# Chapter 5
Iyeon’s gaze fixed on the page that loaded quickly. Staring intently at Chageum’s quarterly performance section while scrolling down with the mouse wheel, he paused momentarily at the end of the page.
Then he scrolled back to the beginning and read it carefully.
Only after scrolling up and down several times did reality gradually sink in. His pale eyes lost their focus as he confronted the unbelievable truth.
One of the missions had not been completed.
No, to be precise, a mission that had been accepted was marked as automatically forfeited due to missing the deadline and had been transferred to another company.
But Iyeon clearly remembered that he had already completed this mission. Could this be a system error? He even recalled the details precisely. It involved capturing an 8th-grade mutant and handing it over, and after capturing it, he had only asked Hyegang to take care of the transfer…
“…”
That’s not like him. Though thinking this, Iyeon quietly picked up his phone. His business partner’s number was at the very top of his contacts, easy to find. The faint sound of the call connecting leaked into the silent office. After a moment, a cheerful voice appeared.
[The person you are calling is unavailable. Please leave a message.]
“…”
The result was the same even after calling two or three times. He knew his partner wasn’t sensitive enough to wake up and answer calls, but he couldn’t stop dialing.
The quarterly performance deadline was the day after tomorrow. Considering that even the lowest-grade missions sometimes took over a week to complete, applying today would already be cutting it close. It would be great if this was just a system error, but if not, they would fail to meet their quota. He had waited for his lazy partner to get in touch, but if the mission hadn’t been completed due to their mistake, they would only accumulate penalties.
In that case, it would be more rational to assume it wasn’t a system error and go complete a mission right away. If they managed to do it within the timeframe, great, and if not, it would just roll over to next quarter’s performance.
He knew that, but still.
‘Additional work?’
He didn’t want to be that diligent. Having to do now what could be started a couple of days later seemed absurd. As Iyeon, trying to escape reality, frantically tapped his screen, his contact history grew increasingly desperate. But you never know. Maybe his partner would wake up right now, which would be perfect… A thread of hope moved his fingers.
Unfortunately, no miracle occurred.
“We should hurry.”
Sano’s voice broke through Iyeon’s mental state, which had progressed from denial and anger through bargaining to depression. The man, deeply sunk into the backrest with his arms crossed, muttered as if taunting, but Iyeon was so overwhelmed by the immense challenge of additional work that he had no energy to respond.
Standing blankly with a face that looked like his world was collapsing, Iyeon finally accepted reality. When he reluctantly accessed the announcement page, sure enough, only a few pathetic missions remained.
Most were thankless, tedious, and barely paid anything. It was a list that the usual Iyeon would never have bothered with. That was natural. Iyeon always completed his quarterly missions with plenty of time to spare!
“Just pick one quickly.”
Once a mission was applied for, the record remained even if canceled, so it was better to choose carefully. As he struggled to pick the least terrible among the remaining garbage missions, the person next to him was nagging without understanding his feelings. Wait, I need time to think… While muttering this, Iyeon suddenly realized.
Right now, beside him was the unpaid worker Je Sano.
The number one ranked cheat key.
There was no need to be picky. It would be extravagant to spend too much time deliberating with a Mugunghwa 5th-tier offering to help with his superpower. With his brain at a standstill, Iyeon clicked on a random mission. Soon, a notification arrived on his phone saying the mission application process was complete. In a neighborhood where mutant response took highest priority, administrative work at least moved swiftly.
“Let’s go.”
After scanning the location guide, Iyeon got up and grabbed the large sling bag that had been hanging on the rack. Putting his goggles around his neck and nodding, Sano, who had been quietly watching, rose slowly.
For a mission applied for without even reading its contents, the location was quite close. It was near a residential area, but since the mutant-related missions Iyeon could handle were extremely low in danger, there was little concern for human casualties.
With light steps, he headed toward the nearby subway station, but Sano, who had been following silently, quickly became irritated.
“How far are we going?”
As always, he had as much patience as an ant’s teardrop.
“No, the subway…”
Iyeon’s voice, which had started confidently, quickly trailed off.
“…I was going to take it.”
This guy… He does know what a subway is, right?
Since his home and office were close, Iyeon hadn’t bought a separate car. As for missions, well, he could take public transport and if he got too tired, he could take a taxi… That was more economical too. Weren’t the city’s facilities famous for their sturdiness and safety?
Chohosi had building and facility design approval standards several times stricter than other regions to ensure citizens’ safety. The area that received the most funding was public transportation—not just the underground stations, but all the bus stops in the city were enclosed in transparent boxes that required opening doors to enter.
They say the mutant appearance alert system was well-established, and the exterior materials used for facilities were incomparably more expensive and sturdier than those in other regions. During disaster evacuation drills, subway stations and bus stops were designated as recommended evacuation areas. Due to the high importance of facility distribution, the distance between subway stations and bus stops, as well as service intervals, were similar to those in the metropolitan area.
There was no reason not to use such safe and convenient facilities. In a city where public transportation was this impressively developed, while paying that much in taxes—Chohosi collected lower taxes on superhuman income compared to other regions, but it still took a lot! There’s a reason they could build as many facilities as the metropolitan area with less than half its population—not using public facilities would be a waste of income.
However, that applied to low-tier superhumans like Iyeon or ordinary people. High-tier superhumans who were confident in their own safety preferred private vehicles. It made sense. No matter how fast, public transportation couldn’t be more convenient than a personal car.
Thinking about it that way, Je Sano, who could win and return alive even if dropped alone and naked into a battlefield, might not even know of the existence of public transportation. Iyeon, having underestimated Sano’s common sense, cautiously gauged his reaction.
“There’s this thing called the subway…”
Noticing the strong aura of disdain, Sano’s gaze grew cold. However, instead of explaining, Sano took action.
His thick arm wrapped around Iyeon’s waist. His strength was so overwhelming that even a simple pull made Iyeon’s thin body stagger.
“Whoa, what—”
Before Iyeon could finish speaking, the pavement blocks beneath their feet scattered, and their bodies sank downward.
Instinctively grabbing Sano’s arm due to the sudden gravity, Iyeon looked around with surprised eyes and saw that the circular floor they were standing on was digging into the ground and descending. It was like… not sure if this is the right expression, but.
Like an elevator that traveled underground.
After descending a fair distance, the floor freely changed direction and began moving forward. The fast-moving tunnel elevator had no dirt flying around, as if there was some transparent membrane in place.
Looking back, the path they had traveled was being seamlessly filled in, as if it had never been breached. At Iyeon’s gaping mouth from this unexpected subterranean exploration, Sano spoke proudly.
“There’s no place without minerals.”
Now Iyeon understood why Je Sano had grown so annoyingly big. With abilities like these, what couldn’t he do? It was a miracle that he had obediently walked from Iyeon’s home to the office.
“Wow…”
But Sano’s arrogance or whatever wasn’t the point here. Iyeon looked once more at the huge honey pot holding him. Although the strength was brutally powerful, nearly crushing his waist, he didn’t even mind. This was on a completely different level from a private car.
A personal subway, of all things.
“Sano.”
At the more familiar form of address, Sano only moved his eyeballs to look down at him. It was definitely not a friendly gaze. Iyeon quickly corrected himself.
“Je Sano.”
For the time being, whether he liked it or not, he had to act with Je Sano. It was clear that he had some kind of ulterior motive, but their hierarchical difference was so obvious that Iyeon couldn’t even ask about it.
Since things had come to this, forming a closer relationship to facilitate future convenience wasn’t a bad choice. Who knows? If they became friendly, maybe he would become Iyeon’s personal elevator boy. One had to dream big.
Iyeon’s strength was his ability to be flexible in any situation. It was a particularly suitable trait for living in this city with its many irregular variables.
“What.”
“Should I call you boss?”
But he was somewhat lacking in tact. Only after noticing the killing intent gathering in Sano’s eyes did he realize it wasn’t a welcome suggestion, and quickly changed the subject.
“Should we sign an employment contract?”
“Not necessary.”
Looks like the social insurance is fine. Iyeon asked once more to confirm.
“Until when are you going to repay this favor?”
Sano didn’t answer for a long time. It wasn’t until the elevator, which had been constantly moving somewhere, changed direction and started ascending that his low voice dropped.
“I need a human portion.”
“…Human portion?”
