God of Blackfield

Go Gun-Woo turned off the TV and set the remote control down on the side of his desk.

First came a report from a National Intelligence Service agent, then a video on the internet, and then a foreign news organization reported Jibril’s murder as breaking news.

“Using Mr. Seok’s shout at the end, I think we can negotiate behind the scenes… Why don’t we try to talk to Vasili in Mongolia?”

With Kang Chan gone, the realization hit him again. The head of South Korea’s National Intelligence Service was not even in a position to meet with Vasili. It was painful and embarrassing, but the reality was sobering.

“Director, why don’t you go see former Ambassador Lanok in the hospital first? He has a direct line to Vasili. We’ve established friendly relations with him, and he’s just in the Bangji Hospital, so I’m sure you can request a meeting right away,” Kim Hyung-Jung suggested.

Go Gun-Woo’s face lit up. “Good idea. Let’s make an appointment with him.”

“We need to know how Mr. Seok and Choi Jong-Il will confess. Coming clean by saying that we ordered the assassination is something we need to consider.”

Go Gun-Woo exhaled loudly. “Hmm.”

He had gotten ahead of himself. He had never done anything of this magnitude before and he was far too inexperienced. His connections in the intelligence world were too few and far between.

“I didn’t think it through.”

Although Go Gun-Woo had been showing his emotions quite frequently lately, he was an administrator through and through. He knew how to listen to the opinions of Kim Hyung-Jung and other advisors.

“Let’s wait and see what our agents have to go on, but go ahead with the meeting with Ambassador Lanok. We’ll move accordingly afterward.”

Go Gun-Woo glanced out the window and remembered the two men.

The always confident Kang Chan and Lanok, who always seemed to have a mask on.

***

Lanok was leaning against the bed with his head propped up, his eyes glued to the TV. It was a satellite broadcast specializing in international news.

“More tea, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raphael, dressed in a suit, lifted a fine china teapot and poured black tea into cups that seemed to be a set.

Glug.

The white porcelain cups were filled with rich black tea. Wisps of steam rose from them.

Raphael set the cups on a tray, and Lanok lifted one with difficulty and took a sip.

“I wish I had a cigar.”

Raphael turned and set the tray down on the table as if to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Raphael.”

“Sir.”

Raphael turned back around and politely bowed.

“Who do you think will contact the other first? Me or Vasili?”

Raphael’s expression remained ever-faithful as he stood before Lanok, who had turned his head slightly toward him.

“You look like you’re going to say you can never predict the future.”

“In the thirty-five years I’ve served you, Commissioner Lanok, I’ve always been in the dark.”

Lanok grinned, his gaze returning to the TV.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to lose this one. Vasili’s patience has grown quite a bit. In the past, he would’ve already—”

Ring, ring, ring.

Lanok turned his gaze in amusement, and Raphael brought the phone to him.

***

Setting the phone down on the table, Vasili looked at Yang Bum across from him with a displeased face.

The still-cool air outside felt good as it rushed through one side of the open container.

There was a short beep to indicate that the other person had picked up.

- Vasili, it’s been a while.

“Hmph! I was hoping to confirm you were dead, but as always, you disappointed me.”

- It’s all thanks to your interest in me.

The call was on speaker.

Yang Bum, who was listening, gave Vasili a sideways glance that said, “You two are certainly something.”

“Yang Bum is listening,” Vasili said.

“It’s nice to hear your voice again, Commissioner Lanok.”

- The hard times have passed. It’s only a matter of time before we meet face-to-face again.

After the two men exchanged greetings, Vasili said, “Jibril is dead.”

- I saw it on the news a little while ago.

Vasili gazed at the wilderness with a wry smirk.

“A Korean agent could never do that on his own. If you insist on displaying the sly and dark mind of Frenchmen, I’ll also step aside now.”

A short silence permeated the call.

- Let’s take it easy, Vasili. We’re both wounded.

It was an unusually generous answer for Lanok.

Vasili was smiling happily, something Yang Bum had only ever seen today.

“I should prepare a gift for the main character, then.”

Yang Bum whipped to Vasili in surprise.

- The least we could do is repay him with a small gift.

Lanok’s response was even more surprising.

How could these people be so sure that Kang Chan was alive?

Before Yang Bum’s bewildered gaze, Vasili’s cold eyes curved into a smile.

***

Parthal’s answers made Kang Chan feel as if he had lifted a fishing rod thinking he had hooked a small fish only to get a carp the size of a forearm.

“Who ordered the deaths of the South Korean agents in Libya?”

“Xairo.”

Under Kang Chan’s gaze, Xairo looked like he’d given up on everything now.

“Why were they killed?”

“To silence the agent who leaked information to the head of the Korean National Intelligence Service.”

Kang Chan exhaled quietly, pushing down his rising frustration.

He had so many questions that needed to be answered. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how long the medicine would last, and he didn’t know when the enemies would come running over.

“Is Xairo also the one who targeted the Korean agents who went to Libya to retaliate?”

“Yes. I heard he almost ran into you there.”

Kang Chan tilted his head.

“I heard you bumped into him while exiting the truck.”

The memory flashed through Kang Chan’s mind.

That motherfucker!

Kang Chan glared at him mercilessly, yet Parthal just stood there, his face as ecstatic as if he were dreaming.

“Who’s in charge of the Star of David?”

“Right now, Ziegfeld.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Mmmrphh! Mmmmrphh! Mmrph!”

Xairo, who seemed to have given up all hope, slammed the back of his head onto the pole in an attempt to stop Parthal from talking.

“Where is Ziegfeld now?”

“I believe he’s in Hawk Bay.”

“Hawk Bay? Tell me exactly where that is.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Kang Chan signaled to Gérard, and Gérard walked over to Xairo.

“If you’re going to ruin someone’s life like this, at least show some remorse at the end.”

Xairo looked at them with disregard.

“If Captain died by my hands…”

Gérard, who had been glaring at Xairo viciously, delivered a powerful kick to Xairo’s head.

Pow! Thud!

Xairo’s head hit the pole, then dropped to the ground.

Kang Chan repeated his question.

“It’s a port in Bermuda. About two hundred kilometers from there is an island that isn’t on the map.”

“What are its defenses?”

Parthal’s face lit up with pride. “Surface-to-air missiles, two submarines, a radar station, air defense artillery. That’s all I know.”

“Is that where the Star of David is headquartered?”

“It’s where the Star of David hides when they feel they’re in danger. The Star of David is not an organization but the operator who runs the finances of those in power. If Ziegfeld dies, the next Star of David will be me.”

Parthal couldn’t be more ecstatic. His expression almost made Kang Chan punch him in the face. However, Gérard seemed to have other ideas.

“I think it would be fun if we can control him well,” he suggested.

Since Kang Chan had already started asking questions anyway, he decided to ask a few more things, from Moon Jae-Hyun’s assassination attempt to the attack on the International Building.

“It’s something I planned with Abibu.”

“How do you contact Ziegfeld?”

“I have a phone,” Parthal answered. Suddenly, he started shaking all over. He trembled so profusely that he fell backward.

Thud!

Around twenty minutes had passed. It would be foolish to stay here any longer.

“Gérard, take care of that bastard.”

“Yes, sir.’

Following Kang Chan’s instructions, Gérard walked toward the cage and lowered himself to one knee.

Thud.

Gérard propped Xairo’s forehead with one hand and his chin with the other. “It’s infuriating that taking this revenge has been so easy. Even so, remember one thing.”

Xairo blinked and twitched, his consciousness seemingly returning. The blood from his nose made him breathe with an odd gurgling sound.

“Never play with another man’s life again…”

Like a master trying to ignore the rebellion of a lifelong servant, Xairo just kept staring at Gérard with disdain.

“And don’t ever go against the captain again. Not even in death.”

The corners of Xairo’s eyes twitched briefly.

Swish! Crack!

Gérard twisted Xairo’s neck perfectly so that his chin ended up pointing skyward. He then pushed himself to his feet.

“Let’s get that asshole in the car,” Kang Chan said.

Gérard grabbed Parthal’s arms and dragged him out of the warehouse.

“Ziegfeld…”

Kang Chan’s brows furrowed as he stood up.

***

Sitting in his private airplane, Ziegfeld couldn’t take his eyes off the TV report.

He felt uneasy. Something was off. He felt a strange tingling in his heels even when he said he’d killed the Great Ant.

“Was it a scorpion in the end?”

What he found most frustrating was his inability to objectively confirm if the bastard was dead or not.

Vasili or Lanok could have simply pretended to be the Great Ant using the Korean National Intelligence Service.

“Hmm.”

It was best to get out of a bad investment as quickly as possible.

The two men he went to Korea with were both dead, and the NIS agents he barely managed to lure over to his side had all been arrested.

“That idiot…!”

They wouldn’t be in this predicament if it weren’t for Abibu’s stupidity.

It was all fine and dandy until he recruited a Libyan agent to send fake information, orchestrated the timing through a South Korean agent, and Abibu used that to kill the agents. If he hadn’t been so stupidly egotistical enough to target the International Building…

Ring, ring, ring, ring.

Just then, the phone rang, interrupting Ziegfeld’s thoughts.

Picking up the phone to see who it was, he smiled softly, which was unbecoming of the situation.

Today’s failure was just an ant bite.

In the long run, there were dozens, maybe hundreds, of ways to bring Korea down. The thriving Parthal would push Korea into a quagmire within the next decade.

Ziegfeld pressed the call button with satisfaction.

“Where are you? I said we should go together.”

However, instead of Parthal, a young, strong voice called out to him.

- Ziegfeld.

Ziegfeld quickly lowered the phone, checked the caller ID again, and hurriedly brought the phone to his ear.

“Who are you?”

- I asked if this was Ziegfeld.

Could this guy be…?

Ziegfeld shook his head. Even if the man was alive, he couldn’t have Parthal’s phone.

At that moment, an eerie slap was heard over the call.

Pow!

A familiar scream followed.

- Argh!

“Parthal! Was that Parthal?”

- This is fun. Try the other side this time.

Pow!

- Argh! Aaargh!

A surge of both horror and anger made Ziegfeld’s hair stand on end.

“Who are you? How dare you hurt that child…?!”

- Should I kill him?

Ziegfeld’s mouth clenched shut.

- Ziegfeld?

“State your demands.”

A chuckle came from the other end of the phone.

- Choose. Will you die after Parthal dies, or will you live a life of eternal submission to the Republic of Korea? Did you think I’d die so easily, you idiot?

Ziegfeld felt a chill run down his spine.

He thought this could be the case. Somehow, he had expected that this horrible Korean wouldn’t die.

- It seems like you’re having a tough time choosing, so I’ll decide for you instead. Food always tastes better when it’s ordered by someone else, after all.

Ziegfeld couldn’t think of anything to say in response.

- I’ll kill you in order. Go hide where you want.

“What are you going to do to Parthal?”

- He’s going to apologize to our NIS Director, the Director of the Energy Resource Department, and our fallen soldiers and agents.

Ziegfeld couldn’t understand what Kang Chan meant.

‘Is he going to take them to a memorial or something?’

After a brief pause, he asked, “Are you going to take him to Korea?”

Kang Chan chuckled.

- Korea, my ass. He’s going to hell and waiting for you there.

The call ended with his signature laugh.

What an arrogant bastard!

Feeling upset that he couldn’t talk back to him due to his panic, Ziegfeld immediately called Xairo.

After a few beeps, the phone was answered.

- I’m disappointed, Ziegfeld.

The call dropped after he heard Kang Chan’s voice.

Ziegfeld initially thought that Kang Chan was simply a Great Ant. However, he then turned into a scorpion, and then a cobra far larger than a man. Now, the snake was baring its venomous fangs at him.

***

Seok Kang-Ho was strapped to a chair in an interrogation room. He had injuries all over him.

“Fine. Let’s say you’re telling the truth. Then tell me exactly where you got the weapons and money.”

With eyes as swollen as the man’s face, Seok Kang-Ho struggled to look up.

“A Saudi royal was killed in our country. If not at the behest of the Korean National Intelligence Service, then we need to at least know who supplied you the weapons and money so we can clean up the mess, don’t you think?” an Arab with a neatly oiled haircut said with a frustrated expression.

“Look, you’re going to die anyway.” The man grabbed the mask that Seok Kang-Ho had worn and waved it in front of him. “Tell me where you got this mask, weapons, and money.”

He then added, “If this is how you’re going to be, we’ll have no choice but to expose you and your companions’ faces. As someone who speaks Arabic so well, I bet you also know that the murder of a royal won’t just tide over quietly.”

After a short silence, Seok Kang-Ho said, “Cigrt.”

The man sighed. As if he didn’t have any other choice, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and popped it into Seok Kang-Ho’s mouth.

“Hoo.”

Cigarette smoke wafted out the side of Seok Kang-Ho’s mouth.

“Let’s make this easy. It was an order from the NIS, wasn’t it?”

“It was revenge for killing our assistant director.”

The man laughed in disbelief. “Fine, fine. What about the weapons?”

“We got them from Ivan.”

“That’s crazy. Ivan doesn’t even show up to missile deals, yet he sold you mere pistols and bayonets?”

Another puff of smoke rose from Seok Kang-Ho’s mouth.

The man, who had been glaring at him with sheer hatred, shook his head to control his temper. Afterward, he looked up again.

“What about the money?”

The man stared at the half-burnt ashes clinging to the cigarette. “You told me you got it through an illegal foreign transactions dealer, but you don’t remember his number?”

Seok Kang-Ho nodded, then laughed. “Phuhuhu.”

Pow!

The man punched Seok Kang-Ho in the face, cigarette and all.

Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

Seok Kang-Ho’s blood splashed, dyeing the man’s waist red. Nevertheless, the man didn’t stop punching.