Chapter 47: A Miser’s Nightmare
A tall, broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar running from his ear down to his collarbone lowered the high-caliber sniper rifle, sliding the floor-to-ceiling glass pane shut.
"One more week, and that massive bounty belongs to us," he grunted, checking his weapon’s chamber. "Tell me you’ve double-checked the overall plan."
"Of course," a sharp, hoarse voice replied from behind the main terminal console. "If it wasn’t foolproof, the Commander wouldn’t have authorized it. No need to worry so much, Marteen. The Baek Family might be the apex predators in this city, but that’s all they are—local big fish in a small pond."
The speaker, Carl Mustang—known simply as Mustang—tapped the touchscreen interface. Clad in a sleek dark turtleneck with his long hair tied back in a ponytail, his fingers flew across encrypted files, pulling up estate blueprints, security floor plans, and live satellite feeds.
As a former intelligence operative for the Starfall Federation, Mustang’s sharp, handsome features belied a lethal efficiency. While he handled intel, in the field he was a silent assassin, deadly with dual daggers and swift footwork.
"What about the rest of the squad?" asked Zyrgoive Marteen.
Marteen, a former secret service agent from the Euravia continental joint force, was built like a brick wall. Despite his massive frame making him a master of close-quarters barehanded combat, his patience behind a sniper scope was legendary.
"They’re holding position and staying dark," Mustang replied without looking up from the screens. "Only a few scouts are scattered around the perimeter, cross-checking the estate’s layout against our schematics."
Including Marteen and Mustang, the entire strike team consisted of forty elite mercenaries from Babylon—each possessing a terrifying, proven track record.
And all forty were currently assembled in S City with a single objective: Assassinate Baek Ji-Sung, Patriarch of the Baek Family, for a payout of twenty million Blue Star Credits.
As for who funded the contract? Even Babylon’s top operatives didn’t know. The hirer remained a complete ghost.
If the mission succeeded, that was the end of it. If it failed, that was the end as well. Either way, any connection to the contractor was severed instantly—a dead end where no amount of investigation would ever yield a trace.
Thus, very few truly knew of Babylon’s existence. Their extreme professionalism and ghost-like execution granted them an elite exclusivity, leaving only a hand-picked few in the world capable of ever establishing contact.
This was precisely what made Babylon such a terrifying, exclusive mercenary entity.
"Hehe. Next week, this city will be even more chaotic than when those gang thugs were wiped out. Imagine the panic when one of the top family heads falls," Marteen said softly, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Tch. Amateur mindset," Mustang scoffed with a bored expression. "What kind of idiot would hire Babylon if civilians could trace it back to us? Don’t joke like that."
"Such rigid thinking! I’m talking about imagining their chaos, not about them knowing we exist," Marteen grumbled, his tone turning slightly annoyed. "Tsk! I’m no amateur, jackass. Want to throw hands right now and see who the layman really is?!"
Mustang ignored the provocation and casually changed the topic. "Why do these families still cling to traditional martial arts when technology has advanced this far? Martial arts is just rusty, outdated garbage. Firearms, tactical gear, and tech support are the real meta."
Marteen smirked slyly and dropped into a tight boxing stance. He threw a quick one-two jab, followed by a sharp straight punch into the air.
"Well, barehanded fighting is still the best way to test an individual’s raw strength," Marteen said, lowering his hands. "Though I agree—a family that neglects advanced weaponry shouldn’t be sitting at the top anymore."
Stopping his little show-off, Marteen tilted his head and glanced back at Mustang’s screen.
"So, what if the Jin or Nam families interfere during the banquet? Do we have clearance to take them down too? Not that I have a problem with extra bodies, mind you."
"The client wasn’t explicit about that, but Command ordered us to stick to the objective regardless," Mustang shrugged indifferently.
He pulled up a list of invited VIP guests on the main display, casually scrolling past the names of high-ranking government officials, prosecutors, police chiefs, and corporate CEOs.
"If it’s not specified, we do what needs to be done. Anyone who gets between us and the target dies."
Marteen’s smile widened as he turned back toward the floor-to-ceiling glass, gazing down at the unsuspecting city below.
Another day, another usual routine.
Donape opened the doors of Origins VR Cafe in a decent mood, though his expression turned sour the moment he thought back to the Level 3 upgrade quest. There was no way attending that banquet was as simple as the system text made it sound.
"Reaching Level 3 is a major milestone. Even if I don’t know how the shop expands or what new products will unlock, isn’t this quest way more complicated and dangerous than the novice ones?" he asked the empty air, aiming the question directly at the Tyrannical System.
No answer came. Not even a single line of floating text appeared.
Donape frowned. He briefly considered summoning the System by hurling a few insults, but quickly discarded the thought.
’I’m not enough of a masochist to ask for a lightning strike,’ he thought.
Getting zapped wasn’t on his to-do list today. Besides, as important as his doubts about the quest were, they weren’t exactly an emergency.
He opened the quest menu to check his second objective.
[Unlock Requirement: Attending Baek Family of Baek Empire Birthday Banquet till the end + 257/350 Gold Coins.]
With six days remaining, completing it wouldn’t be a problem at all.
"Oh, well. I’ll attend the event and stay until it finishes. Whatever chaos or drama breaks out, I can just stay in the back and watch."
Donape shrugged and went back to his daily routine.
To an outsider, his days looked entirely monotonous—sitting behind the counter, sipping water, and playing games. But from his perspective, everything had changed.
Now that he could cultivate internal energy, playing The Path of the Heavenly Martial Arts and Counter-Injustice: Global Retaliation required absolute perfection. Combined with the shop’s system products, every session helped refine his body, steadily solidifying his position as the world’s very first superhuman.
Little did he know that the upcoming birthday banquet would eventually turn all of S City upside down.
That evening, Donape closed up Origins VR Cafe and stepped out into the cool night air.
Earlier that day, Ji-Hong had sent an official digital invitation to his smartphone—a high-security QR pass that served as his identity verification and entry ticket for the event.
Thus, Donape decided he needed to go out and buy the suit.
He wanted something simple and affordable for an ordinary guy like him. He might have had more money in his account these days, but he was still deeply stingy.
After paying off the outright purchase of the former warehouse building—which was now Origins VR Cafe—his personal account stood at 38,873 BC.
He wasn’t a total miser when push came to shove, but spending money unnecessarily physically pained him.
Hailing a taxi, he headed toward the nearest commercial district.
Before long, the cab pulled up outside a sleek clothing boutique with glowing golden lettering: GAOCCI.
As the thick, frosted-glass doors glided open, he was greeted by a sharply dressed sales attendant wearing a warm, practiced smile.
"Welcome, sir. How may I assist you today?" she asked gently, her tone dripping with polite professionalism.
Donape swallowed hard, stepping onto the plush carpet. This was his very first time walking into a brand store this luxurious.
’Will I even have enough money for this place?!’ he worried inwardly, nervously following behind the attendant.
"Here is our display collection," she explained smoothly. "We offer off-the-rack selections as well as bespoke custom tailoring."
"Um..." Donape cleared his throat softly. "Do you happen to have any... simple suit sets?"
"Just the jacket, sir, or a complete package with the inner shirt and trousers?"
"A-A complete set."
"Right this way, sir," she guided him to a long, illuminated display rack. "As you can see, we have various sizing options and cuts. Prices vary by fabric, but quality is completely guaranteed—after all, we are Gaocci, a world-renowned brand."
Donape scanned the racks, pointing to a sharp navy-and-black suit that caught his eye. "How much is this one?"
"Ah, excellent taste, sir!" the attendant beamed. "That is from our latest seasonal line. It is currently priced at 21,000 BC."
’Holy shit.’
Donape’s heart nearly stopped in his chest, his knees going weak on the spot as he calculated that single price tag against his entire life savings.
Before Donape could flee the store in financial terror, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Alexander? Is that really you, man?!"
He turned to see Park Min-Woo—his old college roommate—grinning in a tailored jacket.
"I barely recognized you!" Min-Woo laughed, slapping his shoulder. "What brings you to Gaocci? Actually, perfect timing—the university reunion is next month. Everyone’s coming. You’ve got to be there!"
"Ah, yeah! Let’s talk details later," Donape managed a weak smile. He wasn’t close with Min-Woo at all. In truth, this bastard was just like Jun-Ho—a bully. One used physical abuse; the other used his mouth.
Shaking his head, Donape left Gaocci and settled for a much cheaper suit from a side-street shop down the road.
Days flew by in a flash.
Saturday Night.
Donape stood at the main entrance of his old college campus street, adjusting the collar of his affordable black suit. The narrow alley in front of his shop was far too tight for luxury cars to fit, so he had walked down to the main intersection to meet his ride.
Soon, the heavy rumbles of two high-end engines ground to a halt. A crisp double-honk echoed through the quiet street.
The stage for S City’s storm was set.