultures as well.
This phenomenon was unfolding at K-ORIGIN SCHOOL.
Here, practice was filming, and filming was content.
Once filming ended, they didn’t wait.
Content went straight to YouTube.
“Teacher, just a moment. Let me edit this.”
“This one didn’t work out. I’ll upload the next one.”
“No. Upload it right now. That’s the only way to see where you truly stand.”
“Editing here won’t improve it. Upload it and figure out yourself what’s lacking. That’s how you move forward.”
The students had no choice but to upload their videos.
The footage was crude and rough, but the ideas within it shone brilliantly.
K-ORIGIN SCHOOL was a school, yet it wasn’t a school.
Not a place where one was taught,
but a place where one created, collided, and was immediately thrust into the world.
A new K-culture was beginning.
Through the Inventory, I had become a major player in the black market.
185 – Yakuza Alliance
E-book Publication
/ January 30, 2026
Author
/ Black Card
Publisher
/ Son Je-ho
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/ Munpia
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© Black Card, 2026
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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