Chapter 113
Hardline Measures (2)
A quiet street in Jeju Island.
A high-end Korean restaurant known only to locals.
Ha Il-hwan entered one of its private rooms.
“Oh my, Assemblyman Ha! You must have had a hard time coming all this way.”
“It’s fine. Flying makes it quick.”
When the middle-aged man jumped up to greet him, Ha Il-hwan hung his coat on the rack and took a seat.
“Please try a piece before it gets cold. This is our pride and joy—Jeju black pork dombe meat.”
“Mm.”
The sliced boiled pork laid neatly on a rough wooden board glistened with oil.
He dipped it lightly in coarse salt and put it in his mouth; a chewy yet tender texture spread across his tongue.
“It’s good. Hard to believe this place is just a front business.”
“You flatter us.”
The man sitting across from him was the owner of the restaurant and the head of the community called ‘Halla.’
“Anna, the documents.”
“Yes, sir.”
Anna took an envelope out of her bag and placed it on the table.
“It’s the matter we discussed before. The exploration permit for Mt. Halla.”
“Ah, right. I hadn’t signed it yet.”
Since the contract had already been discussed, the Halla representative quickly scribbled his signature.
“But, Assemblyman…”
After signing, his tone became much more cautious.
“There’s something small I’d like to ask…”
Ha Il-hwan took a sip of gosori-sul (a traditional liquor) and gestured for him to continue.
“You’re aware that the Foundation’s pressure has increased sharply lately.”
It had been a month since the new branch chief took office.
Their hardline policies were far beyond reasonable.
Small and mid-sized communities were forced to sign renewal contracts with the Foundation under conditions that made self-sufficiency nearly impossible. Even large communities with some influence were suffering from newly imposed regulations.
“I also heard that the National Assembly recently held a hearing with the Minister of Defense. With your influence, couldn’t you put some restraints on the branch chief’s current actions…?”
“Hmmm…”
Holding his glass, Ha Il-hwan closed his eyes and sank into thought.
For just a moment, a smile—too subtle for the Halla representative to notice—crossed his face.
“Frankly, the Minister of Defense is visible on the surface, so he can be dealt with. But the upper ranks of the Foundation are not easy to touch. The branch chief even more so.”
At his gentle refusal, a shadow fell over the representative’s face.
“However… that doesn’t mean there’s no way at all.”
“…?”
Ha Il-hwan set his glass down with a clack.
“Anna.”
“Yes!”
She immediately took out another document and spread it before the Halla representative.
“Assemblyman Ha, what on earth is this…?!”
“Didn’t I tell you before? We can’t keep leaving Korea in the hands of idiots forever.”
He lightly flicked the papers with a finger and continued.
“The Foundation is solid. If you clash head-on, there’s no opening to break through.”
The Halla representative slowly met his gaze.
“So you destroy it from the inside. Like a Trojan horse.”
“Is that even possible? And if it fails…”
The man nervously rubbed his hands together.
Even without reading the document closely, it was obvious this plan carried enormous risk.
Yet Ha Il-hwan calmly refilled his glass.
“It won’t fail.”
“It’s about capturing the branch chief. That can’t be easy…”
Ignoring him, Ha Il-hwan reached into his coat and placed something on the table.
The Halla representative’s eyes widened like lanterns.
“This is…”
“Ever heard of a divine artifact?”
A bronze mirror with small bells hanging from each corner of its octagonal frame.
“This will lead you to success.”
* * *
“Why the hell can’t we go in?! Give us a proper explanation!!”
At the entrance to the rift.
A buzz-cut team member grabbed a Foundation employee by the collar and shouted.
“I told you, the classification was changed recently!”
“So you’re saying we’re out players?! Does that make any sense?!”
As he yelled, Seongcheol and Sehyun approached.
“Stop it, Connie.”
“Team leader! What is this nonsense?!”
“Calm down. They’re just doing what they’re told. Look at their faces.”
Connie turned toward the employee.
He looked exhausted, as if he’d been through this many times already.
“Haa… then what are we supposed to do? Actually become out players for real?”
Players’ main income came from subjugation rewards and soul stones.
But out players were restricted from those.
And people with special abilities would never settle for ordinary wages, so they inevitably turned to illegal jobs that used their powers.
Which would make the Foundation crack down on them even harder…
“If you want to be fugitives for the rest of your lives, go ahead.”
“……”
Sehyun shrugged and said it casually.
Seongcheol looked at him in disbelief.
“Why are you so calm? Like it’s none of your business.”
“Well… because it is none of my business?”
“What?”
“I’m not affiliated with the Foundation.”
That was true.
They had undergone evaluations and cooperated with them since the Foundation claimed to be the government of players.
But strictly speaking, they were not part of it.
Their community was much smaller, but like Russia’s Randelov or Scotland’s Highlanders, it was independent.
So there was no obligation to obey their control.
Of course, refusing to cooperate would bring disadvantages, but Sehyun didn’t really care.
“It hurts to see you struggling, hyung… but there’s nothing I can really do.”
He patted Seongcheol’s shoulder in consolation.
“What can you do? You just adapt and accept it.”
Then why did that expression look so annoying?
“I think this concerns you too.”
“Huh?”
“Didn’t you start dealing with the Foundation recently?”
“Uh… ah…?”
Come to think of it…
The party involved in his recent contract with Taejong had been the Foundation.
They wouldn’t cancel an already-signed contract outright like with rift access, but given the situation, delays were possible.
The Foundation had been acting especially rough lately.
Just then—
Ring!
Sehyun got a call from Geum Gang-tae.
“Mr. Sehyun, can you talk for a moment?”
The noise on the other end sounded like a marketplace.
Whatever it was, things were chaotic.
“Our recent contract with the Foundation—distribution and logistics—everything is being delayed.”
“What? What do you mean—”
“They say it’s due to document re-evaluation, but from what we found out, it’s effectively a temporary suspension because of conflicts with communities.”
Before Sehyun could ask more, Geum Gang-tae started shouting at someone.
“What?! If they say no, are we just supposed to give up?! We have to take action! Damn it, that’s why you have to pull it off—! …Ah, sorry, Mr. Sehyun. I’ll call again once things are sorted. I’m busy, so I’ll hang up now.”
Click.
Sehyun’s face turned pale.
“T-this…!”
He grabbed the Foundation employee by the collar and shook him.
“What the hell are you people doing?! Fix this right now!”
Seongcheol tried to pull him away.
“Calm down. They’re just following orders—”
“Calm down, my ass! Don’t you have brains?! Why do you just follow orders?! What are we supposed to live on?!”
Artifact distribution was blocked.
They hadn’t worried about performance even without hunting because of the income from artifact sales.
If that stopped and their funds dried up, maintaining the community would be impossible.
They had even invested huge capital into building Atlantis to supply that distribution network.
At this rate, ending up on the streets was only a matter of time.
“Do something about it, you bastards!!!”
As Sehyun shook an innocent man…
Seongcheol’s rough ringtone rang.
“Captain Yoo? Why are you calling?”
Captain Yoo Geon-hyeok.
He had joined the first wave under Saint Union during the December 3rd emergency mobilization and was crushed miserably.
After being seriously injured that day, he had apparently just returned.
“What? You were classified as an out player too?”
So he was a victim as well.
But why him?
He had always been cooperative with the Foundation, unlike Seongcheol, who followed his own beliefs.
“They said my subjugation performance was insufficient. Tch. They don’t even care that I was injured. Guess they’re planning to cut off everyone except those they like…”
It was true that rift subjugation was a player’s duty.
But expelling even survivors of an emergency mobilization without flexibility?
That could only be seen as intentional exclusion.
And he wasn’t the only one.
Similar complaints were coming from other places.
Those with poor performance, long-term injured players, even retirees from the front lines.
The Foundation was handling them all the same, without considering individual circumstances.
All of this had happened in less than a month since the new branch chief took office.
“The situation’s the same here. But did you call just to say that?”
“What, you stiff bastard. Can’t I even call to check on a fellow classmate?”
With a chuckle, he got to the point.
“We’re planning to hold a meeting with people who are dissatisfied with the Foundation.”
“A meeting…”
It was better to demand proper reasons than to be controlled without knowing anything.
But who would take the lead?
The Foundation wouldn’t come out voluntarily.
“You know the Three-Province Ability Users Control Camp, right? They’re stepping in.”
“The Samdo Camp…?!”
The Three-Province Ability Users Control Camp (三道異能士統制營), commonly called Samdo Camp.
It was a coalition formed by Jeju’s community Halla, Gyeongsang Province’s Haewoon, and Jeolla Province’s Baekwoon.
Each was powerful in its own region.
“Well, there’s a bit of a cold war underneath, though.”
They interacted regularly, but tensions existed over dominance in southern Korea.
Because of that, they usually didn’t get involved in small incidents around the capital.
“That means this control policy is nationwide.”
“They’re serious.”
This wasn’t a test run.
They truly intended to run the Korean branch like this.
Sehyun felt something was off.
“The Foundation is a stagnant organization. It doesn’t like change.”
Their policy was always to resolve problems before they grew.
The headquarters was the same.
Even the Seigan sisters, future leaders as Sehyun remembered, weren’t that different.
“But they’re pushing policies that anyone can see will cause backlash? And suddenly?”
The fact that Samdo Camp stepped in proved he wasn’t the only one who felt it was strange.
“So they fight among themselves, but unite when there’s a common enemy.”
Captain Yoo continued.
“They’re inviting the new branch chief to the meeting. If the communities speak with one voice, the Foundation won’t be able to ignore it.”
“You were always good at stuff like this.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“Anyway, what about you? What will you do?”
“Not sure.”
Seongcheol lowered the phone and asked Sehyun the same question.
“What about you?”
Sehyun took a deep breath.
Then answered briefly and firmly.
“Of course I’ll go.”
Even if nothing had happened, he planned to go just to watch.
But now that his business had been obstructed by some nobody, he couldn’t stand it.
“I need to hear what they have to say.”
Otherwise, he wouldn’t even be able to sleep from frustration.
