Translator/Editor: TranslatingNovice

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Chapter 17: Motivation (1)

That school was a brutal place.

They posted the entire school’s rankings from first to last on a large bulletin board.

The weak were weeded out and forced to leave on their own.

Cooperation was discouraged in favor of competition, and mechanical coldness was demanded over humanity.

Creativity was not tolerated; only obedience and discipline were enforced.

It was a place that had no choice but to be like that.

Because our enemies were merciless and allowed no mistakes.

Boys and girls who had just graduated from middle school were turned into machines there.

To fight against the enemies of humanity, the monsters.

Everyone had their own motivation, but for me, it was hatred.

Having lost my parents and older sister to monsters and becoming an orphan, my hatred was so intense that it’s hard for me to imagine now.

Lee Sang-hoon was my complete opposite in many ways.

He grew up in a wealthy family, his parents were alive, and he entered that school for honor and prospects.

For someone like him, who was raised in a greenhouse, to beat someone like me, who had nothing left but venom, might have been a difficult task from the start.

From entrance to graduation, he was always second, blocked by the wall that was me.

When he first enrolled, he couldn't have imagined that the number two would become his trauma.

But our competition ended in an entirely unexpected way.

The game changed.

Using a music analogy, it was like classical musicians competing in a classical competition, and then suddenly the genre changed to rock and heavy metal.

I believe that musical genres are a matter of preference, not superiority.

However, the music that resonated on the battlefield was rock and heavy metal.

Mozart and Salieri were outdated and obsolete there.

A kid who had been unnoticed and stuck in a corner emerged as a hero and stood in the spotlight.

We were pushed to the periphery and had to endure the mocking and disdain that often finds its way to such people.

One person left, and one person remained.

The one who left became a hermit and the one who stayed became a bureaucrat.

Their competition was over.

The only thread that connected them was cut.

I thought I’d never see him again.

But he sought me out himself.

Just what could it be about?

Old Man Kim used to say that it’s rare for someone to reach out after a long time with good intentions.

“The one who left the Capsule on Route 13 was you, right?”

“How did you know?”

I admitted it immediately.

I know this guy’s personality well.

Lee Sang-hoon is a perfectionist.

He tries to do even trivial things perfectly, which is why he was always behind me.

"Why did you do that? What are you going to do if the Capsule gets torn and a monster is summoned?”

“Summoned? What do you mean?”

"Do you still know of it as an egg?"

“It’s not an egg?”

“The Capsule has been identified as a portable portal. It's a kind of temporary rift used by Infiltrators.”

“...Is that so.”

It’s been quite a while since I retired from active duty.

I knew from experience that the capsule wasn’t an egg, but realizing that my knowledge had become outdated hit me hard.

“I think I know why you placed it there.”

“Take a guess.”

You didn't want refugees gathering around your bunker, right?"

"You're still good at guessing, as always. So, what's the matter? You must be busy."

"Are you interested in going to Jeju Island?"

Could it be a scouting offer?

It wasn't the flow I wanted.

“What do you want me to do there?”

I had refused before.

But it seems that the now-high-ranking Lee Sang-hoon isn’t aware of that.

“There’s a drill instructor position vacant. The previous candidate died in combat three days ago. Other recommendations were made, but none of them were satisfactory. Then I saw you moving the Capsule.”

“A drill instructor, huh.”

“It’s a better life than rotting away in your messy basement.”

“Wouldn't it be quite stressful?”

"Isn't staying there more stressful? I know you live alone. Living without saying a word, without friends, for nearly two years, isn't that a punishment in itself?"

“Not at all.”

For the first time, I responded seriously.

It's really not.

In the past two years, although there were some occasional rough moments, most of the time I lived comfortably and leisurely.

For friends, I have my community friends, and for speaking, the diary is enough.

So what if I’m unpopular on the forums?

I even have neighbors to exchange Christmas greetings with.

“Are you serious?”

Lee Sang-hoon’s voice wavered.

He seemed unable to believe it.

I answered him again, clearly.

“I like it here.”

If I went to Jeju Island, it would be warmer than here, sure.

But that's all.

There, I would face people and realities I don't want to see.

I left to avoid that, and that's how the current unpopular user, Skelton, came to be.

“It’s probably because you’re still stuck in your sense of inferiority and inadequacy.”

Lee Sang-hoon sneered coldly.

For a moment, my face hardened.

“……”

I couldn’t see myself in the mirror, but my eyes must have been sharp.

Maybe not as much as during my school days, though.

“What can you do? No talent. None. Neither you nor I.”

Lee Sang-hoon’s sneering turned into a sigh.

“Do you know how hard it is for me?”

I didn’t respond.

It’s not that I couldn’t understand it in my head.

Being in a high position means bearing that much responsibility.

With Seoul collapsing, could his heart be at ease?

However, we had too many conflicts and misunderstandings for me to sympathize with his struggles.

We were competitors, never friends.

“How about a drink for old times’ sake? I have some good wine.”

“I’d like to, but because of the Capsule...”

My responses grew increasingly insincere and indifferent.

Lee Sang-hoon wasn't so oblivious as to not notice.

“Alright.”

His voice grew distant.

“Take care, Park Gyu.”

Just as the connection seemed about to end, I heard a sudden murmur through the speaker.

“Behind your head.”

“What?”

That was the end.

For a long time, I wondered what Lee Sang-hoon was trying to say.

I hurriedly felt the back of my head, just in case there might be something there, but it was fine.

There’s a saying that to hide a tree, you hide it in a forest.

There were users in the community who had established bases within Seoul.

Though they didn't dig a bunker, they set up bases in common apartment buildings, converting a corner of it into their hideout.

One such person was a journalist who frequently provided fresh news from Seoul.

He welded his apartment door shut and made a hole in the floor to use the downstairs apartment as an entrance, which was possible because the family living there had all committed suicide.

That journalist had been living up to his name lately.

gijayangban: Current situation in Seoul.jpg

In the photo, tens of thousands of angry citizens were gathered in front of the government building.

And it wasn’t just there.

Citizens appeared and protested at almost every government agency location.

All of Seoul was turned upside down.

It was a foretold event.

There’s a limit to how long you can cover up reality with sweet lies of hope.

The protests became increasingly rough and violent.

Correspondingly, their slogans became simpler.

“Save us.”

That was their only demand.

The crash of the airplane known as Seoul had begun.

The reaction from the community users was cold.

Anonymous848: Serves them right. They mocked us so much.

Kyle_Dos: I still remember how they ridiculed us on national TV. What did they call us on that show?

Anonymous458: A group of social misfits caught in a sense of grandiose who chose to self-destruct.

I can understand their feelings too.

This country has a culture of mercilessly ridiculing those who stray from the prescribed path of life.

We doomsday preppers were those who strayed from that path.

We faced considerable social persecution and mockery.

I was even mocked by a government official asking if I was schizophrenic because of an architectural issue.

The exodus of refugees accelerated.

Anyone with the will to escape was trying to leave Seoul.

Refugees, glamorously dubbed as pioneers in Seoul, were under the military's control.

If you applied to be a pioneer and formed a group, they would provide weapons, equipment, and some food, with additional supplies and settlement support if the pioneering was successful.

How many would actually succeed was questionable, but their thorough searching of all habitable places left our community users struggling.

Defender: Proof

The Human Hunter seems to be very busy too.

The reason he hasn’t been posting on the community recently is because he’s busy killing and burying people.

However, a bit of controversy arose over one of his verification photos.

A shadow in one of the photos appeared slender, like a woman’s.

From my perspective, this was just a reflection of this era's gloom.

In the past, seeing a corpse photo would have made people hastily click away or gulp nervously at the sight of a stiffened body. But now, having seen so many corpses, people had the luxury of focusing on something else.

One user even zoomed in on the shadow part of the Defender's photo and drew the silhouette with MS Paint, bringing the speculation that Defender might be a woman into public discussion.

Unicorn18: Look at this line. Is Defender really a woman?

The storm Unicorn18 started briefly heated up the board but didn't last long.

Defender: Want me to come find you?

Defender themself shut it down.

The Human Hunter being a woman.

I’m skeptical.

I’ve seen their footprints.

They were men’s size.

There’s another reason.

While it’s easy for a woman to kill a man as long as they have a gun, moving and disposing of the body is not.

Even I was exhausted handling a few corpses. For someone like the Human Hunter, killing and dealing with intruders day in and day out?

It's not an easy job even for a strong man.

Let alone a woman; it would be even harder.

SKELTON: (Skelton’s Opinion) Defender. I think they’re a man?

I added my own two cents, but it didn’t even get a single like.

No, if you’re going to be like this, why even send me a friend request?

Anyway, I’m still far removed from the refugee problem that’s heating up the board.

Thanks to the Capsule.

A small number of soldiers, police, and hunters remained on guard around the Capsule and blocked the road.

Though I say hunters, they are probably rookies who just graduated from school.

Thanks to them, I haven’t heard any gunshots recently.

“Hey. You alive?”

It was so quiet that I even contacted the sniper mother and daughter.

“Medecine.”

Each time, the sniper asked for medicine.

"Morphine. Do you have?"

Especially painkillers.

She probably wanted drugs.

How miserable must it be to live high up in a building, unable to properly wash or eat, while blocking everyone who comes and goes?

I sometimes thought about it.

The idea of offering them one of my dummy bunkers.

It wouldn’t be easy.

Even though they wouldn’t come if I offered, I didn’t trust her either.

One unexpected gunshot could end our nearly two-year relationship.

It's been a year and eleven months since the war began.

The intense heat was finally easing, and the self-grown rice was turning golden, bowing under its weight.

Seoul might be getting crazier, but I’m peacefully rolling up my pants, harvesting the few rice plants I have, putting them in a sack, and preparing to mill them.

I’ve never milled rice before, but there are videos, so it should be fine.

Even though I'm a city person, I've learned a thing or two from Old Man Kim. At least enough to get a bowl of rice out of it, right?

Regardless, even these trial and error moments are enjoyable for me.

For people like us, whose lives are already decided, time is not a resource but an obligation to spend.

I was heading back to my territory with my gun and sack of rice when the K-walkie-talkie emitted a distinctive reception tone.

It’s a call through my personal identification number.

Could it be Lee Sang-hoon again?

It’s up to me whether to take the call or not now.

Because Seoul is turning from a meaningful hinterland to the source of disaster.

I checked the walkie-talkie.

Personal Identification Number: DARAM

It’s Kim Daram, not Lee Sang-hoon.

This one is as annoying as Lee Sang-hoon now, but I accepted her call out of old affection since she went through a lot under me.

“It’s been a while, Commissioner Kim.”

I intend to refuse any request or favor.

I have a valid reason.

The Capsule.

Should I say it’s quite the versalite friend?

The first thing that came through the walkie-talkie was a sigh.

Curious about what she was going to say, I wiped my sweat-soaked forehead with my sleeve and waited for her next words.

“Lee Sang-hoon died”

“What?”

For a moment, I doubted my ears.

“Lee Sang-hoon? My classmate Lee Sang-hoon died?”

“Yes. Sunbae’s classmate Lee Sang-hoon.”

I never liked him even once.

I didn’t think I’d feel anything even if he died.

But it seems the thing they call connections have a surprisingly stubborn aspect.

The news of Lee Sang-hoon’s death came as an unexpected shock.

Well after all, we spent ten years together in the same field since we were sixteen.

We fought together and saved each other’s lives.

The most vivid memory, ironically, came from the time our relationship was the worst.

The memory of our school days.

The now ashen memories of those times turn overly vivid and flood my mind.

He used to always sit in the front row of the classroom, shaking his large, closely-cropped head here and there while raising his hand to ask questions.

Even though he knew everything, he'd shamelessly ask questions to gain the instructor's favor.

The image of that cunning kid's back filled my mind for no reason.

Feeling a bit confused, I pressed for more information into the walkie-talkie.

“How did he die? Killed in action? Or caught up in the protests?”

“Suicide.”

As soon as I heard that, the flickering image of the school-aged Lee Sang Hoon turned to look at me.

His face was so blurry I couldn’t make it out.

What did he even look like?

Lee Sang-hoon, that guy.

Amidst unresolved confusion, I continued speaking.

“...Why?”

For some reason, my voice was trembling so roughly that even I was surprised.

Kim Daram continued with a sigh and a drained voice.

“One or two people have to take responsibility, right?”