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Decidedly resolved, Jinseong purchased a ticket heading to America.

And surprisingly, the method of transport to America was none other than an airplane.

Of course, there was a hint of anxiety.

Terror had not occurred thus far, but if you asked whether it wouldn’t happen in the future, the answer would still be a resounding no.

It was quite possible that if he got really unlucky, terrorists on his airplane might suddenly stand up and threaten everyone with guns!

But there was no other choice.

Sailing was far too inefficient.

For starters, there were no direct ships from Korea to America.

Of course, it wasn’t that there weren’t any ways to go at all.

He could hop on a cargo ship, charter a cruise, or rent a yacht, among other options…

There were certainly many methods available for Jinseong to choose from.

But if you asked whether it was worth going through all that just to board a ship…

It made one tilt their head in contemplation.

He would have to negotiate directly or rely on connections, plus it would take a significant amount of time…

If he could just buy a ticket and leisurely arrive in one go, it would be understandable, but why go through such lengthy processes just to board a ship?

There really was no reason to.

Additionally, what would happen once he boarded the ship was utterly predictable.

Sailors had a longstanding, close relationship with superstitions.

No, it wasn’t merely a close relationship; their entire lives had essentially merged with superstitions.

Even the most absurd of superstitions could determine life and death for them.

The sea was far too capricious; one couldn’t endure it without believing in some sort of superstition.

Thus, for sailors, a shaman was… more important than any ordinary VIP, a truly revered figure.

Not only did they believe in superstitions, but they were also the ones who managed them.

What if Jinseong were to board a ship?

Sailors would flock to him.

They’d plead for rituals to ensure safe sailing, to write talismans, for some kind words, and even to have him tell fortunes.

It was clear that a flood of requests would pour in.

Certainly, such requests would come with utmost hospitality…

But for Jinseong, who had been worn down by such extreme hospitality, enjoying it was out of the question.

So, Jinseong chose to bear a bit of a burden instead of going through annoying experiences.

And so, he flew to America.

His destination? America.

New York, John F. Kennedy International Airport.

* * *

Fortunately, nothing unusual occurred.

The weather was fine, and there were no turbulence.

The flight attendants were friendly, and the passengers showed no signs of being problematic.

The airplane climbed easily into the sky, and after a peaceful flight, it arrived at the airport.

As he disembarked at John F. Kennedy International Airport, he could sense a familiar scent.

It was the peculiar fragrance created by the mingling of body odors from various cultural backgrounds.

Inhaling that scent, Jinseong made his way outside the airport.

He then flagged down a taxi.

“Where to?”

“To Wall Street, please.”

Answering the taxi driver, who enquired slowly and distinctly about the destination, Jinseong replied in fluent English.

This time, his tone was mixed with British accents.

He blended a neat and sophisticated American English pronunciation with a hint of the upper-class accent called Oxbridge English, creating an elegant vibe.

“Oh, are you American? Or British?”

Intrigued by Jinseong’s refined English, the taxi driver asked.

“Haha. Just a foreigner.”

Jinseong lightly shook his head in response to the driver’s comment, simply stating that he was a foreigner.

Even then, he maintained an upright posture, ensuring he didn’t come off as frivolous.

It was as if decorum was embedded in his very being.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, the taxi driver seemed to realize something.

“Ah, he must be from a wealthy family.”

The middle-aged white driver thought Jinseong was a rich kid from abroad.

His fluent speech, which sounded like he had studied abroad, the western ambiance he exuded despite being Asian, his youthful and almost boyish appearance, and the undeniably expensive-looking clothes he wore along with his modest luggage that seemed insufficient for a tourist—all of it led to the assumption that Jinseong had come to America for business or education.

Of course, all of it had been Jinseong’s intention.

“America currently pays very little attention to anything outside their borders.”

At that moment, isolationism was spreading in America.

They merely wanted to live well among themselves, creating higher fences, layering them, and turning them into walls.

Conversely, this meant that with their dwindling external interest, there was increased focus on their internal matters.

And this ‘internal’ did not encompass only Americans.

Those coming to America were also subjects of their interest.

And the first gateway for this interest was, indeed, the airport.

“They’re probably actively gathering information right now.”

Ever since the neocons began to rise, America had prioritized national security over freedom.

Or perhaps the importance of “national security” had been recognized even earlier.

After the 9/11 attacks shocked everyone and the ensuing terror wore them down…

America, since that point, took the perspective that a little infringement on freedom was acceptable in the name of security.

And progressively, bit by bit, the scope of this infringement widened until now…

“The airport is a filter, a primary gateway.”

At long last, America had begun to surveil even foreigners for their own safety.

Very discreetly, so that no one would really know.

This had, in a way, shared similarities to the paranoid vigilance about shamans that Jinseong had witnessed at the Japanese airport not long ago—although much more comprehensive and lenient.

First, at American airports, there were devices installed everywhere to surveil foreigners.

The obvious presence of CCTV? That was just a fragment of it.

They had laid down cutting-edge technology to detect bombs or drugs, and systems capable of facial recognition scattered throughout the airport that could query databases.

Should a terrorist or an international criminal show up, an alert would be immediately sent to police or intelligence agencies.

Additionally, they had devices to identify capable persons, and agents stationed at the airport to neutralize those with ‘bad intentions’ visiting America.

Snipers roamed nearby buildings, satellites intensely surveilled airports, and there were decoy taxis ready to transport capable individuals who intended to harm America.

Was that the end of it?

No.

This taxi that Jinseong was in?

It also had safety devices installed.

First off, there was a black box.

The inside of the taxi was equipped with cameras that filmed the interior and recorded audio. Allegedly, this was installed “for the safety of the taxi driver,” but…

“Data is being transmitted in real-time.”

The real purpose was naturally to filter out the dangerous ones.

Those who couldn’t be screened at the airport were smoothly filtered out in the taxi.

The cameras installed in the taxi transmitted video and audio to intelligence agencies, programmed to alert when someone hit the ‘threshold.’ Even records of those deemed non-threatening were accessible anytime by personnel at the agencies.

Privacy infringement?

An act that oppresses individual freedom?

Indeed.

But astonishingly, this was not illegal.

To be precise, it was illegal yet not illegal.

An act done “to prevent terrorism” was not illegal, but filming individuals and allowing an unidentified multitude to scrutinize it could be considered illegal.

Yet, given that “to prevent terrorism” could be broadly interpreted, it wasn’t hard to smooth over. Especially considering that the entity involved was the American government.

Thus, Jinseong disguised himself.

In the safest, most familiar, and most easily acceptable form for them.

He radiated wealth and an air of sophistication while mixing in the Oxbridge English accent, synonymous with America’s upper class, and casually designated Wall Street as his first destination, subtly flaunting that he possessed both money and connections.

He also exuded a vibe halfway between a student and a socialite, suitable for his youthful appearance.

This disguise would perfectly pass through the initial filter, leading to a splendid outcome that would allow him to operate freely in America.

Jinseong smiled with that thought.

Claiming he was a safe person, as if he were infinitely looking forward to meeting someone on Wall Street.

And the taxi driver, noticing this demeanor of Jinseong, entirely relaxed his guard.

He casually cracked jokes while driving, safely transporting him to Wall Street.

“Here’s the fare. And this is a tip.”

“Oh, thank you. Have a great day.”

And thus, Jinseong arrived at Wall Street.

The moment he stepped out of the taxi, he was hit by a smell reminiscent of trash.

The unique scent of New York.

A bizarre stench emitted from feces and food waste tantalized Jinseong’s nose.

As he took in that smell, Jinseong slowly moved his feet.

He initially came to Wall Street to avoid drawing attention, but wouldn’t heading straight to another place seem suspicious?

He thought of spending some time at the New York Stock Exchange, and if he spotted someone with a good vibe, starting a network from that person wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

And so, Jinseong strolled between the tall, colossal buildings.

People.

People.

People.

Countless individuals hustled and bustled down the streets.

Some stood vacantly, while others hung their heads, leaning against walls.

Some were drunkenly sprawled in the alleyways, while others mumbled in a daze while perched on the stairs.

Then there were those who seemed to leap up the steps with fervor and even those who seemed like they were literally flying through the air.

“Hmm?”

Jinseong’s eyes caught sight of someone floating in midair.

They were flying.

A person was soaring in the air!

Someone who had launched from the heights of a building was now suspended in the air.

Naturally, this person didn’t possess wings, and that daring flier soon succumbed to gravity’s pull and plummeted to the ground.

Thud-!

The fallen individual met the pavement unceremoniously with a heavy thud, and with that, his body was smashed to bits. As a result of the descent, bodily fluids splattered everywhere, tragically hitting the nearest onlooker.

“Fuck That Shit!”

The man struck by blood and brain matter cursed incessantly.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck-!”

Unable to contain his rage, he brushed off the fluids from his suit, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping it down as he muttered.

“Goddamnit! My expensive suit got ruined!”

 

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