Even though he was the one who created them, staying among subordinates who were, quite literally, non-human was not good for one’s mental health. The Loan Shark felt as though he were living in a personal hell.

  There was no human communication with them. They were mere machines that did exactly as they were told—obedient, yet incredibly frustrating in their lack of autonomy.

  The Loan Shark felt certain he would lose his mind within days. He had reached his limit long ago. At times, he thought it might be better to simply die. Taking walks and buying snacks wasn't enough; he was a creature that could only truly exist in the city. Spending time in this backwater was fine for a few days of play, but any longer was unbearable. If he stayed here, he felt he would go insane regardless of how much money he had.

  He needed to return to the city, yet the fear of being captured immediately made him hesitate time and again. No matter how much wealth he possessed, there were limits to what he could do alone. The CCTV cameras everywhere and the police surveillance network were far tighter than he had anticipated. He couldn't conceive of a way to slip through.

  The person managing that entire surveillance net definitely isn't normal, he thought. Anyone that obsessed with investigating must be a complete lunatic.

  But then again, it was because of that level of obsession that all of his competitors had been rounded up. Looking at the ongoing trials, it was clear they were never getting out.

  However, he was different.

  As always, the Loan Shark believed he was nothing like those losers. Here, gathering wealth, he was a king. No one would dare challenge him.

  Yet, there was that damn guy in the hoodie, and that other one in the strange mask. His obstructors were multiplying, constantly trying to ruin his business. The problem was that he couldn't see a way to counter them. He had prepared various pawns, including snipers, but that cursed individual always managed to thwart him. For a while, there was simply no way to resist.

  But now, the story had changed.

  He had received support from the suppliers themselves. They had even requested that he cause chaos. While he didn't know what lay at the end of it all, the idea of a lawless world always excited him.

  So, this time would be fun as well.

  With anticipation, the Loan Shark prepared a new "party." As was always the case, a new Tool would bring about an uproar. This time, it wouldn't be a person, but the Tool itself that would create the incident.

  He couldn't hide his excitement over how brilliantly this event would burn the city and what other entertainment it would provide. Of course, he knew this was twisted. He could have just stayed in the shadows, sold his goods, and enjoyed a perfectly comfortable life.

  But that was a thought for fools who didn't know how to play big. A man had to cause a major scene once in a while to make life truly worth living.

  The screams of the people, the blood—and the countless business opportunities born from it. All of it would delight him. If it meant satiating his madness, he didn't care if the city was destroyed.

  Yet, on the other hand, he felt a tiny bit of concern.

  The Cult, one of his business partners, weighed on his mind. Being a pseudo-religious group, they were completely off their rockers. Such people always tended to veer off in strange directions. He wondered how they would react when they found out what he was planning to do.

  But so what?

  In the end, they too would bow before his power. The Loan Shark looked at the few Tools in his hand and felt a surge of joy. If that power was his, he could build his own kingdom as many times as he wanted. Just imagining the fun he would have was almost more than he could bear.

  "Then let's start getting ready. I can't rot in this place forever," he muttered to himself, preparing to move once again. And he planned to do it in a spectacular, explosive fashion.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The headquarters of the cult was currently submerged in a solemn atmosphere. Even those who usually didn't hesitate to chatter and cause a stir were now silent, treading carefully. The atmosphere was that heavy.

  It was only natural. The ritual about to begin was linked to the very future of the Cult. New protectors, who would shield them from those who had persecuted them, were about to be appointed.

  The Apostles.

  Those permitted to wield miracles in the wake of the deceased Leader. They knew exactly what they had to do, and they were prepared to lay down their lives for it. All they possessed was fanatical devotion to the teachings and a readiness to sacrifice themselves. They were the ruthless agents who would do anything for the Cult—the ones who would manifest miracles.

  The time had come.

  The prepared youths waited in the ritual area inside the surprisingly modest main hall of the headquarters. They were individuals who had already undergone implantation. However, to truly control that power, they still had to complete the final ritual. The Vice-Leader would provide it to them directly, and through it, the Apostles would become invincible warriors.

  A bell tolled.

  At the sound, those set to become Apostles moved their feet cautiously. Some candidates had failed the earlier tests. Those remaining knew a little of the fate that had befallen the fallen ones. They were reminded of the fact that they were chosen, and that they too could have failed that rigorous trial if they had made the slightest mistake.

  If they passed this final ritual, they would officially become Apostles. However, this final rite was no mere formality. Tension pressed down heavily on the entire ritual site.

  "Welcome, great candidates who will become our future. Under the gaze of our Leader in heaven, we have prepared the final trial for those who will open a new era. I desperately hope you overcome it and become our hope."

  The Vice-Leader greeted the candidates in a tone more solemn than usual. At his voice, the candidates recalled everything they had been taught and bowed their heads to the God in heaven, the deceased Leader, and the Vice-Leader standing before them.

  They took their prepared positions. Everything would be decided here today.

  The Vice-Leader stood before the candidates along with his following Apostles. Each Apostle held a tray. On it was a small box, which would now become the candidates' trial. The Vice-Leader waved his hand lightly. A wind rose at that moment, lifting the Tools.

  The Tools flew slowly toward the candidates. Each candidate exposed the back of their neck, ready to receive the Tool. The Tools slowly made contact with the candidates' necks. In that instant, they entered their bodies like sugar cubes dissolving in water.

  Then came the screams.

  In the midst of an unexpected, agonizing pain, they suffered. The pain, beyond the limits of human endurance, spared no one. Those who could not overcome this would crumble and would no longer be able to walk the path of glory. But it was impossible to know who would actually survive this.

  Some writhed in agony. Some died, unable to bear the pain. Others lost their minds in the midst of the suffering. Yet, no help was given. They were merely watched.

  How much time had passed?

  Finally, it was over. Some would never rise again, but others stood up from their places. Seeing this, the Vice-Leader declared quietly:

  "Bless and bless again those who have overcome the trial. These are the true Apostles of God, the faithful young servants who will deliver the Leader's words. We shall bless them."

  Thus, the new Apostles were born. Bearing the true fragments to control their power, they became the spears and shields that would crush the enemies of the Cult. The followers watching them simply knelt and offered prayers to God and the deceased Leader. Of course, no one said a word about those who had died or failed.

  The Saleswoman sold cheap Tools to many people again today before returning home. They were deceived by her words, buying the low-grade Tools in a single payment and having them implanted immediately. Before long, those Tools would lead not only their money but their very lives to ruin.

  But it was their fault for falling for her words. With eyes devoid of emotion, the Saleswoman simply watched those who began to go berserk.

  For some reason, the Loan Shark had told her to prepare as much chaos as possible. Just like last time, it seemed he was planning a major incident. She was afraid of him. She feared that his madness would completely destroy her as well.

  Nevertheless, she could never disobey his orders. She knew all too well that for someone like her, who had long since crossed the line, only ruin awaited. There was no way to lessen her sins; atonement was impossible given what she had already done. So, since she had to do it anyway, she would shamelessly cling to one last hope and see it through to the end.

  With those thoughts, the Saleswoman moved her heavy feet toward home. Of course, no one would be able to spot her. The Tool that neutralized CCTVs now hid her even from the naked eye, going beyond mere optical interference.

  So, feeling a tiny bit of relief, she walked slowly through the night streets.

  "Ah, could we talk for a moment?"

  Someone appeared before the Saleswoman. It was a woman, and someone the Saleswoman knew.

  "Let's talk somewhere away from others' eyes."

  With those words, the Saleswoman approached Sae-hee, So-young’s subordinate. Although they hadn't shared a deep friendship, they recognized each other's faces. Feeling that they were, in a sense, in the same boat, the Saleswoman felt a small measure of relief.

  "Let's talk while we walk. There's no one around anyway," Sae-hee said, walking as if nothing were out of the ordinary. The Saleswoman followed beside her in silence.

  "Why were you looking for me?" the Saleswoman asked.

  "I'm here to scout you," Sae-hee replied nonchalantly.