Chapter 5

The Cracked Ledger

Gap-dol's office was on the fourteenth floor of an officetel seven minutes' walk from Gangnam Station, with a franchise café on the ground floor. The sales ad posted inside the elevator read Station-area income officetel, rental income guaranteed. Whenever I see the word "guaranteed," I always read it backwards. That word was on the pre-sale seminar flyer ten years ago, too.

Unit 1407. No nameplate on the door.

"Boss! You made it? Come in, come in."

Gap-dol was barefoot in slippers. It seemed to be a home-slash-office. A folding bed stood upright against one side of the studio; against the opposite wall were two steel filing cabinets and a desk in front of them. About ten seals were rolling around on the desk. Stock stamps, registered seals, corporate seals. Every one a different shape.

As I sat down, I checked the three things out of habit. Slippers instead of shoes; hands constantly fiddling with his phone; eyes that looked tired. Even scammers work.

"Want a coffee? It's capsules."

"Ah, I only drink coffee mix."

"No mix here. Oh, hang on."

Gap-dol opened a cabinet door, rummaged around, and pulled out a single yellow coffee-mix stick. The wrapper was a little crumpled; who knows where he'd gotten it. I took it and said thanks. First time I'd ever been given coffee mix in a scammer's office.

It tasted the same.

The list was a two-page A4 spreadsheet printout.

Gap-dol spread it out on the desk. Dungeon number, location, listed grade, purchase price, current status. Twelve rows in all. I read slowly from the top.

Sillim 7-2, C, under jeonse. Bongcheon 2-8, C, vacant. Sillim 4-11, C, under jeonse. Sadang 3-1, C, under jeonse. Bongcheon 5-6, B, under jeonse.

There was a B, too. But the appraiser on Bongcheon 5-6 was also Heo Wijeong.

"For your client, I'd recommend Bongcheon 5-6 out of these. B-rank, and a jeonse of 120 million won is a real steal. Market jeonse on this is 200 million, normally."

"Wow, you're right."

I kept going down, pretending to be impressed. Two had "transfer scheduled" in the status column. 7-2 and Sadang 3-1. Both dated next Wednesday.

Wednesday.

There was a whiteboard on the wall next to the desk. Wednesday was written there too. Wed — 7-2, 3-1 title / get stamp from straw Kim XX / 11 a.m. registry office. A few half-erased lines overlapped faintly underneath. Probably the schedule from the last transfer.

Four days.

At the bottom of the list, on the twelfth row, my eyes stopped.

Sillim 9-4, F, purchase price 0 won, to be disposed of.

"What's this one? The purchase price is zero."

Gap-dol leaned over the list and yawned. A real yawn. Mouth wide open, eyes even tearing up a little.

"Oh, that. That's not a dungeon, it's an abandoned factory."

"A factory?"

"Last year I bought a dead dyeing factory at the foot of the hill in Sillim 9-dong. Just for the land. There were redevelopment rumors in that area. But after I bought it, turns out there's a dungeon attached underneath. It goes with the land, so it just came along. Hence purchase price zero."

"Isn't that a good thing, though? You got a free dungeon."

"Good? I had it appraised. It's F. Not by Appraiser Heo—back then I just used an agency appraiser. A real F. And on top of that, it leaks."

"Leaks?"

"Water keeps leaking inside the dungeon. From the walls. You go in and it's up to your ankles. The monsters are a few slimes. Even if I tried to lease it out on jeonse, people take one look at the photos and pass. It's a flood."

Gap-dol leaned back in his chair. He hooked his slippered feet on the corner of the desk.

"So I'll sell that for 100 million. Factory land included. The redevelopment rumors have died down lately too. Boss, if you know anyone who buys that kind of thing, introduce them. Double commission on that one too."

I smiled and nodded. And looked at the twelfth row of the list one more time.

It was the only dungeon without Heo Wijeong's stamp on it. The only dungeon Gap-dol hadn't even thought of dressing up as a C to sell.

It might really be an F. It might be trash, just like Gap-dol said—a flood with a few slimes and nothing else. But a listing a scammer tosses out with a yawn is usually a listing even the scammer doesn't know the value of. Over ten years in this neighborhood, I'd seen more than once whose hands those listings ended up in, and for how much.

And I had eyes that could see that value. As long as I stood in front of it.

Just then, Gap-dol's phone rang. He looked at the screen, took his feet off the desk, and sat up straight in his chair. His voice rose half a tone.

"Ah, Appraiser! Yes, yes. This is Cha Gapdon."

Heo Wijeong.

I pretended to look at the list. Gap-dol turned and walked toward the window as he talked. It was a studio, so I heard everything.

"Yes, the two Sadang ones next week. Yes, the building owner says it's urgent. C, please. ...Ah, yes. Same as last time. In cash. Yes, yes."

"...Sorry? Ah, from up top? No, he hasn't been in touch yet. Yes, I'll let you know as soon as he is."

"Appraiser, there's one more, though—could you do that one as a B? ...Ah, B's not possible? The guarantee insurance side attaches a re-appraisal from B up these days? Yes, C then. Understood."

The call took under two minutes. Gap-dol hung up, sighed, and put his slippered feet back on the desk.

"The appraiser's gotten picky lately. Says from B up, the insurer sends another appraiser for a second look. So he'll only do up to C."

"Does he get calls from up top, too?"

Gap-dol glanced at me. The face of someone who'd realized he'd said too much. Then he quickly smiled.

"Boss, that's for later. Work with me long enough and you'll learn everything."

Pretending to read the list, I sorted out what I'd just heard. C stamps were bought with cash, and since a re-appraisal got attached from B up, they only inflated to C. And there was someone above the appraiser, too.

"Boss, when are you bringing your client? Can she come see Bongcheon 5-6 this week?"

"Yes. I'll call you around Monday."

"Monday. Great."

Gap-dol walked me out to the elevator. His slippers slapped flap, flap down the hallway. Right before the elevator doors opened, he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Boss, let's work together a long time. People like you are rare. You've been in the neighborhood forever, so people trust you. That's the most expensive thing there is."

"...Sure."

The elevator doors closed. All the way from the fourteenth floor to the first, I stared at the word "guaranteed" on the sales ad on the wall.

Been in the neighborhood forever, so people trust you. Gap-dol was right. That was the most expensive thing, and Gap-dol had tried to buy it for 500,000 won. That 500,000 was already in Kim's safe.

The elevator reached the first floor. I stepped out with my back to the sales ad.

The subway from Gangnam Station to Sillim took thirty minutes. I tapped at my phone calculator the whole way.

Cheolho's deposit, 80 million. Han Soyeong's, 60 million. Together, 140 million. If 7-2 goes to the straw owner on Wednesday, Cheolho's is done. 4-11 will go the same way sooner or later.

There had to be something among Gap-dol's holdings worth real money before I could put a seizure on it or do anything at all. But eleven of the twelve rows on that list had Heo Wijeong's stamp. The three I'd seen with my own eyes were all F. The rest would be the same.

Everything Gap-dol owned was hollow.

There was only one thing that might not be. Purchase price zero, under a leaking abandoned factory. The dungeon Gap-dol had put out for 100 million with a yawn.

What if it wasn't really an F?

I tried not to follow that thought all the way through. Follow it through and the next thought came after it. If it really was worth money—what if, instead of taking it from Gap-dol and using it to return Cheolho's and Han Soyeong's deposits, I just bought it myself?

A hundred million wouldn't even buy one B-rank. If the true grade was high, it would be worth several times that. The rent worries, the card loan worries, Kim's periods—all of it, over in one go.

I got off at Sillim Station. Out Exit 4, two turns down the alley, and you're at my office. There, I turned the other way. The neighborhood bus stop for the foot of the hill in Sillim 9-dong was in that direction.

I didn't have 100 million in my bank account. What I had was a 1.3-million-won card loan, and 1.8 million in rent due by next month.

The neighborhood bus came.

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