I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 223

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

223 – Subjective
223.
The conference room fell silent after Alex left.
No—silence was insufficient to describe it.
It was hushed. Desolate.
Even the faintest sound would have echoed through the entire room.
A stillness so profound that one could hear their own heartbeat.
No one dared speak.
They couldn’t speak.
What had just transpired was far too shocking.
Adrian, the head of Parallax, had revealed himself.
That alone was extraordinarily rare.
He was a man who seldom showed his face to the outside world.
He remained hidden,
issuing commands from the shadows.
Follow those commands, and problems dissolved.
Yet his appearance now meant the outcome was already predetermined.
There were only two possible results when Adrian took the stage.
Submission, or death.
It was an immutable formula.
But today was different.
A mere upstart had appeared and overturned the entire board.
He had shouted boldly before Adrian’s very eyes,
and walked out with unwavering confidence.
No one could have stopped him as he left.
.
.
.
The original plan had been entirely different.
The target was never Alex himself.
What Parallax truly desired was what Alex possessed.
Alex held something extraordinary.
Alex’s wealth, command, authority, reputation, enterprises.
And Phantom Grid.
Whether Alex lived or died was irrelevant.
Parallax wanted what Alex owned.
Parallax had done this countless times before.
Whenever an organization showed promise, they would apply absurd pressure and swallow it whole.
If that failed, they simply killed.
They killed, then held guns to the subordinates below, establishing dominion over them.
An organization that lost its leader to fear surrendered easily.
Today was no exception.
I had intended to kill Alex.
I would eliminate him and absorb the organization he controlled intact.
But a problem emerged.
As I planned the operation, I realized Alex possessed nothing.
I had thought he held something remarkable,
but when I opened the lid, there was nothing at all.
No impressive company, no organization.
Not even a single business card bearing Alex’s name.
How could this be?
Typically, as power grows and influence expands, people seek to dominate others.
But Alex was different.
He had given everything away to others.
The position of organization head,
the position of company president—he had surrendered them all to others.
He had voluntarily chosen to become an elder in the shadows.
From behind the scenes, he distributed money to people, provided food, created jobs, supplied electricity.
He stood at the complete opposite end from Adrian, who grasped everything in his hands and trusted no one.
Adrian trusted no one,
but Alex had entrusted everything to his people.
Yet Alex’s influence remained formidable.
Though he held nothing in his hands,
he possessed the power to move all of Asia.
That was precisely the problem.
If I simply killed Alex now, it would end with Alex’s death.
Parallax would gain nothing.
Alex needed to be the boss,
so that by killing him, I could seize the organization.
Alex belonged to nothing.
That was the issue.
Moreover, the troublesome Obsidian Unit made killing him difficult.
This was the first time Parallax’s vanguard had suffered such humiliation.
I had planned an operation to kill Alex,
but execution proved difficult.
So I changed direction.
From killing to coercion, and then to intimidation.
Opening a path was what mattered first.
Creating an exchange between Parallax and Alex’s organization.
Not a simple exchange, but one with clear hierarchy and subordination.
They paid tributes and received orders in return.
After a brief period, they demanded documents under the guise of management, consulting, and support, then made unreasonable demands.
They nitpicked the documents, questioned the organizational structure, and pointed out issues with personnel composition.
Under the pretense of helping with operations, Parallax sent in their own people and seized control of the organization.
In the process, they created traitors.
It was an ancient, classical operation passed down through the years.
But it had always been effective.
This was Parallax’s plan.
So I resorted to threats.
I said I would kill everyone around them.
But it didn’t work.
I threatened them like some street thug, but my threats had no bite.
Instead, I found myself on the receiving end of threats.
A deadly game of brinkmanship had begun.
I had been given twenty-four hours.
.
.
.
Adrian’s meeting with Alex had been purely by chance.
Years ago, he had supplied weapons to the Rebel Forces in Congo.
Congo wasn’t particularly profitable,
but it wasn’t a bad prospect for the future.
What mattered was how long the war could be sustained.
From Parallax’s perspective, the Government Military was important,
but the Rebel Forces were necessary too.
They needed to keep fighting each other.
So balance was crucial.
They would only buy weapons if they felt threatened by each other.
Parallax could only profit by selling weapons.
They had to make both sides buy, not just one.
If one side became too strong, it would be a problem.
Parallax had to maintain the balance.
That’s when Okapi Sting appeared.
These bastards swept through the Rebel Forces.
They began eliminating the rebels mercilessly.
They hunted them down even when they were hiding and wiped them out.
The rebels began to panic.
Some of them started to flee.
Especially the Uvira region where they had established themselves was essential for smuggling weapons.
From Parallax’s perspective, both the Rebel Forces and Uvira were necessary.
To maintain balance, I needed to strengthen the Rebel Forces.
But the more Okapi Sting operated, the more the Rebel Forces shrank back in fear.
They dreaded going on missions.
So I brought in Derek Meyer.
His personality was abysmal, but his skills were undeniable.
He was meticulous and sharp.
Though somewhat rigid in his principles, that actually proved advantageous for training the Rebel Forces.
And I was proud to say he eliminated Okapi Sting.
With nothing more than a simple booby trap.
I believed peace would return.
I believed the balance would hold.
I believed everything would fall back into place.
But the balance didn’t last long.
Derek Meyer died.
With a bomb in his mouth.
Not even ashes remained—nothing to bury.
I wondered.
Who had killed Derek Meyer?
The answer came easily.
Candy Boy.
The sole survivor of Okapi Sting.
And the most exceptional operative.
No one spoke it aloud,
but everyone was pointing at him.
I never thought he would sit idle after losing his team.
I assumed he would plan revenge.
But revenge isn’t that simple.
At minimum, I calculated it would take a year to rebuild a team, synchronize with them, gather intelligence, devise an operation, and execute the plan.
Of course, that assumed he found capable teammates.
Often, during the preparation phase, the thirst for vengeance weakens,
and the resolve crumbles—operatives return to their home countries.
So I believed I had time.
I thought I could reassign Derek Meyer elsewhere before then.
At that point, I felt the Rebel Forces needed more training.
But my calculations were completely wrong.
Candy Boy prepared everything alone.
Without anyone’s help,
no team, no support—he completed his revenge entirely by himself.
Not a single fragment of Derek Meyer remained.
When I heard this, I could only pause and marvel for a moment.
I dismissed Candy Boy as impressive enough and moved on.
For a moment, I’d entertained the thought of recruiting him later.
That was the extent of it.
Derek Meyer was a capable instructor, certainly,
but mercenaries of that caliber were a dime a dozen.
Congo wasn’t even a significant market,
and I needed to perpetually stoke conflict to bleed both sides dry.
The moment the fighting tilted decisively toward one side, the market would collapse.
The Rebel Forces were already severely weakened.
Their infighting had decimated their own combat strength.
I weighed my options carefully.
Should I reinforce the Rebel Forces,
or abandon the Congo market entirely?
The deliberation was brief.
I withdrew swiftly from any battlefield that wouldn’t turn a profit.
There was no room for sentiment.
.
.
.
Adrian arrived at Belle Mare Resort, and even as he stepped into the conference room,
doubt gnawed at him.
He held no decisive card in his hand.
He possessed no leverage to seize and wield against his opponent.
Ordinarily, the name Parallax alone sufficed.
Most would lower their guard at that name alone.
He would secure a meeting,
and by the appointed hour, he would have thoroughly analyzed his counterpart.
He would dig into their past.
Exhaustively.
Something always surfaced.
A weakness, a secret, a personal connection.
Once he had that, everything else became simple.
Blackmail or persuasion would follow.
But this time was different.
Nothing had emerged.
Truly nothing at all.
No records, no traces.
The name Alex was not merely clean—it was hollow.
So Adrian deliberately postponed the meeting.
He claimed he couldn’t travel to Singapore or Hong Kong.
I attached an absurd excuse.
Instead, I told him to come to the Middle East or South America.
In those places, I had options.
If dialogue failed, I could crush him with force.
I could mobilize the military or cartels.
But he rejected both the Middle East and South America.
After going in circles, we ended up meeting in Mauritius, Africa.
Neutral ground.
A place with nowhere to escape and no military to mobilize.
The appointed time was drawing near,
yet Adrian held no cards in his hand.
That continued to make Adrian uncomfortable.
But the moment he walked into the conference room.
The instant I saw his face.
A familiar face came to mind.
I could immediately tell who he was.
I’d seen him in Congo.
I had a memory of seeing him at L’Oasis, which Jose operated.
I’d seen him conversing warmly with Jose.
He was an East Asian, rare to see in Congo, so I’d watched him particularly closely.
After that East Asian left,
Jose had asked Adrian to procure a sniper rifle.
Adrian had readily obtained the sniper rifle for him.
And only later.
Did I learn that guy was Candy Boy.
After Derek Meyer died,
and after that East Asian left, I’d heard in passing that the young man was Candy Boy.
And now Candy Boy was sitting before Adrian.
On the surface, I maintained a solemn expression,
but countless thoughts swirled through my mind.
Okapi Sting.
Candy Boy.
Alex.
Gong In-bae.
Many names circled through Adrian’s thoughts.
Names that had existed separately began slowly converging into a single point.
And at some moment, they overlapped into one.
‘The same person.’
That was the only explanation.
It explained why Alex’s past couldn’t be verified.
The fact that I couldn’t know where Gong In-bae was or what he was doing.
Upon reaching that conclusion,
Adrian’s mind grew lighter.
Now the negotiation would become easier.
Everyone carries a past with them.
And the past always becomes a weakness.
That’s why Adrian deliberately brought it up.
‘Okapi Sting’
In that moment, Alex wavered.
I could see his body trembling as he was insulted about his comrades.
‘Candy Boy’
This time he closed his mouth.
The instant I saw that, I was certain.
‘I’ve got him.’
I thought it was a perfect victory.
There was no escape.
The moment he spoke of his past,
Alex would become Gong In-bae, buried in that past.
Honestly, he was quite a formidable opponent.
His ability to provoke people was remarkable.
I nearly lost my temper several times, but barely managed to hold back.
Experience had taught me.
That getting excited or angry in situations like this meant defeat.
So I endured to the very end.
My insides were churning,
but I laughed it off.
And finally
I thought the fruits of my patience had ripened.
I believed I had completely subdued him,
that I could take everything from Alex.
But he was different.
As if he had clawed his way through hell itself.
He broke through the intense pressure head-on.
The method was simple.
He didn’t deny it.
He didn’t run away.
He simply admitted it.
I’m insufficient.
I’m lacking.
That’s what he said.
No excuses,
no attempt to appear better than I was.
I didn’t try to package myself,
I simply accepted my past as it had been lived.
In that moment, Adrian began to understand Alex a little.
He grasped why Alex spoke of “living a life where you write your own answers.”
He wasn’t someone who selected from predetermined choices.
He was someone who tore up the board itself if it didn’t suit him.
And that inspired a touch of envy.
Adrian, who always lurked in the shadows, fingers dancing across a calculator.
There had been a time when Adrian possessed such a spirit too.
But what truly astonished him came next.
Alex, in turn, began to see through Adrian.
He started piecing together Adrian’s past.
The limp in his gait.
The way he wore it like a badge of honor.
Even the injury sustained while saving a comrade.
Through brief conversation, Alex had penetrated the entirety of Adrian’s existence.
The moment those words reached Adrian’s ears, unease seized him.
As if his entire past had been stripped bare before him.
As if every hidden ugliness had been dragged into the light.
Before such a man, Adrian felt diminished.
And that terrified him.
An unknowable future issued its warning.
This man is dangerous.
Not because of strength.
This man was someone who wrote his own answers.

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