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Chapter 21
“So, this ‘charity project’ you were talking about, Young Master….”
“A gambling house. In other words… you’re planning to build a casino?”
Before me lay a thick stack of employment contracts, material lists, and building blueprints.
Watching them in silence, Taewoong and Moo-yeong finally asked.
“That’s right. We’ll invite the richest VIPs, let them play to their heart’s content, and then we’ll take the profits to fund charity— Well, to be blunt, we’ll be preparing revolutionary funds.”
I had saved Yu Sang-hyeon, planting in him the dream of revolution, protected Hahoe, and prepared the dagger that would stab into the backs of the noble class.
Compared to my past life, this was a situation too good to ask for more.
But even in the midst of it, there was still something lacking.
No matter how much I changed the future, saved people, and pulled every outrageous stunt—
In the end, there was one thing that was always needed.
The single resource that Yu Arin’s revolutionary army lacked, even as they set Joseon ablaze.
Money.
Hahoe had provided some funds, but that was little more than pocket change—
Not even enough to make a dent.
To overturn a nation, you needed money.
We’d have to pay salaries to our noble warriors aiming to ignite the revolution, feed them, and prepare the equipment to set the country on fire.
And once all that was ready, was that the end?
Of course not.
We’d need factories to produce weapons and ammunition, and infrastructure to transport the war materials we produced.
All of it costs money.
Not just a little, an enormous amount.
Now here’s the question:
Where on earth could we possibly get such an absurd amount of money?
Ask the Chinese warlords for funding?
No.
They were already too busy fighting and killing each other.
Ask the Japanese business syndicates to invest?
That’s insane.
If word spread that the funds to topple Joseon’s social order came from Japanese pockets, I’d be executed and my head put on public display long before I got the chance to burn the noble class to the ground.
If nothing else, this much was certain:
Even if we froze to death, it had to be Shinto-buli*—
If a Joseon person was going to lead a Joseon revolution, they had to make and use their own money.
And luckily for us, this capital city of Hanseong was home to the richest people in the world.
The very ones we needed to overthrow through revolution.
The great noble houses.
“Unlike a pleasure city like Busan, here in Hanseong there’s a miserable lack of entertainment facilities for nobles. At best, it’s the same old polo matches the elders enjoy, or archery ranges they visit with courtesans.”
The reason was simple:
Up at the very top of Hanseong sat Kim Junghun, burning with zeal to uphold the dignity of the noble class.
Of course, the Joseon aristocracy couldn’t simply abandon Hanseong,
The political heart of the nation.
So if the hot-blooded sons of noble families wanted to let off steam,
They had to forge fake identities, sneak around,and go through all sorts of tedious trouble.
“That’s why I’m planning to find the perfect spot and build Hanseong’s largest gambling den… a casino.”
“……”
“A squeaky-clean facility run by someone who’s actually been scammed by noble families before, where honest gambling happens without tricks! And top-class service! Just imagining it feels like the money will start pouring in, doesn’t it?”
“You think it’s that easy?”
Taewoong, who had been listening to my excited rambling, shook his head.
“A casino is essentially the same as running a massive business. But Young Master, you’ve never even run a small shop, let alone an enterprise of that scale.”
“……”
“Even a seasoned businessman couldn’t guarantee success. For a complete novice like you to take on something so big…”
“Don’t worry.”
‘No experience.’
‘A total novice.’
Hearing those words from Taewoong, I smiled with satisfaction.
“I absolutely won’t fail.”
It was almost insulting to call me inexperienced.
This was my field of expertise.
“I’ve already laid out the construction plans. Now all that’s left is to get the land and the staff.”
“What’s your plan for that?”
“I’ve had my eye on a certain piece of land for a while. As for staff—well, I know some people in the industry.”
Of course… they didn’t know me yet.
Muttering that to myself, I got into a vehicle headed underground in Hanseong.
It was about time to make use of my past-life connections.
“I don’t know why I’m feeling excited about this.”
Thinking back, I’d been tossed around quite a bit in my youth, even as young as fifteen.
I’d saved heroes, inspired them with the cause of revolution, and protected the organizations that would support them.
But regrettably, that wasn’t my real specialty.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
‘A guy bumped into you on the street and you killed him? The press caught wind of it? Let me introduce you to someone.’
‘Oh, that company badmouthed your clan on the internet? These friends can help you deal with that.’
‘Aha, you need a toy to play with for the night? Then I recommend this agency.’
‘Oh dear, the brother of that “product” you sold off is coming after you? Well… you’re screwed.’
In my past life, I had spent my entire existence doing dirty, filthy work that men of honor would never touch.
In Japanese terms, I’d been the Doraemon of the underworld—
The fixer beloved by the noble class.
And now… that same me was going to make money for the revolution.
Not money earned by cleaning up after those damn noble scumbags.
Money to bash in the backs of their skulls.
Tell me, where else in the world could there be a job this fun?
* * *
Splash. Splash.
Beneath Hanseong’s underbelly, the underground sector where all of the city’s refuse and waste ended up—
Sat a residential district that, at least on the surface, appeared relatively intact.
Here, the midday sun never reached. Instead, the streets glowed with lanterns of every shape and color.
Half-dried, sticky rainwater still clung to the ground, reflecting the neon signs that shone in saturated colors.
It looked no different from any other bustling downtown area, but this place was nothing like the residential districts up above.
And the biggest difference? The people who lived here.
“Those bastards from Gwangdeok Trading actually tried to drown me this time. I knew something felt off the moment they handed me that job!”
“So? So what did you do to the bastard?”
“He threatened to split the payment, so I split his head instead. Right down the middle—vertically.”
“Kahahaha—!”
Clang. Clang.
Men in sharp suits with lethal, combat-grade prosthetic arms strutted by.
Cyborgs with massive frames squared off in silent intimidation, while some lunatic covered head-to-toe in monomolecular blades stalked past.
This was the zone just above the very bottom layer of Hanseong—
The “Special Security Management Zone”.
Gangsters, junkies, fences, smugglers.
Barbarians from Manchuria and even the occasional Japanese pirate who had crossed the West Sea.
Here, they had built the heart of Joseon’s underground economy beneath the capital.
In other words—
“A neighborhood the police rarely visit.”
Vrrrm—
The sound of an automatic door opening was followed by the rush of cigarette smoke and alcohol stench.
In one corner of the Special Security Management Zone stood Pyeong-un Tavern.
The moment a boy dressed in black stepped inside, every customer’s gaze swiveled toward him.
“Hey, kid.”
Standing guard at the entrance, Dolsoe blocked the boy’s path.
Both of Dolsoe’s arms were massive mechanical prosthetics.
From the heavy armor plating and hydraulic systems, it was clear they had been illegally modified from construction-grade artificial limbs.
“Don’t recognize your face, and you don’t look like one of our regulars. You lost?”
“I came to see the Tavern mistress. Please let her know I’m here.”
At the mention of “Tavern mistress,” Dolsoe’s expression shifted instantly.
Thud—!
He slammed a fist into the floor once.
An ominous killing intent radiated from him as he glared at the boy.
“Get lost—before I smash your face in.”
The boy stayed still and silent.
Taking that as refusal, Dolsoe threw a punch straight for the boy’s face—
A blow from a metal fist that could turn a person into minced meat in seconds.
But in the next instant—
“You swung first.”
Shhk—!
With the sharp sound of something slicing clean, Dolsoe’s elbow joint was severed in a flash.
Kwham—!
The detached prosthetic arm crashed into a wall of the tavern with a thunderous noise.
Squinting in pain, Dolsoe finally noticed the boy’s right arm—
A precision-engineered black prosthetic, gripping a curved hwando*.
“I’ll say this again.”
The boy’s blade hovered at Dolsoe’s neck.
His spine had been reinforced with artificial marrow, but that black sword looked more than capable of cutting through his neck as easily as tofu.
“Take me to the Tavern mistress. Now. Or—”
“Alright, alright. We’ll do it your way, kid. But put the sword down first.”
A voice came from the kitchen.
With a gravelly tone, a middle-aged woman emerged from one side of the tavern.
She looked like any ordinary housewife—
But Moo-yeong, having studied her closely, slowly lowered his sword from Dolsoe’s neck.
Her appearance was harmless,
Yet her sharp, calculating gaze matched exactly what the Young Master had described.
“So tell me—what business do you have barging into someone else’s shop and waving a blade around, huh?”
“The person I serve wishes to speak with you.”
“The person you serve?”
As the Tavern mistress repeated the words, Moo-yeong pulled something from his coat—
An Identification card carved from jade,
A specially crafted identification token that only Joseon’s great noble houses were permitted to use.
“…Well now. We have quite the distinguished guest in such a shabby place.”
No wonder Dolsoe had been pushed back so easily.
Understanding the situation, the Tavern mistress turned to the customers.
“Everybody out. The shop’s closed for the day.”
At her word, the patrons left without protest.
The once-crowded tavern was now empty save for the Tavern mistress, Dolsoe, and Moo-yeong.
Confirming they were alone, the Tavern mistress crossed her arms and asked:
“So, what brings the precious Young Master from a great noble house to seek out the likes of us?”
Once someone knew the other’s social rank, not a single word could be spoken carelessly.
Raising her tone slightly, the Tavern mistress waited.
Moo-yeong remained silent for a moment, then touched his finger to his ear.
“Yes. Confirmed. Security’s been neutralized, and there are no witnesses.”
It was as if he were speaking to someone at the other end of a comms line.
And at that moment—
—Yeah. Good job.
A voice flowed from the other end of the comm.
From the tone, it sounded like someone around the same age as the boy who had barged in.
In the very next instant, every surveillance camera and recorder installed throughout the tavern went dark all at once.
‘All the electronics…?’
So that was why they stalled at the entrance.
While that thought crossed her mind—
The tavern’s automatic door slid open, and someone stepped inside.
“Just like you said—this place is a bit too shabby for me to show my face in person.”
Unlike Moo-yeong, who was dressed entirely in black, this newcomer wore a striking outfit dominated by vivid blues.
There was an airy, lighthearted vibe in his movements, and his face was hidden behind a ridiculous, oversized mask.
But that wasn’t the real issue.
“Pyeong-un Tavern’s mistress, Park Bok-j. Age, forty-seven. Hometown, Jeonju. Primary convictions: murder, murder-for-hire, attempted murder… Just how many people have you killed, exactly?”
He listed off her personal information—criminal record, birthplace, family relations—
Details she had never told a soul.
“…Looks like our Young Master did his homework.”
“Homework? Not really.”
He gave a careless shrug.
“Other people did it for me.”
Park Bok-ja’s expression hardened.
This noble heir was making it very clear—
He already held every single one of her weaknesses in his grasp.
“What is it you want?”
“What else? Work.”
“Work?”
The noble heir smiled behind his mask.
“Let’s run a business together.”
[TL: Shinto-buli- It’s a Korean idiom meaning “body and earth are one,” used here to mean “Koreans must rely on Korean-made resources.”
Hwando - It’s a traditional single-edged Korean sword, often used by military officers during the late Joseon period.]
---The End Of The Chapter---
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