Chapter 137
Chapter 137
There’s Some Usable Material
***
Leaving Hudson Nictor behind after he cried out and confessed the truth, Ga-on ascended to the surface, loaded a single False Rotation Axis, and then stomped the ground with all his might.
Boom!
Two hundred meters underground.
The only path leading there twisted and churned into a vortex. Soon, the earth that could no longer withstand the fractures collapsed with a scream.
Like water being sucked into a drain, enormous amounts of soil poured into the hole.
It was truly a spectacular sight.
The undulating ground looked just like waves.
Naturally, the mansion collapsed as a chain reaction spread like falling dominoes. Sweeping aside the rocks falling overhead with a casual gesture, Ga-on moved away from the area.
This was a modern age with highly advanced civil engineering. If someone truly wanted to excavate it, it wasn't impossible.
But that was only feasible when there was ample capital and time.
Ga-on judged that no one would drill two hundred meters underground simply to verify Hudson’s death. The losses they would have to bear vastly outweighed any potential gains.
And what if the cultivation facility were discovered during the excavation?
It would inevitably trigger a scandal so severe that no one could contain the aftermath.
To begin with, nobody would realize this had been an artificial operation. A large-scale destruction had occurred, yet they would find no traces of explosives.
The fact that he had not touched the aide who accompanied Hudson stemmed from the same reasoning. From the aide’s perspective, it would simply appear that the mansion had suddenly collapsed.
Even without prompting, he would serve as an excellent witness.
As expected, the aide who had been waiting outside hurriedly contacted someone. Not just once, but repeatedly.
Having completely erased his traces, Ga-on walked beneath the cover of darkness.
Just as expected, there was an organization behind Hudson.
Known simply as the “Gathering.”
The fact that they did not even use a proper name showed how meticulous they were. The same applied when attending meetings. Wearing pure white cloths over themselves wasn't enough—they even used voice modulators, making it impossible to tell who was who.
Still, there was one thing he had learned for certain.
The case of Wendy was the first of its kind.
Hadn't Hudson said they had hired a Real to commemorate the Gathering’s first anniversary?
Of course, that had been Hudson’s unilateral decision. He had used an innocent citizen to cover up his son’s wrongdoing and strengthen his own position within the Gathering.
Even Ga-on had to admire the capability of turning a single mistake into a stepping stone.
Unfortunately, his efforts had been directed entirely the wrong way.
The very notion of consuming and erasing one's sins belonged to something beyond human.
Still, he had gained at least an indirect understanding of how influential the Gathering truly was.
A figure of Hudson’s stature was merely an administrator.
And all he did was oversee the cultivated meat used by the Gathering.
In reality, the Gathering operated strictly through referrals. Without the approval of an existing member, making contact was impossible.
Everything was controlled from beginning to end, yet not a single disturbance arose.
Because there was an Alpha who governed them all.
The one leading the Gathering was Trian, the megacorp.
The parent company of RG Purification Foods and the industry leader in food engineering.
And one of the powers within the Board.
***
The flesh parted precisely beneath the knife.
Spearing a piece of pink-tinted meat with a fork and placing it into his mouth, the man slowly savored it.
The exploding umami and aroma.
And even the lingering aftertaste that followed gently.
It was no different from a storm raging inside his mouth.
The texture was equally flawless.
This was, without question, a genuine delicacy.
“Marvelous.”
A transparent droplet gathered at the corner of his eye before trickling down his cheek.
It was such an intense experience that the nerves responsible for saliva secretion and tear secretion became confused.
“Your blending skills have improved once again, Meister.”
The elderly man standing behind him slowly shook his head.
“Thank you for praise I do not deserve. It is all thanks to you, young master. Without your support, I could never have come this far.”
“No. How could one recklessly judge a person's efforts based solely on that?”
The origins of the technologies used in cultivated meat were all similar.
However, depending on the processing methods and blending ratios, the finished products differed enormously in quality.
What mattered were perfect data and detailed equations.
And the resolve to shoulder any risk.
Yes, what lay before him was not ordinary meat.
It was, in a sense, the byproduct of madness.
At first, it had been a trivial curiosity.
Even Trian, who had cultivated every kind of meat that existed in the world, had left “one thing” unresolved and deliberately avoided it.
One could not remain the industry's number one by fearing challenges.
And so the man crossed the line and peered beyond it.
He manipulated genes up to the very limits of flavor that the human palate could perceive, constructing the most ideal form possible.
There was no need to improve the breed itself.
Humanity, which had changed over countless generations, might appear identical to its ancestors on the outside, but inwardly it had become completely different.
Thus unfolded a world of gastronomy unknown to anyone else.
The taste, steeped in the superiority of having survived a forbidden act and the privilege of experiencing something extraordinary, was truly heavenly.
Anyone who tasted it even once could never return.
Perhaps it could be called an edible drug.
Those who fell into its irresistible temptation willingly became slaves.
As a bonus, they eagerly awaited the next Gathering.
However, the man could indulge in this sin whenever and wherever he wished, even without attending such meetings.
The sense of superiority that fact provided was the finest seasoning and sweetest sweetener.
“Emotional.”
Tears streamed down once more.
Three times a day.
This solemn and majestic time was the only moment when the man could truly feel that he was alive.
Knock, knock—
That was when an impurity intruded without warning.
He tried to ignore it, but the sound of knocking came again.
It was undoubtedly something important.
Emerging from his state of ecstasy, the man dabbed his lips with a napkin.
“Come in.”
The old man opening the door and the secretary nearly leaping into the room happened almost simultaneously.
“Thank you, young master.”
“Report what the matter is.”
“It appears that Outpost G–33 has collapsed.”
It was the secret cultivation facility located in District 50.
More accurately, it was closer to a supply point that procured materials required by the Gathering.
Had it somehow been discovered by the Public Enforcement Corps?
A flicker of unease lifted its head, and the man asked,
“The cause?”
“They believe it was poor construction.”
“Poor construction?”
“The underground section suddenly caved in, causing the surface above to sink as well. They say the cause was an abrupt ground subsidence.”
At the unexpected report, the man tapped the table irritably.
Something about it felt suspicious, but weren't natural disasters always like that?
If they could be predicted and imagined in advance, they wouldn't happen in the first place.
“What happened to the androids who were residing there?”
“They were buried as well, making verification difficult. Rescue operations were initiated immediately, but they were not found inside the mansion.”
“Then you're saying they went underground?”
“Most likely.”
Perhaps that was for the best.
If they had caught the attention of the Public Enforcement Corps, it would have become troublesome.
“Then why did the androids go underground? The Gathering is still quite a while away.”
“It appears Assemblyman Hudson visited that dawn.”
“Surely not…”
“Yes. We believe he summoned them for management-related matters and happened to get caught in the disaster.”
Of all places, underground?
The timing seemed suspicious, yet it was not entirely unexpected.
Hudson had always shown an extraordinary interest in cultivated meat.
He had probably tried to interfere without permission.
The androids would have expressed their reluctance.
Though the man had always known this and never once reprimanded him, this time he had no choice but to acknowledge his own mistake.
The worst outcome would be Hudson’s corpse being discovered at his private villa.
No, the legislature could not be allowed to realize that Hudson was missing in the first place.
“Did we ever collect Assemblyman Hudson’s genetic material?”
“Yes. However, even if we forcibly create a clone, without the original, it will be impossible to replicate his memories and personality.”
“Put up a scarecrow anyway.”
Fortunately, the election was right around the corner.
There were plenty of scenarios they could use.
For example, Hudson, who had never doubted he would win reelection yet again, could suffer the bitter taste of defeat and, despairing over his circumstances, commit suicide—
“I think that should be sufficient.”
“We will proceed exactly as instructed.”
“Oh, right. Inform the attendees as well. The location of the next Gathering will be changed.”
After dismissing the secretary, the man resumed his meal.
With the reverence of someone gazing upon heaven itself.
***
When I met Kurtnik Weather again, he had become almost unrecognizably gaunt.
Had the tragedy that befell Wendy weighed on him that heavily?
Or perhaps he had already guessed it himself.
That she had become entangled with a dangerous force.
And that reality was something he would have to bow his head before.
If there was one fortunate thing—
“You should be grateful that you met me.”
“Did you discover something?”
“Not something half-hearted like that. I just finished dealing with it.”
For a moment, Kurtnik failed to understand what I meant and blinked repeatedly.
Then—
“You mean you've dealt with the person who harmed Wendy?”
“Yeah.”
As Kurtnik shifted impatiently in his seat, clearly urging me to continue, I explained everything in an orderly manner.
The company dinner that had taken place last week.
Philip, who committed the crime there.
His background.
And finally, his father, Assemblyman Hudson.
“Hudson was buried, and Philip was sent somewhere nice.”
After all, Seed Colony had more than a few famous spots where burying one or two people would go unnoticed.
“...I see. So that's what happened. Thank you. Truly, thank you.”
Kurtnik even dropped to his knees to express his emotions, but I could not accept his gratitude wholeheartedly.
I had certainly fulfilled his request.
However, there were still countless unresolved issues remaining.
Hadn't I just kicked a hornet's nest?
Before the worker bees that emerged from within noticed me, I needed to wipe them all out.
Fortunately, Kurtnik was an aide.
And not just to anyone, but to a rather influential figure.
“Speaking of which, there's someone I'd like to meet.”
***
“You wanted to meet me?”
The old man asked while leaning on a cane, and that wasn't all.
Unable to move comfortably, he also relied on a set of powered exoskeleton armor.
It was only a single sentence, yet the greed leaking from the creases of his wrinkled face seemed to drip onto the floor.
Ga-on did not believe in physiognomy, but after facing the old man, he found himself thinking that perhaps pseudoscience had some merit after all.
Rouge Jenkins.
He was the assemblyman whom Kurtnik served and a survivor who had remained in politics for a very long time.
Though he had left no particularly impressive mark on the political world, his longevity alone earned him treatment as a senior statesman.
The fact that he had stubbornly secured reelection again and again meant his survival instincts were exceptional.
For Ga-on, there could be no more suitable person.
The important thing in this incident was not how to punish the guilty.
It was how to avoid the backlash that would inevitably follow.
To avoid social repercussions, especially friction with the established powers, what was required was not force, but political influence.
Cooperation from the political sphere was indispensable.
“I've got some useful material. It won't hurt to hear it.”