I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 27

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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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029-Deployment Return
29.
Upon returning to the Military Base, I requested repatriation.
Using poor conditioning, homesickness, and maladjustment as excuses.
Maladjustment eight months into deployment—it made no sense.
It was an utterly absurd excuse.
But I had zero desire to remain in Congo any longer.
I felt hollow.
Once my revenge was complete, I was left with profound emptiness.
Was it really just this?
Our entire team suffered because of this one bastard?—the thought haunted me.
I didn’t raid the Rebel Forces’ headquarters; I obliterated it entirely.
That was the reason.
I went to the Rebel Forces’ base for my brothers’ revenge, but
the image of myself looting supplies there—
I couldn’t bear to imagine it.
So I simply planted numerous explosives and destroyed everything I could.
Now that Derek Meyer was gone, I had no reason, no thought, no desire to remain in Congo.
I only wished to leave as soon as possible.
The Congolese wanted me to stay longer,
but my resolve was so unwavering that they couldn’t convince me otherwise.
I had already done more than enough,
and the manual I created alone was sufficient contribution on my part.
Even they acknowledged this.
They said it contained exactly what Congo needed.
They were extremely satisfied with the manual.
M23 and ADF destroying themselves through mutual combat also helped my case.
While not a complete organizational collapse,
it would take considerable time for them to regain their strength.
Both sides had suffered devastating losses.
Who killed Bacambu, M23’s commander,
and who infiltrated M23’s headquarters—curiosity swelled around these questions.
But nothing was revealed.
Only speculation ran rampant.
*********
Repatriation approval came through from both Congo and our Military.
I immediately began preparing for departure.
There was nothing special to pack.
I only needed to gather the military gear I’d brought.
The problem was Poapi.
“How could that not be possible?”
“We’re doing our best to explore every option, but it seems difficult.”
I’d asked Sung Jun-hee to find a way to bring him back to South Korea.
Among everyone I knew, Sung Jun-hee was the only one who could advise me on something like this.
I had no choice but to ask again.
I told him cost didn’t matter.
I asked him to find a way to bring him back,
but all I got was that it would be difficult.
Both Congo’s adoption procedures and South Korea’s legal issues were problems.
For a twenty-three-year-old unmarried man, adoption itself was impossible.
On top of that, my current status was military personnel.
I still had one year of mandatory service remaining before discharge.
I wanted to bring him back even by obtaining refugee status,
but that process was complicated too, and he said there was a 100% chance of rejection along the way.
I wished I could put Poapi in my inventory.
But that was equally futile.
It would be no different from human trafficking.
Even if I brought him back somehow, he couldn’t survive.
I don’t know about Congo,
but living in South Korea without proper identification was nearly impossible.
Social life itself would be impossible.
School would be difficult to attend, and accessing services like hospitals would be hard.
What if he grew older and became an adult?
Finding employment, getting a credit card, or obtaining a phone would all be difficult.
“Poapi. I’m sorry. I want to bring you back no matter what, but I can’t find a way.”
“Big brother, I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m a Congo person.”
“Yeah. You’re a Congo person.”
“I can live well here. Don’t worry.”
“Then what about this? If you want, I’ll take you back to Uvira.”
“I don’t like that. Kinshasa is much better than Uvira. There are far fewer Rebel Forces here.”
“Then…”
“Don’t worry, big brother. There are many kids like me here. Kids living without parents. So you don’t need to worry.”
“Then I’ll send you money every month. Use it to go to school and study hard. Work out hard too.”
“Big brother, you don’t need to do that. You’ve already done enough for me. Thank you.”
“No. I brought you from Uvira. I should take responsibility until the end, and I’m sorry I can’t. I’ll come get you when you turn twenty.”
“…”
“So go to school. It might be a lot of money for you, but it’s not much for me. Just be careful of others who might be after your money.”
“Okay.”
I wasn’t worried.
Poapi was remarkably clever.
He was like a capybara.
He fit in anywhere,
and he listened well to others.
Thanks to that, I gained access to valuable information.
On top of that, his athleticism was exceptional.
He absorbed the techniques I taught him like a sponge.
Combat skills, marksmanship—everything.
Before I knew it, he’d grown to nearly 180 centimeters tall.
With his good appetite, he’d developed muscle mass too.
180 centimeters at twelve years old.
In our years, that would make him fourteen,
but regardless, his physical development was beyond anything I could have imagined.
He fought well,
possessed outstanding adaptability,
and Poapi was intelligent enough to excel at his studies too.
I didn’t worry much about leaving him alone.
Yet there were still preparations to make.
I purchased a house for Poapi instead of keeping our current one.
It wasn’t large, but it was safer than where we were living now.
I bought everything Poapi would need in advance.
“I’ll send money to this account every month. If you need anything else, just contact me.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I need to. And I told you already. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s not that much money.”
“If anything happens, call me right away. Actually, send me a message every day.”
That day, I took out all the unnecessary items from my inventory and left them in one corner of the house.
They were things I could easily obtain again once I returned to South Korea anyway.
But here, they were difficult to find.
Even the chocolate bars and candies I’d once stockpiled like mountains—I took them all out.
Poapi would use them far more effectively than I would.
I trusted Poapi.
Just in case, I also took out a bag containing a rifle and a pistol.
“You know how to use them, right? Be careful when you need to be careful, but once you make a decision, don’t hesitate. That hesitation could cost you your life.”
“I understand.”
“The sanitation here isn’t good, so always boil your water before drinking.”
“Shower frequently, and that’s why I bought an apartment specifically for you.”
“Eat your meals properly, and eat plenty of vegetables.”
“Always dress neatly. Even if it seems trivial, how you present yourself matters.”
Was I always this talkative?
Was I always someone who nagged endlessly like this?
Standing before Poapi, I continued rambling on and on, spouting trivial advice.
I fidget with my inventory and gear, wanting to give him something more.
But I’ve already given him everything I can.
I’ve even set aside some cash as emergency funds for him.
“Don’t make a mess living alone, and make sure you clean up…”
“Do you realize you’ve been doing this for two hours now?”
“…”
“Stop it. Your nagging is getting worse by the minute.”
“Sorry. I’m just worried.”
After a brief pause, Poapi turns to me.
“By the way, Inbae. Could you possibly get me more of those guns you gave me?”
“Why? You should have enough guns?”
I eye Poapi suspiciously as I speak.
I trust Poapi, but too many guns in his hands would be poison rather than medicine.
But Poapi’s answer surprises me.
“I heard there’s a way to source guns from the Middle East.”
“Huh? But…?”
“I figured you’d be more than capable of making the delivery.”
Poapi chuckles softly.
I’m taken aback.
Did Poapi know about my ability?
I’ve never used it in front of him before.
Flustered, I try to play it cool and ask back.
“De… delivery?”
“Yeah. Delivery. You have a special ability, Inbae.”
How much does this bastard know?
Should I pull out a gun?
“A special ability?”
“Just… the things you gave me were a bit special.”
“Special?”
“That chocolate bar you gave me. You carried a chocolate bar around in Congo’s weather? The chocolate should have melted completely and stuck all over the wrapper. But the one you gave me was pristine—like it was just made. Yet looking at the expiration date, it was made a long time ago. The condition was too good for that. So I thought about it. Doesn’t Inbae have some kind of special ability?”
I never expected him to observe such details.
“The items you brought to the house are the same. Based on the expiration date, quantity, and condition of the goods, they were clearly stored very well somewhere. But you couldn’t have brought them to the house like that. We don’t have a car. You carried them in a bag or trunk? From Congo? With those items? As an Asian? You probably would’ve been threatened at gunpoint by robbers before you could take three steps. So I thought about it. Doesn’t Inbae have some kind of special ability?”
“Don’t misunderstand. I just want to help you. If you happen to have such an ability, that is.”
“I need to earn my own living too.”
“Hahaha. You’ve got quite the imagination—you could be a writer.”
I try to joke my way out of it, but Poapi doesn’t laugh.
“Look. I put that chocolate bar in the fridge to give to you and brought it with me. And the stuff I left at the house—I loaded it in the car when you were at school, trying to surprise you. Back in South Korea, guys who are good at surprises tend to be popular.”
Poapi still doesn’t laugh.
That was supposed to be my trump card joke.
“Anyway, I’m heading out. Call me if anything comes up. You have my number, right? Email, message, anything works—just stay in touch.”
“Understood. Thanks for everything.”
“No problem. See you again.”
That was how I parted ways with Poapi.
I thought I had done everything I could,
yet my worry for Poapi refused to fade.
Congo was that kind of place.
I was that kind of man.
*********
“How are things with the supply unit?”
“The supply unit, sir?”
Back at the International Peace Support Unit, I was in a meeting with the personnel officer.
I was an unusual person even within the International Peace Support Unit.
Someone who had spent roughly three years of my four-year mandatory service in Congo.
Holding the rank of sergeant,
yet already possessing multiple commendations,
recognized with citations from our government, the Congolese government, and the United Nations.
Overflowing with bonus points during promotion reviews.
A resource that could be utilized through diplomatic channels based on my connections with Congo.
The kind of talent who would pass through immediately with a free pass if I just applied for long-term service,
but I had not applied for long-term service.
I wanted to spend the remaining seven months until discharge quietly and then leave.
Persistent persuasion from the commander, deputy commander, and senior master sergeant followed, but my resolve was firm.
I no longer wanted to wear a uniform.
When I put on a uniform,
too many thoughts arise.
Good or bad alike.
So I told them I wanted to work in as quiet a unit or position as possible after returning,
and the result was the supply unit.
Supply unit work suited me well.
All I had to do was properly receive supplies coming into the International Peace Support Unit and distribute them on time.
Young recruits coming to train at the International Peace Support Unit.
Special Forces soldiers coming for final inspections before deployment.
Distributing supplies according to each person’s purpose,
recording in the ledger, and tracking inventory.
In truth, the enlisted men handled most of it,
and the supply officer and I simply verified those tasks.
Especially since the International Peace Support Unit had many deployment equipment and kits,
I paid particular attention to that aspect.
Whenever I saw fresh-faced recruits heading out on deployment,
most were actually older than me in reality,
I wanted to say something more, anything at all.
We provided almost everything needed in supplies,
but military-issued gear often fell short in the field.
“Make sure you grab several good flashlights. They’re cheap and reliable these days. Once the sun sets out there, you can’t see a damn thing.”
“Get goggles and sunglasses that fit your face properly. They slip during operations and you’ll have hell to pay.”
“Bring sturdy gloves—grab a few extra pairs. Even common items back home are hard to find out there.”
“Multi-tools are worth their weight. You’ll use one eventually. If you’re buying, get a quality one. You’ll need to cut rebar, so don’t cheap out on one with weak teeth.”
“Food comes regularly, so don’t worry. If it gets bad, at least pack some gochujang.”
“Exercise equipment? There’s already plenty of gear scattered around from soldiers like you. You don’t need to bring any.”
“Towels? Sports towels are nice, but they dry fine normally. Don’t stress about it.”
I offered the soldiers coming to collect supplies a few tips.
I’d been deployed for nearly three years.
Few people understood deployment like I did.
Most rotations lasted eight months.
The soldiers who’d grown somewhat close to me asked what I’d done during my deployment,
but I never answered.
The military had an excellent excuse.
“Military classified.”
Checking incoming items, distributing them, verifying inventory.
Nothing special, but I found it rewarding.
Watching these young soldiers head out to deployment made me sympathetic,
and I wanted to give them one more thing.
Before I knew it, my discharge was just two months away.
Two months until I was free.
I had a lot on my mind.
I’d said I’d leave the military, but nothing was decided yet.
I needed to find work to survive, and there were roughly three paths.
The first was becoming a civil servant.
I could apply for special recruitment with the Police Tactical Unit, fire department, or coast guard.
Military experience sometimes counted as bonus points.
But I didn’t want to do communal living again.
The second was working in security or bodyguard services.
Security companies, protecting celebrities or executives, event security, facility protection—that sort of thing.
Special forces had decent prospects here, so employment was manageable, but I wasn’t sure.
The third was going completely civilian.
Becoming a fitness trainer,
or getting certified in extreme sports to teach students.
Things like scuba diving or skydiving.
This field was unfamiliar to me, so I’d need to research more.
PMC work existed too, but I didn’t want to wear a uniform again, so I’d pass.
Defense contractors are an option, but would they hire someone like me with only a high school diploma?
I’m not confident in paperwork either.
After discharge, I’ll have to leave the officer’s quarters and find a place to live,
but I have no idea where to even start looking.
If I find a place in Seoul but get a job elsewhere, what then?
So I should find a job first, then look for housing.
But where am I supposed to find a job?
Should I just re-enlist while I still can?
It’s all so overwhelming.
I graduated high school and enlisted immediately.
Excluding my school years,
aside from the few months I spent doing Delivery Part-time Job before enlistment,
military life has been everything to me.
Four years of service,
yet I learned, felt, and experienced more in those four years than in the nineteen years before.
All the knowledge I possess came from the military,
and all the love I’ve received came from the military.
Perhaps continuing military service would be the best choice.
But I can’t do that.
I simply can’t.
There’s always the option of using the Inventory.
But I’m not sure about that either.
Whether I could actually make money from it.
Using the Inventory effectively in reality is difficult.
The only way to make money with the Inventory is through smuggling at best.
Bringing decent goods from overseas and selling them for a profit.
I understand the advantage—customs and logistics costs are eliminated, so I could sell at lower prices.
But who would actually buy such things?
Bringing cheap goods from China and reselling them won’t make money,
and if I try selling luxury items, even with certificates of authenticity, I’d constantly face accusations of counterfeiting.
Ultimately, I’d need to sell prohibited items that actually turn a profit,
but that doesn’t seem easy either.
I don’t even know what would be profitable.
And handling the money I’d receive would be even harder.
It’s absolutely not simple.
Ring, ring, ring, ring.
My phone is ringing.
“It’s been a while.”
“Who is this?”
“You don’t remember me? That hurts. Make the impossible possible—it’s Seo Dae-hun from Special Forces School.”
“Ah! Dae-hun!”
“How have you been?”
“Good, I’ve been well. Sorry I couldn’t reach out during all this time.”
“I heard about it. You’ve been deployed continuously, right?”
“Yeah, that’s how it turned out. That’s why I couldn’t contact you.”
“We really need to see each other soon~”

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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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