I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 78

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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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078-Internal Strife
78.
Seoul was Sandro’s first time visiting the city.
The city where Alex was born.
I was curious.
I’d always wanted to come here once.
And after experiencing Seoul for a few days, I fell in love with it.
Enough to want to live here.
Impossibly clean roads and people dressed impeccably.
A city where you order at your table and robots serve you.
A city where you can check on your phone when the bus and subway arrive.
A city where the bus stop benches have heated seats.
Services unimaginable in the Philippines were woven into every corner of daily life.
Seoul felt like a city living in 2050.
I loved Seoul.
I even loved the crisp cold air that lingered at the tip of my nose.
It was a city where you could be happy doing nothing at all.
Simply passing time brought contentment.
I would have liked to enjoy the vacation longer, but apparently I’d finished all my business here.
All I’d done in Seoul was visit a few hotels at Dae-hun’s request.
And I hadn’t really done anything at the hotels either.
I’d simply sat in the lobby drinking coffee or eaten at reserved restaurants.
For me, that was a vacation and a new experience—something I enjoyed.
It was wonderful to savor Korean cuisine.
Conversely, Dae-hun discreetly circulated photos of me at the hotels.
Along with very minor suspicions.
‘The godfather of the Philippines met Organization A.’
‘He also met Organization B.’
‘He apparently met Organization C too.’
The rumor that I was going around meeting criminal organizations continued to spread like a rolling snowball.
The organizations named in the rumors vehemently denied it, but no one believed them.
Everyone naturally assumed it was a lie.
To officially confirm meeting a negotiation target at such a critical and sensitive time?
That was impossible.
Of course they would lie.
Because everyone expected them to deny it, no one believed the truth that I hadn’t met anyone.
It was even easier to spread the false rumor.
There was no official press here, no journalists to investigate.
Rumors were everything.
Rumor is everything.
Rumors spreading from bars, hotels, and the mouths of gangsters’ underlings travel as swiftly as truth itself.
And once a rumor spreads first, it’s nearly impossible to correct it.
A lie requires only one sentence, but a rebuttal demands an entire book.
The organization being targeted would feel wronged, but there’s nothing to be done.
The more they try to clarify, the deeper the suspicion becomes.
Sandro spent his time with his organization members, drinking coffee and enjoying his vacation.
Though I’d done nothing since arriving in South Korea, the ripple effects were extraordinary.
Seoul’s criminal organizations were beginning to shake.
*******
The Namseooul Faction—one of Seoul’s major criminal organizations.
With Jamsil as their primary stronghold, they were among Seoul’s more substantial organizations.
Their leadership was gathered in a meeting.
“Boss, it’s 50 billion won. And it’s not a one-time deal—it’s 50 billion won every single year. Where else would you find such a business opportunity? We absolutely have to take it.”
“No, boss. This isn’t certain. We need to observe a bit longer. We don’t have enough information.”
“Not enough information? What more do you need to know before you let a 50 billion won opportunity slip away? If you like things so safe and certain, why are you even in this business? Go put your money in a savings account and live an honest life.”
“What? This bastard never knows when to shut up. This is about the organization’s fate. You can’t just make decisions like that on a whim.”
“So you want to wait until everyone else has eaten their fill and then pick at the scraps? Is that what you’re after?”
“That’s not it. I’m saying we can move when things become clearer. There’s no rush.”
“So you’ve just been sitting around doing nothing? Other organizations all met with the Philippine godfather, but we didn’t.”
“They didn’t meet with him either.”
“You believe that? You actually believe it?”
“They really didn’t meet him.”
“They didn’t meet him? Were they at the same hotel? The same restaurant?”
“It could have been a coincidence.”
“You probably got married by coincidence too, had kids by coincidence, bought a house by coincidence, and will die by coincidence?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
As their voices grew louder, Nam Moon-ho, the Namseooul Faction boss, stepped in to stop their argument.
“Enough!!”
Though the boss said to stop, the two men didn’t cease their quarrel.
Rather, their frustration deepened as they couldn’t reach a clear decision.
Fights always begin with trivial conflicts.
To resolve conflict, both sides must respect each other’s opinions.
If the other person thinks differently, you simply accept it and move on.
It’s simple.
No matter how strongly I prefer dipping, if the other person thinks biting is better, I can just accept it.
But when neither side acknowledges the other and they collide instead—
when it crosses from the realm of understanding into the realm of emotion, the problem becomes serious.
Then it’s no longer about preference or right and wrong.
It’s not about dipping or biting anymore—only selfish determination to defeat the other person remains.
Only stubborn insistence that I must win, no matter what excuse I have to make, remains.
The solution to this problem is simpler than one might think.
It’s about establishing logical superiority through force.
Simply put, you crush the opposition with sheer power.
Beat one side into submission, and that side becomes the truth.
But then, unexpectedly, the Boss’s command brought their conversation to a halt.
Neither side had won.
Yet this wasn’t peace either.
It was merely a pause, not a concession.
Both wanted to win this argument.
Neither wanted to lose.
In fact, they couldn’t afford to lose.
There was a reason.
If they lost here, the second-in-command position would slip away, leaving them as third.
And even the third position felt precarious.
Lose the second spot, and the Boss’s seat disappears too.
In other words, win this argument and you become Boss. Lose, and you’re just another organization member.
So they had to pull this conversation decisively in their favor.
Both men, each convinced they were the true second-in-command, were mentally plotting strategies to defeat the other.
Both were thinking the same thing—they had to crush their opponent.
There was only one method.
Civil war.
To become second-in-command.
To become the organization’s Boss.
To truly establish logical superiority, there was only one path: internal conflict.
But this phenomenon wasn’t limited to the Namseooul Faction alone.
In Seoul’s major criminal organizations, disputes over participation versus holding back had become frequent.
Internal strife was happening more and more often.
.
.
.
“Brother, I’m sorry.”
Lee Hyung-sik, the second-in-command of the Seodaemun Faction—a minor organization on the periphery—drove a knife into his Boss’s abdomen.
“You… How could you… Why?”
The Seodaemun Boss, blindsided by his junior’s betrayal, stared at Lee Hyung-sik with eyes full of sorrow.
Even as death approached, he seemed unable to comprehend what was happening.
This was a junior he had raised with love.
He had been planning to pass the organization down to him.
And now this junior was betraying him.
The Seodaemun Faction would have slipped from his hands eventually anyway.
But he couldn’t understand why the betrayal had to happen.
“Shouldn’t our organization grow now? Brother. How much longer are we going to scrape by in the shadows?”
“Huh… Is this because of what happened in the Philippines?”
“I apologize, brother. If you hadn’t refused so firmly, I would have followed you.”
A lump caught in his throat.
The Seodaemun Boss spat out a mouthful of blood.
With a voice as if life itself were fading, he barely mustered the strength to speak.
“This can’t happen. Protect the Seodaemun Faction.”
“Whether it can or can’t, don’t you have to step on the accelerator at least once? That way you won’t have regrets. I’ll follow you soon enough, so please don’t feel too hurt. I’m sorry, brother.”
Lee Hyung-sik drove the blade deep into the Seodaemun Boss’s abdomen once more,
and the Boss stopped moving.
Lee Hyung-sik exhaled deeply and summoned the Seodaemun Faction members.
“Draw your blades. The war begins.”
.
.
.
A club in Gangnam, Seoul.
5 AM, after closing.
All the customers had left, and the staff were cleaning up,
when suddenly the door burst open and mysterious men appeared.
People I’d never seen before in my life.
Naturally, people I had no grudge against and no reason to hate.
But what they said was completely unexpected.
“Tear them apart!!!!”
“Don’t let a single one escape.”
“The police won’t come anyway. Take your time and catch them all.”
“If anyone gets away, it’ll come back to haunt us. So we finish everyone here.”
At the strangers’ shouts, a few Dokkae Faction members guarding the club stepped forward.
As if the club were some sacred sanctuary,
they blocked the intruders, insisting they couldn’t enter.
But before the sharp blades, they crumbled like scarecrows.
Having cut down the Dokkae Faction, the intruders began indiscriminately slaughtering everyone in the club.
“Block the entrance.”
“Hey! Grab that bastard.”
“That bastard’s getting away. Seal the emergency exits!!”
“Don’t let a single one get out.”
“Even if you call the police, they won’t come.”
The Dokkae Faction was bewildered.
No—they were too terrified to do anything.
A fight with blades? Stabbing?
Blood everywhere, comrades dying?
Of course I’d never done anything like that.
These days, gangsters don’t even carry blades.
Some carry them for show, but they never actually use them.
They only draw steel when there’s a group of them taking down a single target.
When I’m completely safe.
When entertainment is needed.
When intimidation is the goal.
Only then do they draw.
A fight like this—unprepared, sudden, with blades drawn and pressed forward—
I’d only heard stories about it.
I’d never actually witnessed it or experienced it myself.
Only heard tales from the seniors.
Back in the day, things like this supposedly happened. That’s all.
This wasn’t the era of mindlessly drawing blades and throwing fists.
Now it was words that destroyed, lying down in defeat, and calling the police when cornered.
That was modern gangsterism.
Do your job well, show proper respect, and you’d earn praise—that was today’s Yakuza.
And such modern gangsters could only fall helplessly before masked assailants wielding blades.
The attackers showed no mercy.
They couldn’t afford to be merciful—not with the Dokkae Faction potentially becoming a future threat.
The Club was drenched in blood.
.
.
.
“Yes, this is 112.”
“There seems to be a fight here?”
“A fight?”
“Yes. Looks like gangsters.”
“Understood. We’ll dispatch immediately.”
The 112 operator dispatched units from the police box nearest to the report location.
The Police Officers who received the dispatch order rushed to the scene immediately, but they didn’t enter the Club to suppress the violence.
It was because of operational guidelines transmitted from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency not long ago.
“Seoul is currently in a state of war between criminal organizations. Preventing and suppressing the conflict is important, but above all else, the lives and safety of our officers are paramount.”
“According to intelligence, this war will be extremely brutal and violent. So don’t try to stop it at all costs. Waiting until the fighting ends is our first protocol.”
“A police officer’s life is worth ten, twenty times more than some thug’s. Don’t throw your lives away on misplaced righteousness. The justice we should uphold isn’t stopping their fight—it’s preventing that fight from harming civilians.”
“One way to extinguish a wildfire is to wait until it burns itself out. Wait until the fighting ends. Just prevent it from spreading.”
“Never attempt suppression. Don’t try to make arrests. Once the fighting is definitively over, then we can clean up.”
“First and second priority—our officers’ safety is what matters.”
The dispatched Police Officers waited outside the Club, ready to prevent the violence from spilling into civilian areas.
But even that had nothing to do.
No one emerged from the Club.
And moments later, a different group of people entered inside.
************
“Boss, these guys are no joke.”
“What do you mean?”
The one reporting to me was O Eul-tteum.
He was one of the men Sandro had picked up during his expedition to Bohol.
In Bohol, without Sandro’s permission,
he had emerged while Sandro was eliminating those running phishing sites and online casinos.
When Sandro raided an illegal phishing site operated by Koreans,
people who had been imprisoned there came pouring out.
They had written programs and created sites while being held captive.
Some reported themselves and were forcibly deported to South Korea,
but Sandro brought a few with him.
“What about the kids? Why did you bring them? Send them back to South Korea.”
“They’re the best at what they do.”
“What?”
“Programming? Coding? Ah, never mind. Anyway, these guys are the best at it. So I sent away the chaff and brought only the aces.”
I was speechless.
This wasn’t the 19th century slave trade—he’d brought them like purchasing slaves, like kidnapping slaves.
This wasn’t something possible in the 21st century.
So I apologized to them and gave them the opportunity to return to South Korea.
I even offered to buy them tickets.
But when these guys saw our sign, they asked if this was GoGo Casino,
and instead begged for the opportunity to work here themselves.
They said GoGo Casino was a legend in the casino industry, and they literally knelt down begging for the chance to learn our expertise.
Really?
I gave them the opportunity.
The door of employment opens to those who knock.
These guys really had solid skills.
They were truly aces.
Especially O Eul-tteum’s abilities were exceptional.
With Manager Nam gone, O Eul-tteum now serves as the top administrator.
To O Eul-tteum, I gave one mission.
“Analyze this site for me once.”
“Yes, sir.”
And today he brought the analysis report.
But then he suddenly said this.
“Boss, these guys are no joke.”
“What do you mean?”
“These bastards have been manipulating win rates in real-time by tracking users’ situations.”
“Win rate manipulation? We do that too. Don’t tell me they’re offering higher rates than us?”
“Their system is completely different from ours. While ours is fixed, theirs operates in real-time. The system tracks users—giving them higher win rates initially, then dropping the odds once the stakes get bigger.”
“But why would they do that?”
“Because that system is absolutely brilliant. It’s incredibly well-designed. If we acquire it, it would be an enormous asset for us.”
O Eul-tteum stares at me with an unsettling gaze.
It’s the same look Ana had shown me.
Something feels off.
It’s frightening.
Everyone here seems fundamentally unhinged.

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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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