I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 22

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

022-Leave
22. Leave
Jongno, Seoul.
After meeting with an employee at the construction company, I stood rooted to that spot for a long while.
The conversation with the employee had been shocking, but that wasn’t even the main issue.
I had nowhere to go.
I had no destination.
Would it have been better to just stay in Congo?
I found myself wondering if coming to Korea had been a mistake.
Yet.
Yet I pulled out my phone and searched for nearby hotels.
I had to sleep somewhere, after all.
My father wouldn’t care where I slept or where I lived,
but I was different.
I would treat myself with care.
I would eat well and wear well.
I had plenty of money.
I wasn’t the Gong In-bae of two years ago.
I’d never touched my salary or allowances, and the cryptocurrency I’d bought following my seniors’ lead had yielded decent returns.
Beyond that.
The money I’d placed in my inventory when I was captured by the Mujin Construction men remained untouched,
and the bag of dollars I’d taken from the rebel forces’ base not long ago was still there.
Compared to that, it was meager.
But I also had the money from selling ice cream,
and what I’d earned from part-time work before enlisting in the military.
Money sitting only in an inventory couldn’t fulfill its purpose.
Money only had value when spent.
Today was a good day to spend it.
I started walking.
After a short walk, a department store appeared.
Without hesitation, I pushed through the large glass doors.
The moment I entered, a cool wave of air conditioning washed over me, accompanied by that distinctive department store fragrance—a blend of nostalgia and cosmetics.
The scent of wealth that once intimidated me.
As a child, merely catching a whiff of this would make me shrink inward.
It was a scent that had never surrounded me, never belonged to my world.
But not anymore.
It’s the smell of wealth that I find difficult to bear.
When I was young, I used to feel intimidated whenever I smelled something like this.
To me, it was a smell that didn’t exist around me.
But not anymore.
I don’t intimidate easily in places like this.
Without money, they’d treat me worse than a bug on the street,
but when I spend, this department store is filled with people who’d lick my toes.
I headed straight to the luxury boutique on the first floor.
The moment I entered, I felt her cold gaze upon me.
Familiar.
I’d received that look many times in this city.
Her eyes brimmed with suspicion, but her mouth remained sealed.
The expression capitalism had sculpted.
But it didn’t matter.
Whatever expression that woman wore.
“I’d like to purchase a suit. Would you mind offering some recommendations?”
“Pardon?”
Did she think I’d merely fidget with the clothes, glance at the price tag, and quietly slink home?
I don’t even have a home.
“I’d really appreciate your recommendations! I’m not sure what to choose!”
“Ah… yes, yes, yes. My apologies. The suits are over this way. This piece is our classic line, newly released this season…”
Had my assertive tone shifted her perception?
The suspicion vanished from her eyes.
In its place, a desperate anxiety emerged—fear of saying the wrong thing.
She seemed terrified I might lodge a complaint.
“May I try it on?”
“Of course.”
I took the suit to the fitting room and tried it on.
Being a luxury brand, it clung to my body perfectly.
I looked different in the mirror.
So this is why people buy luxury brands.
When I emerged in the suit, the Female Employee gushed with practiced enthusiasm.
“It suits you wonderfully, sir. With your height and physique, you’re the perfect match for our brand. The fit is impeccable—no alterations needed whatsoever.”
“I’ll take a shirt and shoes to go with this.”
“Right away, sir.”
I put on the shirt and shoes as well.
With everything coordinated, I looked far better.
A striking man stood in the mirror.
I looked like a model.
“I’ll wear this out. Do you have this suit in another color?”
“We have navy blue available.”
“Give me the navy blue in the same size, and a few more shirts.”
“Of course, sir.”
Her hands moved with practiced efficiency.
I carefully wrapped the clothing and placed it in shopping bags.
In no time, I’d sold two suits, seven shirts, and a pair of shoes.
“That comes to 17,540,000 won. Will that be card or—”
“Cash, please.”
I pretended to pull out a cash pouch from my pocket while actually retrieving it from my inventory.
I set down three bundles of fifty-thousand-won notes, each containing a hundred bills.
Then I pulled out another bundle of fifty-thousand-won notes and roughly counted out half of it.
48. 49. 50.
“That makes 17,500,000 won, right? I’m short 40,000 won? Here, one more bill.”
I placed another fifty-thousand-won note on the counter.
“Keep the change.”
The female employee’s eyes widened in bewilderment.
Was I tipping too generously?
That could be it.
I understood.
.
.
.
I left the department store.
Nothing had changed.
I’d simply changed clothes.
Yet I could feel how differently people looked at me.
I’d even bought a perfume that reeked of wealth and applied it generously.
At this point, the stench of poverty should be masked.
I went to a hotel and checked in.
I’d made the reservation because they said it offered a clear view of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
The moment I opened the door, the panorama of Gyeongbokgung Palace spread before me.
I gazed at that view for a long time.
My old home,
now just an empty lot with nothing left, had a beautiful view too, but
it never moved me like this.
Gyeongbokgung Palace, Gwanghwamun, and the Seoul skyline all lay visible in a single glance.
Countless people and vehicles passed below,
while brilliant advertisements flickered across the digital billboards.
I watched that scene for quite some time.
I inspected the room.
Clean, elegant interior design.
A pristine, plush bed.
A spotless bathroom.
Even the decorative pieces exuded a confident presence, as if each belonged exactly where it stood.
A million won per night was a bit startling, I’ll admit,
but I’m someone who just spent 17 million won on two designer suits.
And I even left tips.
Ten thousand won each.
The hotel tour is finished. Now it’s time to work.
I pulled a bag from my inventory.
.
.
.
Wow.
This is giving me a headache.
The scale is far larger than I expected.
Seventeen bags in total.
Three bags containing money.
Fourteen bags containing weapons.
Each money bag held a million dollars.
The weapons were a diverse mix—rifles, handguns, magazines, ammunition, grenades, explosives like C4.
The problem was the sheer quantity.
Nearly thirty rifles,
and over fifty handguns.
Magazines and ammunition were too numerous to count.
Grenades and high-performance explosives were included as well.
What were these Rebel Forces bastards planning to do with all this?
With this much, leveling an entire village would be child’s play.
I went to Namdaemun Market nearby and bought several sturdy, durable bags.
The bags the Rebel Forces used weren’t bad, but since they were all identical in color and size, I could get confused when pulling them from my inventory.
So I bought multiple bags to organize them by color and shape for easy distinction.
My inventory can hold much more when items are packed inside bags.
With various shapes, sizes, and colors, I could use my inventory far more efficiently.
So I bought plenty.
I divided the money into smaller bags, storing a hundred thousand dollars in each,
and organized the weapons by size and function,
subdividing rifles, handguns, and magazines into separate bundles.
Rifle bundles, handgun bundles, magazine bundles—that sort of arrangement.
I kept a few handguns and magazines separate.
For emergency use, ready to grab at a moment’s notice.
This took over four hours.
The sun had set, and I was hungry.
I put on my luxury suit
and went out for blood sausage soup for dinner.
Holding the money a senior from the deployment unit had given me to buy a meal,
I ate a bowl of the apparently famous seonji haejangguk,
and reluctant to head back just yet, I had a drink at a nearby bar.
Seoul’s night view is stunning.
Yesterday I was apprehending Rebel Forces in Congo,
and today I’m in Seoul wearing a luxury suit,
sipping whiskey while admiring the night view.
Clearly.
By any measure, life in Seoul is far superior.
A hotel room at a million won per night,
wearing a luxury suit, eating seonji haejangguk—this life is undoubtedly better.
Yet a corner of my heart remains deeply unsettled.
I feel this isn’t where I belong.
I don’t seem to fit with this city.
I feel like a stranger in this city.
Being in Congo actually put both my body and mind at ease.
I made the right call booking the hotel for only one night.
It’s not because of the million won per night.
Tomorrow I’ll check out
and leave Seoul.
Maybe I’ll travel like I did last time.
Or perhaps I should consider returning to Congo.
Unlike traveling, returning to Congo requires the Military Unit’s assistance.
If there’s a plane heading to Congo, I can hitch a ride; otherwise, I’ll have to wait until my official return.
My time in Seoul ended in a single night.
Just one day out of twenty-nine nights.
The remaining twenty-eight nights weigh heavily on my mind.
I’m at a loss for what to do.
.
.
My eyes snapped open at dawn.
I suppose I really am a soldier.
At six o’clock, my eyes opened automatically.
I went to the hotel gym for a light workout,
and then swam in the pool.
I had breakfast and packed my belongings.
Not that I had much to pack,
but it felt like something I should do.
I placed the clothes delivered from the department store into my inventory.
Checkout preparations were complete.
But my feet won’t move.
I perched on the edge of the bed.
I simply sat there.
If I leave this place, I have nowhere to go.
I could stay another night,
but I don’t want to.
It felt suffocating.
Plush and comfortable though it was,
and everyone was kind,
yet that very kindness,
this life designed with excessive comfort, felt stifling.
It doesn’t feel like mine.
Ironically, a twenty-thousand-won guesthouse during my solo travels felt more comfortable.
More than a lavish breakfast,
I missed that simple table where the guesthouse owner’s wife handed me a spoon to share her meal—
a spread of seasoned vegetables and soybean paste stew, nothing more.
I got up and walked out.
Only when I was cast onto the streets did my heart finally find peace.
My true nature really is the pavement, isn’t it?
Did my father know this about me and deliberately keep me living on the streets?
I ate a hamburger for lunch,
then walked some more.
Had I known I’d walk this much, I would have bought athletic wear instead of
designer formal clothes.
Without a destination in mind,
I found myself walking toward a familiar place.
My home?
No—what used to be my home?
Is this what they call homing instinct?
I arrived here without even realizing it.
But now there’s nothing left here.
Even the last remaining house has been completely demolished.
Actually, thinking about it, memories do linger.
I was beaten by older boys beneath that tree,
and my first paycheck from a part-time job in that alley was stolen from me.
Beneath those stairs, I remember being mocked as a beggar’s child.
No matter where I look,
there are only painful memories.
Simply because I grew up in this Hometown District
doesn’t mean I need to be bound to a place that holds no good memories for me.
Let me escape from here.
Let’s leave this hometown district and live somewhere else.
I don’t know where it will be,
but somewhere my heart feels at ease,
where I can breathe freely.
That’s all I need.
Let me turn around.
From this hometown district,
from my past.
I turned my feet and
began walking away from the hometown district.
I will never return to this place again.
There’s nothing left for me here.
If anything remains,
I’ll simply bury it.
As I left the familiar hometown district and turned onto the main road,
I spotted a familiar face.
Kwon Ju-ah.
More than two years had passed since graduation.
In that time, Kwon Ju-ah had become even more beautiful.
I remembered eating ramen with Kwon Ju-ah at my home.
It was fun.
Back then, I was anxious about my inventory being discovered.
So nervous.
But looking back now, it’s a memory that makes me smile.
So I did have a memory from this hometown district that could make me smile.
But still,
Kwon Ju-ah is also one of those memories I need to bury here.
I’ll simply bury it.
One smile is enough for now.
.
.
.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m heading to the military base.”
“Why the military base?”
“I’m going to check if I can enter Congo, and if I can, I plan to cross over.”
“Congo? Didn’t we just come back from Congo yesterday?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But why are you going back again?”
“Well…”
“Never mind. Let’s just meet up.”
“I need to go to the base and check the schedule…”
“Forget it. I’ll send you the address. Come over.”
Click.
The call ended, and a text message with an address came through.
I received Lee Won-jun’s address and
hesitated for a long while before turning my direction toward his home.
.
.
.
“What? The house disappeared?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
I arrived at Lee Won-jun’s place carrying beef I’d purchased.
His home was an old apartment in Namyangju.
These were people who already knew all about my situation anyway.
There was no need to dance around the subject.
I explained it simply,
and he understood without missing a single detail.
“You crazy bastard. You should’ve called me~”
“I wanted to be alone for a bit… so that’s why I did it.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“At a hotel.”
“From now on, whenever something like this happens, you report it immediately. Understood?”
“Yes, understood. I apologize.”
“If you hadn’t called, this could’ve turned into a real mess. But why did you bring all this?”
“I wanted to eat it, so I brought it. I was hoping you’d grill it for me.”
“Then you should’ve just bought your own portion. Why did you bring so much?”
“Don’t I eat a lot? That’s why I bought this much.”
That’s when his wife appeared.
“I’ll grill it deliciously for you. Eat plenty.”
She had the comfortable and gentle impression of a first daughter-in-law of a prominent family.
She was absolutely beautiful.
Either Lee Won-jun saved the nation in his past life,
or his wife sold it out.
“I’ll do the grilling. I’m good at cooking meat. I even worked at a meat restaurant before.”
“Oh really? I worked at one too. But guests don’t grill the meat themselves.”
“I’m not a guest. If you let me do it comfortably, it’ll feel more comfortable for me. So you’re Ho-jin. You’re handsome.”
A child, barely five years old, peeked out from behind his wife.
He looked just like Lee Won-jun.
“Go buy yourself some snacks. This is your uncle’s allowance.”
I pulled out a couple of fifty-thousand-won notes and held them out to the child,
who hesitated, and Lee Won-jun tried to stop me.
“Hey. What are you doing? Aren’t you going to put that money back?”
“I’m just giving my nephew some allowance.”
“Look at this guy. You not listening to me?”
“Your arm’s going to fall off, uncle. Just take it.”
After a brief tussle, I succeeded in giving the allowance,
but failed at grilling the meat.
Lee Won-jun had taken the tongs.
We drank soju while grilling and eating meat.
The fifteen-hundred-won soju
tasted far better than the three-hundred-eighty-thousand-won whiskey I’d drunk alone last night watching the night view.
Lee Won-jun kept grilling the meat.
He grumbled about why I’d bought it,
yet he placed the meat in front of his wife and child like a mother bird.
He barely ate any himself.
Here was a close-knit family.
I’d only ever seen it on TV or YouTube, never in person.
I’d never been part of someone else’s family before.
Everyone had always kept their distance from me.
Eating a meal while sitting among someone else’s family.
I’d thought it would be terribly uncomfortable,
but it was better than expected.
It felt peaceful.
Perhaps in Namyangju where Lee Won-jun lived,
I could live as a local rather than a stranger, I thought for a moment.

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