Chapter 516

In Manhattan, New York, a light was turned on in a house located in the Upper East Side.

“Phew. I could have unloaded some of this luggage.”

The atmosphere was chilly, hardly resembling a home.

Yet unmistakably, signs of habitation were smeared everywhere.

Though I couldn’t visit often, this place was definitely where a person resided, a man’s cave that blessedly calmed sharpened nerves and allowed the heart to settle.

And within that space, revealing his weakness that was invisible from the outside, Lucas sprawled out on a $30,000 sofa.

The custom-made sofa cradled his body wonderfully, not too soft, not too hard, comfortably wrapping around him and releasing his fatigue. Lying there, Lucas casually loosened his tie, tossed it back, shed the shirt and pants that had constricted him all day, then rested his head on a cushion and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Directly above the sofa—exactly where Lucas’s gaze landed—jewels of all colors were embedded in the ceiling.

They glimmered as though they were stars, as if boasting they were constellations of their own making.

It was a beautiful sight.

Yet, contrary to its beauty, the gems were hideous remnants.

For those beautiful jewels were artifacts connected to Lucas’s very being.

If Lucas’s heartbeat ceased or his body temperature fell below a certain threshold, those jewels would unleash catastrophic torrents of power, detonating violently like a series of missiles, obliterating the surrounding area in the process.

In other words, those jewels weren’t meant for protection but for self-destruction.

A bomb sending those who harmed him straight to the River Styx.

Moreover, this was not the only artifact he possessed.

Just the entrance he had come through was laden with artifacts that could paralyze or knock out a person.

Was that all?

If someone were to breach that entrance, they would encounter an array of much deadlier artifacts, far beyond mere warnings.

Special bullets containing Polonium, painstakingly sourced from Russia; illegally modified tasers that could roast a person from the inside out with high-voltage electric currents; traps designed for capable persons that could inflict internal injuries by unleashing powerful energy waves…

Lucas’s house resembled a fortress rather than a mere residence.

And what a terrible fortress, riddled with traps strewn about.

A security system rivaling that of a government facility.

This indicated just how obsessive Lucas was about safety.

But…

Even so, Lucas felt unsatisfied.

“This is secure enough.”

“This is sufficient.”

Far from having such thoughts, he was gripped by the notion that he was still woefully inadequate.

Like a compulsion had taken hold of him.

He felt consumed by an obsession to stack layers of protection upon himself, as if he were clutching tightly to something vital.

“I’m still in danger…”

He thought.

“I am dangerous.

My life is at risk.

Someone is targeting me.

I am always exposed to death.

I am vulnerable to evil.”

The need for even stronger security.

The necessity to pursue safety with even more rigor.

This thought nagged at him like a thorn buried under his fingernail, always poking and reminding him of its presence, forcing his nerves to stay alert with its persistent pain.

He had become a body that could barely engage in daily life without pursuing his safety at every turn.

Yeah.

Maybe this was a form of mental illness.

The chaotic state of the financial sector might have driven him to this point.

Perhaps he couldn’t find peace of mind due to his singular focus on making money, sacrificing a family along the way.

The feeling of loneliness, which he had never experienced before, had silently begun to consume part of his heart, twisting it into a strange form that poked at his sanity.

If he were to seek counseling, the counselor might say,

“Oh, Lucas. People are not that strong. Humans are creatures that cannot live alone. You need a safe haven, a peace of mind. Why not try having someone to love? If marriage isn’t appealing, adopting a child could be good, or… hmm, maybe raising a pet wouldn’t be so bad. I’m sure it will bring you comfort.”

Fuck you.

What does family even mean?

To him, money was everything.

Money was his faith, his wife, his children, his parents.

Money was everything.

That pursuit of money couldn’t possibly cause strain on his sanity, could it?

“Money. My faith, my life, my existence. The splendid numbers.”

He lived to earn money.

Questions about where he would spend it didn’t hold much meaning.

Wasn’t the simple act of earning money enjoyable in itself, and the bigger the numbers, the better it was?

Money.

To earn money, he had to stay alive.

That’s why he had to protect his life.

If he died, he couldn’t earn money.

He had to earn money, earn money!

Could it be that?

He had become extremely sensitive to anything relating to his life.

The money he had made was generously invested in matters concerning his life, becoming the bricks that built the walls to protect his body and belongings. Those enormous bricks were continuously piled up under the names of artifacts, bodyguards, and information, until he reached a point where he could even call New York his territory.

He couldn’t exercise power.

He couldn’t impose anything on the citizens of New York.

But he could gather information about significant events happening in New York.

At least within the realm of his interests…

That’s how he came to know Park Jinseong.

A young shaman who appeared in a country allied with America.

Unlike other shamans, shrouded in inscrutability, there was a faint promise that they could engage in a “story.”

Having grown up as an adopted child in a wealthy family, he was likely well-acquainted with the psyche of the rich, sharing their lifestyles and thoughts. Hence, he could nurture trust and maintain a friendship, and unlike other shamans, he might just be someone he could tether to his side… a precious being.

And that wasn’t all.

Additionally, the fact he was a foreigner, specifically from Korea, scored extra points.

Neither an individual nor the group that raised him had significant ties to America, adding further to his appeal.

‘He is not affiliated with any organization.’

The very reason why Lucas coveted Jinseong.

It was precisely because he thought that among the countless swirling conspiracy theories, Jinseong wouldn’t be connected to any of them.

Exactly.

Amazingly, despite being well-educated, Lucas was someone deeply engrossed in conspiracy theories.

He had earned phenomenal money, drawn connections akin to gold, and even though he didn’t believe in cults, he remained wary of the conspiracy theories circulating the world.

No, perhaps it was precisely because of that that he grew even more invested in conspiracy theories.

Using his status and wealth, he had confirmed that some once-absurd theories were, in fact, true.

“The world is immensely dangerous.”

The world was rife with the unknown, its depths shrouded by shadows as profound as the brilliant lights.

Have you heard tales of aliens being tortured at Area 51?

Or the claim that Earth is flat?

Do tales exist of an ending to the world’s edges, where those who fall die?

Or that a Nazi base exists on the moon, where Hitler remains alive?

Or perhaps that the Earth’s insides are hollow, hiding another realm?

Absurd stories.

Absurd conspiracy theories.

To some, they are nonsense, merely jokes; to the foolish, they arrive cloaked as “truths unknown to others.”

Most of these conspiracy theories are nothing more than fabricated tales.

Yet within them, there certainly existed genuine truths.

Some had been verified as real, while others were secrets only known to him.

Thus, he had no choice but to place his hopes on the person known as Park Jinseong.

He came from a place unrelated to any conspiracy theories he knew.

Not from the US or Europe, where abundant conspiracy theories abound, nor from Japan, which had its own dark whispers, nor from China, where sinister stories surfaced. Not from Russia, steeped in corruption and violence, nor from Mongolia, cloaked in legend and ferocity.

But from Korea.

That small land which recently began accumulating wealth, making its name known to the world, held very few conspiracy theories.

At least none that could threaten his life.

Ironically, this allowed him to trust Jinseong.

The novelty of being a foreigner became a source of belief, and the foreign culture that should have felt alien was met with familiarity.

Moreover, his private life, which Lucas had discovered through background checks, appeared rather clean.

That’s why the moment Lucas learned that Park Jinseong had arrived on Wall Street, he approached him without delay.

And under the pretense of a commission, he kept him close.

This gesture was both kindness and a test.

To determine whether he was someone truly beneficial to him, and whether he posed a threat.

And-

He wished for him to showcase his competence while handling the commission.

To reveal his inclinations unreservedly during the errand.

Thus, he could become another shield to protect him by forging a closer bond.

To fortify the defenses against the intangible as well as the tangible, and he hoped Jinseong would assist him in this endeavor.

– He wanted that.