I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 194

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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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194 – Container
194.
Kuroda sat at his desk, reviewing reports.
An enormous stack of documents covered the surface.
[Taerim Insurance Independent Analysis Results]
[Asian Maritime Insurance Landscape Analysis]
[East Asian Major Port Risk Analysis]
Each report contained critical information.
These were not documents one could skim through carelessly.
Yet Kuroda methodically worked through them one by one.
He read each page slowly and thoroughly, checking details and making notes.
The volume was substantial, and the content was vital,
but Kuroda focused solely on the reports, dismissing such concerns.
What mattered was not speed, but accuracy.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and a man in golf attire entered.
Kuroda glanced up from his reading, acknowledged the visitor, set down his report, and rose to his feet.
“It’s been a while. What brings you all the way here?”
“You requested our cooperation, didn’t you?”
“Yes, though I could have sent it by file.”
“On occasions like this, it’s good to see each other in person.”
Kuroda glanced at the man’s clothing.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“Our target apparently loves golf, so I’ve been dressing the part. I still need to head to the course.”
“I see. You have your own challenges.”
“You think you’re the only one? Didn’t your operation go sideways?”
Kuroda nodded slightly.
“I didn’t expect South Korea to move like this. It caught me off guard.”
“Is that why you needed this?”
The man in golf attire pulled documents from his jacket.
A red stamp marked “Confidential” was affixed to the papers.
[Activity Report on Taerim Insurance CEO Anna Mabini] was written across the cover.
Kuroda accepted the documents the man offered.
Recently, Kuroda had requested assistance from the Cabinet Intelligence Bureau.
The insurance situation in South Korea was unusual.
Particularly, the movements of Taerim Insurance’s new CEO were suspicious.
This could have significant implications for Japan’s future trade and finance.
An investigation into Taerim Insurance’s new CEO was necessary.
Of course, it was a discreet request that would leave no official record.
The man sitting before me was none other than Matsumoto, the one who had received that request.
Matsumoto also belonged to Seiwakai.
But their closeness wasn’t simply because they shared the same organization.
They had known each other since their days at Tokyo University, cultivating a genuine friendship.
The two were close, and they nurtured their dreams together.
Kuroda had become Vice Minister of Finance,
while Matsumoto worked at the Cabinet Intelligence Bureau.
Having been friends since childhood, they occasionally met for drinks.
Whenever either needed something, they asked the other for help.
Matsumoto, having received Kuroda’s request, ordered an investigation into Anna Mabini.
The Cabinet Intelligence Bureau moved with remarkable efficiency.
“Right. We need to confirm who she is. Who’s orchestrating this, and what are they doing.”
Matsumoto alternated his gaze between the documents stacked on his desk and Kuroda.
“Don’t push too hard. It’s exhausting.”
“Still, it has to be done. It’s for the country.”
Matsumoto started to say something more but stopped himself.
Instead, he offered encouragement.
“Right. It’s for the country, so we have to do it. I’ll leave this here.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Matsumoto paused at the door and spoke once more.
“But don’t try to untangle the knot by force.”
“Hm?”
“When a knot won’t come undone, sometimes cutting it is the answer.”
The golf enthusiast left those cryptic words behind and departed the room.
But Kuroda understood perfectly what those words meant.
.
.
.
Left alone, Kuroda unfolded the documents.
They contained a complete chronology of Anna Mabini’s life.
Anna Mabini.
Born in the Philippines.
Currently 38 years old.
Orphan.
Unmarried.
No family.
Bohol Island State University graduate.
Employed at Cayley International Advisory.
Notable point.
CEO and key executives of Cayley International Advisory deceased from gunshot wounds.
(Cayley International Advisory is a company notorious for money laundering)
At the time of the incident, Anna Mabini came under suspicion.
However, the alibi of a person who was allegedly with her was confirmed, and she was cleared of charges.
Afterward, she worked as a financial officer at Candy Tour and Emerald Resort.
Currently the CEO of Taelim Financial Group.
Performance has been on an upward trajectory since her appointment.
Exceptional growth across insurance, finance, and reinsurance.
Large sums transferred to the Philippines for the establishment of a Philippine branch.
Beyond her career history, the report included details about her personal relationships, hobbies, and food preferences.
Her commute times, routes—everything.
Even the most trivial information was documented in the report.
Kuroda closed the file and shut his eyes.
He mentally reassembled the facts he’d just reviewed.
Nothing stood out as particularly unusual.
No—it was far too clean.
That itself was what seemed odd.
A CEO with no scheduled appointments, no meetings with anyone?
It appeared as though she were deliberately hiding.
The report stated her residence was Unity Village in Hannam-dong.
That’s what was written in the report.
Highest security classification. Reconnaissance and wiretapping impossible.
Did a CEO really need to live somewhere with such stringent security?
There were no records of special threats or disputes.
Then why live in such a place?
Once I began to suspect, inconsistencies kept surfacing.
How could someone who worked in a hotel’s finance department suddenly become CEO of Taelim Insurance?
The move from Cayley International Advisory to Emerald Resort—that was plausible.
They were both companies in Bohol.
The affiliations were similar.
But Emerald Resort and Taelim Financial Group had no connection whatsoever.
Different countries, different markets, incomparable in scale.
Executive search? Investment recruitment? Management rights dispute?
None of it fit.
Logically, it made no sense.
Yet Anna became CEO of Taelim.
It was incomprehensible.
This was not something one could accomplish alone.
Someone was helping her.
Kuroda picked up the file again.
He examined the death incident at Cayley International Advisory.
A police report filed by the Philippine Police.
Looking at it again, the report was far too sloppy.
The crime scene wasn’t properly secured, and the ballistics weren’t analyzed.
Most peculiar of all was that they released Ana based solely on the testimony of a witness who claimed to have been present.
The case was closed as is.
“The witness was Sandro? The Boss of the Sandro Group?”
The report stated he was “trustworthy.”
“Trustworthy? Who? Who exactly trusts him?”
Kuroda scoffed.
Ana was scheduled to undergo an internal audit the following day.
But everyone who was supposed to conduct that audit was dead.
Coincidence?
Could Ana have killed Cayley and the executives herself?
It was a company laundering money.
What if Ana killed Cayley and the executives, then took the shell company’s funds?
If Ana didn’t kill them directly, could the Sandro Group have done it for her?
What if she bought the Philippine Organization with the embezzled money?
What if the Sandro Group helped cover up the incident?
It all fits together.
In the Philippines, such things were entirely possible.
The Sandro Group becomes a witness, the police turn a blind eye, the report becomes sloppy—it all makes sense.
Everything is explained.
Ana hiding in the shadows managing the money, the Sandro Group acting as her instrument.
And now that I think about it, quite a substantial sum had been flowing to the Philippines.
Kuroda reconsidered his theory.
Someone wasn’t helping Ana.
Ana was the mastermind.
The Sandro Group was merely a tool, following orders.
With this perspective, everything aligned perfectly.
Ana was the true boss.
She concealed herself and put Sandro forward.
Now that she believed she controlled both the funds and the organization, she had stepped into the open.
Under the title of CEO.
“This is the one.”
Kuroda gazed at the photograph once more.
A blonde Caucasian woman.
Her striking beauty contrasted sharply with her expressionless face.
The woman in the photograph said nothing,
yet Kuroda felt as though he had already heard the answer.
The architect of this entire scheme.
The architect who had remained hidden in the shadows.
Now she had finally revealed herself.
This woman was the one—I was certain of it.
Kuroda’s fists clenched tightly.
******
At that same moment,
Zamboanga, Philippines.
The road from the airport into Zamboanga City.
The entire route was plastered with Patrick’s face.
Utility poles, walls, rooftops, trees.
Wherever there was space, banners bearing Patrick’s image hung in abundance.
Passing vehicles, taxis, truck beds—all bore Patrick’s face and symbols.
‘This is getting a bit excessive, isn’t it?’
Philippine elections were already notorious for being called “placard elections” due to the sheer volume of banners.
But this time, it seemed to have crossed into excess.
Not merely abundant—the city was wallpapered with them.
The entire city felt like a single election poster.
Come to think of it, the presidential election was just around the corner.
Rumor had it that Patrick’s approval rating already exceeded 60 percent.
His victory was essentially assured.
The election itself was merely a formality.
Patrick’s campaign had begun as early as two years ago.
La Camara had quietly initiated the operation.
Through the media, they reported not on Patrick himself, but on Patrick’s achievements.
How Zamboanga had transformed,
how the Philippines’ power infrastructure had changed.
Stories that naturally stirred national pride.
As a result, life had become more convenient.
Yet Patrick’s name appeared nowhere.
Still, people knew.
Who had orchestrated this transformation.
Patrick stood at the end of every narrative.
It wasn’t limited to broadcasting.
Through religious and civic organizations, they spread word of Patrick.
The administration and congress were already preparing to welcome him.
People who had worked with Patrick were being dispatched to key government posts.
It was, in essence, a transition team.
The military and police likewise recognized Patrick as the incoming president and were formulating their strategies accordingly.
The business community had already accepted Patrick as president.
Unless something extraordinary occurred, Patrick seemed destined to become president.
Even if something unexpected happened, it seemed Patrick would become President.
Patrick was demonstrating such tremendous influence.
Since Patrick seemed busy with his election campaign, I decided to meet him next time.
The real reason I came to the Philippines was something else entirely.
.
.
.
“You’ve arrived?”
Dennis greeted me.
Dennis had now become one of the main dealers among international arms merchants.
He didn’t have the latest weapons or ultra-premium equipment,
but he competed on volume with Chinese-made gear.
Fair prices without markup.
Reliable delivery schedules.
If problems arose, he even provided after-sales service.
Moreover, the weapons that Shin Jung-gi had created—or rather, modified—were receiving high praise.
I’d heard that Shin Jung-gi was recently developing something extraordinary, but I didn’t ask.
He’d tell me once it was finished.
“Did you arrange things as discussed?”
“Everything’s ready. Let’s move.”
I got into the vehicle Dennis had prepared and we drove off.
An ordinary-looking warehouse near Zamboanga Port.
Inside, it was packed with weapons.
“I’ve prepared everything here.”
I inspected the items Dennis had arranged.
Everything was prepared exactly as discussed.
I nodded.
I was sufficiently satisfied.
“But what are you planning to use such old weapons for? If you need them, I can prepare the latest models instead.”
Dennis asked.
Now that I thought about it, I could see how he might misunderstand.
I’d asked Dennis to procure cheap weapons in large quantities, after all.
I’d said it didn’t matter if they were outdated.
“Well, I’m not actually going to use these. It’s more for… display purposes, I suppose? Was it difficult to source them?”
“When I said I needed these, everyone was happy to unload their inventory at rock-bottom prices.”
“Is that so?”
“But where are you planning to move all this? The quantity is substantial, and it’ll be difficult to transport.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”
“Dennis, would it be alright if I looked around the warehouse a bit?”
“Of course. Feel free to look around. I’ll step out for a moment.”
Dennis left, and I remained alone in the armory.
The armory was brimming with weapons Dennis had procured.
Rifles, landmines, explosives, grenades—the list went on.
There was a specific reason I’d asked Dennis to acquire these items.
I intended to scatter them throughout the Japanese Port.
Beyond these, I’d prepared various other materials.
Weapons, narcotics, counterfeit currency, knockoffs—everything.
I planned to stack contraband at the port—items that should never pass customs inspection.
Materials that, through proper procedure, should never enter the port.
I wanted to place items at the port that could cause problems by their very existence.
If this were discovered, Japan’s inspection system would inevitably be questioned.
That was precisely what I wanted.
‘The Japanese Port failed to filter out weapons.’
‘There was no inspection whatsoever.’
‘The system is a complete mess.’
I wanted to create an atmosphere of complete distrust toward the Japanese Port.
Since Japan had attempted to undermine our credibility, this was self-defense.
I was simply doing what needed to be done.
Getting struck and doing nothing wasn’t my style.
The real challenge was transporting these items.
Moving them posed no difficulty whatsoever.
I could simply place them in my inventory and go.
But what came next—that was the problem.
Simply take them and place them in another container?
That wouldn’t be terrible, I suppose.
But couldn’t it be more impactful?
I wanted something more spectacular.
I found myself deliberating.
Like how the Japanese had tried to make containers fall into the sea and create a splash.
I wanted something that would create an undeniable image.
Something so blatant it couldn’t be concealed or denied.
If I quietly placed these items in another container,
and Japanese customs discovered them, they might simply try to cover it up quietly.
Japan might even boast about how their perfect inspection system could detect such contraband.
I didn’t want to see that happen.
I wanted it to explode at the port.
I wanted it to detonate at the port in a way that couldn’t be hidden or denied.
So that numerous witnesses would see it and prevent any cover-up,
And so that the port would be filled with items that should never have passed through.
I hadn’t worked out the tactical details, but that was my intention.
Regardless of what operation I planned, I needed materials.
So I reached out to Dennis.
Not for weapons, but to create something that couldn’t exist in a harbor.
The weapons here had already circled the globe several times over.
They were filled with arms that had seen action in America, the Middle East, Africa, and South America.
Their origins could never be traced.
Now I just needed to move them to Japan.
I could load them onto pallets and wrap them, or stuff them into bags.
But it was such a hassle.
If I put them in bags, I’d have to unpack everything at the site and reload it into containers—far too tedious.
Security would be tight, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the time.
Pallets were the same problem.
Pallets required even more hands.
But why did that container look so manageable today?
I found myself thinking I could just… put it in.
Could I?
No, that’s impossible. It’s enormous.
Even the smallest ones are 20 feet long.
Bigger than the vans we drive around in.
Longer, wider, taller.
There’s no way I could fit that into my inventory.
Yet today, for some reason, it felt like I might.
The warehouse was empty.
I placed my hand on the container full of weapons.
Go in.
Go in.
Go in.
I commanded silently.
Whoosh.
There was no sound, but I felt it—that sensation.
And with that feeling, the container before my eyes vanished.
A 20-foot container simply disappeared.
The container had entered my inventory.
Hahahaha.
Hahahahahaha.
Hahahahahahahaha.
Laughter erupted from me unbidden.
So I let myself laugh freely.
I could move containers now.
I had become a cargo ship.
Wait, Japanese Port.
I’m going in.
Through my inventory, I’ve become a magnate of the black market.
194 – Container
E-book Publication
/ February 10, 2026
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/ Black Card
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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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