Baegwol. It is, quite literally, one of those organizations where only dirt and absurdity thrive. At least, that’s how Ryu Geon saw it. It was so bad that he could genuinely point to it and "praise" it as the absolute worst among all the organizations he’d ever jumped between.

One could define what was contained within the light white envelope as a few crumpled bills and a place teeming with foolish brats who treat this world of blood like a joke. How utterly devoid of actual talent must they be to so easily install an old man who’s nearly forty into the position of a Senior Executive?

It was winter, the season where not even a bloodbath stirred the air, making the days feel utterly trivial.

That day, I had personally cleaned up the messes made by my darling junior bastards and was walking away after concluding a light disciplinary session with my fists.

On the remnants of the melted snow left behind by the blizzard, there were faint puddles. Dozens of small footprints—and above them, a single kid squatting alone and forlornly.

It looked like a runaway, but it wouldn't be right to just pass them by in this freezing weather. Even an old man like me had no choice but to help.