"One Line is a private security firm operating in multiple locations under the full authority of the law. Or based on what you just said, is this a protection-money racket gang???"
Moris clutched his head. He was wearing his shapeless black mask, so it was impossible to tell what expression lay in his eyes, but to Quân, the slight tightening of Moris's fingers alone betrayed the man's sheer irritation.
"Alright, One Line is not the kind of place you think it is, okay? I will state this one more time: we are legal. We are interconnected and have multiple branches—four different branches, to be exact—and we don't just handle security across all four of them."
"Are all four branches named One Line, or are they subsidiaries?"
Quân asked, casually lounging in his chair as he sipped a cup of tea that tasted heavily of the extra sugar he had just dumped into it.
Hearing Quân's question left Moris slightly flustered. He pondered for a moment, then shook his head.
"No?"
"No."
Moris nodded resolutely.
"Then who exactly is your president?"
Quân probed further, clearly fishing for details.
Moris merely pointed toward the room tucked in the corner of the house, implying something.
"?? Are you kidding me? Sounds like some chuunibyou cringe straight out of an anime."
A reincarnated protagonist, getting trashy plot-armor buffs to go from weakling to overlord, establishing a mysterious syndicate to control the underworld???
Did I freaking transmigrate into a webnovel?
"A-nime?"
Moris muttered in confusion, while Quân waved his hand dismissively, signaling that it didn't matter. After all, he figured this world lacked concepts like static motion, animation, or cinematography.
With human brains and a ton of magic around, he actually hoped that one day he could use his own memory to try and copy the songs he used to listen to—standing at the absolute top would undoubtedly be MJ.
"And another thing, you said this is the sub-branch managing security. How many people are actually in this branch?"
Moris slowly raised three fingers, using his index finger to point at himself, his middle finger at Quân, and his thumb toward the corner of the room.
SLAM!
Quân slammed his hand flat against the table. He didn't know if doing that made him look cool, but it felt crazy as hell.
"Th-Three?!"
"Haha, don't worry. The three of us are the ones coordinating the various working parties. We are the headquarters, after all."
"Head? Headquarters my ass, more like three idiots coordinating a mutual roasting session???"
Quân flew into a rage, while Moris burst out laughing, the atmosphere completely flipping.
"Don't worry. It might look like that, but the two of us are stronger than you think. Together... we can barely hold our own against five people."
"Just shut up already!"
Utterly dejected, Quân collapsed back onto the sofa, draping his arm over his face.
He gradually lost track of how much time had passed as the darkness swallowed the hours. He caught the sound of footsteps; Moris had likely stepped out.
A moment later, Quân stared at his own hand—soft, dry, and scrawny.
Born without a magic core?
Quân blankly recalled the warning Ron had given him before he fled that eerie mansion to sleep in a dilapidated inn: he possessed no magic.
Basically, it could be understood like this: Ron was a reincarnated soul who transmigrated into a young boy who already possessed a pre-existing soul and a core. As for himself, a transmigrator, he had no core because his native body simply wasn't born with one.
Which meant his dream of becoming a harem king was officially dead in the water. Ah, wait, there was still a way—become a billionaire and reap the benefits from there.
But women... some can be controlled through emotions, while others can be manipulated with money. If I live a life without a single genuine smile, sooner or later I'll turn into one of those miserable rich patriarchs in a Korean drama.
Quân thought to himself. In truth, if one were to ask which gender was the most insidious, it would undoubtedly be men—yet men were always the most straightforward. Because every plot and scheme boiled down to just two words: "I want." Women, on the other hand, utterly baffled him.
And Quân wanted a grand new chapter for himself, but certainly not the kind where he played a side character trapped in a tragic romance or a fractured secret clan dynamic triggered by a few passionate speeches.
Quân sat up and gave a wide yawn, looking at Moris—and Moris looked back at him, or so it seemed.
"Hey, why exactly are you guys rounding up junkies anyway? You handle security, you're not detectives or cops. That woman isn't dead yet, right?
And what exactly is this operation you're dragging me into tonight?"
Moris couldn't say; he shook his head.
"I don't know. Why should I know?"
"?"
Quân tilted his head. He could guess what Moris meant by not knowing, but seriously?
"For this operation, you and Ron will be on one side, while another faction takes the other. There will be two more people joining.
Don't worry about it; you'll have Ron backing you up. Since you're just a rookie and our profession requires a lot of field experience, just treat this as a learning trip.
As for that woman, I'll be the one interrogating her. It's just a few psychological methods, really."
Quân listened, catching the first half while completely tuning out the second. He instinctively rubbed his legs, then glanced at his hands.
Do I... even need money? I bet that bastard can't afford to keep feeding me forever. Is this a test?
But before his train of thought could go any further, the sharp ring of a doorbell echoed throughout the entire place.
"?" Quân felt a slight pang of anxiety. Back in his old world, he rarely used doorbells—mostly just ringing them to play pranks on neighbors down the alleyways.
Hearing the sound, Moris smiled, speaking softly.
"It's the police, or the Imperial guard. Probably. If that's the case, then from this moment on, the operation officially begins."
As Moris spoke, a creak sounded from the corner of the room. It was Ron, holding a black cane and wearing a set of white clothes as he walked toward the door.
"Get ready, Quân. The very moment they step inside, you must observe every single detail."
Ron said.