Damn It! I Became a Korean Agent?
Sing Sing slammed the Fedora top hat onto the desk, pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and casually grabbed the windproof lighter on Director Wang's desk and lit it with a "click".
He took a deep drag and exhaled a not-so-round smoke ring.
"No, boss, can't you be reasonable?"
He spread his hands, looking aggrieved, and pointed in the air with the finger holding the cigarette:
"You need to be very observant! The group that tore down the school were delinquents, and their leader was a muscle-bound gorilla named Hayashida Megumi, the kind who could kill a bull with one punch! The one who blew up that dilapidated toilet was Deadpool, that pervert in the red bodysuit! As for me?"
Sing Sing pointed to his own nose, widened his eyes, and cried out that he was innocent:
"I was just a concerned citizen passing by, at most a war correspondent! I was even trying to break up the fight, saying, 'Don't fight, let's keep the peace!' How come all the protests from Japan are directed at me now? They can't just throw this mud at me like that!"
"You dare to argue!"
Director Wang grabbed the documents on the table, rolled them into a tube, and tapped them on the surface.
"The surveillance footage is crystal clear! Do you think I'm blind? You were even fighting that Silver Samurai mecha! The Japan Self-Defense Forces just printed your headshot into a two-meter-tall poster, pasted it on the protest letter, and sent it to us!"
Sing Sing rubbed his nose and muttered to himself, "Are they good at taking pictures? Do they make me look handsome? Besides... they started the fight, I was just acting in self-defense!"
"You're talking nonsense! Self-defense can blow up a crater a hundred meters wide under someone's school building?! Why don't you say it was a meteorite!"
Director Wang was so angry that his face turned purple, he unbuttoned two buttons on his collar, and he was panting heavily.
Seeing that the fat man's blood pressure was about to break through the ceiling, Sing Sing, a master of workplace survival, immediately changed his expression like a Sichuan opera performer.
"Fine, fine, it's all my fault, no matter what."
He stubbed out his cigarette in Director Wang's ashtray with a grin.
"It was my youthful impetuosity, my ignorance, that I lost control of my strength. So what do you suggest we do? How about we just tie me up and send me back to Japan to commit seppuku as atonement?"
At this point, he clutched his chest and, in a fit of dramatic fervor, began to wail:
"Oh no, that won't do! I haven't even gotten married yet! If I just leave like this, the Zhou family line will end! If I die a glorious death, will the bureau give me a martyr's family pension? How many houses could they give me?"
"Deportation? You wish!"
Seeing that Director Wang didn't want to talk to him, Uncle Biao smiled.
"A one-way ticket for repatriation plus the travel expenses for the escort personnel will cost at least 20,000 yuan. Our bureau's funds aren't for cleaning up your messes."
Sing Sing Chow, seizing the opportunity, said, "Uncle Biao is brilliant! I knew our bureau was the most protective of its own! So, this 8.3 billion yen in compensation..."
"Pay my ass!"
Uncle Biao pointed to the manila file folder on the coffee table, "You've got some nerve, kid. You went out and practically ripped the sky out of the house! If Director Wang and I hadn't been prepared, you'd be on your way to the Hague International Court right now!"
Sing Sing walked over suspiciously, untied the thread on the file folder, and pulled out the contents.
At the top was a dark green passport, with several personal resumes stamped with an embossed seal attached to the side.
What's this?
Sing Sing opened his passport and froze on the spot.
The photo on the passport is of him, but his clothing and appearance are too flashy, and his hair has been photoshopped into a greasy boy band middle part.
Her face was covered in a shimmering, dewy highlighter, and her lips were painted with a glossy, irresistible lip gloss. Her eyes looked even more charming and alluring than a woman's.
Let's look at the name column again: Park Gukchang
Nationality: Korea
"What the hell?!" Sing Sing's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as he pointed a trembling finger at his nose. "Me? Korea? And I've been a prostitute?!"
"Pay attention to the pronunciation, it's Park Gukchang," Uncle Biao corrected seriously.
"Based on the actual files compiled by our bureau's intelligence department overnight... cough, I mean, through in-depth investigation overnight."
Uncle Biao cleared his throat. "The mastermind behind the major Riot at Toyo High School, a man using the alias 'Hoshino Seiichi,' is actually a top-tier agent secretly dispatched by the Korea National Intelligence Service."
"Park Gukchang, 30 years old, 9th Dan black belt in Taekwondo, once went to Thailand to study transgender... cough, to study undercover techniques."
"This person is extremely jealous of Japan's high school education resources and firmly believes, on a spiritual level, that the ancestral feng shui of the Yasukuni Divine Toilet's outhouse was invented by their Korea ancestors."
"In order to reclaim the latrines belonging to Korea, he went into hiding in Tokyo, sowing discord and deliberately sabotaging relations between the two countries."
666
Good heavens!
Lao Zhou exclaimed, "Wow!"
He turned to look at Director Wang.
The fat man leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped on his round belly, looking completely at ease and invincible.
"We 'accidentally' leaked this file to the Japan Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office through special channels half an hour ago, and also sent it to several well-known international media outlets."
Director Wang said slowly, "The Japan are probably in an uproar right now, and they're busy summoning the Korea ambassador to protest."
"The two leaders' move to shift the blame is like a heifer trying to fly in an airplane—it's incredibly audacious!"
"This is a diplomatic dispute between Japan and Korea. What does it have to do with a concerned citizen of China selling pork at the market?"
Director Wang tapped the table, making the final decision.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" Sing Sing rubbed his hands together, grinning from ear to ear, finally feeling relieved.
I don't have to take the blame, and I can even watch two mortal enemies fight like dogs. What a great deal!
Just when Old Zhou thought everything was settled and was about to ask for his bonus, Uncle Biao suddenly changed the subject.
"The matter is resolved; let's settle the score."
Uncle Biao opened the ledger, picked up a ballpoint pen, and scribbled, "Forging a complete set of Korea agent files, using expedited channels, the cost of materials, channel fees, and the overtime pay for the photo editor totals two hundred and fifty yuan. It will be deducted from your next month's salary."
"How much?!" Sing Sing almost jumped up. "Two hundred and fifty? Is this number an insult to me? Besides, I risked my life to complete this mission, fighting monsters in the basement, and I didn't even have a decent pair of underwear left! The bureau not only doesn't give me a bonus, but they're also deducting money from my pay? Is there no justice? Is there no law?!"
"What's all the noise about! These are financial regulations!"
"Stop fooling around, let's get down to business."
Director Wang banged on the table.
Lao Zhou nodded, became serious, and took out the Mini Dimensional Box from his pocket, taking out items one by one.
First, there was the top-secret kraft paper bag left by Morikawa Kiyoshi, containing film, lab reports, and a cross-section diagram of the Blue Oni.
Next came a silver USB flash drive and a metal box.
"The Third Transfer Station, the list, files, and experimental records of those arrested on June 12, 1944, have all been handed over to Anton for processing."
He pointed to the tin box, his voice steady, "This is Gu Qingshan, twenty-two years old, from Zhili. I brought him home."
Director Wang stood up, straightened the collar of his uniform shirt, and buttoned it up tightly.
Uncle Biao, who was standing next to him, also put down his ledger, took off his reading glasses, walked to his desk, and stood up straight.
The two men bowed solemnly to the tin box.
"Good!"
Director Wang straightened up, his voice deep and resonant.
"The martyrs have returned home! Sing Sing, you did a great job on this mission, absolutely outstanding!"
Director Wang looked at him, each word carrying immense weight.
"I will contact the relevant departments to arrange a burial ceremony at the highest level in the martyrs' cemetery. Those martyrs who suffered so much outside must not be allowed to suffer the slightest injustice again after returning home!"