Ch.583Chapter 22. The Price of Labor (15)

Labor should be rewarded.

It’s natural for humans to work for compensation, and in a capitalist society, one should obviously be paid for their work.

Forcing labor without proper compensation violates labor laws.

Of course, these laws are rarely followed to the letter, but companies still make some effoooort to stay within the guidelines as long as the law exists.

“Everyone’s voluntarily working overtime today too!”

Manager Kwon said.

“I think I’ll be staying until around 9 PM, so if you have anything to do, feel free to bring it.”

When a department head works until 9 PM, how could a regular employee leave precisely at 6 PM?

“Um, sir. I think I need to leave now…”

“Oh, is it 8 already? Time flies. Go ahead. I still have work to do.”

“……”

Manager Kwon was actually decent compared to others.

“Everyone, just being able to work in an office during these harsh times is a blessing.”

After Manager Kwon left, the new Manager Lee who replaced him was even worse.

“While others are carrying heavy loads at construction sites in this cold weather, aren’t you all sitting comfortably in a warm office? Come on, get back to work.”

Our company work involves computers—where else would we do it?

Every time I heard him comparing our work to others, treating labor as some kind of joy, I almost blurted out, “Try saying that while earning my salary.”

And then.

“Why do you need compensation for overtime?”

There was the ultimate boss.

“Look, you’re working overtime because you lack ability. See that manager over there? He works efficiently and leaves on time. If you’re staying late, that’s your own deficiency. Did you serve in the military? Did you drag things out like this there too?”

There are probably many other types of managers out there.

But what they all have in common is their claim that labor provides the greatest joy.

Fulfillment.

Thinking about it now—actually, I thought this even then—it’s such a malicious framing.

Finding fulfillment in work?

Can humans really find fulfillment in work?

Yes, they can.

In this world, after becoming a powered individual and joining The Syndicate, I began to find fulfillment in my work.

When you reach the stage of “enjoying work,” labor can’t be unpleasant anymore.

Even if it involves situations that make me uncomfortable to talk about.

“Manager Do. When you transform into a Rider, let’s add a transformation sound!”

When I first arrived at Sejong Island.

When I was about to debut with a new concept instead of Goblin, Taotie made a suggestion that wasn’t really a suggestion.

“How can you be a Rider without a transformation sound? Oh, are you uncomfortable because you have a female voice? I’ll use a voice changer!”

Taotie was serious about Riders.

Partly because he was an otaku, partly because he was more interested in Japanese culture than other executives, but mostly because he genuinely wanted it.

Embarrassing?

Maybe a little.

It wasn’t a planned situation, and Taotie would shout in real-time to match my movements, which was awkward in many ways.

I was worried that my boss’s hobby and fandom might make things weird.

But.

“How about paying you ten million won each time you make a transformation sound? I can pay it from my side?”

Money is always right.

Labor should be rewarded, and humans only find fulfillment in work when the “compensation” is satisfactory.

The world looks brighter and life feels fulfilling only when money steadily accumulates in your bank account. What meaning is there if your account is empty?

Everyone wants to earn more money through their labor.

Everyone wants to spend less money.

However.

“Guys, did you just see the Taeguk Watch app? lol”

When the opposite happens.

“Haeguneul headquarters exploded so my salary didn’t come in, but my credit card payment went out—how does that make sense?!”

Forget fulfillment—rage explodes.

“Go, Seonbital! Blow up all the Haeguneul branch offices too!!”

People are searching.

For someone who will wield their anger for them.

But Seonbital didn’t appear.

It’s been three days since the Haeguneul headquarters building froze at a 74-degree tilt.

During those three days, people suppressed their boiling anger and returned to their daily lives.

Hoping that Seonbital would appear again and turn the world upside down.

* * *

“What a mess this is. Everyone’s looking for you. But what are you doing right now?”

“Breathing.”

Lying in bed, I answered Baek Seol-hee.

“Yes, of course you’re breathing. But what are you doing? Don’t you see all those people walking around outside wearing Seonbital masks?”

“Is that a problem?”

“They’re protesting.”

“As long as they don’t act like hooligans. As long as they don’t do anything that tarnishes Seonbital’s image.”

The streets are filled with people wearing Seonbital masks.

Middle-aged men in suits, young women in factory jackets—all wearing Seonbital masks.

“They’re just walking around peacefully. They’re just wearing masks, that’s all.”

Fashion? Protest? Probably both, but they’re simply going about their daily lives while wearing masks.

For one reason.

It’s an expression of anger toward Haeguneul, and simultaneously, citizens’ spontaneous action to protect Seonbital.

“Look, there are actual ‘scholars’ walking by.”

Young people in colorful traditional robes walk down the street, wearing Seonbital masks with traditional hats.

Their footwear varies—sneakers, dress shoes, all kinds—but they all share the concept of Seonbital masks and traditional robes.

Beep beep beep!!

Police officers blow their whistles.

The young people stop in place, and the police sigh as they point their Taeguk Watches at them.

“Checking identification. Are you Seonbital?”

“No, I’m Patrick.”

“……”

“I’m Scholar Patrick. It’s just cosplay.”

“Sigh… Seonbital is technically a ‘terrorist,’ you know. For now, at least.”

Currently,

Seonbital is classified as a terrorist.

No matter how wrong Haeguneul was, the fact that Seonbital beat people with a staff at Haeguneul headquarters and fled ignoring the heroes’ instructions became a major issue.

“Why is Seonbital a villain? He’s a hero who delivered justice to Haeguneul!”

“But he’s an unregistered powered individual, right?”

“Ah.”

“It’s like driving without a license even if you were driving to save someone. That’s the law.”

From the beginning, this country classifies anyone not registered with the Hero Association as a villain.

While public sentiment might view them as heroes rather than villains, legally, they’re classified as villains just like Goblin.

And citizens are wearing the mask of such a villain.

Voluntarily, without anyone telling them to.

“They’re not committing any crimes, are they? At least not right now?”

“So you’re just going to lie here? The entire country is in an uproar looking for Seonbital.”

“They’re not looking for me, they’re looking for the Haeguneul chairman and the Choi family.”

Currently, all executives of the Haeguneul Group have disappeared.

“They’re searching. When they find them, I’ll move immediately.”

More precisely, they’ve all gone into hiding.

Although arrest warrants haven’t been issued yet, the executives have vacated their homes and haven’t shown up for work since before the headquarters attack.

From the moment leeches emerged from Hwanghae Province, or even earlier when the fire broke out at Haeguneul Plastic Surgery in Seoul, they vanished.

“Maybe they’re calling for Seonbital because they can’t assault the Haeguneul executives themselves, so they want me to handle it instead.”

“So, will you go after them as soon as they’re found? Fly straight from Busan?”

“Not flying, I’ll go on horseback.”

“Really committed to the scholar concept, huh.”

Baek Seol-hee chuckled as she fingered the Seonbital mask hanging on the wall.

“Or did you always plan to live this way? Not as Goblin, but as this scholar.”

“Who knows.”

If I had Goblin’s powers but wasn’t affiliated with The Syndicate.

If I hesitated to kill people, then maybe.

The life of a righteous hero recognized by people is something every human yearns for—a romantic ideal.

“But you know what? It’s not just citizens looking for Seonbital. Haeguneul people are also walking around wearing Seonbital masks.”

“……”

Among the ordinary citizens on the streets.

Suspicious powered individuals in suits wearing Seonbital masks are walking around, scanning people.

“What are you looking at?!”

“Haeguneul or Seonbital?”

“Just a person!”

“Excuse me.”

They’re pretending to look for Haeguneul people or the original Seonbital while patrolling the streets.

“And it’s not just Haeguneul. Those guys are out there too.”

On the streets, there are occasionally people wearing masks other than Seonbital’s.

Is it because Seonbital masks are sold out, causing a shortage, so they’re wearing different masks?

Not at all.

“Hwalbindang is looking for you.”

Those are Hwalbindang members.

“People think you’re part of Hwalbindang. More specifically, that you left Hwalbindang to act independently. That you broke ties with the Hwalbindang that allied with Haeguneul, and now you’re operating alone as the ‘righteous Hwalbindang.'”

“Everyone’s easily fooled.”

While citizens, the Hero Association, Haeguneul, and Hwalbindang are all looking for ‘Seonbital’…

“Then, shall we make the situation even more chaotic? I just got a call. The Tavern Owner found one in Yeosu.”

“How?”

“They checked into an unmanned motel operated by The Syndicate.”

“……”

“Ms. Baek Seol-hee.”

I have only one job.

“Let’s go to the motel.”

To move only when the information is certain, and find and beat down the Haeguneul executives scattered across the country.

“On our way to Yeosu, do you want to ride a bike, or a horse?”

I made a Seonbital mask and handed it to Baek Seol-hee.

“I don’t care either way.”

Baek Seol-hee pressed the Seonbital mask onto her face and grinned.

“We’re staying overnight, not just for a few hours, right?”