Ch.572Chapter 22. The Price of Labor (4)

Labor, work, tasks.

I hate to mention it, but there is hierarchy in labor.

Just as society was divided into scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants since the Joseon Dynasty, society views some professions favorably and looks down on others.

The modern era is no different.

No, it’s even worse.

In this age where capitalism has become the fundamental ideology guiding the world, the age of superpowers changes nothing.

But some things never change.

“Prices keep rising but my salary doesn’t increase!!”

The labor demanded of individuals and its compensation.

Waking up at dawn every day, spending 1-2 hours on buses and subways to commute, sitting at the office before 9 AM to prepare for work, enduring all kinds of abuse from superiors until 6 PM, and working overtime so consistently that you can’t remember the last time you left work on time.

“Kim, shall we have a drink tonight?!”

Following overtime, the unpaid duty of listening to your drunk department head ramble about his wife and daughter (no extra pay).

After working diligently at least 9 hours every weekday—sometimes even on weekends—the result is:

“Did I really work this hard just to receive this?”

Everyone feels this way.

I too was once one of those people, back when I was just a reader.

Now I receive enormous sums as activity fees and dignity maintenance allowances as an executive of the Syndicate, but there was a time when I shared the same feelings as those angry protesters.

[I’m so angry I can’t sleep. Absolutely.]

Here I am, spending my precious weekend at the plaza shouting and using my limited time, while others make money from it?

“Those who called me a commie in the comments were all Haeguneul leeches! You filthy bastards!!”

“This is hell! Some people spend over 500,000 won on hair loss treatment due to stress, while others effortlessly earn 5 million won just for sitting around!”

5 million.

Anyone working as an employee in society would be shocked by that enormous amount.

“I make coffee at Haeguneul all day for 2 million, while someone gets 5 million for bleeding people dry!! And that’s…!”

“Is that even a reasonable take-home pay, you jerks?!”

It’s absolute chaos.

And understandably so.

In this capitalist world.

The thing people consider most wasteful and meaningless is the “tax” that leaves their wallets.

Everyone knows perfectly well that taxes are the foundation of society and the nation, but human nature makes us wish that rich people would pay more while we pay less.

‘I know it well.’

The national pension that you must pay without knowing when you’ll receive benefits, the health insurance deducted monthly even though you rarely visit hospitals, long-term care insurance, or local education taxes listed on your pay stub—seeing these makes you feel like your labor’s compensation is being stripped away. It’s human nature.

Even if it feels bad, taxes apply equally to everyone, so it’s somewhat acceptable.

But what if that’s not the case?

“If it’s 5 million monthly after taxes, damn, these leeches must be making 80-90 million annually!”

“Add in bribes and allowances, and they’re making at least 100 million a year! Crazy! Take my blood first!!”

People’s anger reaches the ceiling of Haeguneul headquarters.

That same anger must be boiling inside Haeguneul headquarters as well.

-This is the electrician.

Crackle.

A message arrived on my Taegeuk Watch.

-Internal conflict occurring in Haeguneul headquarters security room. Dispute about whether we should join them too.

[Even Haeguneul employees would be angry, so contractors would naturally be furious.]

It’s not just outsiders who are enraged by Haeguneul’s wrongdoings(?).

Inside Haeguneul.

People working under stress from the so-called “higher-ups” at Haeguneul headquarters.

They too must be seething at the mention of 5 million take-home pay.

Whether working inside Haeguneul headquarters or holding a Haeguneul employee ID, it’s all the same.

As a result, they’re reluctant to defend against external anger directed at Haeguneul.

Just like now.

“Let’s go! I can’t stand this anymore!!”

“Choi Ho-jung, come out!! Explain yourself!!”

“Were you paying these leeches’ salaries with money extorted from franchisees during remodeling?!”

The angry crowd moves toward Haeguneul headquarters.

Riot police block the protesters’ path in case of potential incidents, but the expressions on individual officers’ faces are far from pleased.

They probably want to join the protest themselves.

But.

‘I’ll pass on bloodshed.’

What we want is to raise our voices against Haeguneul and denounce them, not cause riots like those that happened in America.

Arson and looting disguised as riots are villain activities.

What the Syndicate wants is public opinion turning against Haeguneul and cold anger, not the collapse of this country.

Even if Haeguneul holds a self-destruct switch that could ruin the entire nation.

Thump thump thump.

Suspicious men in black suits emerged from Haeguneul headquarters.

Those blocking the front of the headquarters each gripped suspicious batons, with the blackened exteriors revealing a bronze gleam inside.

“What are those things?!”

Whoosh.

Blue light flashes from inside the batons.

It’s clearly the “light of magical power,” distinctly different from LED light.

“Th-that…!”

Superhumans.

Among the superhumans employed by Haeguneul, unlike the execution squad, there are those registered as heroes but who mainly work for Haeguneul.

“Ugh…”

As soon as they appeared, the protesters had no choice but to lower their raised fists.

Though only about twenty appeared, those superhumans in sunglasses and black suits have the ability to “subdue” the crowd whether it numbers thousands or tens of thousands.

Though they appear human, they’re like cutting-edge tanks standing in front of the building.

That too is the power of capitalism.

Force.

Just as China spent 5 trillion to exclusively employ an S-class hero, Haeguneul likewise used money to hire superhumans.

“Cowardly using superhumans…!”

Just before the clash, the anger gradually subsides.

Of course, the anger doesn’t disappear—it’s just that the threat to their lives sends chills down their spines.

[The justification is established.]

If ordinary Haeguneul security guards had emerged, it might have been different.

Among the protesters, there might be people who used to be athletic, or who know the security guards through mutual connections.

But superhumans are different.

Whether the ones guarding Haeguneul’s entrance are E-class or D-class, even athletic ordinary people cannot defeat “magical power.”

Therefore.

[A superhuman must step in.]

-Are you going?

[Yes.]

I looked myself over from head to toe.

My reflection in the stainless steel pipes on the rooftop showed the typical image of a “scholar.”

[It’s a bit inconvenient that it’s not black, but this color.]

The white clothes called sobok feel somewhat awkward.

Fortunately, I have a dopo (traditional overcoat), and fortunately, I have a gat (traditional hat).

And the mask on my face, though made with magical power and covering my entire face, differs from ordinary masks.

Unlike the mechanical-looking mask, this one resembles a wooden mask you might find as a souvenir in Hahoe Village.

And.

[This should be enough.]

I gripped the daegeum flute.

Holding this instrument typically seen in traditional Korean music performances, I lightly tapped the daegeum against my palm.

[Let’s see…]

I checked my reflection in the stainless steel once more.

Below the mask, my face is slightly visible.

Though the lower part of my face is covered, my eyes and mouth are slightly visible through the gaps in the mask.

When I was Goblin, the villain executioner, the mask covered my entire face and head, but now it’s completely different.

[Yes. This is Goblin. Starting project ‘Sun Drying’.]

Now it’s time to act not as the Syndicate’s Goblin, but as the people’s rod of justice.

[Bringing the light of justice to the children of darkness who live behind curtains, to those who hide behind shadows.]

After standing on the railing.

[Operation, begin.]

After covering my sleeve with an arm warmer to hide the Syndicate watch, I landed right in front of the protesters.

BOOM!

Landing with a thunderous sound.

And naturally, that posture—

‘A scholar does not kneel.’

Touching the ground with one foot first, then standing on both feet in front of Haeguneul headquarters’ main entrance, making the dopo flutter.

“W-what?!”

“Th-that…? A scholar…?”

Anyone would recognize a scholar.

Wearing white clothes, holding a daegeum flute, face covered with a mask—unmistakably a scholar.

Whoosh!

A baton flies toward me.

Crackling magical power and electricity shoot out to subdue me immediately.

CLANG!

I struck the head of the Haeguneul agent who was about to swing the baton with my daegeum.

“Kuhek!”

Though no blood appears, a tremendous shock wave erupts as I hit his head.

One strike.

An unidentified scholar who instantly subdued a superhuman, albeit D-class.

“W-who are you?!”

The answer:

“It’s Scholar Mask!”

I let the citizens’ words speak for me.

And my action is just one:

To gather the crowd’s anger into this daegeum and swing it.

CLANG!!

I threw the fallen superhuman toward the main entrance of Haeguneul headquarters.

CRASH!

As the glass door of the headquarters shattered, I leisurely entered with my daegeum.

[Justice.]

Precisely.

[Execution.]

Scholar Mask.

The Haeguneul Breaker.

A villain from Haeguneul’s perspective, but righteous in everyone’s eyes.

The Goblin who doesn’t kill people.

The Non-lethal Scholar.

[I won’t kill. I won’t.]