Chapter 35 :

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Flex Medical did not have a particularly long history… but it was a multinational comprehensive medical corporation that had rapidly grown into a giant enterprise by scouting leading researchers from prestigious pharmaceutical companies. This enormous corporation, which combined pharmaceutical firms, hospitals, and insurance companies under one umbrella, was currently tied down by Korea’s conservative medical policies, with only its pharmaceutical branch barely having entered the market.

When people evaluate a small Eastern nation like Korea, the assessment usually comes out lower than its actual economic scale. It was not as if a conglomerate like this would suffer losses just by selling medicine in Korea. After all, to most Westerners—who, when thinking of the East, only remember Japan or China—Korea was not an attractive land regardless of its economic value.

However, recently, R. Gordon, the major shareholder of Flex Pharmaceutical, had been reacting very sensitively to Korea’s conservative stance on medical market liberalization. Not only was he preparing to file a complaint with the WTO, but he was also pressuring U.S. senators and representatives under his influence to the point that the President of the United States personally demanded medical liberalization.

Thus, some people were even saying that it felt as though a second gold rush had begun in Korea. It was not an unreasonable thought, considering that leading corporations from around the world—such as Row Gibson, the representative of M&A, and Tetrahedron Company—were flocking to Korea.

Flex Medical’s Korean branch established a large-scale research complex in Pyeongchang and built its headquarters there. Of course, to ensure that employees would not suffer inconvenience, they first constructed warehouse-style shopping centers, built schools, and created massive parking lots around the area before erecting the headquarters building itself. So it was not surprising that the competition rate for entering this company rivaled that of the bar exam.

As a result, the Pyeongchang area suddenly felt as though an entirely new city had sprung up. With such a massive corporation entering the country, it was only natural that all of South Korea’s hospitals and medical insurance companies would feel tense. Judging by Korea’s diplomatic behavior up until now—where even the mere pretense of pressure would cause them to yield—it was crystal clear that once medical liberalization was fully implemented, Flex Medical would take responsibility for all patients in South Korea.

However, no matter how victorious a foreign corporation might appear, the manager of its Korean branch was inevitably Korean. Flex Medical was no exception; its president was Kim Young-ha, a professional executive who had been dismissed when a certain conglomerate shifted into a hereditary management system. But the ones currently occupying the president’s office were not Kim Young-ha, but mysterious foreigners.

“Yes, Boss. It seems most of the handling has been completed. Even if Tetra Anax demands accountability from us… we did our best.”

They were earnestly explaining themselves to the one they called their boss. With the shutters lowered to form a complete light-blocking barrier, they sat in the dark office without even turning on the lights, making their call. Though the phone, befitting the dignity of a president’s office, looked like an old model, it was in fact a key phone system—yet in the darkness there was no way to confirm it.

Was this meant to suggest that the president never stayed at the company until evening? But more important than the president’s working hours was the identity of the men calmly making phone calls in a darkness where one could hardly see an inch ahead.

“Whew.”

The man who set down the receiver let out a brief sigh and picked up the file in front of him. It contained everything from Detective Sim Gu-jin’s biography to various internal police documents.

“Tetra Anax really goes too far. Manipulating people with such childish tricks. No, what amazes me more is that the people of this country actually believe it.”

At that, the boy sitting on the edge of the table across from him nodded. No matter how one looked at him, he did not seem like someone who belonged in the office of a major corporation’s president. Yet there was confidence embedded in each of his movements.

“That’s their specialty. But it’s astonishing how little interest anyone is showing. This country is almost laughable. At this level, you’d expect reporters chasing scoops or cheap tabloids to swarm like bees.”

It might seem strange to foreigners, but in this country it was unimaginable to see journalists running around desperately for an exclusive story. The media system here had a peculiar structure where promotions came not from achievements or ability, but simply from clinging on long enough. In any case, even if reporters measured their abilities against each other, it would amount to little more than comparing the heights of acorns. Since the press behaved like overlords, exclusives were not something reporters dug up themselves, but rather offerings handed to them by informants.

The police organization was no less absurd. Although South Korea maintained relatively good public order, the working conditions of police officers were so poor that if something did not fall under their jurisdiction, they would not stick their noses into it. There was neither manpower nor room to spare—security was fragile. Thus, in order to quietly bury a case, it was necessary to clearly assign responsibility. Once a case was allocated and responsibility became clear, the matter would instead shrink.

“Still, shouldn’t we pay attention to the broadcasters as well? They sometimes air exposé programs.”

“That’s Tetra Anax’s job.”

The man leisurely placed a cigar between his lips as though it were nothing important.

Tetra Anax. The bloodline bearing an emblem of three snakes coiling in a circle around a single body, ruling over all vampire groups, possessed the ability to dominate the human mind. The reason vampires had lived for centuries without being exposed to humanity was not only because they kept a low profile and lived in human guise, but because Tetra Anax manipulated human minds, while other clans gathered wealth and power to control humanity.

The general public believed their eyes and ears to be sound and placed considerable trust in the information flowing toward them. What mattered was that they did not actively seek information themselves, but passively believed whatever flowed in. And they lacked the ability to properly analyze even that information.

That was the ideology of Tetra Anax. And precisely because it worked in reality, vampires had survived within human society for thousands of years. The system established over those millennia was absolute; humans could not even glimpse the tail of the serpent.

However, there were occasional cases where a naturally occurring vampire, or one who had grown resentful of long-standing clan domination, would impulsively reveal the true nature of vampires. This incident was one of those cases. Corrupted may have wanted to expose the dark world he belonged to—the confrontation between vampire hunters and vampires—to the world.

* * *

When Detective Sim stepped out of the hospital building, he wore an expression as foul as if he had chewed something rotten. Every last piece of material left in the hospital had burned completely, and even the bones had been reduced to ashes. There was no such thing as substitute evidence. He had raged about why valuable materials had been gathered in one place, but the hospital staff merely looked at him as though he were a mad dog and provided no help whatsoever to the investigation.

There was nothing to gain by pressing the hospital staff further, and since the hospital itself was diligently investigating the cause of the fire, there was little to argue about. After all, how ridiculous would it sound to claim that spontaneous human combustion had occurred inside a hospital? The hospital seemed just as troubled by that prospect.

“Damn it, rotten bastards. At this rate, I’ll have to go to the scene and dig up even a single spent round.”

Muttering to himself, Detective Sim climbed into his car. Somehow, this case felt hopelessly tangled. Even though working in the juvenile division hardly required instinct, Detective Sim firmly believed that a detective’s intuition could never be ignored.

He cooled his head for a moment and thought about the case. The biggest obstacle was that he had not been assigned the case from the beginning—it had been handed to him midway through. He had never even visited the scene of the shootout. His insistence that it could not have been a Pungsan round was only because the grenade used in the incident had been an RPG-7—not because he had any other evidence.

“An RPG-7 isn’t standard issue in Korea, but the rounds are standard Korean military ammunition? That makes no sense.”

At that point, Detective Sim’s reasoning went no further.

By the time he arrived at the scene, most of the situation had already ended. The bullets recovered from the vehicles had already been sent to the National Forensic Service, and the remaining rounds had left no trace. It was like searching for a needle dropped on a sandy beach. Of course, it was not as though bullet projectiles would simply roll around all over Seoul, but since most men in South Korea without money or connections ended up serving in the military, it was not something to overlook.

“Damn it. But why can’t I find even a trace of it?”

Detective Sim suddenly turned around in irritation. His Accent sedan, parked right in the middle of the road, was blocking a terrifying number of vehicles. Of course, they could pass by on the side, but since he was obstructing traffic during an already busy hour, the looks people were giving him were so “beautiful” that they were beyond description.

“What, you got a problem? I’m a cop, you bastards!”

Making a remark that would probably earn him a pay cut, Detective Sim continued scanning the area.

“Then again, it’s not some kids’ BB gun. Would I really find a round that easily?”

He muttered while pulling his cap down. Quick to anger yet quick to give up—he was, in his own way, well-suited to surviving in this world.

Flap-flap-flap!

Just then, a pigeon that looked on the verge of death fell by the roadside. The lethargic Detective Sim suddenly raised his eyes sharply. Whenever his instincts kicked in, he always narrowed his eyes like that. If he hadn’t been a cop, he would probably have picked a lot of fights.

“Is that bastard crazy?”

“Hey! You crazy son of a bitch! Wanna die?!”

Despite the torrent of curses from passersby, Detective Sim crossed the road straight toward the fallen pigeon. The bird was writhing on the ground, coughing and fluttering as if it had eaten something wrong, blood dripping from its beak.

“Damn chicken’s throwing a fit. What the hell did you eat?”

Muttering, he leapt over the roadside guardrail.

Grrrk!

The pigeon let out a strained cry and collapsed forward. Detective Sim hurried over, grabbed it like someone carrying off a slaughtered chicken, and tossed it into his car.

“Maybe I should head to the nearest animal hospital.”

With an unhurried gait, he returned to the driver’s seat and started the engine.

Flap-flap!

Other birds perched on the trees were watching Detective Sim’s actions closely.

* * *

The streets were already filled with a Christmas atmosphere. Snow had not yet fallen, but here and there Santas with snow-white beards were busy with promotional events. As the weather grew colder, people seemed to grow more cheerful in anticipation of the coming holiday. Even if that was not truly the case, the mood on the streets suggested as much.

“Huff… huff…”

A young man in a tracksuit was running through the busy streets. Ignoring the stares of onlookers, he occasionally stopped to throw punches and kicks into the air. His movements were so sharp and precise they resembled the edge of a razor blade.

“Huff… huff…”

Fatigue seeped into his entire body, but he paid it no mind and continued running, weaving through the crowd. Passing through the bustling district and then the traditional market, he climbed toward a park located atop a hill.

“Hah!”

The breath he exhaled formed white frost in the air. Only then did he remove the hood of his tracksuit. As his unusual green-tinged hair was exposed to the cold air, steam rose from him. The moment he took off the hood, it felt as though a sauna had been opened—so much sweat had he poured out. Amused at the sight of steam rising from his own body, he glanced down at himself and smiled briefly.

“Heh.”

This was Se-gun, who had by now fully established himself as a vampire hunter. He sat down on a park bench overlooking part of the city. The streets were lively with Christmas excitement, and the towering forest of buildings so revered by the city had been redecorated with banners advertising Christmas events. At least for this moment, many people seemed happy and cheerful; whether Christian or not, Christmas and the year’s end brought joy.

“……”

Se-gun sat silently on the bench, watching the festive streets. Why did it feel like he was looking at merchandise displayed inside a showcase? Things within reach, yet never truly attainable. It might have been nothing more than an inferiority complex. In truth, he could leave this ground at any moment if he wished. But that in itself would already be a “sin”.

Se-gun stood up. He had not neglected his training even inside Kenneth Yang’s safe house, yet even now the exercise felt insufficient.

“Hup!”

The situation had settled surprisingly quickly, and the vampire hunters had regained a fair degree of freedom in their movements. Of course, after such a massive incident, the police could not simply remain idle. But if all they did was emphasize a weeklong crackdown on illegal weapons, there was a problem. Calling it a crackdown while declaring, “Those who turn in illegal weapons will not be held responsible”—what kind of logic was that? Who would cheerfully hand over their weapons just because they were told they wouldn’t be punished?

In the end, the investigation continued, but time passed with no progress. That also meant the vampires’ influence had infiltrated society rapidly. After the life-and-death struggle between True Vampire Jeok-yo and Chang-un, and their mutual destruction, countless vampires had gathered to trace the remnants of that power. Lacking confidence that he would survive when the next battlefield against them unfolded, Se-gun relentlessly drove himself harder and harder.

“Ah!”

But in an instant, Se-gun stopped moving. Something white had touched the fist he had thrown into the air. He looked up. Snow was gently drifting down.

“……”

It was the first snowfall of that winter.