I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 204

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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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204 – Gaze
204.
The Investigation Chief of the Japanese Port Explosion Investigation Headquarters had not even left work,
and sat alone in the darkened office, staring at the letter.
[It’s me, the mastermind. Release my Yakuza subordinates. Or don’t. ^^]
Looking at that letter, I felt blood rushing backward through my veins.
Blatant mockery, a careless tone, even that smiling emoticon at the end.
I felt toyed with.
That tone suggesting the Yakuza were utterly irrelevant whether released or not.
Of course they wouldn’t care.
They had no connection to those people anyway.
The Yakuza were merely scapegoats that the Investigation Headquarters had fabricated charges against and arrested.
The mastermind was mocking this, savoring the Investigation Headquarters’ incompetence and cowardice.
I was furious beyond reason.
Yet I was also grateful.
Despite arresting innocent Yakuza, the bomb still detonated.
So in my desperation, I had proclaimed that a mastermind existed,
and now that mastermind was proving their own existence.
This letter was also evidence that the Investigation Headquarters’ investigation had not been wrong.
I picked up the letter again.
I had conducted every possible investigation to find clues hidden in the letter.
Forensic examination now.
DNA extraction.
Paper fiber composition analysis.
Ink component analysis.
Print toner particle analysis.
Saliva test on the envelope’s adhesive seal.
Postal route tracking.
CCTV movement backtrace.
The results found nothing.
It was a perfectly prepared letter that left no trace.
Now the Investigation Chief had to make a decision.
Whether to release the Yakuza or proceed with the investigation as is.
“We do not negotiate with terrorists.”
It was a national principle.
Of course I intended to follow it.
But what if a bomb detonates at the airport?
Could I maintain that principle then?
The letter was speaking.
That it could detonate a bomb at the airport whenever it wished.
It was absolutely no bluff.
The Investigation Chief summoned the Prosecution and Cabinet Intelligence Official.
“Did you identify which runway is in the photograph?”
“Yes. It’s Haneda Airport.”
“Haneda?”
The Investigation Chief clutched his head.
Haneda Airport—Tokyo’s gateway to the world.
By passenger volume for domestic and international flights, it was Japan’s number one airport.
A strategic stronghold less than twenty kilometers from the city center.
If Haneda stopped, Tokyo stopped.
If Tokyo stopped, Japan’s economy trembled.
There had already been an explosion at the port.
If the airport detonated as well?
In that moment, Japan would become a “nation whose systems have collapsed.”
Insurance companies, shipping firms, and global logistics corporations were already reassessing their Japan risk.
Premiums had spiked.
If the airport exploded, creditworthiness, freight rates, insurance costs, and investment sentiment would all crumble.
Once it collapsed, there would be no stopping it.
No one could predict how long it would take to rebuild.
“… Release them.”
A fractured voice escaped the Chief’s lips.
“Sir? But Chief, if we release them, everything we’ve said becomes a lie. And the principle of not negotiating with terrorists…”
“Then you’ll take responsibility?”
“Sir?”
“If a bomb detonates at Haneda, you’ll take responsibility? Will you announce: ‘We decided to detonate the airport in order to uphold the principle of not negotiating with terrorists’?”
“That’s not it, but if we prepare an alternative…”
“An alternative? If you have one, bring it. Bring it! Don’t just say it can’t be done—bring me an alternative!!”
The Chief let out a primal scream and slammed his fist on the desk.
Stacks of documents tumbled to the floor, scattering across it.
His eyes were bloodshot with fear and shame.
He placed a cigarette between his lips, but his hands trembled so badly he couldn’t even light it.
“Just slap on whatever label works. ‘Released as bait to catch the masterminds,’ ‘Not a release but a transfer to witness status’—something like that.”
“What about the media?”
“Impose an embargo on the press. Tell them it’s an unavoidable situation to catch the culprit, impose an embargo.”
“…”
“Tell them to refrain from reporting, citing it as an unavoidable situation to apprehend the perpetrator. If anything leaks, threaten to charge whoever’s responsible with disclosure of classified information.”
“Understood.”
The subordinates left, and silence settled over the office once more.
The Investigation Chief leaned back in his chair and repeated to himself internally:
‘This isn’t negotiation. It’s an operation. A strategic retreat to buy time.’
That’s how I convinced myself.
But from one corner of my heart, a different voice echoed.
I had already lost.
Japan and the Investigation Chief had been completely defeated by that shadowy force whose name I didn’t even know.
.
.
.
Tokyo Detention Center.
The iron gate opened with a heavy sound.
Sunlight poured over the high walls.
Cold, dry air greeted them.
Kurokawa and the Yakuza organization members walked out with bewildered expressions.
None of them looked in good condition.
Their beards had grown rough,
and they appeared not to have eaten or bathed properly.
The Yakuza had been arrested without understanding why, and released without understanding why.
Yet, unable to comprehend, they began questioning each other.
“What were you interrogated about?”
“They just went through every single day of my life.”
“That’s all?”
“Then they asked what connection I had to the Japanese Port Explosion.”
“And?”
“And what? How could I answer if I didn’t know anything? I just said I didn’t know.”
“They believed you when you said you didn’t know?”
“They didn’t believe me. But how could I answer if I didn’t know? And the scale of this is way too big. It felt like covering it up carelessly would be a disaster. So I just kept saying I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
“Heh, heh, heh—I did the same thing.”
“Me too, exactly.”
It seemed everyone had been treated the same way.
I couldn’t understand any of it, but I just accepted it.
I simply thought that was the nature of a Yakuza’s life.
It wasn’t something that happened once or twice.
Whenever trouble arose, the Yakuza were always the first suspects.
But Kurokawa knew the truth.
This was no coincidence.
Someone had pulled strings.
Without that, I would never have been released.
They had tried to frame the Yakuza as the culprits.
But releasing us without any reason was proof that someone had exerted considerable influence.
“Alex.”
And I didn’t doubt that person was Alex.
My body was exhausted, but my heart felt light.
I wanted to see Alex.
But contacting Alex from here and rushing over like some amateur was beneath me.
In moments like this, I had to act as though nothing had happened.
“Where do we go now, sir?”
The subordinate beside me offered a cigarette and asked.
Kurokawa welcomed those words.
He drew deeply on the cigarette before answering.
“Where else? We have work to do. I’ve been away for days, and the work has piled up. Let’s get back to it.”
His subordinates exchanged glances, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected response.
But they soon understood what he meant.
The humiliation of the detention center and the dark past would be buried behind those walls,
and they would return to their ordinary, relentless present lives.
It was the most yakuza-like way to repay Alex’s efforts in rescuing them from the shadows.
“Yes, understood, sir.”
The subordinates bowed in unison.
Kurokawa pretended not to notice the gaze watching over them from afar and began walking forward with confidence.
Their everyday lives were beginning anew.
*******
“It’s not straightforward, is it?”
Allen said.
“That place? Why? It’s just a private residence.”
“It doesn’t seem like just a private residence.”
We were discussing while looking at the map and photographs displayed on the monitor.
Using information we’d obtained from the Planning Director at Arata Consulting, we began tracking Kuroda.
We needed information.
We gathered intelligence on him.
Monitoring his every move was
the most basic part of surveillance.
But there was a place he visited besides his home and company.
A private residence in the heart of Tokyo.
It was strange.
There was no reason he should be going there.
At first, I suspected a mistress, but that wasn’t it.
It was too open to be where a mistress lived, and many people came and went.
It wasn’t a bar or an office.
That place
As I investigated Kuroda, I discovered he was a Seiwakai member.
Synthesizing the information, I began to suspect the place was connected to the Seiwakai.
Seiwakai. In our terms, the Cheongwha Society.
There was something that fit perfectly into place.
I thought that if I cracked it open, something valuable would pour out like a goldmine.
So I tried to dig into it, but surprisingly, Allen said it wouldn’t be easy.
“We followed them, but the security there is extremely tight. It’s not an ordinary private residence.”
“We can shake off security easily enough.”
“It was difficult just to pass through the surrounding area.”
For Allen to say something like this meant it was truly difficult.
“Is that so?”
“If it were just security, we could find a way around it, but what’s really suspicious are the buildings surrounding the private residence.”
“What? Buildings?”
“The positioning of those buildings is very strategic. I suspect those buildings might have been constructed specifically to protect the private residence.”
I was startled by Allen’s words.
Was he saying that someone had built protective structures around their home to enhance security?
Of course, I also purchased an entire complex for safety, but
this was on a different level.
“Are you certain?”
“Based on satellite imagery and the surrounding terrain, it’s 100%. The surrounding buildings encircle the residence like fortress walls. The windows are designed at optimal angles to protect this mansion.”
“Hmm…”
“Those aren’t buildings—they’re a massive fortification designed to guard that private residence.”
It was unexpected.
On the surface, it looked like an ordinary private residence in the city, but I never imagined it harbored such secrets.
My mind and strategy both became more complicated.
The plan to simply break in and capture him fell apart.
“Are you saying we can’t get in?”
“It seems difficult. With ordinary firepower, we won’t even reach the entrance.”
“Then what do we do?”
“I’ll analyze the system more carefully. There must be a weakness somewhere.”
It was a textbook answer, but it didn’t sit well with me.
I didn’t want to stay here indefinitely.
What other options were there?
Just then, Kuroda was finishing his conversation at the private residence and coming out.
Suddenly, an idea struck me.
“Tail Kuroda.”
“We’re already tailing Kuroda discreetly.”
“Not like now—make it obvious. Let Kuroda know he’s being followed.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we can’t get in, we make him come out. If Kuroda realizes he’s being tailed, what will he do?”
“He’ll be more cautious. And he’ll alert the Seiwakai.”
“Exactly! Then the Seiwakai will make a decision. Either they’ll hole up inside or flee somewhere else.”
Allen nodded as if he finally understood.
“I understand what you’re saying. I’ll issue the order immediately.”
From that day forward, the Obsidian Unit followed Kuroda’s every move.
Invisible, yet their presence was unmistakable—a constant, watchful gaze.
.
.
.
At first, I thought it was my imagination.
Work had been overwhelming lately,
and I attributed it to a kind of heightened sensitivity born from exhaustion.
But then there was the black SUV reflected in the rearview mirror at a traffic light.
A man’s silhouette overlapping with the convenience store window.
A man averting his gaze just before the elevator doors closed.
I pretended not to notice.
I told myself it was just a common sight in Tokyo and moved on.
After all, it was a city teeming with people and vehicles.
But coincidence doesn’t repeat itself.
The patterns kept overlapping.
The same person kept appearing.
This was no accident.
Someone was watching Kuroda.
I deliberately altered my route.
I took side streets instead of main roads, visited unplanned locations.
I checked into a hotel instead of going home.
I needed to confirm whether they were truly following me.
Even after I changed my movements, that gaze never disappeared.
I couldn’t determine who they were or why they were following me.
But one thing was certain—they continued to watch.
I quietly informed the Seiwakai headquarters.
I told them I was being tailed and would refrain from visiting for a while.
There was no need to create unnecessary misunderstandings.
There was no need to invite trouble.
The moment I led them to headquarters, the location would be compromised.
So for now, I would stay away from headquarters.
Of course, even if headquarters were discovered, it wouldn’t be a major problem.
What mattered was the conversations that took place there, not the facility itself.
There was no physical evidence at headquarters.
But it was a symbol—a sacred place of sorts.
The symbol of Seiwakai.
The symbol of Japan’s revival.
Following Minase’s judgment, we guarded the perimeter with an iron grip.
I raised buildings to protect the headquarters.
Those buildings served as offices for the Seiwakai.
The Seiwakai were people who had gathered for Japan’s revival.
I didn’t want to see that sacred ground violated by outsiders.
Kuroda exercised greater caution than usual.
He moved only between the office and hotels, avoiding everywhere else.
Even the hotels changed each time.
It was because of the anxiety.
Yet the sensation of being watched never faded.
It clung to me with relentless force.
Now, even the sight of a black car made cold sweat bead on my skin, and my stomach churned.
I replaced my phone just in case.
I purchased camera detectors and wiretap detectors.
I checked my surroundings constantly.
It felt as though someone was eavesdropping on Kuroda.
I thrust the detector at everyone I met.
Though the hotel changed daily, once inside the room, I swept the walls and ceiling with the detector.
Yet I found no peace.
Sleep became impossible.
The moment my eyes closed, I felt the gaze pressing down on me.
Only after gulping down harsh liquor straight from the bottle could I finally drift off.
But even in my dreams, that gaze remained fixed upon me.
I woke retching.
Once I woke before dawn, sleep eluded me for the rest of the night.
I had to tremble in anxiety and terror.
Every car on the road seemed to be pursuing Kuroda.
There was nowhere I could find comfort.
While eating, while working, while meeting people—that gaze was always there.
Even in the bathroom.
I told myself it was fine, that there was no need for this,
but the tension rising from deep within my core could not be stopped.
My body refused to obey.
I retched at the slightest provocation.
My fingertips trembled, and my nerves were shattered.
My mind grew desolate.
Now that gaze didn’t even bother to hide anymore.
It seemed to mock Kuroda.
“Just show yourself.”
“Just take me away.”
Kuroda whispered softly.
I wished there were something tangible I could see.
But that gaze could not be grasped, could not be seen.
I could only feel it.
It felt like I was losing my mind.
Kuroda was crumbling.
Slowly descending into madness within a prison of intangible dread.
Then a thought occurred to me.
What if this gaze did not end with Kuroda?
What if it spread throughout the entire Seiwakai?
What if it pursued everyone Kuroda encountered?
Kuroda had given such orders before.
When conducting background investigations, mark every person you meet.
Likely, everyone Kuroda met,
and everyone those people met would be tracked as well.
If that same method was being applied to me,
then the exposure of the entire Seiwakai was inevitable.
It would only bring ruin upon the whole organization.
And so, finally, I made my decision.
He opened the hotel window and climbed onto the ledge.
Through the Inventory, he had become a magnate of the black market.
204 – The Gaze
E-book Publication
/ February 19, 2026
Author
/ Black Card
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/ 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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