The Hunting Dog of the Prestigious Family Has Returned Chapter 21

“So, what you’re calling this charity work you mentioned, Young Master…”

“A gambling den. That is… you’re saying you’ll establish a casino?”

Employment contracts and materials lists filling my vision.

And building blueprints.

Taewoong and Mooyoung, who’d been silently watching them, asked me.

“Right. We call out VIPs with money, let them play to their hearts’ content, and we gather that revenue for charity work… to speak bluntly, we’re preparing revolution funds.”

I’d saved Yoo Sanghyeon and made him harbor revolutionary dreams, protected Hahoe and prepared a dagger to stab the nobles’ backs.

Compared to my past life, an incomparably good situation.

But even in the midst of that, something was lacking.

What was ultimately needed in the end, no matter how much I changed the future, saved people, or did all sorts of crazy things.

The single resource that Yoo Arin’s revolutionary army, which burned Joseon, lacked.

Money.

‘There are funds Hahoe provided, but this pocket change won’t even touch the surface.’

Overturning a nation required money.

We had to pay salaries to our noble warriors trying to start a revolution, feed them, and prepare equipment to burn the nation.

Then once all that was prepared, was it over?

As if.

We needed factories to produce weapons and ammunition, and had to build infrastructure to transport those war materials produced that way.

All of those things were money.

Not just a coin or two, but an enormous amount of money was needed.

So here’s the problem.

Where and how could we obtain this absurd amount of money?

Should I ask the Chinese warlords for financial support?

No.

They’re still busy fighting, attacking, and killing each other.

Should I ask the Japanese corporate union to invest?

Crazy talk.

If revolution funds to overturn Joseon society came from Japanese bastards’ pockets, my head would be cut off and displayed in the market before burning the nobles.

If nothing else, this one thing was certain.

In the end, even if we freeze to death, it’s domestic products—if Koreans were going to have a revolution in Joseon, we had to use what we made.

Moreover, fortunately, in this Hanseong lived those with the most rotten abundance of money in the world.

The very people who should be overthrown through revolution.

The power clans.

“Unlike pleasure cities like Busan, here in Hanyang there are miserably few entertainment facilities aristocrats can frequent. At most, the polo grounds the elders often play or archery ranges they attend with courtesans.”

The reason was simple.

Because Lord Kim Jungheon sitting at the top of Hanseong kept his eyes blazing to maintain aristocratic dignity.

But Joseon aristocrats couldn’t leave Hanseong, the center of political power either.

If the vigorous young aristocrats wanted to release pent-up feelings, they had no choice but to go through all sorts of troublesome measures like creating fake identities or hiding around.

“So I’m planning to find an appropriate location and establish Hanseong’s largest gambling den… casino.”

“…”

“A clean facility directly operated by someone who’s tasted power clan life with honest gambling conducted without tricks! And killer service! Just thinking about it, doesn’t it seem like money will pour out?”

“Would it really be as easy as you say?”

While I’d been chattering excitedly—

Having said that, Taewoong shook his head and continued speaking.

“A casino is ultimately no different from running a large business. But Young Master, you don’t just lack experience running a business—you’ve never even done commerce itself, have you?”

“…”

“Even a seasoned businessman couldn’t guarantee success, yet for Young Master, who’s a complete outsider, to do such a big thing…”

“Don’t worry.”

‘No experience,’ ‘Complete outsider.’

Hearing those words from Taewoong, I smiled warmly and spoke.

“Because I absolutely won’t fail.”

It would be unfair to say I have no experience.

This was my specialty.

“The construction plan is made and what remains are employees and land.”

“What are you planning?”

“For land, there’s a place I’ve had my eye on for a while. For employees, I know some people in the industry.”

Of course, they don’t know me yet.

Having muttered that inwardly, I boarded a vehicle heading to Hanseong’s underground.

Time had come to pull in connections from my past life.

“I don’t know why I’m so excited about this.”

Thinking about it, at the tender age of fifteen, I’d really rolled around quite a lot.

Saving a hero, making them harbor revolutionary ideals, and even protecting the organization to support them.

But regrettably, these heroic actions weren’t my specialty.

Rather the opposite.

‘You killed someone you bumped shoulders with on the street and the media caught the scent? Then let me introduce this friend.’

‘Ah, this company cursed your family on the internet? Then these friends will lend their strength.’

‘Aha, you need a toy to play with for one night? Then I recommend this establishment.’

‘Oh my, the ‘product’ sold as a toy has an older brother hunting you down? Geez, we’re screwed.’

The work I’d done throughout my past life was dirty and sordid work that those who knew honor would never do.

To express it Japanese style, I was the Doraemon of the underworld that nobles favored.

‘And now, I’m earning money for the revolution.’

Not money received for wiping the power clans’ asses.

But money to stab those damned things in the back of the head.

Where in the world could there be such a joyful thing?

---

Splash. Splash.

The underground district of Hanseong where all sorts of Hanseong waste gathered.

Right above that trash heap existed a residential district with a relatively intact appearance.

Various lanterns illuminating the city in place of sunlight that didn’t penetrate even at noon.

Still-wet sticky rainwater and neon signs shining while fully soaked with that rainwater.

It was a crowded space no different from any bustling district, but this place was completely different from other residential districts positioned on the city’s upper levels.

And the biggest difference among them would be the people living here.

“Those Gwangdeok Trading bastards tried to screw me over. I had a feeling from when they first offered the job…!”

“So, so what did you do to that bastard?”

“He threatened to split the commission. So I split his head in half instead. Vertically.”

“Kuhahaha—!”

Clank. Clank—!

A man wearing a mechanical combat arm attached over a neat suit.

While a cyborg with a massive build no less impressive than such a man engaged in a standoff, an insane bastard with monomolecular cutters attached all over his body passed by.

This was the district right above the lowest level, the ‘Special Security Management District.’

Swordsmen, druggies, fences, smugglers.

Barbarians flowing in from Manchuria and sometimes even Japanese pirates crossing the West Sea.

This was the center of Joseon’s underground economy, built by such people gathered at Hanseong’s bottom.

In other words, ‘a neighborhood police don’t visit much.’

Whrrrr—

Along with the sound of the automatic door opening, cigarette smoke and alcohol smell rushed in.

‘Pyeongwoon Tavern’ in one corner of the Special Security Management District.

When a boy wearing black clothes entered inside, the gazes of seated customers all concentrated there at once.

“Kid.”

Following that, the bouncer Dolsoe guarding the entrance blocked the boy’s path.

Giant mechanical arms positioned on both arms.

Looking at the hydraulic devices and heavy armor plates, they were illegally modified construction artificial bodies.

“Haven’t seen your face before, and you don’t look like our customer. Did you take a wrong turn?”

“I came to meet the ‘proprietress.’ Please send word inside.”

Proprietress.

The moment he heard those words, the atmosphere of Dolsoe guarding the door changed drastically.

Thud—!

Dolsoe striking the floor once with his fist.

He glared at the boy while emitting chilling killing intent in streams.

“Get lost. Before I crush you face and all.”

“…”

The boy not moving without saying anything.

Confirming that, Dolsoe swung his fist at the boy’s face without hesitation.

A giant lump of metal that could turn a person into minced meat in an instant.

But the next moment.

“You swung first.”

Shhhlick—!

Along with a sharp cutting sound, the elbow of Dolsoe who’d been swinging his fist instantly fell away.

CRASH—!

The mechanical arm slammed into one side of the tavern with a roar.

Dolsoe, who’d frowned, could finally see the right arm of the boy who’d visited the tavern.

A mechanical arm made of precision-processed black armor plates and the curved sword held in that arm.

“I’ll say it once more.”

“…!”

The curved sword held in the boy’s hand pointed at Dolsoe’s neck.

A neck bone reinforced once by inserting artificial bone marrow.

But that black sword was something that could split that neck of his like tofu.

“Guide me to the proprietress. Right now. Otherwise.”

“Right, right. I’ll do as you say, so first put down the sword. Kid.”

A voice heard from inside the kitchen.

Along with a raspy voice, a middle-aged woman revealed herself from one side of the tavern.

“…”

Attire no different from an ordinary housewife.

But Mooyoung, who’d looked at her carefully, slowly lowered the sword pointing at Dolsoe’s neck.

An appearance that didn’t look dangerous at all, yet eyes scrutinizing him ominously in the midst of it.

Exactly as the Young Master had told him.

“Right. What business could you possibly have with me that you suddenly barge into my business and start swinging a sword? Hm?”

“The person I serve wishes to have a conversation with you.”

“The person you serve?”

Looking at the proprietress asking back like that, Mooyoung showed the object in his pocket.

An identity tag made of jade material.

A specially made item only Joseon’s power clans could use.

“…Well, well, a noble person has visited a shabby place.”

So that’s why Dolsoe unusually lost.

Having grasped the situation, the proprietress immediately spoke toward the customers remaining in the shop.

“Everyone out. I’ll have to close business today.”

At her single phrase, the customers exited the tavern without any objection.

What remained in the tavern that had bustled with people were only the proprietress, Dolsoe, and Mooyoung.

Confirming only the two remained, the proprietress crossed her arms and asked Mooyoung.

“So, what business does the noble young master of a power clan have calling rabble like us?”

Once she knew the other party’s status, she couldn’t be careless with even a single word.

When the proprietress who’d raised her speech level spoke like that, Mooyoung, who’d been silent for a moment, put his finger to his ear.

“Yes. Confirmed. I’ve subdued the security personnel and there are no watching eyes.”

An appearance seeming to communicate with somewhere.

And at that moment.

-Right, well done.

A voice flowed from beyond the communicator.

Judging by the tone, similar age to the brat who’d barged in here.

And at that moment, the surveillance cameras and recorders installed throughout the tavern all turned off at once.

‘All the electronic equipment?’

Was stalling at the door for this reason?

While thinking that—

The tavern’s automatic door opened and someone revealed themselves inside the building.

“As you said, this place is a bit too shabby for me to show my face directly.”

Unlike Mooyoung wearing black clothes, flashy attire styled mainly in blue.

A peculiarly light atmosphere flowing from his movements and even a ridiculous mask covering his face.

But the problem wasn’t that.

“Pyeongwoon Tavern proprietress, Park Bokja. Age 47. Hometown Jeonju, main criminal record murder, instigation of murder, attempted murder… what the hell, why did you kill so many people?”

Her personal information, criminal record, hometown, family relations.

An appearance rattling off sensitive information she hadn’t told anyone.

“…Our young master seems to have investigated very diligently?”

“Diligent my ass.”

People I know told me.

Hearing those words, the proprietress Park Bokja’s expression hardened.

That power clan aristocrat had already grasped all her weaknesses.

“What do you want?”

“What else would it be? Work.”

“Work?”

Having said that, the power clan’s young master, Changwoon, sent a pleased smile from beyond the mask he wore.

“Let’s do business together.”