Chapter 64

Steve spoke in a calm voice.

“Are you scared?”

“What?”

“I asked if you were scared.”

“Of you?”

“No.”

Steve spoke in a calm voice.

“I asked if you’re scared of money.”

“…!”

Steve’s question made Mason frown.

Mason grew up in a world without money. A world where everyone could get what they wanted. In a world where desire itself was the greatest resource.

The emotions Mason felt about money were unfamiliarity, burden, and… fear.

Countless people had been corrupted by money and ruined by being abandoned by it. There was a definite anxiety within Mason that he too might be swayed by money.

Just like Steve was seeing through him now.

“Are you afraid of money? Are you afraid of what money might do, and are you afraid of getting used to it?”

“Money is…”

Mason said in a calm voice.

“…Money changes people.”

Steve laughed heartily.

“What a child!”

“…What?”

“Money is just a number. There’s no reason to be afraid of it.”

Mason countered.

“You came to me because of money, didn’t you? You’re trying to acquire patent rights instead of sharing information because of money?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Steve asked with a smile.

“Let me ask you one thing. Then how valuable do you think sharing information is? No, how many people do you think will be able to use the information shared that way?”

“…!”

“There are at most a hundred companies that can actually put core knowledge into practical use. Even research labs that can do research itself only exist in developed countries. The ‘everyone’ you’re talking about is fewer than you think.”

Mason was speechless. His words were a counterattack rather than a rebuttal.

“Even they wouldn’t be able to properly utilize it if you had the patent rights.”

“No, they’ll utilize it. They have money. They’ll use it even if they have to pay you royalties.”

“In the end, wouldn’t I be the only one benefiting?”

“Yes.”

Steve spread his arms and laughed.

“And you’ll be able to use the money. For good things!”

“…!”

Steve spoke in an admonishing tone.

“If you deal with me, you’ll be able to make at least fifty million dollars in profit. That’s enough money to train a thousand low-level players in developing countries. If you’re going to spread the money anyway, wouldn’t that be more efficient?”

“…”

“Money is just a number. Power in numbers, a tool that people use. Want to do warm things? Want to make money flow with blood? Then earn money. Whether it’s cold work or dirty work, earn money and use it for beautiful and warm things.”

Mason hesitated.

It wasn’t because his words were right or wrong.

It was a matter before that.

Conviction.

An unshakeable conviction was embedded in his words.

Something that Mason didn’t have.

“I…”

When Mason couldn’t answer, Yekaterina placed her hand on his shoulder.

“It seems Mason needs time to consider the offer.”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Miss Yekaterina. Forgive my bluntness, but… I remember we have a debt regarding the military satellite, don’t we?”

“That’s a debt between me and the Freemasons, not between Mason and you. He needs time, so give him time.”

Steve’s gaze was as sharp as ever. Yekaterina spoke calmly.

“And don’t worry. I’m not foolish enough to ruin the amicable relationship between us over a mere fifty million dollars.”

“…Alright.”

Steve moved his feet.

“Call me tomorrow.”

Even after Steve walked out, Mason couldn’t speak for a long time.

Power!

His thoughts and arguments were filled with overbearing power. Violence that would trample and crush like a piece of wood in front of a steam locomotive if one tried to confront it with meager moral arguments.

The power of the argument itself was surprising, but even more surprising was the barbarity that allowed him to make such an argument.

Faced with the barbaric greed of humans that 28th-century humanity had left behind in the past, Mason could only be speechless.

Yekaterina sat next to him.

She gestured to the bartender, and the bartender, with practiced hands, prepared a drink and placed it on the bar table.

Yekaterina drank the amber liquid as if to wet the tip of her lips, and exhaled the alcohol with a low breath.

There was a long silence.

However, Yekaterina didn’t say anything.

Like a parent watching a child trying to stand on their own two feet, she only quietly wet her lips until Mason opened his mouth.

How much time had passed?

“…Is he right?”

Mason muttered incoherently.

“…Is what he said right?”

Yekaterina spoke calmly, looking straight ahead.

“It’s the logic of the victor.”

It was the logic of those who had won, the logic of those who could win, and the logic that one must adopt if one wanted to win.

“It’s also the orthodoxy of this era.”

“Then…”

Mason hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Then…”

Countless thoughts were flashing through his mind. Thoughts he had never had before, thoughts he had never even considered, were chaining together and shaking Mason.

But in the end, after all the anguish had melted away, what remained was a single question.

“…Should I do the same?”

Yekaterina said quietly.

“Want to go get some fresh air?”

Having lost Seoul, Gwangju was becoming another ‘Seoul’. As a shelter and home for countless people, it was becoming a jewel of South Korea along with Daegu, the administrative and economic capital.

Looking at the Yeongsan River flowing through it, countless people have been reminded of the Han River.

It wasn’t Seoul, nor was it the Han River, but the countless people who had lost their hometown were treating it like Seoul, like the Han River.

That night, two people were walking the streets of that place.

They were walking through the bustling streets of Gwangju.

The queen of pseudo-humans and the superhuman, the woman from the past and the man from the future, were walking.

“The night air is chilly.”

It was already the threshold of autumn. The air was alternating between coolness and chill.

Yekaterina held out her hand to Mason, and Mason took her hand.

It was small and soft. And warm.

The two of them walked, sharing only their body heat.

Until they reached the banks of the Yeongsan River.

In the darkness of the night, the river flowed like ink. Only the occasional streetlight reflected on the surface of the water, sparkling like vermillion scales.

Yekaterina stood with her back to the riverbank.

The river breeze ruffled her hair, and the moonlight bathed her. The queen of pseudo-humans opened her mouth calmly.

“It was a question you had to hear someday. A question you have to answer someday.”

“What answer should I give?”

“There’s nothing I can tell you.”

Yekaterina spoke as if confessing.

“Because… I’m the same.”

She too had lived in an era of violence and barbarity. No, considering that Yekaterina was an ancient, she would have lived in an era even more violent and barbaric.

“Then, is what he said the orthodoxy?”

“Yes, at least in this era.”

What flashed before Mason’s eyes was Liza.

The image of her calmly confiding in him.

Liza too couldn’t escape the dangerous logic of the jungle. Despite being devoured as the weak, no, precisely because she was devoured as the weak, she was even more bound to the wheel of malice and hatred.

How could those who were devoured because they were weak deny the words that only becoming strong would set them free?

“Despite it being the logic that torments you?”

“Yes.”

Yekaterina looked at Mason.

“But… I’m dreaming.”

“Of what?”

“Of the moment I meet someone with a different answer. Someone who can free my people from the shackles of the jungle.”

“Do you hope that’s me?”

“It could be. It could not be.”

Yekaterina smiled.

“But I wish it was you, Mason.”

“Why?”

“Because if I wait for someone else, I’ll become a wrinkled old woman.”

Mason looked at Yekaterina.

She was a realistic person. Someone who had gone through enough pain and sorrow. That Yekaterina was looking at Mason.

With eyes full of expectation, a gentle smile, she was facing Mason.

Knowing that it was an emotion that only Mason could see, Mason felt his heart ache.

‘…I want to grant it.’

He wanted to respond to that wish.

‘…I want to save her.’

He wanted to set Liza free.

And above all… he wanted to wipe that smug look off Steve’s face.

Mason closed his eyes slowly.

๑ஓ๑๑ஓ๑๑ஓ๑๑ஓ๑๑ஓ๑๑ஓ๑

In their previous meeting, Steve had been waiting and Mason had come to him.

And this time, Mason was sitting and Steve knocked on the door.

“Mason.”

“Steve.”

Steve sat next to Mason.

“Are you ready to give me a good answer?”

“Yes, though I’m not sure if it’s an answer you’ll like.”

“Oh?”

Steve tapped the table and the bartender, with practiced hands, brought out a glass of liquor.

Steve spoke, holding the glass.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“I won’t sell the Warlord Core.”

Steve shrugged.

He didn’t seem particularly disappointed.

He asked with a smile.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like what you said.”

Steve chuckled. It was a sneer.

“I was a fool to try to do business with a child.”

Steve put down his glass with a look of disinterest.

Mason opened his mouth.

“You said money is just a tool, right? Just a tool that people use. You said it’s people who make money flow with blood, right?”

“I did. I definitely said that.”

Steve looked at Mason with an expression that was half-amused, half-intrigued.

“Do you have something to say about that?”

“Then isn’t it also people who make blood flow because of money?”

“…?”

“You told me to use money warmly. That if I use the money well and create a thousand players, I could save a poor country. No, you’re wrong.”

Mason looked at Steve.

“It would be more accurate to say that poor countries were abandoned because of money. It means that there are over a thousand people in just one country who couldn’t even get the chance to become players because of cold economic logic.”

The image of Sung Kijun flashed before Mason’s eyes.

The holy knight who turned his back on Room 301, which he didn’t enter, and lowered his head with a bitter expression.

“Things that must be done, however difficult, must be done.”

The image of Liza flashed before Mason’s eyes.

The figure of the half-burned goddess statue screaming unheard in the flames.

“Things that shouldn’t be done, however trivial, shouldn’t be done.”

Mason clenched his fists.

“Money blurs that line. Just like you’re trying to calculate things you shouldn’t.”

“What’s that?”