"Director K" in the Compound

In the early morning, the air in the windowless room was somewhat stale, mixed with the lingering smell of alcohol, cheap perfume, and some peculiar bodily fluids. The pale LED light strip emitted a constant glow, illuminating the sparse furniture and messy bed in the room.

K sat up in a large but not very comfortable double bed. He rubbed his temples; he had drunk quite a bit last night, but the hangover had little effect on his specially trained body. He looked down at his bare upper body, then at the person beside him.

On the other side of the bed lay two blonde, blue-eyed, and curvaceous white women, fast asleep, completely naked, covered with a wrinkled thin blanket. Some suggestive red marks were visible on their bare shoulders and arms. The room was filled with their strong, somewhat pungent perfume, but it couldn't mask another, more primal aura.

K expressionlessly looked away, threw off the blanket, and got out of bed barefoot. Empty bottles, torn plastic wrap, and some women's clothing were scattered on the floor.

He went straight to the small, private bathroom—one of his privileges in the park. He took a cold shower, the icy water stimulating his skin and completely dispelling any lingering drowsiness.

He dried himself off and changed into the clothes neatly arranged on the chair beside the bed: a plain black polo shirt and khaki casual pants. Simple, unassuming, but clean.

Pushing open the door, the distant clamor of voices could already be heard in the corridor—the prelude to the new day's "work" for hundreds and thousands of "chat operators" in the vast "office area." Several security guards patrolling or passing by in the corridor stopped immediately upon seeing K, their faces plastered with smiles that mixed with awe and obsequiousness, bowing and scraping. "Good morning Director K!"

"Director K, did you sleep well last night?"

K simply nodded slightly and continued walking towards the cafeteria without stopping. His title here was "Technical Director," but everyone knew that this taciturn, technically brilliant young man was now Brother Kun's most trusted person, and his actual status was already the number two person in the entire park, second only to the elusive big boss's agent— Brother Kun.

Passing through the passageway connecting the accommodation area and the core area, K entered the huge "staff canteen." The smell and atmosphere here were completely different from the "privileged area" he had just left. The air was filled with the greasy smell of communal cooking, lacking aroma, as well as the sweat and fatigue emanating from the gathering of people. Dozens of long tables were crowded with "chatterboxes" eating breakfast.

Most of them had blank expressions and empty eyes, their faces bearing the haggard marks of long-term sleep deprivation and high-pressure work. Breakfast was simple, even rudimentary: each person had a bowl of rice porridge or mush so thin you could see your reflection in it, a dark-colored, hard-looking steamed bun, and occasionally a little pickled vegetables or boiled cabbage. They squatted or sat, silently gnawing on their buns and drinking their thin porridge. Almost no one spoke; there was only the suppressed sound of chewing and the clatter of bowls and chopsticks.

When K appeared at the cafeteria entrance, many of the "chatterboxes" instinctively looked up. Their eyes followed him, filled with complex emotions.

There was a numb fear, a deep-seated jealousy, and a very few fanatical, almost worshipful devotion (they had heard that Director K was a genius, having risen to his position through sheer talent). They looked at K's clean, tidy clothes, his calm, expressionless face, then at their own steamed buns and the sweaty, musty smell on their clothes—the stark contrast stung everyone's nerves. But no one dared say anything, not even daring to stare for long. They quickly lowered their heads again, focusing on their meager food.

K ignored all of this, walking straight through the crowded and noisy hall to a private room on the side of the cafeteria with a sign that read "Internal Dining". The guard standing at the door saw him and immediately respectfully pulled back the curtain.

The private room was a completely different story. It wasn't large, but it was clean and tidy, and the air conditioner sent out cool air, dispelling the stuffiness and odors from outside. A round mahogany table was laden with a dazzling array of breakfast items.

Brother Kun was sitting in the main seat, a toothpick dangling from his mouth, with several delicate steamers and small dishes in front of him. Seeing K enter, he immediately smiled and waved, "Ah K! Come on in, we've been waiting for you! The chef made some authentic Cantonese dim sum today, have a taste!"

On the table, the shrimp dumplings were crystal clear, the siu mai were plump and oily, the steamed ribs were fragrant, the chicken feet were soft and tender and fell off the bone, the rice noodle rolls were smooth and tender, and there were also golden-fried radish cakes and fragrant congee. Compared to the mushy steamed buns in the hall outside, this place was simply heaven.

K sat down next to Brother Kun, picked up his chopsticks, took a shrimp dumpling, and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly. The taste was indeed good, and the ingredients were fresh.

As Brother Kun stirred the porridge in his bowl with a spoon, he leaned closer, a lewd smile on his face—the kind of knowing smiles you see between men—and made some obscene gestures with his hands, swinging them back and forth a few times. He then thrust his hips forward and asked, winking and making faces.

"How was it? Those two 'foreign beauties' I arranged for you last night, weren't they amazing? They were top-quality goods that I had a hard time getting from over there, and I heard they used to be models!"

K swallowed the shrimp dumpling, then picked up a piece of steamed pork rib. Hearing this, he shook his head, his tone flat as if he were commenting on a dish. "Not very good."

"Oh?" Brother Kun was taken aback. "Not satisfied with your figure? Not good enough with your face?"

"The smell is overwhelming." K took a sip of tea and rinsed his mouth. "It's a strong body odor; even perfume can't cover it up. It's giving me a headache."

Brother Kun was taken aback for a moment, then slapped the table and burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Ah K, Ah K, I didn't expect you to be so picky! Okay! I'll remember that! Those Russian girls are a bit too much." He rolled his eyes, "How about we change things up for you today? I'll have someone find a few from the nearby brothels? Guaranteed fresh and good at serving!"

K shook his head again, picked up a shumai. "No 'handshake girls'." The "handshake girls" he was referring to were slang terms in the park, referring to cheap prostitutes who were specially brought in to be used by middle-level managers or "chat operators" with outstanding "performance" for their own venting. They were usually tricked or bought from poorer areas, and their situation was even worse than that of the "chat operators" outside. They often had diseases and were mostly mentally unstable.

Brother Kun's laughter grew louder as he pointed at K: "You little rascal! Your standards are getting higher and higher! Fine! The handrail girls aren't good enough for your status Director K!" He stroked his chin, thought for a moment, then lowered his voice, adding with a hint of smugness and mystery, "Here's what we'll do: in a couple of days, I'll find a way to get you a few ' Japan women'! Authentic ones! Guaranteed to be beautiful, well-behaved, obedient, and well-mannered, and not too 'smell-good'! How about that? Pretty generous of me, huh?"

K gave a noncommittal "hmm" and continued eating his breakfast, as if Brother Kun wasn't talking about a woman, but rather the server components that would be delivered tomorrow.

Brother Kun was already used to his reaction. He knew that this tech genius seemed to be far less interested in women than in code and network architecture, but as long as he was willing to accept her, it was giving him face, and they were all in the same boat. He didn't bring up the matter again, and instead chatted about some trivial matters in the park, which group had met its performance targets, which clueless "chatterbox" had tried to run away but was caught, and so on.

K listened quietly, occasionally humming in agreement, but mostly focused on eating. Breakfast ended in an atmosphere that seemed harmonious but was actually filled with unspoken thoughts.

After leaving the cafeteria, K didn't return to his room, which had a private bathroom and even occasional "special services." Instead, he went directly to his "office"—a small room next to a private server room in the core area of the park. The room was well soundproofed, with several high-performance computers and servers, independent wiring, and he had already figured out and tampered with the locations of the surveillance cameras.

With the door closed, only the low hum of the machine and the sound of the air conditioner remained in the room. The calm expression on K's face vanished completely, replaced by absolute calm and indifference.

He turned on his computer, the screen lit up, and a complex code interface and network monitoring graphs appeared. He flexed his fingers and began his day's work.

So far, he has not met the real mastermind behind this telecom fraud park, and he doesn't even have concrete evidence as to whether or not there are people above Brother Kun. But he knows that Brother Kun is definitely just a manager in the open.

However, his "performance" during this period was not in vain. By successfully resolving several cyberattacks, optimizing the fraudulent script delivery system, and even building a more covert internal communication network, he gained the initial trust of Brother Kun and the forces behind him. This trust was reflected in the core business he gradually came into contact with.

Now, his daily work has long gone beyond simple technical maintenance. In addition to ensuring the stability of the park's network, preventing external intrusions, and handling some routine "difficult problems," Brother Kun has begun to entrust him with some more "important" tasks.

For example, creating fake official websites and payment interfaces for new fraudulent "projects"—these websites need to be convincing enough to evade routine security checks. Another example is managing and optimizing the complex communication link connecting domestic and international locations used to transfer fraudulent funds, ensuring the covert and timely transmission of information. Yet another example is that Brother Kun recently started having him access to and initially operate a money laundering line.

This operation involves multiple shell companies overseas, cryptocurrency exchanges, and underground banks, employing professional methods and a clear hierarchy. K is currently only permitted to access the outermost layer—responsible for the initial collection and transfer of some of the scattered illicit funds obtained through fraud, following designated pathways, and erasing any surface electronic traces. However, this is already a significant signal, indicating that he is being accepted into a more inner circle.

K skillfully operated the computer, data scrolling rapidly across the screen. His gaze was focused and cold, like that of a highly precise instrument.

He was recording, analyzing, and reverse-engineering every node, every associated account, and every possible mastermind behind this money laundering scheme. He was also using his authority to quietly plant more "backdoors" and "listening points" deep within the park's network.

Women, gourmet food, flattery, status... these are merely disguises used to numb the other party. His goal has never changed: the other party's sum of money, amounting to tens of billions.