I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 197

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

197 – Tokyo Port
197.
Tokyo Port (東京港)
Japan’s premier harbor.
By cargo volume, it ranks second nationwide, trailing only Nagoya Port.
Yet those numbers alone cannot capture what Tokyo Port truly is.
Tokyo Port serves as the gateway through which consumer goods flow into Japan’s capital region.
Food, pharmaceuticals, household goods, electronics—everything.
Nearly every commodity consumed throughout the metropolitan area passes through Tokyo Port.
As proof, when measured by container volume, Tokyo ranks first.
It equals the combined throughput of Incheon and Busan in our country.
And it was at this Tokyo Port that an explosion occurred.
This was no ordinary accident.
Not merely a gas cylinder rupturing from carelessness.
The blast was catastrophic—a deafening roar audible with perfect clarity within a five-kilometer radius.
Windows in nearby buildings rattled violently,
and containers stacked in the storage yard were obliterated.
Metal shrieked as containers tore apart.
Their contents spilled outward in a chaotic cascade.
.
.
.
“I am currently reporting live from Tokyo Port, where an explosion has just occurred.”
As the cue dropped,
a reporter in a hard hat began her broadcast, reading from the script displayed on her phone.
Behind her, shattered containers lay scattered in disarray,
and black smoke billowed ceaselessly into the sky.
“At approximately 10 a.m. this morning, a tremendous explosion erupted in this storage yard. According to current reports, fortunately there have been no casualties.”
At that moment, another smaller explosion detonated.
Boom.
The reporter instinctively flinched, hunching her shoulders and shielding her head with both hands.
The camera trembled slightly.
A brief silence.
Yet the broadcast continued.
The reporter spoke, her voice trembling.
“Officials from Tokyo Port Authority stated they are currently analyzing the precise cause of the accident. However, the scene remains under complete lockdown at this time. This is Morikawa Rina, reporting live from the scene.”
The female announcer barely managed to conclude her broadcast.
Though her lines had ended, the camera continued capturing the scene.
Firefighters at the site relentlessly sprayed water streams upward.
Yet the flames refused to be contained.
Small explosions erupted intermittently.
The Police Officers expanded the perimeter.
“Please step back.”
“It’s dangerous. Move further back.”
“Photography is prohibited.”
“Stop taking pictures.”
But it was already too late.
Port workers, truck drivers, and site personnel who had been nearby during the accident were uploading photographs and videos in real-time to social media.
Completely unfiltered, in their raw state.
The photographs contained firearms and other weapons,
half-burned counterfeit luxury goods.
Counterfeit banknotes that had stuck to the ground from the water sprayed by fire trucks were uploaded as-is.
“What? What is this?”
“A container exploded, so why are there guns?”
“Isn’t that Tokyo Port? But…”
“This isn’t just an accident, is it?”
“But that really looks like an actual gun?”
“Is it AI-generated?”
“Would a broadcast station use real-time compositing? Watch the live feed. It’s being broadcast in real-time.”
Checking the channel, the same images from social media were being broadcast.
As broadcasters competed to report the story for ratings,
they focused only on the explosion and fire, failing to properly examine what was around the container.
They had concentrated only on the reporter.
Sure enough, shortly after, the live scene footage switched to the studio.
An expert appeared and was analyzing the incident.
“But I can’t believe it—does that mean guns and counterfeit currency have been passing through customs regularly?”
“Who knows? We’ll just have to wait for the investigation results.”
“They’ll cover it up anyway.”
“At least it doesn’t seem to be a simple explosion.”
“Isn’t this terrorism? I’m scared.”
The live broadcast stopped,
but the incident videos continued spreading through YouTube and social media.
People’s concerns, worries, and questions were spreading uncontrollably.
.
.
.
Upon hearing the news of the accident, the Tokyo Port Authority hurried to conceal the scene.
They believed no further information could be allowed to leak.
They hastily arranged temporary fencing of the type installed at construction sites for safety.
They wanted it installed immediately, but
Things were not unfolding as intended.
“Installation is not possible at this time. Firefighting operations are still ongoing.”
Police officers and firefighters blocked the installation work.
Only after all firefighting operations were completely finished could the fencing work finally begin.
I couldn’t even estimate how many more photographs had been taken in the meantime.
.
.
.
The Tokyo Port Authority Director arrived at the scene and clamped his mouth shut.
Even with a mouth, he had nothing to say.
The actual scene was far more shocking than expected.
The acrid smell of explosives still stung my nostrils.
Smoldering embers remained scattered throughout the area.
Debris and wreckage from the explosion rolled about in every direction.
The problem was those remnants.
Objects that should absolutely never exist in a port.
Why were mines and hand grenades rolling around a port?
“Sigh…”
A deep sigh spoke for him.
What kind of place was Tokyo Port?
It had won the World Port Award for logistics efficiency utilizing IT technology,
and it was a port that had received ISO 28000 certification—an honor granted only to harbors safest from terrorism and smuggling.
A place where a system had been established for ships to arrive and depart on schedule.
A place maintaining an accident-free record.
Tokyo Port was a place where even minor incidents had never occurred.
Yet now, a catastrophe of this magnitude.
As director, there was nothing he could do.
All he could say was to erect the fencing quickly.
.
.
.
On one side, fencing began to be erected at a rapid pace.
But inside the fenced perimeter, activity was far more frantic and urgent.
The first team to move forward was the Police Bomb Disposal Unit.
A major explosion had already occurred,
and since then, though smaller in scale, sporadic explosions had continued.
No one knew when another explosion might happen.
The most pressing task right now was not investigation, but eliminating hazardous elements.
That was why the Bomb Disposal Unit had entered first.
Personnel in protective gear advanced into the interior of the exploded container.
The container door had been torn open from the inside.
The door panel lay crumpled on the floor like a sheet of paper,
and the interior walls were blackened with soot.
Scattered across the floor were unidentifiable remnants of debris.
Metal fragments, torn packaging materials, objects half-melted and fused by fire.
The point that appeared to be the center of the explosion showed a sunken depression in the floor.
Radiating patterns of destruction were clearly visible around it.
The Bomb Disposal Unit methodically examined each piece, one by one.
Then one member tilted his head in confusion.
No matter how he looked at it, something seemed wrong.
He couldn’t identify any object capable of producing this level of destruction.
Rifles, bullets, magazines, grenades, mines.
Objects like those could never produce an explosion of this magnitude.
Even if they had all detonated simultaneously, the scale didn’t match.
Moreover, most of them weren’t even explosive devices to begin with.
Considering the depth of the explosion, the direction of pressure, and the deformation pattern of the metal.
This wasn’t an accidental discharge.
Unmistakably,
these were traces visible only when a bomb detonates.
“Nothing?”
“No, sir. Nothing.”
A brief exchange passed between them.
Outside the container, the Tokyo Port Authority Director was shouting orders to erect the fence quickly.
They had no interest in whatever information he wanted to conceal.
Whether it was smuggled goods or counterfeit merchandise didn’t matter.
What they had found was singular.
Whether any objects capable of re-detonation remained.
And what had caused the explosion.
They hadn’t identified the cause of the explosion,
but they had confirmed there was no risk of re-detonation.
Once the Bomb Disposal Unit declared the area clear of hazards, the Public Security Police were immediately deployed.
They preserved the scene and collected the weapons as evidence.
After that, the Police, Japan Coast Guard, Customs, and port staff all converged on the site.
Inside the fence became absolute chaos.
Someone was taking photographs,
someone was making lists,
someone was reporting in real-time over the radio.
An invisible competition began among agencies eager to distinguish themselves in such a major incident.
The carefully preserved crime scene was rapidly deteriorating into disorder.
.
.
.
“Have you verified the container’s customs clearance records?”
The Tokyo Port Authority Director asked his secretary.
Immediately after the incident, their first action was to identify the container number and then query
the cargo owner and contents based on that identification.
“I apologize. It’s an unregistered container.”
“What?”
“The container lacks the system it should have. We cannot determine where it was manufactured or which shipping route it took to arrive here.”
The Port Authority Director glared at his secretary.
“Does that make any sense? You’re telling me an uncleared container—one whose origin we don’t even know—was sitting in Tokyo Port? Filled with weapons and drugs?”
“I apologize.”
The Tokyo Port Authority Director exhaled sharply, then issued instructions to his secretary.
“Suppress it, however you can.”
“Pardon?”
“Right. Say it was a film production prop. That works, doesn’t it?”
“Y-yes, understood.”
The secretary hesitated briefly, but nodded in agreement.
Shortly after, the Tokyo Port Authority released an official statement.
It explained the incident as an accidental occurrence involving props for a film production.
The investigating agencies did not refute it.
There seemed no benefit in making a fuss about it.
But not everything proceeded as intended.
The most sensitive parties were the foreign insurance companies.
Tokyo Port had been offering substantial insurance premium discounts based on “precise customs clearance” and “accident-free history.”
But if that premise collapsed?
If incidents like this occurred?
Those discounts no longer needed to be maintained.
Moreover, if they were covering up and concealing the incident?
They had released a lie so transparent that even a child would reject it as an official statement.
The insurance companies decided to conduct their own investigation.
Since the container was damaged, investigation was essential to process compensation claims.
Normally they trusted the materials sent by Tokyo Port, but that was no longer possible.
“Are you certain? We’d like to inspect the site ourselves.”
“We need to verify the cargo contents directly.”
“We will dispatch our own investigators.”
“We can no longer trust the ISO 28000 certification either.”
“Exactly. How did they even grant certification to such a place?”
In response, the ISO Certification Authority announced it was suspending Tokyo Port’s ISO 28000 certification until the investigation was complete.
The organization could not afford to damage its own credibility.
The insurance companies did not view this incident as a simple accident.
They believed there was a fundamental problem with Tokyo Port’s customs clearance system itself.
The customs procedures at Tokyo Port, which they had trusted until now, were meaningless actions.
.
.
.
The day after the explosion.
Tokyo Port did not move.
Rather, it could not move.
The storage yard where the explosion occurred was only a small part of the entire port.
The problem was that this small part was positioned precisely at a critical junction point.
Container movement routes,
automated crane control systems,
radiation and explosive re-inspection procedures all converged simultaneously,
and the entire port effectively switched to emergency mode.
The Tokyo Port Authority declared it would conduct a comprehensive inspection of all containers stored in the storage yard.
The port had literally come to a standstill.
Tokyo Port wanted to establish an image of immediately halting operations when an accident occurs,
and re-validating all procedures from scratch.
Even if the accident was caused by film production props,
Tokyo Port wanted to demonstrate that it manages operations thoroughly.
It wanted to show that the system was functioning and control was absolute.
So it stopped.
The Tokyo Port Authority notified all shipping companies.
[Tokyo Port comprehensive safety inspection in progress. All unloading and cargo removal operations suspended until further notice]
The container ships that had been anchored remained tied up.
Ships already docked could not depart,
and ships scheduled to enter port were hastily rerouted to Yokohama or Nagoya.
The problem was that Tokyo Port was not merely a port.
Food, medicine, daily necessities, electronic components, and semiconductor materials flowing into the Seoul Metropolitan Area.
These were goods whose absence was immediately felt.
Tokyo Port processed an average of 30,000 to 40,000 containers daily, which amounted to 2 to 3 trillion yen in value.
This entire logistics flow had come to a complete halt.
Contrary to the Tokyo Port Authority’s intentions, the market interpreted it differently.
“If it had to stop that much, isn’t there something more to this?”
“If it was really just an accident, why the suspension?”
Within a single day, the damage exceeded hundreds of billions of yen.
But this was merely the direct damage figure.
Penalty fees from delayed deliveries,
losses from halted factory operations,
As disposal costs for fresh produce and pharmaceuticals mounted, the damages snowballed like an avalanche.
Experts estimated a minimum of 500 billion yen per day.
If the closure extended, losses could balloon to 1 trillion yen—a grim projection.
Amid this chaos, export and import companies panicked first.
Cargo could neither enter nor leave.
No one knew when operations would resume.
Corporate anxiety deepened with each passing hour.
Ironically,
they had halted logistics to demonstrate that Tokyo Port’s systems functioned properly,
yet that very decision was eroding public confidence.
Then another incident erupted.
“Breaking news: An explosion occurred this afternoon at Nagoya Port’s storage yard. No casualties have been reported, and the site is under complete lockdown.”
“Authorities are investigating the cause and have stated there is no confirmed connection to the Tokyo Port incident.”
But everyone who heard the news knew the truth.
It was no coincidence whatsoever.
Through Inventory, I had become a titan of the black market.
197 – Tokyo Port
E-book Publication
/ February 13, 2026
Author
/ Black Card
Publisher
/ Son Je-ho
Publishing House
/ Munpia
Address
/ Doosan Landmark Tower 12F, 308 Gangnam-daero, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
List Price
/ 100 Won
https://munpia.com
[email protected]
© Black Card, 2026
This e-book is
Munpia
published in accordance with a contract with the copyright holder, and
Munpia
without written permission, this e-book and its contents may not be used in any form or by any means.
This e-book is a copyrighted work protected by copyright law, and unauthorized reproduction or duplication may result in legal liability.
979-11-11-99634-4

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————