I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 64

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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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064-Damaya
64.
Simon was furious.
His fists clenched tight.
He wanted to throw a punch right then and there.
A young man stood before Simon, insulting the path he had walked, scorning it, despising it.
Mocking every decision he had agonized over and executed, trampling them, desecrating them.
Yet there was nothing Simon could do.
The man before Simon appeared young and clumsy,
but he was not awkward.
He seemed easy to handle, yet Simon could not defeat him with words or fists.
To be precise, Simon had been beaten down one-sidedly.
It was a mistake to underestimate him for his youth.
A mistake he should never have made.
In truth, even if he hadn’t underestimated him, I know I cannot defeat him.
Still, I need to make excuses like this.
Otherwise, I feel too pathetic.
I feel too helpless.
.
.
.
Simon’s dream was never to join the Rebel Forces.
He had never wanted to become one.
Rather, a deep aversion to the Rebel Forces had stirred within his heart.
Simon had been an exemplary student with excellent grades, attended medical school, and was the pride of his hometown.
Everyone praised Simon’s good character and outstanding academic performance.
Simon was meant to become a doctor.
Simon’s future was bright.
Simon himself did not resent people’s expectations.
He strived not to disappoint them.
But the Rebel Forces dragged away his younger brother.
In an instant, his family fell apart.
His parents were robbed and beaten while searching for his brother.
A moment of choice came to Simon’s life.
Abandon his family and live alone as a doctor.
Or abandon everything to protect his family.
Simon chose his family.
He gave up medical school and set out to find his brother.
As Simon struggled to find his brother, there was someone who stood beside him.
There was a comrade who helped Simon search for his brother.
They called themselves Damaya—a Tagalog word meaning compassion and sympathy.
Damaya harbored no grand ideology or noble cause.
It was simply survival.
In the Southern Philippines, where Rebel Forces held dominion, one could not live without weapons.
Without a gun in hand, I could not protect what was mine.
Damaya was a desperate struggle to survive.
Nothing more, nothing less.
In the chaos of defending what was mine, Simon had somehow become Damaya’s new leader.
But I knew this couldn’t continue.
The meager funds the villagers scraped together were barely enough to protect what we had.
Even buying ammunition had become a burden.
While other Rebel Forces grew stronger by the day, Damaya was weakening.
If Simon died, I could end this suffering with him.
But if Simon fell, Damaya would collapse.
And if Damaya fell, countless people under our protection would suffer—that much was certain.
I had to stand firm, no matter what.
So, shameless as it was, I sought out the arms dealer.
We had no money.
I would try anything to make it work.
They say I’m young—perhaps if I intimidated him and pressed hard enough, something could be arranged?
If I could just obtain some weapons, wouldn’t that be ideal?
I considered asking politely,
but then he would look down on me and demand even more.
I would lose any position of equality.
This was wisdom earned through long experience.
In this place, the weak are devoured without hesitation.
So I had to appear strong at all costs.
But the man before Simon didn’t flinch.
Instead, he scorned me, despised me, and humiliated me.
He countered every word I spoke,
denying the very path I had walked.
Yet I could do nothing.
That’s what infuriated me.
But the man didn’t turn me away.
Even as he cursed me and called me foolish, he didn’t cast me out.
Instead, he showed me how to proceed.
******
“This is it?”
The place Simon brought me to was Damaya’s headquarters.
I hadn’t thought Bohol’s environment was particularly favorable, but this place was truly desolate.
Is this comparable to the rural areas of our country in the 1980s?
The space itself was filthy and unkempt.
It hadn’t been maintained at all.
I turned my head away.
I didn’t come here to conduct a home visit and assess whether the Rebel Forces were living well.
There was only one reason I followed Simon here.
To verify the capabilities of the Damaya organization members.
I came to assess what level of ability these Rebel Forces possessed.
One might wonder why I needed to verify their abilities to such a degree, but it was a critical matter for me.
Let’s say I was fortunate enough to trigger a war between Abu Sayyaf and the Bangsamoro Liberation Front (BLF).
What comes after?
When both Rebel Forces are embroiled in conflict and chaos, I need to strike and move in.
I need to raid undefended positions, but if my organization members lack competence, that becomes impossible.
With so few personnel, and if they lack ability on top of that?
It would be a complete disaster.
The New People’s Army (NPA), which has been lying dormant, could seize the prize instead.
I needed to verify at minimum whether these people possessed sufficient capability.
It was something I absolutely had to confirm before proceeding.
With so few members and lacking ability, I have no intention of sponsoring Damaya.
I’m not a philanthropist.
Of course, this isn’t something I’m doing purely for money.
But surely there should be at least some satisfaction, shouldn’t there?
The satisfaction of pouring money into something.
People who pour money into hobbies do so because they receive satisfaction equal to the amount spent.
I would only pour out money and taste bitter defeat.
If I observe and decide it’s not worthwhile, now is my only opportunity.
If I’m going to withdraw, it has to be now.
“Everyone assemble!!”
A bell rang, and Simon shouted the command.
People began emerging one by one from what looked like a crumbling ruin.
They weren’t even properly dressed,
dragging their slippers,
chatting with the person next to them,
cigarettes dangling from their lips,
rifles slung carelessly across their shoulders—
they shuffled out of the dilapidated barracks with an air of indifference.
They showed no sense of urgency or desperation.
Their faces were filled only with irritation, as if something tedious had come up.
I hadn’t expected military-like precision in their movements.
I hadn’t anticipated any tactical coordination.
I thought they’d at least have some drive.
I assumed they’d possess some pride as rebel forces protecting peace.
I was wrong.
It was my mistake, my misunderstanding.
This is exactly what it would look like if you just handed guns to a bunch of unemployed locals from the Hometown District and told them to go.
They had no idea how to properly hold a rifle.
They clearly didn’t understand why they needed to care about their uniforms.
Simon looked the same way.
At a glance, it was a complete mess.
No, “mess” doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Taking these guys and occupying the Rebel Forces?
It was absolutely impossible.
It would be faster to bring in street dogs and train them instead.
I looked at Simon.
Simon gazed at me with proud eyes.
Did this bastard not understand what the problem was?
I quickly took Simon into the Office.
“You said you guys were good? You said you had real power in Zamboanga? With those people?”
“They might look like that, but they’re incredibly strong in actual combat.”
Insane.
They must have gotten lucky.
Or maybe they only fought around here and used the terrain well.
Their movements showed they could never win in a real battle.
I had to make a decision.
If I was going to give up, I needed to do it quickly.
I wouldn’t give false hope.
It didn’t matter if I gave them 200 guns as a parting gift.
But it seemed better not to.
Those guns wouldn’t be weapons protecting Damaya,
they would be weapons driving them to their deaths.
There was only one reason Damaya had survived this long with such pathetic military strength.
It was highly likely they’d committed entirely to defensive warfare because of their inferior weapons.
Rather than attacking other Rebel Forces,
they’d focused solely on defending their base from attacking Rebel Forces.
They’d won by using geographical advantages to dig traps and set ambushes.
They mistook that for their victory and their actual military capability.
If Damaya took the weapons I gave them and went to war with the Rebel Forces,
if they left here and fought a war, it would be total annihilation—100%.
That’s how I assessed Damaya’s military strength.
Of course, that’s if I actually gave them weapons.
If I don’t give them weapons, they’ll hesitate before fighting.
Can we win with this firepower?
They’ll try to avoid conflict as much as possible.
Why?
Because they have no weapons.
But what if I give them sufficient weapons and ammunition?
Once they have guns, their fear will vanish.
They won’t shy away from fights that come their way.
Instead, they’ll go out seeking battles.
Without even knowing if that path leads to death.
I couldn’t bring myself to give Damaya the weapons to destroy themselves.
So I spoke honestly with Simon.
“Simon. I think I need to take back what I said about buying you out. This is for your sake, not mine.”
******
“Thank you for the meal.”
“Go ahead, eat plenty.”
I wasn’t fond of Damaya’s ragtag appearance,
and I’d decided not to buy them out because of it,
but I wasn’t heartless enough to simply walk past children who looked so pitiful.
I decided they deserved at least one proper meal.
I called Dennis, who managed the armory in Zamboanga, and told him to prepare food for five hundred people and bring it over.
Damaya’s numbers didn’t even reach two hundred,
but knowing Dennis’s inflexible nature, I said five hundred to ensure he wouldn’t bring exactly two hundred portions.
Meat, fruit, beverages, snacks—I told him to bring whatever he could load up.
If they could eat it today, fine. If not, they’d eat it eventually.
I’d never experienced such circumstances myself,
but don’t Father’s friends sometimes visit and he buys them a meal?
I could think of it as one of those occasions.
Simon’s friend coming by and simply treating them to a meal—that’s what this was.
Dennis arrived with a truck bed overflowing with food.
We built a fire and started grilling meat.
We grilled chicken and fish together.
Everything that could be grilled, we grilled. Everything that could be boiled, we boiled.
The aroma of food filled Damaya’s headquarters.
People who’d been hesitant at first began approaching once we started eating, joining in themselves.
They could have simply eaten, but they came over and offered their thanks before eating.
These kids had good hearts.
It made me feel oddly apologetic.
For the first time, smiles bloomed across their faces.
Looking at them up close, they seemed somehow different.
From a distance, looking down from above, everything appeared chaotic.
But meeting their eyes and sharing a meal with them stirred something different in me—a sense of pity.
They too were living difficult, tension-filled lives.
Impoverished and exhausted existences.
That’s right.
They weren’t soldiers.
Even calling them Rebel Forces,
they still had to farm and work.
They weren’t salaried military personnel.
Yet they were still making efforts to protect their community.
I had overlooked that aspect and focused only on their capabilities.
Perhaps for them, this was the best they could do.
Every single day might be nothing but exhaustion.
So should I reconsider and buy and train Damaya instead?
Of course not.
Bullets on the battlefield don’t discriminate.
You work two jobs? Pass.
You worked overtime yesterday and are tired? Pass.
You just joined the Rebel Forces and are still inexperienced? I won’t give you a pass.
So while I want to applaud their efforts to protect their community despite their exhaustion, the idea of preparing for war with them is absurd.
Just because middle-aged men in a weekend soccer club kick the ball enthusiastically,
just because they have day jobs but kick the ball earnestly morning and night, doesn’t mean you can take that team to the professional league.
Even those who do nothing but eat and kick the ball can’t set foot on a professional pitch.
In soccer, losing just means recording a loss,
but in war, losing means losing your life.
I’ve already played this game once.
I know all too well how cruel this game is.
I’ll praise them for kicking the ball hard, but they can’t go professional.
I acknowledge their efforts to protect their region, but I can’t undertake something grand with them.
That’s the right call.
For my sake, and for Damaya’s.
And so I spent what might be my last day in Damaya.
Everyone was excited, eating meat and drinking alcohol,
but in one corner, a young man sat motionless, not eating, staring blankly into the distance.
“Who’s that?”
“Ah, he’s new. He’s similar to me. He lost his parents to the Rebel Forces. His anger hasn’t subsided yet, so times like this might be uncomfortable for him. It’s best to just leave him alone.”
Simon answered.
Still, I grabbed some meat and a bottle of beer and walked toward the man.
“Eat something.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
A blunt voice.
I won’t ask twice either.
It’s not like I’m stopping you from eating, and you’re refusing even when I’m telling you to eat.
Must be on a diet.
This is a low-carb meal.
As I turned to leave, he asked me.
“Sir. Are you good at fighting?”
“Huh? Me?”
“Yes. You, sir.”
“Why?”
“If you’re good at it, could you teach me? There’s no one here who can teach that kind of thing.”
“Why? Simon is here too…”
“Simon here is the worst at fighting. Though he’s pretty good at treating sick people instead.”
“…What exactly do you want to know?”
“How to kill people.”
He asks something both difficult and simple.
People die whether you shoot them with a gun, stab them with a knife, or break their neck.
They die from explosions, strangulation, or getting hit by a car.
There are countless ways to kill a person,
but I should teach him the easiest way, right?
“Use a gun. Just shoot with a gun.”
“It doesn’t hit, so that’s the problem.”
“That’s because you can’t shoot properly.”
“No. It’s because the gun is strange.”
“No. It’s your problem. I’m sure of it.”
“Then will you make a bet with me?”
“What kind of bet?”
“Hitting those empty bottles set up over there with my strange gun. If I hit 3 out of 5, you win, sir. Otherwise, I win.”
“What’s the prize?”
“If I win, you teach us shooting, and if you win, well, there’s nothing more to it.”
“The prize seems a bit unfair?”
“Sir?”
“Even if I win, I get nothing. You get a skill if you win, but I get nothing if I win.”
“I have nothing to give you?”
“Why not? You’ve got a sturdy body.”
“Sir?”
“And you want to learn shooting from someone who can’t even hit targets? That doesn’t make sense. So if I hit all 5, you’ll train under me without a word of complaint. No grumbling, no whining. No sighing, no objections, no laments, no grievances, no appeals. And no giving up. Deal?”
The man felt strange.
The conditions were the same, yet he felt like he’d gotten the short end of the stick.
Still, at the thought of being able to learn shooting, he shouted in agreement.
“Call.”
A moment later.
Five empty bottles were lined up, and I took my position.
The bet had become the main event of the drinking gathering.
Everyone from Damaya was watching.
“What’s your name?”
“Allen, sir.”
“Allen. Watch closely.”
Bang.
With a sharp crash, the bottle shattered.
Bang. Crash.
Bang. Crash.
Bang. Crash.
Bang. Crash.
Five shots fired, five bottles destroyed.
A perfect score.
I set the gun down with satisfaction.
Now I could legitimately make this bastard do whatever I wanted.
“Gather around. You bastard. Hehehehe.”
Of course, I didn’t mention that I’d swapped in a gun from my inventory for the shooting.
Allen’s gun barrel was slightly bent.
How could I shoot with a gun like that?
It doesn’t make sense.
Isn’t that the kind of excuse anyone could make?
But it seemed Allen wasn’t the only one who wanted to learn.
Besides Allen, people lined up beside him.
“Who are you all?”
“We’d like to learn as well, sir.”
Oh ho.
I do love people with such enthusiasm.
I adore those with determination.
I should show them the Seoul University method of learning.
Repetitive training so their bodies can absorb it directly.

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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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