My Calling Is Profiler [EN]: Chapter 625

“Golden Foot had the advantage.”

Initially, Golden Foot held a stronger position. This was largely because their territory was in a wealthier district. While the Red Warrior clearly had superior numbers, Golden Foot compensated with financial resources.

“And then?”

“Golden Foot’s leadership got blown to bits. Ha! How could I have missed that?”

Shortly after Vincent completed his task, the residence of Golden Foot and his associates was bombed, eliminating them all. Despite their relative wealth, they were still a criminal organization of similar standing, and Golden Foot couldn’t survive the loss of its leaders.

“Now, the Red Warrior controls the territory Golden Foot used to dominate.”

“Looks like the last card has been played.”

“How does killing people with bombs generate income, and will they learn from it and do it themselves?”

“They’re capable enough to do it for their gang.”

“So, how was the incident resolved?”

“Just a moment.”

The NIS [National Intelligence Service] agent stepped outside, returned, and sighed deeply.

“It was officially ruled as a gas tank explosion on the lower floor. Apparently, the Golden Foot organization’s office was above a restaurant.”

“They must have staged it that way.”

It’s not difficult to time an explosion precisely.

“A total of twenty-five people died in the incident, including fourteen members of the Golden Foot organization and eleven restaurant patrons.”

“A common characteristic of bombings is that innocent bystanders get caught in the blast.”

There are several advantages to this. For one, it obscures the true target. Most people assume the target is someone of importance, but if the explosion occurs in a high-end restaurant, it’s difficult to pinpoint who the intended victim was among the clientele.

“So, should we consider Vincent the culprit?”

“I think it’s safe to assume Vincent was responsible.”

“Then how do we arrest Vincent? We can’t exactly bring him back to Korea.”

“We need to take him down first.”

“Take him down?”

“He’s already weakened. How much money do you think Vincent lost yesterday?”

“Huh?”

Lee Ji-soo and Yoon Tae-min exchanged glances, realizing they had been so focused on Park Do-joon’s winnings that they hadn’t considered Vincent’s losses.

“He lost about 300 million won [approximately $250,000 USD].”

“300 million won? That much?”

“Yes, approximately, but still significant.”

Normally, he wouldn’t experience such a massive loss. He’d have wins and losses. But Park Do-joon subtly provoked him and kept the game going. Vincent probably realized the extent of his losses later.

“He must be shaken at that level.”

“Yes, he’s likely quite distressed. Of course, he has savings.”

However, 300 million won is still a substantial sum.

“Maybe that’s the money he made from the bombing.”

“Yes, possibly.”

That’s plausible.

“The key thing is that his composure is gone.”

Even a terrorist, after losing 300 million won in a gambling house, will be desperate to recoup his losses.

“And people with desperate minds are more prone to making mistakes.”

Park Do-joon smiled.

“Damn it, was I out of my mind that day?”

Vincent Garcia wondered if he had been possessed. He had lost a staggering 300 million won. He received 500 million won for the Korean job, leaving him with 200 million won, but that didn’t diminish the sting of losing 300 million won.

“Hoo~ I’m going crazy.”

He had been thoroughly manipulated by Park Do-joon, a common tactic in gambling dens.

Vincent would win frequently, but Park Do-joon structured the game so that he won the larger pots. This made Vincent feel like he was winning overall, masking his gradual losses.

However, the money steadily dwindled, and before he knew it, he had lost a considerable amount.

“Damn it, this isn’t right.”

The account wasn’t empty, but the remaining balance left him feeling hollow and defeated.

“You son of a bitch.”

This was precisely the state Park Do-joon wanted: heightened mental stress. But there was a problem.

This mental stress wasn’t triggering an adrenaline rush.

Extreme stress releases adrenaline as a survival mechanism, but this was a different kind of stress.

Regret over financial losses is a unique torment. No matter how much you dwell on it, it doesn’t alleviate the feeling.

Rather, this low-intensity, long-term stress is far more corrosive than high-intensity, short-term stress.

“I’m dying of regret.”

Vincent sighed.

The emptiness that follows gambling losses is what drives many people back to gambling.

Are they unaware of this? No, they know it. Yet, they continue to gamble.

Is it solely the hope of winning next time? Of course not.

The fundamental reason is to replenish the substance that can resolve the loss: adrenaline.

However, Vincent wasn’t stupid. For him, the adrenaline from gambling was a substitute for his primary profession. Therefore, if he suffered a gambling loss, he had other ways to replenish it.

“According to my original plan, I should stay put for a while, but…”

He received requests from all over the world, but he didn’t accept them all. The very nature of bombs meant that specializing in them increased the risk of exposure.

That’s why he made it a rule to rest for at least six months after each job. But this time, he couldn’t afford to wait.

The financial loss was too much to bear. He still had 200 million won and his previous savings.

He could gamble if he wanted to, but that money wouldn’t sustain his lifestyle. He could eat, sleep, and live comfortably, but gambling alone couldn’t provide the adrenaline he craved.

He needed more money to fill that void.

“I’ll have to work a little faster this time. That Korean guy won’t keep running into me, will he?”

Even if he did, he could simply relocate.

That’s what he thought.

He didn’t realize that his downfall in his previous life stemmed from this very mistake: he was caught because he committed increasingly frequent terror attacks to fund his gambling addiction. He was about to break his own rule and take on another job.

He drove to the broker who provided him with work.

“Vincent? What’s going on? What’s wrong? You usually take a six-month break, right?”

“Just… I ran into some crazy guy and got cleaned out. So, do you have any work?”

“I do. I have a perfect one.”

“What is it?”

“Someone wants you to kill someone in the Philippines.”

Vincent frowned. He preferred to avoid working in the Philippines. It was his home country, and his first job there had been so high-profile that it made him uneasy.

“Isn’t there anything else?”

“Well, there are a few, but this one pays the most.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

Vincent nodded and sat down.

“It’s an external request. Kill a businessman who came to the Philippines on vacation. The reward is 500 million [won].”

“500 million?”

Vincent was tempted. Even at his highest rates, he rarely received 500 million. Usually, it was around 300 million at most.

The Korean case had been expensive because the target was the head of a major conglomerate, but typically, he earned around 200 or 300 million per job.

“I told you, it’s a big deal.”

Vincent considered it. It was a very tempting offer.

“Who is it?”

“A guy named Park Do-joon. He’s on vacation from Korea and someone wants him dead.”

“Park Do-joon?”

Vincent’s head tilted, the name sounded familiar.

“This is him.”

The broker, sensing Vincent’s interest, handed him a file.

“They want him blown up with a bomb, which worried me. There aren’t many guys who can do that.”

Vincent’s eyes widened as he took the file and examined its contents.

“This guy?”

“Do you know him?”

“He’s the son of a bitch who robbed me at the casino.”

“Heh? The great Vincent got robbed?”

“I didn’t even realize I was being robbed, he’s that good.”

Vincent unconsciously gritted his teeth, remembering that day. The fact that Park Do-joon had bought him drinks with a friendly smile after cleaning him out felt like mockery.

“How much did you lose?”

“300 million?”

“Wow? At poker?”

“Yeah.”

“He must be good. Well, he deserves it.”

“He deserves it?”

The broker tapped the file.

“Look at the back. He’s a champion who has won several poker tournaments in Korea.”

“What? Why is a guy like that here?”

“I don’t know. The important thing is that we have to blow him away.”

“Why a bomb, though?”

There were plenty of ways to kill someone in the Philippines. Guns and poison were readily available. A street thug could easily spray him with a machine gun and no one would bat an eye.

“Apparently, this guy always carries his will on him.”

“Ah~!”

If the will contained unfavorable information, someone would want to eliminate it.

“You can’t get rid of a will with a gun, right? I heard he has bodyguards, too.”

“That’s right.”

You could shoot him, but the document would remain intact. Blood might stain it, but it was unlikely to obscure the text.

“Someone wants to destroy the will. I understand.”

A gun or other methods wouldn’t destroy the will. But a well-placed bomb could incinerate everything.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t normally, but…”

Vincent smiled cruelly, staring at the picture of Park Do-joon, the man who had robbed him.