Return of the Sword God-Rank Civil Servant novel Chapter 116

It wasn’t a mistake.

The man standing there was undeniably Pi Seong-yeol.

Behind him, Su-ho emerged from the driver’s seat, standing like an aide.

Pi Seong-yeol spoke.

“Let’s head inside.”

“Yes, sir.”

At Pi Seong-yeol’s words, Warden Kim Gil-yeon immediately stepped forward to guide them.

Kim Gil-yeon couldn’t hide his nerves.

It was understandable.

Cheongok Prison managed Awakened inmates and was technically a subordinate institution of the Grand Hunter Association (GHA), under the direct oversight of the Special Division. As such, even the warden had to tread carefully around someone like Pi Seong-yeol.

Under Kim’s guidance, they arrived at a special visitation room.

This room had one wall made entirely of special glass, like an interrogation chamber. While the interior was hidden from outside view, it allowed for easy monitoring from the outside.

Pi Seong-yeol entered the monitoring room adjacent to the visitation area, while Su-ho went into the room alone.

Testing the microphone connected to the visitation room, Pi Seong-yeol turned to Kim Gil-yeon.

“Bring in inmate number one. And as I’ve mentioned, everyone else should leave the area. No one is to hear what’s about to take place.”

“Yes, of course.”

At his firm order, Kim Gil-yeon quickly bowed and dismissed everyone else.

Once the staff had cleared out, Pi Seong-yeol pressed the microphone button and spoke to Su-ho inside the room.

“They’re gone.”

“Great, nice work.”

As soon as the others left, Pi Seong-yeol addressed Su-ho respectfully, and Su-ho responded just as casually.

Why was this dynamic possible?

The answer was simple: the Pi Seong-yeol outside the visitation room wasn’t the real one.

The person currently assisting Su-ho was none other than Kim Geon, using his Suit Ball to impersonate Pi Seong-yeol.

“Having Geon around makes this so much easier. Truly convenient.”

Before coming to Cheongok Prison, Su-ho had proposed this arrangement to Kim Geon as part of their work.

Cheongok Prison was an impenetrable fortress, even for someone like Su-ho. However, having someone disguised as Pi Seong-yeol—a high-ranking GHA official—made access effortless.

“Even in the military, high-ranking officers bypass checkpoints without needing to give passwords.”

The same applied here, even in a place as secure as Cheongok Prison, which housed the most dangerous Awakened criminals.

After waiting for some time in the visitation room, Su-ho finally heard footsteps.

The guards brought in the inmate Pi Seong-yeol had requested: Kim Goong-won.

Kim Goong-won wore special cuffs that nullified his magical powers. The moment he saw Su-ho, he let out a dry laugh.

“Well, if it isn’t the nation’s favorite star who locked me up.”

With his usual cocky demeanor, Kim Goong-won sat across from Su-ho.

Su-ho grinned.

“Kim Goong-won, how’ve you been?”

“Do I look like I’ve been doing well?”

“Honestly? Yeah, you look pretty good. Even in Korea’s toughest prison for Awakened, your face looks clean and polished.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re stuck in a place like this, eating is about the only thing you can do. I’ve been living large, eating well. Money solves everything, doesn’t it?”

He wasn’t wrong.

Even in these chaotic times, human rights laws prevented prison staff from mistreating inmates.

But those rules didn’t necessarily apply within the inmate hierarchy.

In prison, wealth equaled power. Those with money could buy privileges and even secure alliances with others for when they were released.

Su-ho chuckled at Kim’s words before speaking in a more relaxed tone.

“Goong-won.”

“What now? Goong-won?”

“What? You call me whatever you want. Can’t I do the same?”

“Man, you’re something else... Aren’t you supposed to be a civil servant?”

“And you’re the one lacking awareness.”

“What was that?”

“How much money do you have left in your commissary account?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Better start saving. That’s all the money you’ve got left.”

“...What?”

At Su-ho’s remark, Kim Goong-won tilted his head in confusion before narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Hey, what’s your deal?”

“You’re still putting on airs? Don’t you get the situation yet?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your hidden assets. 3.2 billion won, right? All converted into cryptocurrency.”

Su-ho pulled out a withdrawal card and dangled it in front of Kim.

“It’s all right here.”

“...!”

Kim’s eyes widened to their limit, as if they might pop out of his head.

“Careful, your eyeballs might fall out,” Su-ho thought, smirking as he pocketed the card.

“Save your commissary funds. You’ve got years left here, and I bet you’ve spent quite a bit of money trying to keep up appearances among the inmates.”

“You bastard...! Stop lying. Even if you figured out how much I had hidden, how the hell would you have stolen it?”

“And yet I caught you, didn’t I?”

“What?”

“You don’t remember? No one in the GHA could find you, but I tracked you down at your own house. So why wouldn’t I be able to locate your hidden assets?”

“Bullshit.”

“Bullshit? You’ll see soon enough. Don’t tell me you’re still counting on Son Baek-geum.”

Su-ho pulled out the bribery ledger from his coat and tossed it on the table.

When Kim saw it, his eyes grew wide again.

“This...!”

“Son Baek-geum’s already been dealt with. Don’t get it twisted—he didn’t hand over your assets. No one but you knew about them, after all. But just so you know, I hold Son Baek-geum’s leash now. So stop pretending you have any cards left to play. You’re broke, and your only ally is out of the picture.”

Kim’s face turned pale, like a sheet of paper.

It was no wonder—his entire existence revolved around his wealth, and now it was gone.

Su-ho leaned in, his tone calm but cutting.