“Necessary evil…” Cheon Ji-won murmured.

“That’s right. As you said, Forward is a necessary evil for this world. Half of the energy that keeps society running comes from their magic-stone power generation technology.”

Magic-stone power. That was the very reason Forward could be one of the two corporations dominating the world.

After the Human-Demon War, humanity had nearly been destroyed. The energy supply lines that people had taken for granted lay in ruin. Machines could only replace so much labor. Countless workers and engineers had been killed. Producing the parts and materials to repair shattered infrastructure became impossible. Fuel extraction, production, and transport all broke down. The only thing people could do was conserve the limited resources they still had.

When the war ended, the future looked bleak. It was Forward and Crystal that breathed life back into civilization.

Forward first succeeded in producing and storing energy from magic stones. Crystal developed skill slots that could strengthen Awakened powers and pushed research into equipment crafting and otherworldly materials. Thanks to those advances, Awakened could reliably enter dungeons, defeat monsters, and bring back resources. Forward and Crystal kept competing and innovating, and civilization—imperfect though it was—slowly revived.

“Companies like Crystal are trying to restore prewar power plants to reduce reliance on magic-stone energy. They’re researching alternatives, too. But their progress is slow, while Forward’s share keeps growing. If Forward cut off the magic-stone supply, Seoul—and the fragile civilization we’ve rebuilt—would face a crisis again.”

Cheon Ji-won said it plainly.

“But Forward is using its position to carry out things that cannot be tolerated,” Kim Sang-sik said, clenching his fist as he looked at the mayor.

“The victims of their experiments are not only Jodie. At the Valhall arena that was exposed earlier, they used homeless children for drug trials. They take monsters out of dungeons or set up remote labs outside populated areas and perform repeated human experimentation. Countless people are being sacrificed without anyone knowing. Mayor, are you saying you will allow this?”

Kim Sang-sik’s shoulders trembled—rage and heartbreak visible in the way he spoke. It was the first time I’d seen him so openly emotional.

“……” Cheon Ji-won said nothing. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.

“Mayor. Yes. That is the role my office has been given,” he said, opening his eyes and meeting Kim Sang-sik’s gaze. “On my shoulders sit Seoul and the millions who live here. Think about what would happen if I publicly denounced Forward and declared them criminals. Forward would, of course, deny it. Then, to defend themselves, they’d cut the energy supply to Seoul and withdraw from public projects they manage. The damage would fall entirely on the citizens—people who had no idea. Winter is coming; many would lose heating. Those already struggling would suffer more, and the number of victims would skyrocket.”

“If you pretend not to see what’s happening now, you’re saying it’s acceptable for a few to be sacrificed for the many,” Kim Sang-sik shot back, his voice rising. “How can that be right?”

I felt as if a massive fist struck my chest. Kim Sang-sik too recoiled, expression contorted.

“No one should be sacrificed for the sake of others. I pride myself on understanding that better than anyone,” Cheon Ji-won said, his voice calm but charged—blue mana seeming to flare around him like a quiet, burning flame. When we showed our distress, he flinched and the mana receded. “Forgive me. I never wanted to threaten you. I let my temper get the better of me.”

Kim Sang-sik fell silent, face clouded and complicated. Cheon Ji-won could not honestly endorse sacrificing the few for the many. He had every reason to hate the kind of logic that would make the vanished Pioneers’ sacrifice seem natural. If he accepted that, the losses of those five who entered the other world would be justified as inevitable.

“Let’s be practical,” Cheon Ji-won said, folding his hands again. “I’m not condoning Forward’s crimes. Even if their existence is an unfortunate necessity for the order of Seoul and the wider world, ignoring their abuses will corrode society and break order. But I lack the power to judge them outright.”

I thought of the time he’d frozen a thousand people in a department store—how could he claim lack of power? But this wasn’t just about raw strength.

“To make Forward an enemy, you would need overwhelming military force and financial resources,” I said. Both men turned to me.

“In terms of military power, Forward’s hunters dwarf the Peacekeeping Division. The Black Hounds are Forward’s elite mercenary unit, and beneath them are many more hunters. Financially, Forward and Seoul’s coffers don’t even compare. If we attacked Forward and they used that as a pretext to wage war on the city, the outcome would be uncertain. No matter how mighty the mayor is, he cannot single-handedly topple a global corporation. A prolonged war would cause casualties on a scale far worse than those caused by tolerating Forward’s crimes.”

“It’s true…” Cheon Ji-won let out a hollow laugh. “You just said what I was about to say. Civil war is the thing we must avoid. In war, the ones who suffer are always the powerless—those who have nothing to gain from the conflict.”

“But,” I said, studying the mayor’s face, “I don’t think the only way to beat Forward is by outmuscling them.”

Cheon Ji-won looked puzzled.

“Having strong forces is necessary to suppress them quickly and minimize casualties. But strength is relative. If we cannot raise our own power indefinitely, another strategy is to weaken our opponent.”

His eyes widened.

“Forward’s greatest advantage, as you noted, is magic-stone energy. That’s the reason they amassed wealth and influence. What if someone other than Forward had the means to produce comparable power from magic stones?”

Cheon Ji-won’s voice ran out of strength.

“Everyone’s thought of that, of course. As I said, many companies are researching ways to reduce dependency, and Crystal is trying too, but nobody has succeeded yet. Forward keeps their production and storage methods under strict lock and key.”

“If you mean stealing Forward’s technology outright, that’s impossible—and it would undermine our moral authority to act against them,” I said.

“Then we must find a way to produce magic-stone energy that doesn’t rely on Forward’s tech,” I continued brightly.

Cheon Ji-won seemed to inhale a long sigh—then suddenly stiffened.

“You don’t mean… you actually know a method to extract usable, human-usable energy from magic stones?” he asked.

“I don’t,” I said, smiling. “But a friend of mine might.”

—

Magic stones. Crystals found in the demon realm that contained mana.

Magic stones appear in every dungeon, though their grade or level varies. Awakened—hunters included—use these magic stones to craft many items. I’ve used my Artisan skill to work with recipes that require magic stones many times. Even the first item I made after inhabiting Nam Yein’s body, the Spike Bomb, used a low-grade magic stone.

But because the energy inside a magic stone is mana, ordinary people can’t use it directly. A non-Awakened person can’t simply harness a magic stone to boil water, spin a turbine, and generate electricity everyone can use. That’s the first hurdle.

The second hurdle is storage. Suppose an Awakened uses a magic stone to make an item that creates heat. The Awakened can use that heat to boil water or burn things. They could even generate electricity directly with a conductive ore. But any energy produced that way tends to vanish rather than being stored—almost as if this world forbids non-Awakened humans from indirectly capturing that power. That’s the second fundamental problem in converting mana into usable energy.

It defies ordinary physical laws, but this world is full of exceptions—Awakened and demon realms don’t follow our normal rules, so arguing the point won’t help. Yet Forward somehow succeeded in producing and storing electricity ordinary people can use from magic stones. And of course, they keep the method secret. But I know that secret.

“If—just in case this is true…” Cheon Ji-won said cautiously, “if what you say is true, Forward’s power would inevitably weaken. But if they find out, they’ll do whatever it takes to stop it.”

I nodded.

“So only the four of us here—and your craftsman friend—must know about this,” he said.

“Understood.”

Kim Sang-sik nodded after me.

“Then we have to verify whether your friend can truly convert magic-stone mana into energy usable by humanity.”

“Yes. I’ll contact my friend. I expect an answer sometime next week.”

“You know your friend avoids revealing their identity. Will that be a problem?” Cheon Ji-won asked with the faintest hint of a smile.

He still hasn’t dropped the suspicion that the Mysterious Craftsman might be you, I thought. I nodded.

“My friend shares my goals. We won’t get a negative answer.”

“Good. Then we’ll wait.”

Cheon Ji-won stood up. “I have business to attend to. I’ll go ahead.” His gaze settled on Sang-sik. “You and that girl will be protected by the Peacekeeping Division. You won’t be free to roam for a while, but you must bear with that.”

“Understood.” Sang-sik accepted the mayor’s words.

The Peacekeepers are the mayor’s arm. It’s far safer to be under their protection.

“Captain Lee of the Peacekeepers will arrive to relieve you. Follow his instructions from then on.” Cheon Ji-won finished and looked at me. “Forward doesn’t yet know you’re involved in this. If they do, the most at risk will be you and your friend. You’re students of Gwangcheon. Be careful.”

“I will.”

“Until next time.” The mayor left, and silence fell over the room.

“Yein.”

“Yes?”

“You promised me before—don’t get involved in our affairs anymore.”

“This matter is partly my fault.” I answered.

Sang-sik looked puzzled. “Why would this be your fault?”

“I gave her the Doppelgänger’s Mirror and told her to hide. I never expected she use it to infiltrate Forward’s research lab. If I’d foreseen this, I wouldn’t have handed it over.”

Sang-sik’s face briefly went blank, then he bowed. “I’m sorry. I acted recklessly.”

At that, Jodie—the one who had been lying on the row of chairs—sat up and looked toward us.

“Sang-sik didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “I nagged him until he agreed to come. If he hadn’t helped, I would’ve gone alone.”

“Actually, you’re the one to blame,” I said. Jodie’s face stiffened.

I wiped the smile off my face and fixed her with a hard look. “This mess is your responsibility.”

I stood up—and Sang-sik looked taken aback.

Now I need to clamp down and make the reins tight, I thought, my face hardening as I made my stance clear.

(End of Chapter)