Like all smugglers, Jang-man was far from sociable.

He couldn’t help it. His profession made it that way.

Selling things that shouldn’t be sold and putting a price on things that should be priceless meant that people stopped looking like people to him.

When he looked at customers entering his bar, he would mentally calculate how much their lives were worth. When he saw children passing by, price tags came to mind.

Now that he was closer to the end of his life than the beginning, only two kinds of people remained around him:

Those who made money and those who appealed to him on a personal level.

The one knocking on his bar door at the crack of dawn belonged to the former group.

"Long time no see, elder."

The man entering the bar was wearing a dark blue coat. His receding hairline formed a prominent M-shape, and his sharp, blade-like nose stood out.

Jang-man, who had been polishing a glass, frowned as soon as he saw the man’s face.

"Wollard? Here to beg for scraps? I’ve got no work."

"Beg? Elder, when have you ever seen me come empty-handed?"

Wollard, as he was called, grinned and sat down at a customer’s table.

"Get lost. I don’t care what you brought."

"Oh come on, elder. You’re going to hurt my feelings if you turn me away before even seeing the goods."

Wollard reached into his coat and placed something on the table.

It was a small bird skull, just slightly larger than a palm.

To anyone else, it might have seemed like nothing special, but Jang-man recognized it immediately.

"A magic artifact... Not a complete one, but a fragment."

"As expected from you, elder! You always know right away. This used to be part of a mage’s wand."

"So?"

"Guess where I found this."

Wollard rolled the skull across the table. It came to a stop right in front of Jang-man’s nose.

"No idea. And I don’t care."

"In the waters off Incheon. Caught by an unlucky fisherman."

"…"

"Elder, you know I’m no fool. I have a knack for this stuff, which is why I came to you. You understand that, don’t you?"

Slam! Jang-man set the glass he had been cleaning down with a loud thud and glared at Wollard.

"So what are you trying to say? What’s with all the dancing around? Did you crawl into a rat hole and become one with them?"

"Rat hole? Elder, at least call me by my proper name. The Blue Rat! Outside of Korea, that name holds some weight, you know."

"Rat gang, cat gang, I don’t care. Just say what you need to say."

Despite Jang-man’s sharp words, Wollard’s expression didn’t change.

"Elder, I’m not asking for much. Just one little piece of information."

"What?"

"The strange events in Incheon these past few days... You were involved, weren’t you?"

Jang-man frowned. Had he already been found out?

"Strange events? Have you forgotten, after spending time overseas? This city has always been strange."

"You know that’s not what I mean."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you came here to play detective, go home."

Jang-man tossed the rag onto the table and headed toward the kitchen. As he turned his back, Wollard smiled, a hint of something sinister in his grin.

"A few days ago, there was an explosion at a closed dock, wasn’t there?"

Jang-man stopped in his tracks and turned back with a look of disbelief.

"And?"

"The day after the explosion, the government rushed agents to Incheon, only to pull them out two days later."

"..."

"Then, as if on cue, the media broke the news about a communist elf crossing over to Earth. It’s obvious the government leaked that story. What are they trying to hide?"

Wollard watched Jang-man’s expression closely, but there wasn’t any visible reaction. In fact, Jang-man even sighed, as if the whole thing were ridiculous.

"That’s why you came to me? I’ve got only one answer for you. I don’t know anything."

"…"

"The bar’s closing. Get out."

Wollard opened his mouth as if to say something, then paused, licking his lips before shutting it again.

After a brief silence, he spoke again.

"Elder, why are you so angry? It’s almost like..."

Wollard’s narrow eyes glinted menacingly as he stared down Jang-man.

"...you have something to hide."

Before Jang-man could even respond, clap! Wollard snapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the bar.

The next moment, the bar’s door burst open, and five men entered.

They were all dressed in the same dark blue coats as Wollard, but one man, in particular, stood out.

He was so massive that his head nearly touched the ceiling, and the way his long coat draped around him made him look like a moving curtain.

But it wasn’t just his size that drew attention.

His eyes... His pitch-black eyes, with no visible whites, gleamed like those of a wild beast, locking onto Jang-man.

"Elder, don’t be scared. They’re all my friends. This big guy here is Mortimer. He’s our organization’s go-to guy for facilitating... civil conversations."

"...Civil conversations?"

Jang-man let out a bitter laugh. Right, with a monster like that, civil conversations were bound to happen.

"Elder, let’s make this easy. Tell me everything you know. I’ll pay handsomely for the information."

"I told you, I really don’t know anything."

"Well, if you insist on being difficult... Mortimer! Help the elder loosen up a bit!"

Mortimer lumbered toward Jang-man. When he stood by the table, a long shadow fell over Jang-man’s head.

"This is your last chance, elder."

Wollard smirked. Jang-man glanced between Mortimer and Wollard before sighing and replying.

"Screw you, kid."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mortimer reached out and grabbed Jang-man by the collar.

Jang-man struggled against his old body, but Mortimer effortlessly lifted him off the ground. He spread his other hand wide, preparing to slap Jang-man across the face.

Or rather, he almost slapped him.

Screeech.

Just before Mortimer’s hand could make contact, the bar’s door creaked open, and someone walked in, wearing a low-brimmed hat.

Wollard, his men, and Mortimer all turned their attention to the unexpected visitor.

"...Elder?"

Above the intruder’s golden eyes, a dangerous fury flickered.

 

As soon as Dung Beetle stepped into the bar, he couldn’t quite make sense of the scene before him.

The men in blue coats filling the bar, and the large brute wearing the same coat threatening Jang-man.

He couldn’t fully understand the situation, but his emotions were clear, and his actions were even clearer.

Without a moment of hesitation, Dung Beetle swung his foot at the closest man.

"Ugh!"

The man was lifted off the ground, thrown by the force of the kick. The others in blue coats were just starting to react, raising their fists. But then Wollard's voice rang out from behind them, panicked.

"Idiots! He's a superhuman! Draw your guns!"

Superhuman.

That word made them freeze for a moment. Dung Beetle didn’t waste that opening.

Thud! He leapt forward, delivering a blow to the back of the giant’s knee—the one who was holding Jang-man.

“Grrk!”

Struck at a weak point in the body, the giant released Jang-man and clutched his knee in pain.

Dung Beetle caught Jang-man just in time and threw both of them behind the counter.

"Elder! A superhuman! You can’t possibly still claim you know nothing, can you?"

Aside from the one knocked out by Dung Beetle’s kick, the rest of the men in blue coats had drawn their guns. Even the giant, after recovering, was snorting through his nose, getting ready to fight again.

Ignoring them, Dung Beetle checked Jang-man’s condition.

"Elder, what the hell is going on here?"

"The Blue Rat... they’ve picked up your trail."

"Blue Rat?"

"They're multinational thugs who call themselves information brokers. They had no business in Korea before, but... of all times, they show up now."

Dung Beetle quickly grasped the situation, but he didn’t panic.

Ever since Seti had shown him the importance of covering his tracks, he’d expected something like this to happen, sooner or later.

"Elder, escape through the back door."

"What? Just me? What about you?"

Instead of answering, Dung Beetle pulled a grenade from his waist. It was the last one he had left after his battle with the necromancer.

Seeing him pull the pin, Jang-man panicked and began crawling toward the kitchen.

"Elder! You should just surrender! Mortimer here is also a superhuman! You can’t possibly think your— Oh, sh—"

Before Wollard could finish his sentence, Dung Beetle tossed the grenade over the counter and gathered mana into his legs. His thigh and calf muscles tightened, ready to spring.

Boom!!

The explosion roared through the bar as Dung Beetle leapt forward. As he cleared the counter, he took in the scene of the bar, now half-destroyed by the blast.

The tables had been obliterated, broken bottles scattered everywhere.

But unlike the state of the bar, the enemies were fine. Not a single one had been killed by the grenade.

They had all huddled behind the giant brute, barely surviving the blast.

"Withstand a grenade with your bare body? So, he is a superhuman."

A fight between superhumans. And again, this time his opponents had backup.

Feeling a string of bad luck, Dung Beetle pushed off the ground. The Blue Rats didn’t just stand there.

"Shoot! Shoot him, you idiots!"

Bullets started flying in the narrow space of the bar.

Whizz!

Dung Beetle raised his arm to shield his head and zigzagged his way toward them.

He couldn’t dodge every bullet, but he trusted his regeneration. As long as he avoided critical hits, he was confident that mere handgun bullets wouldn’t kill him.

"Here he comes! Mortimer, stop him!"

"Raaaagh!"

The only remaining problem was the giant brute. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the guy knew any martial arts.

Thud!

As Dung Beetle and the giant’s fist and foot collided, he grimaced. The rebound force was stronger than expected, running through his body and his mana from Pahyanggyul.

‘Is it the size difference? Or the amount of mana?’

It felt like he had kicked steel. Retracting his leg, Dung Beetle swung a fist infused with the essence of Pahyanggyul.

Thwack!

Once again, he felt the impact run up his arm. But Mortimer didn’t fall. Instead, the giant reached out and grabbed Dung Beetle’s left arm.

Crack! A horrible sound came as Dung Beetle’s left arm broke. The sheer strength... it was overwhelming.

Swallowing a scream, Dung Beetle used Feather Step to put some distance between them.

‘It doesn’t seem like he’s using martial arts. How is he withstanding the blows?’

He glanced at his broken left arm and then back at Mortimer. Beneath his torn coat, his grotesque muscles rippled and twitched.

‘If blows aren’t working...’

Mana surged down Dung Beetle’s right shoulder, a wave of power from Pahyanggyul. His hand flattened into a blade.

‘I’ll cut him.’