NOVEL NEXT Ch. 29
Chapter 29: Tail
The hot-air balloon, tethered by the rope, crashed through the ceiling onto the stage.
Whoosh—Boom!
A fierce gust swept through the auction hall.
The thick smoke dispersed, and the moonlight, previously shrouded in shadow, illuminated the Moonlight Hall once more.
With part of the ceiling collapsed, the light shone even brighter.
Simultaneously, the security team stormed in.
Armed with guns, they cleared the balloon’s debris and seized the thieves.
The auctioneer huddled with staff, speaking in hushed tones, then grabbed the mic.
“We deeply apologize. We’ll resume the auction after addressing this situation.”
Lunard’s near-perfect escape act, akin to a magic show, ended in failure.
A man approached Ho-cheol—the head manager of this VIP auction.
He bowed deeply.
“Thank you. Thanks to you, VIP, we saved the auction items from theft.”
The manager’s forehead glistened with cold sweat.
Despite the ambush, all key security for the Moonlight Hall had been neutralized.
The balloon was a calculated strike at Lunard’s defense grid’s weakness.
Without Ho-cheol’s swift action, the outcome would’ve been near-catastrophic.
Losing his job would’ve been a miracle.
Ho-cheol shrugged.
“Not your fault for being careless. They planned it well.”
He nudged the unconscious boss with his foot.
Even Ho-cheol, who rarely praised foes, couldn’t deny their bold, well-executed plan.
Most awakened, even skilled ones, would’ve been distracted by the chaos at the back.
The boss’s skills weren’t bad either.
Their failure was simple.
Bad luck.
They crossed paths with him and touched his property.
That was it.
Straightening, the manager glanced nervously at Ho-cheol.
“How can we repay you?”
“Repay? Nah.”
He checked the time.
The auction was a means, not the end.
His real goal was tracking the “organization” behind the Purple Glass Sword after it ended.
This delay, mopping up the mess, risked breaking his promise to return to So-hee on time.
He’d keep his word as best he could.
“Wrap up the auction quickly. I’m tired. And keep this quiet—no need for rewards or gestures dragging me around. My status complicates things.”
“Understood. We’ll conclude promptly.”
The manager couldn’t believe it.
The thieves nearly cleaned out Lunard’s items—a surreal crisis.
A single VIP stopping them was astonishing.
But Ho-cheol’s statement topped it all.
He’d prevented losses worth hundreds of billions, maybe more.
Not just financial—the recognition and trust built over twenty years were priceless, irrecoverable if lost.
Yet Ho-cheol wanted no reward, even shunning mention of it.
It wasn’t about wealth.
Lunard’s compensation wasn’t just money.
If he wished, he could be treated as a top VIP for life, taking items without bidding, free.
But he sought no gain, as if this wasn’t worth gratitude.
A wild hypothesis struck the manager.
Absurd, but more plausible than Ho-cheol’s reaction.
“Forgive the rudeness, but… are you a hero?”
A hero as a Lunard VIP was impossible, but Ho-cheol’s words were even less realistic, prompting the instinctive question.
Ho-cheol frowned, then laughed lightly.
Absurd, but not unpleasant.
“I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Though you need no reward, Lunard doesn’t forget favors. Call on us anytime, and we’ll respond fully.”
“If you’re that grateful, owe me a few favors.”
“Thank you for the chance to repay.”
Ho-cheol waved dismissively, sending the manager off.
No, as the manager turned, he added curtly,
“And beef up security. Thinking this place is untouchable makes you complacent. At least have a couple A-grades to stall.”
“Your advice is etched in our bones.”
Ho-cheol returned to his seat.
Da-yeon, unmoving in hers, stared holes into the back of his head.
* * *
After the auction, Ho-cheol went to the back of the hall to collect his Purple Glass Sword and Peacemaker.
As he walked, a staffer approached suddenly.
“Did you enjoy the auction?”
“Hm.”
“We sincerely thank you for your efforts.”
“No big deal.”
Assuming it was routine pleasantries, he was surprised when the staffer lingered, then asked cautiously,
“One VIP requests a meeting about the auction and your items.”
Ho-cheol’s expression hardened.
The Purple Glass Sword drew few bidders and little attention.
This had to be about the Peacemaker.
The room was full of big shots.
Naturally, they’d covet it and pull stunts.
But shouldn’t Lunard block such requests?
Irritated, he clicked his tongue.
“Lunard’s VIP handling this sloppy? I said no rewards, not that backstabbing’s fine.”
“No, a misunderstanding!”
The staffer bowed hurriedly, apologizing.
“We never facilitate VIP contacts, absolutely not! But this isn’t just between VIPs…”
“What’s that mean?”
The staffer hesitated, glancing at Ho-cheol.
“Not a simple VIP meeting. It’s requested by the seller of your Purple Glass Sword, under their authority.”
Ho-cheol’s eyes widened.
He rubbed his temple with a hooked finger.
Suspecting the sword’s seller was from the organization, he’d planned to nitpick its condition to demand a meeting.
Them initiating was welcome—no reason to refuse.
But he didn’t just celebrate the luck.
He focused on why they wanted the meeting.
They’d secured VIP codes for the auction, aiming for something, and bid only on the Peacemaker.
That alone didn’t clarify their goal.
Another goal was kidnapping Choi Da-yeon, the Swordmaster’s daughter, the top S-grade hero.
That, too, lacked enough context to pinpoint their aim.
Each piece alone was vague, but together, they formed a clear intersection.
Covering his mouth, he muttered,
“Crazy bastards.”
“Huh?”
“No, nothing.”
Ho-cheol didn’t see himself as particularly wise or insightful—just a bit above average.
But with villains, it was different.
As a former top villain, he could easily read lesser ones’ motives and patterns.
Their actions, info, and goals were crystal clear to him.
“Well…”
If his guess was right…
Sighing, he gathered his thoughts.
Could he stay calm facing the organization?
Honestly, he wasn’t sure.
Not strangling them would be a win.
“Meeting now?”
“Yes! It’s ready. To the reception room, please!”
He followed the eager staffer.
* * *
Lunard’s VIP reception room.
Silent, not even a clock’s tick audible, a staffer poured tea and slipped out.
A brief silence passed.
The man waiting spoke first.
“Pleased to meet you.”
Ho-cheol cut in.
“You’re the one who supplied my sword?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Arms crossed, Ho-cheol eyed the man on the opposite sofa.
Just a hunch for now.
Could be another villain with similar methods.
But the hunch was enough for certainty.
This man was a true criminal, exuding the organization’s distinct aura—Ho-cheol, of all people, wouldn’t misread it.
Even if not from the organization, he was tied to a villain worth watching.
The man stood, offering a hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Ho-cheol ignored it, staring, arms still crossed.
Meeting an organization member after ten years was his life’s greatest shame.
Suppressing the urge to twist the man’s neck, he slowly uncrossed his arms.
Instead of shaking hands, he pointed—at the man’s collar badge.
“I don’t deal with masked faces.”
Let’s see your face.
He said firmly.
“Show it.”
For a simple VIP talk, it was excessive, rude.
But their positions were clear—Ho-cheol held the upper hand, vastly.
It was a necessary step to begin.
Number 8 removed his mosaic badge.
His blurred outline and voice returned to normal.
Is that even his real face?
With that doubt, Ho-cheol said,
“Roughly as expected. Let’s hear your business.”
“We’d like to repurchase the Peacemaker you won.”
By auction rules, full payment was immediate upon winning.
Bids could exceed expectations.
“Hah.”
Despite the predictable response, Ho-cheol scoffed, incredulous.
Number 8 hurriedly added.
“We’ll pay a fair price.”
He spread his index and middle fingers.
“Twenty percent above today’s winning bid.”
“If you had that much cash, why not bid from the start?”
“We thought we had enough, but the price soaring was unexpected.”
Without Ho-cheol, lesser bidders would’ve dropped out earlier.
The 30% overrun was his doing.
“It’s tough now, but give us a week, we’ll have 100% cash. Or other assets, if you prefer.”
“Unbelievable. That’s all you got?”
Ho-cheol propped a foot on the table.
Crash—Clatter!
Teacups and items tumbled off.
“Just 20%. Only 20%. A mere 20%. You think I’m here for scraps?”
His rude act made 8 clench his fist in anger, but he couldn’t react further.
In this situation, overreacting would cost him alone.
Ho-cheol nodded at the empty table.
“I just tossed Lunard’s courtesy. Show that much sincerity, and I might pretend to consider.”
A loaded statement, but clear. 8 hesitated, then reached into his pocket.
“Wait a moment.”
He texted someone.
Within a minute, a man entered with two identical briefcases, set them by the sofa, and left.
8 placed one on the table.
Click.
Unlocking it, he revealed stacks of crisp cash.
“This isn’t for the Peacemaker’s transfer.”
He placed the second, also stuffed with cash.
“A simple show of our sincerity.”
“Cash, huh. Smells fishy, like it’ll make me sick.”
“Clean money, no trouble. We wouldn’t taint such a modest gesture.”
“Oh? Modest sincerity. Then, for that…”
Ho-cheol reached for a stack, waving it.
“Triple. Three times today’s bid. Then I’ll hand over the rod.”
His winning bid already far exceeded expectations.
Triple that was beyond exorbitant—pure profiteering.
But 8, tense moments ago, relaxed at the mention of money.
Ordered to secure the Peacemaker, he’d use any means.
If Ho-cheol had probed their motives or pulled tricks, blood would’ve spilled.
But he wanted money.
No matter how absurd the sum, it was a risk-free resolution—ideal for 8.
A simple greed-driven fool was easier to handle.
Their motives, goals, and handling were straightforward.
8 smiled lightly, standing.
“We’ll prepare the funds. The amount’s large, so it’ll take longer than a week. Contact via Lunard?”
“No.”
Standing, Ho-cheol handed him a card.
“Contact me here when you have it. I’ll set the terms, place, and time.”
“…Understood. Thank you for agreeing.”
8 took the card, offering his hand again.
Unlike their first meeting, Ho-cheol shook it lightly.
Both smiled, for entirely opposite reasons.
* * *
A dark alley.
The stench of blood and screeching metal echoed, but Ho-cheol walked unfazed.
A parked car’s lock clicked open, waiting for him.
Nearby, unconscious bodies bled out.
In the passenger seat, he moved cases to the back.
The driver, Secretary Seong, looked far more haggard than before, suggesting a rough night.
“Looks like you had a time.”
“Didn’t expect the back alleys’ chaos to be this bad. Any gains?”
“Success, if you split it into success or failure.”
“Good news.”
Four heavy bags went to the back.
“Tagged three trackers—his shoe sole, sleeve, and card.”
“Too many. They might notice.”
“Meant to be found. Enough to pin their activity range.”
Their base likely blocked tracking.
The process and routes to it mattered more than the base itself, easily replaceable.
“The two weapon cases—tell the president to lock them in his personal vault. Can’t lose them.”
Though the Purple Glass Sword was his, using it would be a nightmare.
The Peacemaker, bought with his money, would scream his identity if drawn.
Safest to stash them.
“And the briefcases are cash. Give those to the old man too.”
“Cash?”
Ho-cheol explained the night’s events.
He’d have to tell the president anyway, so briefing Seong now saved repeating it.
To avoid redundancy, he detailed everything, including amounts.
“So that’s why there are so many bags…”
Seong trailed off.
The sums Ho-cheol described were so vast, they felt unreal.
His nonchalant attitude made it surreal.
After a pause, Seong asked?
“No regrets? The cash, and you bought the Peacemaker with your own money.”
Ho-cheol scratched his head.
He hadn’t expected that.
“Not really. Money’s a tool, not a goal or reason. Handy today, but that’s it.”
“Makes me think the president’s remarkable.”
Ho-cheol whipped his head around, incredulous.
“What? I did the work. Why’s the old man getting praise?”
“Your freedom to move like this is thanks to his trust and foresight, no?”
Not wrong, but it stung.
The car melted back into the dark.