How to Live as an Immortal

Chapter 133

Human Resources

This wasn't the skill of someone who had done it only once or twice. Contrary to his public image, it meant he was a cunning and meticulous person. Sure enough, Philip had left virtually no traces of himself online.

That was despite Dobby personally combing through even his search history. His private life was so clean it was hard to believe he was a young man.

At this point, the only reasonable interpretation was that he was deliberately hiding something. Such abnormal self-restraint implied there was a reason he had to be that way, and if so, he couldn't be excluded from the list of suspects either.

The priority would have been to monitor Philip's movements around the clock, but Ga-on decided to borrow someone else's hands for the job.

Ga-on was no amateur when it came to investigations, but professionals were still professionals. Especially if that professional was a journalist who had begun climbing the ladder backed by a vast network of connections.

"It's been a while, Mr. Ga-on."

"It has indeed, Mr. Tomcat."

The person Ga-on had summoned was Sham Berry, a reporter from the major media company Moral Heinz. Since he had previously demonstrated considerable talent as a mouthpiece, he was someone worth employing.

"Didn't you say you transferred departments?"

"Yes. I'm in the social affairs department now, not entertainment."

Sham had struck gold with the Eastern Gate story.

Needless to say, that achievement had elevated him to a higher level. It was also why he had accepted immediately when Ga-on contacted him.

"So, what did you find?"

"As you said, Mr. Ga-on, the young man is definitely suspicious."

When he had first heard about Philip from Ga-on, Sham had wondered if they were targeting an innocent person—

"To start with, he doesn't pay most public utility bills. No, to be precise, the amount he spends is absurdly small compared to what he owns. His house and even his personal vehicle are all under borrowed names. And that's despite not having any proper guardian."

Those were benefits far beyond what someone from an orphanage background should have received. There weren't many plausible explanations.

And among them, one stood out above the rest.

"Someone's illegitimate child?"

"That's probably the most likely possibility."

It fit with Philip's quiet lifestyle. If he caused a social scandal and an investigation was launched, the identity of the person supporting him would naturally come to light.

Considering Wendy's case, there was also a high chance that someone influential had pulled strings to get Philip hired.

"And separately, I found out he frequents clubs. That's not particularly strange, since there are only so many places a young man with too much money can go."

The location was peculiar.

"Do you know Club 999? The VIP-only club in District 15."

Lowering his voice, Sham whispered. It was a place Ga-on knew all too well.

"The place where Eden was distributed."

And it was also territory controlled by one of the Four Great Underworld factions, the Lucchesia Family. It had once been run by their executive, Nakamachi Hiro, but he was dead now.

Even so, it still offered discreet services unavailable anywhere else.

"...Maybe he needed some unusual stimulation?"

"Who knows."

Ga-on rose from his seat and picked up his coat. The information had been gathered. All that remained was verification.

"I'll have to see for myself."

***

Philip had been born with the temperament of a loafer. He possessed talent in abundance, but he could never devote himself to anything for long and quickly lost interest. If one had to compare him to something, he was closer to a grasshopper than an ant.

Ordinarily, he would have been destined to freeze to death when winter arrived, but thanks to his father being wealthy, he had spent his life enjoying an endless summer.

The reason someone as twisted as him maintained a good reputation at RG Purification Foods was simple: he vented his desires on weekends before returning to work.

Lately, the place Philip frequented most was Club 999.

"Oppa, you spend more money than you look like you would."

"What do you mean, 'than I look like'? Did I look that broke? This won't do. Add another Armand de Brignac."

At that, the woman sitting across from him smiled brightly.

"You spend money exactly the way you look, oppa."

Women who couldn't be casually approached on the street competed for his attention here. Slightly drunk, Philip scattered money from his electronic wallet. As the atmosphere grew more excited, so did his mood.

But where there were highs, there were lows. The noisy room fell silent in an instant.

The shift was so abrupt that Philip frowned without realizing it.

"What?"

"Apparently, that person reserved this room. They're asking us to vacate it."

"What kind of bullshit is that?"

He had rented the entire room from the moment he entered.

And not without effort, either—he had practically forced money into the MD's hand to make it happen.

There was no way they could just cancel it—

'No...'

Actually, there were a few people who could.

For example, a megacorp, or an organization on that level.

The sort of people you should never oppose.

No matter how capable Philip was, that only held true among the middle class. Perhaps sensing the hierarchy, the women disappeared like a receding tide. The coquettish behavior they had shown moments ago was nowhere to be seen.

He was used to seeing scenes like this once the night ended, but he never expected it to happen this early.

It was then that the young man who had taken the room sat down across from him.

Perhaps because of his impressive physique, even his rough attire looked like a picture.

"Hoo."

The unique aura surrounding him was unusual as well. The sort of presence that was hard to forget after seeing it once.

"What could possibly be worth coming all the way to a secluded room like this for?"

"You."

"Don't say scary things like that. Even if this is an age where distinctions in sexual roles have disappeared, I'd still like to remain a man."

Since taking the remark seriously would only invite trouble, Philip dismissed it as a joke and rose to his feet. Just as he thought he might head home early today—

"You're Philip Faway, right?"

The name he absolutely must not hear had just been spoken.

In truth, he had never once revealed his real name at the club. Which meant this person had come from outside—

"You left a company dinner with a coworker before Solweek, didn't you?"

Meaning he had a clear purpose for being here.

"..."

Yes. The young man, Ga-on, had sat down here because he wanted to know the truth.

"Don't bother denying it. I hate taking the long way around."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if something like that did happen, why should I tell you...?"

As Philip trailed off, something flashed through his mind.

It was a conclusion born from experience.

This situation.

It wasn't common, but he had encountered it from time to time.

"Ahh. Don't tell me you're Wendy's boyfriend? God damn it. I thought she didn't have one, fuck."

"..."

"What, punk? You expect me to use honorifics for the guy sharing the same hole as me?"

Because he wasn't active online, Ga-on had assumed he was a refined individual.

That wasn't the case.

Quite the opposite.

It was more as though he had reached the peak and then forcibly learned restraint.

That suited Ga-on just fine.

There were few things more rewarding than taming a wild animal.

"You planning to start throwing punches in a place like this? I sincerely hope you won't do something that stupid."

There were people here far more frightening than the Public Enforcement Corps.

Especially since they weren't interested in legal enforcement but private punishment.

"Sorry about that. The bitch seduced me, so what could I do?"

"Shut up first."

The moment Ga-on swung his arm to silence the babbling mouth, a panel on the back of Philip's hand opened, and a small gun barrel popped out.

***

Bang, bang, bang!

Philip sprinted ahead, scattering bullets behind him in an effort to shake off the pursuing Ga-on.

The gunshots were drowned out by the pounding music, but the marks carved into the walls remained clear.

Since it had been purchased for self-defense from the beginning, its power was unimpressive.

At best, it was equivalent to a handgun firing 5mm rounds.

Even so, it was more than enough to kill someone at close range.

"Fuck off!"

Philip hurled anyone who got in his way toward Ga-on and ran like a madman.

He had long suspected his opponent was no ordinary person. If he got caught, there was no telling what would happen to him.

The sense of crisis consuming his thoughts drove him to extreme measures.

That was why he had drawn the concealed firearm and resisted.

Bang! Bang!

A gunfight had broken out out of nowhere, yet no one paid it any attention.

Which wasn't surprising.

Just a month ago, the club's management had been massacred.

In the first place, before most people even realized what was happening, Philip had already left Club 999.

"Huff... huff..."

Perhaps because he had successfully escaped, the tension left his body.

The breath he hadn't fully released stabbed at his lungs, but even that pain felt welcome.

However, the relief didn't last long.

Crunch—

With a chilling tearing sound, his wrist twisted violently.

When he raised his head, the figure standing there was the very man he had been certain he had shaken off.

"When...?"

"Just now."

Still gripping Philip's wrist, Ga-on answered.

It wasn't that he couldn't catch him.

He simply hadn't.

Making a scene inside the club would only increase the number of innocent victims.

Besides, securing Philip in an alleyway was much more convenient.

It was then that he sensed someone rapidly approaching from across the street.

"I told you to stay within twenty paces of me."

Short-cropped hair.

A thin scar running across his face.

Though dressed in civilian clothes, he couldn't conceal the posture of a trained professional.

"A bodyguard? I'm getting more and more curious about what kind of family you come from."

As Ga-on's eyes gleamed with interest, the man drew a pistol from his holster.

"Let go of him and get lost. If you do it now, I won't ask any questions."

"What if I do this?"

Ga-on shoved Philip forward and used him as a shield.

But almost simultaneously, a figure rushed in from behind.

Leaping like a swift leopard, the man fired a pair of taser needles from a device mounted between his wrists.

It was no different from the weapons mounted on patrol drones.

The output, however, had long surpassed normal standards.

The blue sparks crackling between the thin flashes of light were proof enough.

Yet the needles failed to pierce Ga-on's skin and stopped upon contact.

The profound principle of the Middle Way, Muwi Nature, had manifested.

"Maybe not bullets, but this much I can stop. Thanks. That was an excellent experiment."

Ga-on kicked the intruder squarely in the jaw, sending him flying into the distance, then tightened his grip around Philip's neck for all to see.

"A professional really is a professional."

Distract the target from the front and attack from behind.

It was a tactic that would have worked on an ordinary person.

But it was useless against Ga-on, who had already noticed they were operating as a two-man team.

"Then I'll take this guy and—"

"...I've only been in charge of this place for a short time, and already there's a disturbance like this. I can't say I'm pleased."

Before Ga-on could finish speaking, a man appeared with a coat draped over his shoulders.

And he wasn't alone.

He brought a large number of subordinates with him.

"I warned you to behave yourselves. Unlike the previous guy, I don't give special treatment just because someone's a VIP."

The force that now controlled the entire area was the Lucchesia Family, one of the Four Great Underworld factions.

After looking over the faces present, Philip's lips twisted into a vicious grin.

"You idiot. You're dead now."

And for good reason.

The new owner of Club 999 was Owen Cummings, infamous throughout these streets for his brutality and violence.

That's right—

"Mr. Tyrant."

"Hm?"

When Ga-on greeted him as though they knew each other, Philip looked back and forth between the two men, suddenly overwhelmed by cognitive dissonance.

"I was starting to miss that ugly mug of yours, but this isn't exactly how I wanted us to meet again."

Even Owen couldn't help voicing his bewilderment.