Ervin began to float through the city, soaring over buildings and weaving between streets. He passed over avenues, through alleys, scanning every establishment below. But as he looked around, he quickly realized. He had no idea what he was searching for. The mission was to find the businesses owned by the Juhwang-pa, but there was nothing distinguishing them from any other shop. Everything looked perfectly normal.
*How am I supposed to find the businesses that the Juhwang-pa owns?* he thought, frustration creeping into his mental voice.
He floated along an avenue, peering into corners and alleyways. The mission felt tedious and much more complicated than he had anticipated. He had been hoping for something more straightforward, that would lead him directly to the answer. Instead, he was just drifting around, hoping to stumble upon something useful.
*What a boring mission,* he complained to himself. *This is so complicated. I don't even know how to complete it.*
He hovered in the middle of the avenue, looking around at the shops below. People were going about their daily business. On one side of the street, a phone accessory store was receiving a delivery of new stock — boxes of cases, chargers, and screen protectors. Across the road, another shop was getting a shipment of clothing. Everything seemed routine.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that made him pause.
In a small side alley, tucked away from the main street and partially hidden from view, there was a restaurant. And parked in front of it was an ice cream truck.
Ervin hovered in place, staring at the scene below.
*Why would a restaurant be receiving an ice cream delivery?* he wondered. *Restaurants don't typically sell ice cream from do they?"
He floated closer, his curiosity piqued. As he approached, he watched a man unloading boxes from the side of the truck. But they weren't the usual crates of ice cream — they were plain cardboard boxes, the kind used for general storage, so no branding was visible, which was odd.
Ervin studied the boxes carefully. And then he noticed something even weirder.
Ice cream boxes should have condensation on them from the cold storage. At the very least, they should feel damp or cold to the touch. But these boxes were completely dry. There was no moisture nor chill radiating from them. They looked like they had been sitting at room temperature for hours.
*That's weird,* Ervin thought, his eyes narrowing. *Ice cream doesn't stay frozen without proper refrigeration. Those boxes should be cold?*
He watched as the delivery man carried one of the boxes toward the restaurant entrance. The man moved with practiced ease. He didn't seem nervous or suspicious. Everything about his demeanor suggested this was a routine delivery.
Without anything better to do, Ervin floated closer, following him inside.
The restaurant was tucked into a narrow alley. The entrance was small, almost hidden from the main street. A casual passerby would probably miss it entirely. There was no sign out front, no menu board, nothing to attract customers.
*This restaurant isn't small, how can it survive in a location like this?* Ervin observed. *It would need to be on a busier street to attract enough customers. There's no foot traffic here. Who would even find this place?*
He looked around the interior. The restaurant was almost empty — a few people scattered at tables, but nothing like what a normal restaurant would have during business hours. The atmosphere was quiet. The staff that were present moved slowly, with little urgency.
The delivery man walked up to the counter, where a receptionist was waiting. The man placed the box on the counter and exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist.
"Good morning," the delivery man said. "Everything alright today?"
"Yes, yes," the receptionist replied. "Everything's fine. How are things on your end?"
"Busy as always. Here's the delivery."
The delivery man paused. His tone shifted slightly. When he spoke again, he emphasized the next words carefully, giving them extra weight:
"Enjoy your stock."
The receptionist paused as well, meeting the delivery man's gaze. Then he nodded, his voice carrying the same weight:
"Of course. 'I'll enjoy the stock.'"
The delivery man turned and walked out of the restaurant. Ervin watched him go.
Then he turned his attention back to the receptionist. The man picked up the box and began walking toward the back of the restaurant, carrying it carefully.
Ervin floated after him, following at a close distance.
The receptionist walked through the kitchen, past the cooking stations and storage shelves, until he reached what looked like a logistics room at the very back of the building. The room was filled with food supplies, stacks of paperwork, and old receipts. A large metal desk sat in the center, covered in ledgers and files.
The receptionist placed the box on the desk and opened it.
Ervin's eyes widened.
Inside the box, instead of ice cream, there was money. Stacks and stacks of cash. Bundles of won, neatly wrapped with paper bands.
The receptionist began pulling out the bundles, stacking them on the desk. He didn't seem surprised or nervous. This was clearly a routine operation for him. He counted the bundles quickly, then started feeding them into a standard checkout register, the kind used at grocery stores and markets.
But he wasn't ringing up any actual purchases. He was logging fake transactions. Marking down items that didn't exist, creating paper trails for money that had never been legitimately earned.
*This is how they launder money,* Ervin realized, his mind racing. *The ice cream trucks are a cover. They deliver cash to these businesses, and the businesses funnel it through fake purchases. The money gets recorded as legitimate income, and the Juhwang-pa takes their cut!*
He watched as the receptionist worked, methodically processing the cash. The man was efficient, clearly experienced. He knew what he was doing.
Ervin floated back toward the exit, his excitement building.
*I need to follow that truck and see where it goes next!*
He rushed outside — but the truck was already pulling away. It was at the end of the avenue.
Ervin shot after it, flying as fast as he could. He had to concentrate intensely to keep the truck in sight, weaving through buildings and over rooftops. The truck wasn't moving particularly fast, but Ervin still had to push himself to keep up.
He followed it as it wound through the streets, making its way across the city. After several minutes, the truck pulled up in front of another establishment — a small bar, tucked away on a side street.
*Same routine,* Ervin thought.
He watched as the delivery man got out, carrying another identical box. He walked inside and approached the counter, where another receptionist was waiting.
"Good morning," the delivery man said. "Enjoy your stock."
"I'll enjoy the stock," the receptionist replied.
Ervin followed the box inside. Same procedure. The receptionist carried it to a back room, opened it, and began counting stacks of cash. He fed the bills into a register, logging fake purchases.
*Yes! That's it. That's exactly what's happening.*
He floated back outside and waited for the truck to move again.
This time, he was ready. He followed the truck to a third location — a small convenience store. Same routine. "Enjoy your stock." "I'll enjoy the stock." Cash delivered, and the receptionist logged fake purchases.
A fourth location — a modest restaurant, barely visible from the street. Same routine.
A fifth location — a small electronics shop. Same routine.
By the time the truck finished its route, Ervin had counted five establishments in total. Each one followed the same pattern. Each one received a delivery of cash disguised as something else. And allof them laundered the money through fake transactions.
He hovered in the air, processing what he had just witnessed.
*Each crate around holds around 5 million won,* he estimated. *And there were about twenty crates in that truck. That means each delivery run is moving roughly 100 million won!*
The number staggered him.
*That's insane. These guys are making serious money. And this is just one truck. There could be more trucks running at other times. There could be dozens of establishments across the city receiving these deliveries.*
He thought about the timing. He had found this truck later in the morning. That truck might have delivered more crates earlier in the day, and there could be more trucks making deliveries at other hours. This was just a fraction of the overall operation.
*I'm going to need to investigate more thoroughly. Maybe start earlier in the day, catch the trucks at the beginning of their routes. I need to know how many trucks there are, how many establishments, how much money is really flowing through this network. This is just the tip of the iceberg.*
But then another thought struck him, interrupting his calculations.
*huh... Where is this money coming from?*
He paused, hovering in midair.
*This cash doesn't appear out of nowhere. It has to come from somewhere. could it be... the central safe they keep the money?*
He looked back at the truck. It was beginning to move again. Ervin glanced Han Joon-seong, he was about 80% done with his workout at the gym. There wasn't much point in going back now — he would just be hovering around, watching himself exercise. So he sent a mental command to Auto Pilot so when he finished the workout, Han Joon-seong was to go home and wait. There was no need for Ervin to be there for that.
Ervin focused back on the truck. He followed it as it finished its route and began heading in a new direction — deeper into the city, toward the center.
*It's heading toward the wealthy district,* he observed.
He felt a prickle of unease. His Intuition was starting to hum — a light anxiety. He couldn't tell exactly what was wrong, but something about this direction felt dangerous.
Still, he pressed on.
The truck wove through the streets, passing through increasingly upscale neighborhoods. The buildings grew taller, more polished. The people on the streets were better dressed, more affluent. This was the part of the city where the wealthy lived and worked.
Ervin's unease grew.
As the truck approached its destination, he saw more trucks. Several of them. All identical to the one he had been following. They were parked outside a large warehouse, a massive industrial structure tucked away behind a row of shops.
The trucks pulled into the warehouse, one by one, disappearing inside.
Ervin floated closer but didn't enter. Instead, he hovered above the warehouse, looking around. His eyes scanned the area, trying to understand what he was seeing.
And then he froze.
Right next to the warehouse, towering over it, was a massive building. Tall, imposing, with government insignia displayed prominently on its facade. It was a building he recognized — a building that everyone in the city would recognize.
City Hall.
Ervin stared at the building, then back at the warehouse. The trucks were coming here — to a warehouse right next to City Hall. The nerve center of the city's government.
There wasn't much of a connection between both, but the trucks that were delivering dirty money coming so close to the City Hall, the enemy territory, was amking a knot form in Ervin's chest.
His mind raced through the implications.
*Either the Juhwang-pa is operating right under the government's nose, or... They have someone in the government?*
He stared at the building, the rot in Busan, it seemed, went far deeper than he had anticipated