Chapter 9: Three Grand a Head—and a Labor Market for People Who Aren’t Afraid to Die
[Countdown: 136 hours 12 minutes until dimensional convergence is complete]
2:18 p.m. Mae Wilit's Curry-and-Rice Shop
“What the hell happened to you?”
Mae Wilit's short question instantly made Bing feel like getting chased by a dog that had torn apart a G7 corpse and tried to claw out his heart that morning had been a relaxing experience.
He stood behind the shop with his T-shirt ripped along the side, gauze wrapped around his torso, and his left arm in a sling.
Tum stood behind him,
trying to make himself look smaller than he really was.
“I fell off a motorcycle, Mom.”
Mae Wilit narrowed her eyes.
“Where’s the motorcycle?”
“Tum’s shop.”
“Where’d you fall?”
“In front of the warehouse.”
“Why does your shirt look like a tiger clawed it?”
Bing’s INT brain processed seventeen possible lies.
None of them survived.
“A dog.”
Mae Wilit fell silent.
Tum looked up at the ceiling.
Bing added,
“A big dog.”
“How big?”
“If you measure it without including the mouth...”
Smack!
A ladle cracked down on the middle of his head.
“Ow!”
“I’m asking you nicely!”
“It really was a dog!”
“What kind of dog scratches trenches this deep?”
Bing raised his right hand to protect his head.
“Mom! I’m injured! Under the principles of humanitarianism, you’re not supposed to attack the wounded!”
“You’re my son. You’re not covered by any convention!”
Tum snorted with laughter.
Bing whipped around.
“Go home.”
“I just saved your life.”
“And now you’re shortening my lifespan.”
Mae Wilit was about to continue interrogating him when the television in front of the shop suddenly blared a special alert.
Beep—beep—
Everyone turned to look.
The screen showed an emergency press conference from the government.
“Due to unidentified life-forms appearing in several provinces, as well as similar incidents occurring in multiple countries around the world, the government has raised its emergency response measures...”
The footage cut to armed officers blocking off roads in several areas.
“Citizens should not engage these life-forms on their own, as there have been reports that certain types of conventional weapons are unable to inflict effective damage.”
Bing glanced at the black knife hidden beneath his shirt.
At least the government was starting to realize they weren’t just stray dogs with rabies.
“The government will open collection centers for specimens, remains, and body parts of anomalous life-forms for research purposes. Compensation will be provided based on the type and condition of each specimen.”
Bing, who had been about to head back behind the shop—
stopped.
Tum looked at his friend.
“You heard that too, right?”
“Shut up.”
“They said they’re buying—”
“I said shut up.”
Bing’s eyes locked onto the television as if he were listening for the winning lottery numbers.
The initial compensation rates appeared on-screen.
Unidentified tissue samples: 500–2,000 baht
Intact fangs/claws: starting at 1,500 baht
Glands, organs, or special structures: individually assessed
Complete remains: up to 30,000 baht, depending on threat level
Bing slowly turned to look at Tum.
Tum slowly turned to look at Bing.
“Two fangs.”
“Yeah.”
“One muscle core.”
“Yeah.”
“That thing from this morning...”
“Yeah.”
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?”
Bing pulled out his phone.
“I’m calculating the cost of wound treatment after deducting taxes.”
“You fucking bastard!”
Mae Wilit eyed her son suspiciously.
“What are you two talking about?”
“The new economy, Mom.”
“Don’t go looking for trouble!”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“Your face already has!”
3:02 p.m.
News of the purchase program spread several times faster than the government announcement.
In less than an hour, online groups were flooded with posts.
Buying strange fangs. Paying more than the government.
Got remains? DM me. Cash.
Buying venom glands/scales/bones. No questions asked.
Some prices were two or three times higher than the government’s.
Tum scrolled through the screen.
“Someone’s buying fangs like yours for four thousand each.”
Bing froze.
“Where?”
“You just said you were going to sell them to the government.”
“The market situation changed.”
“It’s been three minutes!”
“Capital moves fast.”
Tum shook his head.
“If the world doesn’t end, I swear you’ll grow up to be a bloodsucking merchant.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m insulting you.”
“The difference between praise and insults is a matter of perspective.”
Before Tum could fire back, another phone on the table began to vibrate.
The screen displayed news from overseas.
Several governments had begun announcing similar measures.
Some countries were using their militaries to collect all remains.
Some were allowing universities and private companies to purchase them under license.
Many technology and pharmaceutical companies announced emergency research budgets.
Some companies’ stock prices soared.
Some markets were suspended because of volatility.
Humanity still didn’t know where these things had come from.
But the economic system had already begun adapting to them.
Bing stared at the news and muttered,
“Fucking fast.”
Tum asked,
“What is?”
“People.”
Bing scrolled through the prices for body parts.
“Yesterday they were still afraid of them. Today they’re already setting prices to buy their corpses.”
“How are you any different?”
“I started last night.”
“I have vision.”
“You’re greedy.”
“Same vocabulary in the business world.”
4:20 p.m.
While the world was learning the word “monster”...
In the basement of a private office building, dozens of temperature-controlled boxes sat arranged on stainless-steel tables.
Inside them were pieces of anomalous life-forms.
A man in a suit watched a researcher examine a gray scale with specialized equipment.
“The government has started buying them, sir,” an assistant reported.
“What price?”
“Lower than ours.”
“Raise ours another twenty percent.”
“If we do that, the cost will—”
“We’re not buying meat.”
The man lightly tapped the glass.
“We’re buying time.”
He turned around.
“And recruiting people who’ve managed to kill them.”
“The government has prohibited civilians from engaging them, sir.”
“Then don’t call them hunters.”
“What should we call them?”
The man in the suit smiled faintly.
“Field Specimen Collection Officers.”
5:05 p.m.
A student dorm
“I found it!”
A shout rang through the room.
Four college students crowded around a laptop.
On the screen were three incidents involving the same type of monster.
“Look at the hind legs.”
The first clip was paused.
“This one jumped about four meters.”
The second clip.
“This one almost eight.”
The third clip.
“Over eleven.”
The student beside him furrowed his brow.
“They’re the same species, aren’t they?”
“That’s the problem.”
The young man pushed up his glasses.
“If they don’t all have the same abilities despite looking identical...”
He opened a spreadsheet
and added a new column.
Individual Variation
“Don’t memorize how to kill them by species.”
He spoke slowly.
“Memorize them individually.”
6:40 p.m.
The curry-and-rice shop was closed.
Bing sat behind the shop.
His shirt was half off, and fresh blood seeped through the gauze over his side.
He tried to raise his left arm.
The pain was so bad he had to grit his teeth.
“So what if my INT is high...”
he muttered.
“My brain dodged in time, but the rest of me sure as hell didn’t.”
[Remaining stat points: 5]
The System Window floated in front of him.
STR
AGI
INT
Bing stared at INT for a long time.
If this had been yesterday, he would have dumped all the points into it without hesitation.
But the image of the claws lunging for his heart came back to him.
He’d seen them.
He’d known he had to dodge.
But he hadn’t been able to.
“A smart person who can’t run fast enough...”
His finger slid toward AGI.
“...is just a corpse that understands the cause of its own death really well.”
He was about to press—
when footsteps sounded.
Grandpa Phoeng walked in.
The old man looked at the bandages,
then at the knife.
“So it saved you after all.”
Bing’s finger stopped.
“You knew?”
Grandpa Phoeng sat down across from him.
“That knife won’t let its owner die easily.”
“Easily?”
Bing raised an eyebrow.
“So if I die the hard way, it just lets me?”
“You little bastard. I’m being serious.”
“So am I.”
Grandpa Phoeng sighed.
“It can save your life, but it has limits.”
Bing looked at the knife.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“What power does it use?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any side effects?”
“I don’t know.”
Bing fell silent.
Grandpa Phoeng cleared his throat.
“But I do know that it belongs to you.”
“Your information is about as useful as a call center during a system outage, Grandpa.”
“At least I—”
Ding!
A red System Window popped up in the middle of the conversation.
[Emergency Mission]
[Detected evolution of a demonic life-form in the nearby area]
[G1 has fulfilled the evolution conditions]
[Entering Rank F10]
Bing and Grandpa Phoeng fell silent at the same time.
The dogs in the neighborhood began barking frantically.
Then—
silence.
They all stopped at once.
Bing slowly stood up.
The wound in his side hurt so badly he had to press a hand against it.
Grandpa Phoeng asked,
“Where are you going?”
“To look.”
“In your condition?”
“I said I’m going to look. I didn’t say I was going to fight.”
Bing tucked the knife into his waistband.
“That’s the difference between poor people and stupid people, Grandpa.”
He looked out into the darkness behind the shop.
“If something can kill us, and we still don’t know how to kill it...”
A faint smile appeared.
“...then don’t go picking a fight with it yet.”
[Countdown: 132 hours 31 minutes]
And that same night—
several governments began drafting standards for classifying threats
private companies began forming specimen collection teams
and ordinary people began banding together to hunt for money
without anyone realizing that the life-forms they were putting bounties on...
could gain experience from hunting humans too.