*

“Seems like you can get a low-performance one for about 500 million Pia,” Baek Ga-on mused, flipping through the catalog.

“Are you asking me to introduce you to the black market?”

Fernandez sighed deeply, clearly taken aback by the unexpected request. From the moment they met, Ga-on had a knack for making impossible requests seem casual.

“Why on earth do you need something like that?” Fernandez asked.

“I need an assistant for my work as a fixer. You know how it is—those available on the market come with too many restrictions,” Ga-on explained. For instance, jaywalking. Humans might dash across the street when in a hurry, but androids didn’t even have that option. They were designed to strictly adhere to the law.

“Why not just hire a person?” Fernandez suggested.

“Because they might just take all my know-how and run,” Ga-on replied, knowing full well how common such cases were. Fernandez couldn’t argue against that.

“You can’t be stopped, can you?”

“Really, I’ll only use it for my convenience. If you ever think I’m crossing the line, feel free to report me,” Ga-on assured him.

“Let me just say, knowing about it and actually getting in are two different things. Even if I introduce you, you won’t get anywhere near the entrance,” Fernandez warned.

“So, only verified individuals are allowed in?” Ga-on asked.

"If it were a typical black market dealing in stolen goods, I'd recommend it right away.

But what you're looking for isn't that simple," Fernandez explained.

The laws controlling cloned humans, genetic protection, virtual reality exceptions, and AI restrictions—commonly known as the four basic laws—weren't established to protect any particular faction's interests or public institutions.

They naturally formed to maintain modern society.

If any one of them were breached, it could cause significant chaos.

Even mega-corporations couldn't escape scrutiny if they were found to be in violation.

The underworld approached these matters with caution, as expected.

The places where such things were actually distributed were deeply hidden, and even making contact was no easy task.

Despite Fernandez recognizing Ga-on as a fixer and treating him accordingly, it was merely a shared camaraderie between the two.

It wasn't the industry's consensus.

To the public, Ga-on was still a newcomer with much to prove.

Even after clashing with the Pier Gang and completing minor assignments, Ga-on's track record was insufficient.

“Annoying,” Ga-on muttered.

“Don’t rush. You’ll reach your goal soon enough. By the way, there’s a rumor that the Pier Gang is looking for you. Are you aware?” Fernandez asked.

“Their backer got kicked out of the police, so what? Are they really going to seek revenge when there’s nothing to gain?” Ga-on shrugged.

“Logically, hiding is the best option, but if they understood compromise, they wouldn’t be called gangsters, would they?” Fernandez pointed out.

“An eye for an eye,” Ga-on said, understanding that there was no rationality involved.

“What if you get stabbed by a blind knife while walking down the street?” Fernandez worried.

“If I were going to die from something like that, I wouldn’t be struggling like this,” Ga-on chuckled, standing up.

“Try to get some new assignments before I come back,” he said, leaving Fernandez behind.

*

[MILITARY ROOM]

Entering the gun shop located on the outskirts of Zone 34, Ga-on was greeted by a thick haze that tickled his eyes.

At the center was a middle-aged man smoking a cigarette with gusto, as if he were eating it.

His muscular arms were littered with gunshot wounds, and his short beard exuded a wild aura.

Despite his fierce appearance, Oliver Twinsson, the gun shop owner, transformed into a friendly neighbor as long as money was involved.

"Mr. Trigger Happy," Ga-on addressed him.

Oliver's eyebrows twitched as he enjoyed his solitude.

"You were the fixer who came with Fernandez, right? So…," Oliver trailed off.

"Baek Ga-on," Ga-on reminded him.

"Ah, yes, that was your name," Oliver nodded.

Despite being a businessman, Oliver hadn't implanted a sub-brain because he was a man enamored with oil and gunpowder.

His philosophy was that shooting should be free of any device interference.

He believed that if the purity was compromised, so was the feel.

Even Ga-on, who had met countless people, found Oliver to be a unique type.

“Did you hear from Fernandez?” Ga-on asked.

Though Ga-on hesitated at the sudden mention of Fernandez, Oliver disappeared into the warehouse and returned with a box. The label on the surface was from Yamita, a mega-corporation renowned in the textile and clothing industry.

“Protective gear? I thought you bought some last time,” Ga-on remarked, noting his coat.

“If you rely on such shabby gear, you’ll end up with holes in your body before your wallet,” Oliver warned.

“Are you trying to force a sale?” Ga-on asked.

“I told you, Fernandez left this for you,” Oliver insisted, handing over the packaged product. Taken aback, Ga-on looked down at it.

[IVOD―300]

Fernandez had warned him about the Pier Gang, and it seemed he had something in mind. Despite his gloomy demeanor, Fernandez was surprisingly thoughtful.

“It’s an under armor that can be used for stab, bullet, and blast protection. Made with ceramic composite and carbon fiber, it guarantees operational capability equivalent to MUG―1,” Oliver explained.

Ga-on was familiar with the product. It was a bestseller that had been loved for over 50 years.

“It’s essential gear for a newly minted fixer. It seems Fernandez is seriously considering mentoring you,” Oliver noted.

Ga-on removed his coat and put on the under armor. It fit snugly, with no uncomfortable areas, as if his size had been checked beforehand. It felt like a peace offering, and Ga-on didn’t mind it.

“How’s the Glock you bought last time? Is it working well?” Oliver asked.

“It’s as good as you recommended, but the firepower is a bit lacking,” Ga-on admitted. When facing opponents like Gestos, who reinforced their skeletal systems with slots, it felt somewhat inadequate.

After his encounter with Jin Geon, Ga-on realized he couldn’t recklessly use a sword. Visiting the Military Room was to compensate for such shortcomings.

“Submachine guns are trending these days. They can fire in bursts, and some are compatible with rifle rounds in emergencies. Plus, you can attach gun accessories for various situations,” Oliver suggested.

“I’d rather make use of what I already have,” Ga-on replied, having decided to purchase an android. He was keen on saving every penny.

“Our fixer seems to be looking for something special,” Oliver said, as if waiting for this moment. He retrieved a large box from the display case, containing 9mm rounds compatible with the Glock. Oliver selected ones with sharp tips.

“These are enhanced rounds with special compound powder to increase firepower. They’ll be about twice as powerful as what you’re using. Even those who recklessly throw their bodies around will get scratched,” Oliver explained.

While it wasn’t comparable to an automatic rifle, it was still a step below.

“Impressive. Why have you been hiding these?” Ga-on asked.

“They’re 2,000 Pia per round,” Oliver replied.

“The price is bigger than the product,” Ga-on grimaced, prompting Oliver to change his sales strategy.

“But if you buy 100 rounds now, I’ll give you a 15% discount,” Oliver offered.

Tempted, Ga-on proposed a compromise.

“Then put it on credit. It seems like a white elephant that no one else will buy,” Ga-on suggested.

“What?” Oliver was taken aback.

“It’s fine. I can pay it off with just one overtime shift,” Ga-on assured him, grabbing the ammunition before Oliver could protest and leaving the Military Room.

*

For rookie fixers, bounty hunting was the first thing they set their sights on.

If someone was on a wanted list, it meant they had committed heinous crimes, and thus, there was no one to blame if they accidentally killed them.

It was an ideal stage to test one's abilities.

Moreover, since it was posted in a publicly accessible space, it was highly approachable.

For these reasons, even fixers who had shed their rookie status often engaged in bounty hunting to earn some pocket money.

Ga-on was no different.

His target was Joshua Muever, an arsonist who had set fire to a police station under the orders of a gang.

When his involvement was uncovered, he went into hiding and had been on the run ever since.

Of course, it wasn't because Joshua was particularly skilled that he had survived this long.

It was more a matter of cost-effectiveness.

The resources consumed during the search were simply too great.

Once his identity was confirmed, Joshua used an Unknown to hide his tracks.

'Unknown.'

While a Noise Worm emitted interference signals during recording or filming, and a Lock Down disabled a device's functions, an Unknown was a device that blocked signals to navigation systems.

The police's advantage over other organizations was their ability to officially track individuals' locations, but the Unknown rendered that capability useless.

Without the ability to track devices, the only option was to conduct a painstaking stakeout to make an arrest.

The effort required was disproportionate to the results achieved, which was why the police were reluctant to pursue such cases.

To prevent gaps in law enforcement, a dedicated department should have been established, but as mentioned earlier, an ecosystem centered around fixers had formed, leading to a symbiotic relationship.

The information Ga-on received about the target was part of this arrangement.

To Ga-on, Joshua was a typical life-waster.

Before committing his crime, he had squandered his entire fortune on gambling and even resorted to loan sharks.

His entanglement with the gang was a result of this.

He had set the police station on fire, lured by the promise of debt relief, leaving no room for sympathy.

Joshua might not have known it at the time, but during the chaos, several gang members had escaped.

That was likely the gang's true objective, but it wasn't what Joshua had wanted.

His disappearance was likely a result of his survival instincts kicking in.

However, Ga-on was certain.

Old habits die hard, and Joshua was likely repeating his mistakes somewhere.

Sure enough, after touring illegal gambling dens, Ga-on identified the establishment Joshua frequented weekly.

As dusk fell, Ga-on waited patiently until he spotted a man leaving, half-dazed. His unkempt beard and dull eyes matched Joshua’s description perfectly.

Naturally, Ga-on followed him quietly. Joshua, aware of his fugitive status, deliberately chose secluded alleys. This was convenient for Ga-on, as he didn’t need to lure him elsewhere.

As Ga-on gradually closed the distance, he waited for the right moment. When a car horn blared in the distance, Joshua flinched and turned around.

‘Now.’