Chapter 17

16. Motivation (1)

That school was a cruel place.

It posted the rankings of all grades, from first to last, on a large poster.

It forced the weak to be eliminated and to leave on their own.

It emphasized competition over cooperation and demanded mechanical coldness over humanity.

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

It had to be that way.

Our enemy is merciless and does not tolerate any mistakes.

Boys and girls who had just graduated from middle school were turned into machines within its walls.

They were machines to fight against the monsters, the enemies of humanity.

Our motivations varied; in my case, it was hatred.

I lost my parents and sister to the monsters and became an orphan. My hatred was so intense that it is hard to imagine now.

Eunghoon was my complete opposite in many ways.

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

Raised in a greenhouse, it might have been difficult for him to win against me, who was left with nothing but venom.

From the time of our enrollment to graduation, he was always blocked by the wall that was me and could only be second.

When we first enrolled, he probably never thought that the number 2 would become his trauma.

But our competition ended in a completely unexpected way.

The game changed.

If we compare it to music, it was like a classical music competition where the performers were competing with classical music, but suddenly the competition category changed to rock and heavy metal.

I believe that music genres are a matter of taste and there is no superiority or inferiority.

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

Mozart and Salieri were outdated and old-fashioned in that context.

A guy who had been ignored and relegated to the corner became a hero and the center of attention.

We were pushed to the periphery of the stage and had to endure the damp ridicule and contempt that always followed such people.

One left, and one stayed.

The one who left became a savage, and the one who stayed became a bureaucrat.

The competition between the two ended.

The only thread that connected us was severed.

I thought I would never see him again.

But he came looking for me.

What could it be?

Old man Kim said that when someone contacts you after a long time, it’s rare for them to have good intentions.

“Was it you who put the capsule on the 13th road?”

“How did you know?”

He admitted it right away.

I know this guy well.

Eunghoon is a perfectionist.

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

“Why did you do that? If the capsule is torn and a monster is summoned, what will you do?”

“What do you mean by summoned?”

“Do you still think it’s an egg?”

“An egg?”

“The capsule has been identified as a temporary portal, a kind of temporary rift used by the infiltrators.”

“...Is that so.”

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

I knew from experience that the capsule wasn’t an egg, but the fact that my knowledge had become outdated was a bitter pill to swallow.

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

“Guess.”

“You don’t want refugees to come near your air-raid shelter, right?”

“You’re as good at guessing as ever. So, what’s up? You’re busy, aren’t you?”

“Do you have any plans to go to Jeju Island?”

I doubt it’s a recruitment.

That’s not what I want.

“What do you want me to do there?”

I had refused before.

But Eunghoon, who has become a high-ranking official, seems to be unaware of that fact.

“A position as an instructor is open. The instructor candidate died three days ago. I received recommendations for other candidates, but none of them were satisfactory. Then I saw you moving the capsule.”

“Instructor, huh.”

“A better life than rotting away in the underground.”

“You’ll be under a lot of stress, won’t you?”

“Isn’t being there more stressful? I know you live alone, without speaking to anyone or having friends for almost two years. Isn’t that a form of punishment in itself?”

“Not at all.”

I replied seriously for the first time.

It’s really not.

Over the past two years, there were times when I felt like a dog, but most of the time I lived comfortably and leisurely.

I have plenty of internet friends, and writing in a diary is enough for me.

What does it matter if I’m not popular on the bulletin board?

I have neighbors to exchange Christmas greetings with.

“Are you serious?”

Eunghoon’s voice wavered.

He seemed to find it hard to believe.

I gave a clear answer again.

“I like it here.”

Jeju Island might be warmer, but that’s all.

There are people and realities I don’t want to see there.

That’s why I left, and that’s how the unpopular user Skeleton was born.

“You’re still stuck in your inferiority complex and jealousy.”

Eunghoon sneered coldly.

My face stiffened instantly.

“...”

I can’t see my own eyes, but they must be sharp.

Not as sharp as when we were in school, but still.

“What can you do? You don’t have the talent. Neither do I.”

Eunghoon’s sneer turned into a sigh.

“Do you know how hard it is for me?”

I didn’t respond.

I’m not incapable of understanding.

Being in a high position means taking on that much responsibility.

With Seoul on the brink of destruction, how could he be at ease?

However, it’s hard to empathize with Eunghoon’s suffering given the many conflicts and misunderstandings we had.

We were competitors, never friends.

“Let’s have a drink. I have some good wine.”

“I’d like to, but the capsule...”

My response became increasingly indifferent and insensitive.

Eunghoon isn’t so insensitive as to not notice.

“Alright.”

His voice grew distant.

“Take care, Park Kyu.”

Just as I thought the communication had ended, a small murmur came from beyond the speaker.

“Your back.”

“What?”

That was the end.

Eunghoon’s words stimulated my imagination for quite a while.

I felt my neck, thinking he might have meant something, but it was fine.

*

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

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

They didn’t buy air-raid shelters but set up their bases in the corners of common structures like apartments and converted them into hideouts.

One such person was a reporter who regularly provided fresh news from Seoul.

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

This reporter has recently been making a name for himself.

gijayangban: Current situation in Seoul.jpg

The photo shows hundreds of thousands of angry citizens gathered in front of the government building.

It’s not just there.

Citizens have appeared and are protesting in front of almost all government institutions.

Seoul has been completely turned upside down.

It was a foregone conclusion.

Covering reality with false hope has its limits.

The protests have become increasingly violent and aggressive.

The slogans have become simpler.

Save us.

That was their only demand.

The crash of the plane called Seoul has begun.

The community users’ reactions were cold.

Anonymous848: Serves them right. They used to mock us.

Kyle_Dos: I still remember how they used to ridicule us on TV. What did they call us in that show?

Anonymous458: A group of social misfits who chose to be eliminated due to delusions of grandeur.

I can understand their feelings.

This country has a culture of ruthlessly ridiculing those who deviate from the prescribed path of life.

We, the doomsday enthusiasts, are those who deviated from that path.

We faced significant social persecution and ridicule.

I was even called a schizophrenic by a government official over a building issue.

The exodus of refugees has accelerated.

Those with the will to escape are leaving Seoul.

The refugees, who are called pioneers in Seoul, are part of the military.

If you apply to be a pioneer and form a group, you are given weapons, equipment, and a small amount of food. If the mission is successful, you receive additional equipment, food, and support for settlement.

It’s questionable how many will succeed, but the constant search for habitable areas is causing our community users to die off.

Defender: Verification

The human hunter seems to be very busy.

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

However, there was a bit of controversy over one of the human hunter’s verification photos.

The shadow in the photo was thin and seemed to be that of a woman.

To me, this was a reflection of the era’s melancholy.

In the past, if I saw a photo of a corpse, I would quickly hit the back button or just swallow my saliva at the sight of the stiff body.

Now, having seen so many corpses, I have the leisure to focus on other things.

One user even enlarged the shadow part of Defender’s photo and drew a silhouette on a drawing board to publicize the theory that Defender is a woman.

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

The storm stirred up by Unicorn18 heated up the bulletin board for a short while but didn’t last long.

Defender: Are you coming?

Defender himself put an end to it.

A female human hunter.

I am skeptical.

I saw his shoe prints.

They were a man’s size.

There’s another reason.

While it might be easy for a woman to kill a man with a gun, it’s not easy to move and dispose of a dead man.

I was exhausted from disposing of a few bodies, so how could someone like the human hunter, who constantly kills and disposes of intruders, do it?

It’s not an easy task even for a strong man.

Let alone a woman, who would find it even more challenging.

SKELTON: (Skeleton’s opinion) Mr. Defender, you seem to be a man.

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

If that’s the case, why did he send me a friend request?

Anyway, I am still far removed from the refugee issue that is heating up the bulletin board.

Thanks to the capsule.

A few military and hunters remain to guard the capsule and block the road.

The hunters are likely recent graduates from the school.

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

“Hey, are you alive?”

It’s so quiet that I even contact the sniper and her daughter.

“Medicine.”

Every time, the sniper asks for medicine.

“Morphine. Is it?”

Especially painkillers.

I imagine she must be in a difficult situation, living in a high building without proper hygiene or food, blocking all access.

I sometimes think about offering them my dummy air-raid shelter.

It won’t be easy.

Even if they come, they might not, and I don’t trust them.

It could end our nearly two-year relationship with a sudden attack.

It has been 1 year and 11 months since the war began.

The heat has subsided, and the self-grown rice is turning golden and bowing their heads.

While the situation in Seoul is getting worse, I am peacefully rolling up my pants and harvesting the few grains of rice, preparing to mill them.

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

I’m a city person, but I’ve learned some things from old man Kim, and I should be able to get at least a bowl of rice.

Anyway, I find such trial and error enjoyable.

For someone like me, whose life is already decided, time is more of an obligation to be consumed than a resource to be saved.

As I was tying up the sack with the gun and rice and returning to my territory, the K-walkie-talkie made a unique receiving sound.

It’s a personal identification number call.

Could it be Eunghoon again?

Now, whether to answer or not is up to me.

Seoul has become more of a source of disaster than a meaningful backdrop.

I checked the radio.

Personal identification number: DARAM

It’s not Eunghoon but Kim Daram.

This guy is as annoying as Eunghoon now, but I answered out of old feelings since he suffered a lot under me.

“It’s been a while, Mr. Kim.”

I plan to refuse any requests or requests.

I have a reason.

The capsule.

What a versatile guy.

First, a sigh came from the radio.

Curious about what he would say, I wiped my sweat-soaked forehead with my sleeve and waited for the next words.

“Eunghoon is dead.”

“What?”

I doubted my ears for a moment.

“Eunghoon? My classmate Eunghoon is dead?”

“I know. Your senior classmate Eunghoon.”

I never liked him.

His death didn’t seem to affect me much.

But the bond of fate is surprisingly tenacious.

Eunghoon’s death came as an unexpected shock.

After all, we spent the same time in the same area from the age of sixteen for ten years.

We fought together and saved each other’s lives.

The most vivid memories are ironically from the time when we were the worst of enemies.

The memories of that time, now turned gray, vividly flooded my mind.

The guy who always sat at the front of the classroom, shaking his large head with a high school haircut, raising his hand to ask questions.

He would ask questions to gain the instructor’s favor, even though everyone knew the answers.

Feeling a bit confused, I pressed the radio and asked.

“Why did he die? Did he die in battle? Or was he caught up in the protests?”

“Suicide.”

At that moment, the student Eunghoon, who had been hovering in front of my eyes, turned to look at me.

His face was too blurry to recognize.

What did he look like?

Eunghoon, that guy.

In the midst of unresolved questions, I continued.

“...Why?”

For some reason, my voice was trembling roughly, even to my own surprise.

Kim Daram continued with a sigh and a listless voice.

“There are a few people who need to take responsibility, right?”