Chapter 0: Preface
"Noh Gwi-nam, CEO of Daedo Trading, was reported missing on the evening of the 14th…"
Dong Bong-su went about his routine with the practiced, rhythmic efficiency of a man concluding a weekend hobby. He gathered the heavy-duty plastic sheeting, folding it inward to ensure not a single stray bead of blood escaped the polyethylene barrier. Once the floor was pristine, he tossed the bundle into a reinforced bin.
He moved to the industrial freezer in the corner. Opening the heavy steel door, he carefully positioned the newest addition, a soft, bloated carcass, into the line. The man was a "rookie," fresh and pink, tucked neatly beside his "senior" counterparts: a row of equally rotund corpses, perfectly aligned like premium cuts in a butcher’s locker. Give it time, Bong-su thought. This one would eventually earn his seniority too.
"…As police continue to track Noh’s whereabouts, an investigation has been launched into the massive embezzlement of company funds discovered in his wake…"
The news report filtering through his smartphone was an epitaph for the man currently chilling in the corner. Bong-su hadn't targeted him for the money, or for any personal slight. He had chosen him simply because the fat man was a carnivore.
In Bong-su’s eyes, the world was divided into two distinct tiers. Most humans were herbivores—docile creatures that laughed off intrusions into their territory and bowed their heads to the lash of the strong. For them, endurance wasn't a choice; it was their natural state.
But then there were the carnivores. These were the predators who hunted proactively, who delighted in the kill and tore at the throats of any competitor who dared challenge their dominance. Lions, tigers… and men like Noh.
As the apex predator, Bong-su found no joy in the slaughter of sheep. He lived for the hunt of fellow hunters. It was his vocation, his obsession, and his only true pleasure.
"…During the investigation, police uncovered a hidden sub-basement at the Noh estate containing over a dozen women held in chains. Forensic experts confirm the victims’ tongues had been surgically removed to ensure silence… Preliminary IDs suggest these are the missing girls from the cold cases of 2022…"
Thud.
Bong-su swung the freezer door shut. The seal hissed cleanup complete.
He exited the warehouse, the smartphone still buzzing in his hand. As he ascended the stairs, the report on the "rookie" faded, replaced by a segment with a sharper, more frantic tone.
"Next: Academic circles are sounding the alarm as violent crime rates skyrocket. Many experts point to the psychological fallout of a controversial new virtual reality platform…"
Bong-su’s boot paused mid-step on the concrete riser.
The anchor cut to a field reporter, who then deferred to a stern-faced ‘expert’ in a mahogany-lined office.
"The service for Murim Online must be terminated immediately, or at the very least, patched to prevent such extreme synchronization with the user's nervous system," the expert argued, his voice trembling with academic indignation. "By rendering the severance of limbs and the spraying of blood with such visceral, unbridled realism, the game stimulates the dormant murderous impulses of the immature. It isn't just a game; it is a training ground for real-world homicide…"
Usually, the news acted as a menu, providing Bong-su with his next meal. But this…
"Interesting."
The word felt dry in his throat. For the first time, the news hadn't given him a target. It had given him a territory.
Bong-su stood frozen on the stairs, eyes locked onto the screen until the segment cycled back to weather and sports. Slowly, he retreated to his living quarters. He didn't hesitate. He opened a browser and placed a single order for a high-spec piece of hardware.
The item: A Murim Online haptic capsule.
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