Since Gates started appearing, the world changed dramatically.

Countless people died, nations collapsed or merged (like North Korea), and society’s power structures flipped upside down.

It was so extreme that pension reforms were scrapped because there were barely any recipients left.
Projections said it wasn’t even necessary anymore.

‘But some things stayed the same.’

Surprisingly, a lot didn’t change.
Like politics, labor laws, or the shoddy quality of certain countries’ goods.

Han Song Makgeolli was one of those things.

“I read about it in old news articles, but I didn’t expect it to still be around.”

–Is it famous?

“Famous, yeah. In the worst way.”

Han Song Makgeolli was originally a consolidated brewery formed in the ‘70s and ‘80s from small distilleries in southeastern Korea.

Not a huge company, but a local staple.
Since few specialized in makgeolli, their sales were decent enough.

“It’s like a time machine. Running a 19th-century work environment in the 21st century.”
“No surprise for a traditional liquor company—their management’s just as outdated.”

–…I don’t fully get it, but I catch your drift.

“The slaves of old were probably treated more humanely. No joke.”

That’s the public story.

In reality, it’s a uniquely vile company, one that shouldn’t exist in Korea.

Mandatory 4 a.m. start time, forced unpaid overtime if production quotas aren’t met, no transportation support, meals costing 450 won a day, one holiday a year, annual leave in name only, 20-hour unpaid shifts during holiday rushes, no workplace injury compensation since the company’s founding, yearly contract renewals forced on workers, unused leave forcibly erased, internal rules ignored, constant sexual harassment of female employees, and countless other unreported crimes.

A company like this existing in the 21st century is absurd.

–I don’t know your laws, but shouldn’t that be cracked down on? They’re breaking every rule.

“They should’ve been. But they’re blatantly dodging it.”

–Power-holders are always rotten.

Despite this, Han Song Makgeolli clung to business into the 2020s.

Their main consumers—older folks—didn’t care about the company’s reputation, and ties with local elites kept them afloat.

Boycotts barely dented sales, and labor inspections or government audits were brushed off with powerful backing.

But as time passed, makgeolli demand plummeted, and I heard their business tanked…

Guess they’re still kicking.
Like cockroaches.

‘Let’s check it out.’

I commented on the post demanding Han Song’s judgment. For safety, I used a VPN and an anonymous account.

ㄴIs it still that bad there?

Sounds like a local.
Or someone who’s done their research.

ㄴ[Sales dropped, but they’re still squeezing money out with every dirty trick.]
ㄴ[They’re even forcing employees into loans.]
ㄴ[Forced loans? The boss lending money?]
ㄴ[Yeah, then milking them with high interest.]

“These bastards are insane.”

Extorting money from workers hired to earn it?
What a brilliant scheme.

They deserve a Nobel Prize in Economics for inventing reverse capital flow between employer and employee.

As a prize, maybe their families’ funerals would suffice.

“Where’s the list of their bosses?”

A few searches quickly pulled up the info I needed.

Being a conglomerate of multiple breweries, they had a lot of bosses.
Nearly fifty.

‘These guys are done.’

No need to even debate using my power on them. Straight to death row.

Labor exploitation or labor law violations might not always warrant death, but these guys crossed the line by miles.

Inheriting their positions generation after generation, exploiting hundreds of innocent people? They deserve to pay.
Dozens have died working under them.

The issue, though, is the method.

‘It’s not just them who’re responsible.’

Han Song Makgeolli is a mediocre small-to-mid-sized company.
Despite their atrocities, they should’ve been shut down long ago.

I needed to find those who protected and enabled them.

In other words, I had to take down the ones who paved the way for their decades-long rampage.

Those types don’t have public names or info, making them hard to track… but luckily, I had a way.

“They’ve got evidence stashed, right?”

Taking bribes and receiving protection means playing lackey.

But even lackeys keep an ace up their sleeve in case their masters betray them.
They’d have evidence or proof for emergencies, to drag others down with them.

Make them spill it.
Have them plaster it online, then die.

“For the cause of death… let’s go with this.”

–Isn’t that too extreme?

“Stabbing necks is getting old. No matter how shocking, repetition dulls the impact.”

I set the names, cause, and time of death with my power, then turned off the computer.

Tomorrow’s news will be noisy.
They’ll say a Mexican slum-like scene hit Korea.

“I’m off…”

Kang Geon-ma, a third-year contract slave—no, worker—at Han Song Makgeolli, headed to work as usual.

“Ugh, what sins did I commit in my past life to be stuck at this company?”

Dragging his heavy body out at dawn every day had become routine.

But this hellish workplace? He could never get used to it.
No, he didn’t want to.

Who’d want to adapt to this garbage dump?

“Where to?”

“Ganghwang-gu, 3rd Street.”

No buses run at dawn or night for his commute, so he burns 20,000 won daily on taxis.

The company gives 1,300 won for transportation—when they don’t withhold it.
Forty percent of his monthly pay goes to commuting.

Add meal and basic living costs, and he’s practically going into debt to work.

‘And I’m actually in debt.’

Correction. “Practically” is inaccurate.
He’s genuinely in debt—forced into it by the company.

“Goddamn company.”

He wants to run away right now.
Quit this wretched distillery and take up construction or anything else.

But he can’t, because he’s coerced.
The vile bosses hire thugs to threaten workers into staying.

Reporting to the police or asking the district office for help? Useless.
They’re all in on it.

This one, that one—all conspiring to exploit them like slaves.
How’s a mere citizen supposed to fight back?

–Screech!

“We’re here. 8,500 won.”

“Thanks.”

With a deep sigh, Kang Geon-ma got out of the taxi.
He adjusted his clothes to enter the factory.

“Huh?”

Workers were gathered outside.
His colleagues were murmuring, staring at something on the factory sign.

“What’s going on?”

Getting closer, he saw it clearly.

Corpses.
Fifty or so bodies, hanging by ropes, dripping filth, tongues lolling out, long dead.
Each with words scrawled on their chests.

[I’m a vile boss. I accept the workers’ judgment.]

“Waaaah!!”

“These bastards are dead!! We’re free!”

Blinking in disbelief at the reality before them.
The workers, shouting with joy, rushed into the factory.

To take back what those rotten bastards had stolen from them.

“Wow… it’s more tangled than I thought. I didn’t expect this many connections.”

After securing the data the bosses leaked before dying, I sank into deep post-action clarity*.

I expected some of it.
Isolating hundreds socially and cutting off their support isn’t easy.

I assumed various forces and interests were involved from the start.

“Maybe 300 need to go.”

–Shouldn’t you include indirect accomplices?

“They’re iffy to kill. Threatening them to expose evidence and get arrested might be enough.”

But this is intense.

City councils, local food and drug agencies, labor offices, administrative bodies, even the media—all entangled.
The entire regional power structure.

The high-and-mighty were all in cahoots, happily feasting together.

It’s unlikely they united just for Han Song Makgeolli.
Other companies are probably involved too.

Ones not yet exposed but thriving on exploitation and law-breaking.
Han Song just stood out for being particularly egregious.

‘Dig deeper, and more might come up.’

The current data isn’t enough to unravel this vile network. I need more evidence.

So… I’ll have to kill more to get it.

–Another bloodbath is coming to this land.

“If it’s necessary, I’ll accept it. It’s a sacrifice that’d spill eventually.”

Think of it this way.

To remove a cancer rooted in the community, how many need to die?
This is a chance to test it directly.

Cruel as it is, cutting it out now beats enduring endless harm.