Chapter 53

EP 10 - The End of Winter (3)

Furry lumps with bat wings fly through the sky. They cling to the exterior walls of buildings, break windows, and suck people with their long snouts.

Has the Air Force finally gone mad, blowing up entire buildings to kill the monsters? Is it the pilots who have gone mad, or the command center?

Or has the world gone mad?

“Damn...!”

Kang Seok-ho suddenly regretted following Hong Seon-a out of the guild.

It wasn't for his own safety, but to give his younger brother a better life that he made this decision. But because of it, he wasn't in southern Gyeonggi Province but in Seoul.

As soon as the situation erupted, he abandoned everything and raced from southern Gyeonggi to northern Gyeonggi.

Even crossing through Seoul, Kang Seok-ho was already covered in blood.

The blood-soaked young head of the household ran desperately.

To where his only remaining younger brother, Kang Si-ho, was.

And then,

“......”

Only the ruins of the collapsed house where Yang Il-ho and Lee Ho-jeong lived awaited him.

* * *

'Hello, I'm Hong Gil-dong, a manager in the something team at somewhere company.'

As the most common greeting shows, what symbolizes a person is not their name but their affiliation and rank. People don't care about names.

In that sense,

Director of the Foreign Public Affairs Division of the National Intelligence Service's Counter-Terrorism Information Bureau,

Head of the Security Management Office of the General Electric Arabia Branch,

President of the Family Mart in the Kaesong Industrial Complex,

Consul General of the Embassy of the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina in the Republika Srpska,

Chief of the Monster Research Team of the National Intelligence Service's Counter-Terrorism Information Bureau,

Brigadier General of the 7452nd Unit of the National Security Command,

Chief of the Violent Crimes Division of the Seoul Metropolitan Police,

And,

Director of the Minor Support Center of the Monster Damage Recovery Foundation.

Or the head of the orphanage of the Han Seung-moon Foundation, always wondered how to introduce himself.

He didn't have a family, his affiliation was meaningless, and he had no name.

Of course, he had gone through countless names—Jang Seung-yeon, Jang Young-cheol, Jang Yong-bin, Schmidt Jang, Ahmad Eugene Jang, and many more. Among them, there were certainly names given by his parents, but they were all meaningless illusions.

He was a 20-year veteran of the National Intelligence Service's overseas operations.

He had more local contacts in his undercover jobs than colleagues at the NIS, and his relationships with them were deeper. Burying such people with his own hands naturally made him lose his name. The concept of 'individual' gradually wore away.

He and the dozen or so team members he was responsible for lived like that.

There's a saying that when an intelligence agent dies, a star is added to the black marble at the NIS headquarters in Naegok-dong, but it's all a lie.

Like all the stars in the night sky hidden by the city lights, they also disappear without a name, unknown to anyone.

Nameless stars.

That was their fate.

Due to the nature of their work, they couldn't transfer to other departments, couldn't reveal their major to other companies, and ultimately couldn't find re-employment after retirement, living off a pension while being monitored.

Of course, it would be different if they helped politicians. They could go down to be the president of a public corporation and live happily with a multi-million dollar salary.

Posting comments and wiretapping politicians. It wasn't because the NIS was a bunch of clueless rookies, but to survive.

And.

Director Jang wanted to shoot all those people who lived like that.

He always felt that way. It was a dangerous thought, but Director Jang always lived with it.

Walking a tightrope among people who might be enemies or allies overseas. Stabbing the back of someone who considered him an ally.

While nameless agents died overseas, the scumbags who clung to the government posted a few comments, recorded a few conversations, and took the position of a public corporation president.

As a twisted patriot, it was something he could never tolerate, but he always endured it.

That's why, when he received the desperate request to return from Cha Jae-gyun, he could genuinely smile.

Mr. Jang immediately dealt with the local contacts and returned.

And he led the bio-experiment.

Silent dedication, nameless dedication, etc.

The NIS slogan changed according to the politicians' tastes, but the phrase from 2016 was particularly appealing.

[Silent dedication, for the protection and glory of the Republic of Korea]

Cha Jae-gyun ordered him to dedicate himself, and he acted silently.

For protection and glory.

“......”

Director Jang thought about this while smoking a cigarette on the rooftop of the hospital building in Uijeongbu. He smiled slightly.

It wasn't a grim expression with resentment and killing intent oozing from his half-closed eyes, or a serious look like a secret agent in a movie.

No one could read such thoughts from his gentle expression.

He looked like a common middle-aged man on the street, and he tried to look that way, ultimately making himself into such a person.

The director of the Minor Support Center of the Han Seung-moon Foundation simply smiled leisurely on the hospital rooftop, watching the crazy world.

The city is burning.

“......”

After Cha Jae-gyun died, when he thought he would be forced to commit suicide, the young man Han Seung-moon took them in.

Fortunately, Han Seung-moon ordered them to dedicate themselves again.

All his subordinates died silently, sacrificing their lives. They died as terrorists.

The only reason Director Jang was still alive was to monitor Han Seung-moon. If he used their deaths for a 'personal' rather than a 'national' cause, or sold the 'awakening promoter' they barely created for money.

He hadn't committed suicide yet because he wanted to shoot Han Seung-moon if he did such things.

“......Maybe I should have died earlier.”

He regretted not committing suicide sooner, watching the collapsing world.

To that extent, this scene was unbearable for him.

Refugees fill the streets. Cries and screams come from all directions. Strange creatures fly in the sky.

The world has gone mad.

Far away, a high-rise apartment building collapsed sideways. The Republic of Korea, which he had protected with blood and tears all his life, was collapsing.

Of course, he knew well that this patriotism was a kind of inertia. He knew it was more of an excuse to justify killing rather than a personal belief. He wasn't that ignorant.

Instead, he knew he couldn't live without such an excuse. He had done too many things with that excuse.

Having come this far, he couldn't stop now.

He had lived a life swept away by inertia.

Director Jang smiled silently and took off his shoes.

Then he climbed onto the railing.

He was tired.

- Bang!

Director Jang turned his head at the explosion from behind.

A Starex flew down from the sky.

Han Seung-moon crawled out on all fours.

“Ugh...! Ughhh...”

Others also crawled out of the half-destroyed vehicle in similar conditions.

Only the kid with a suit over his head walked out like a mummy, hands stretched forward.

Director Jang smiled, put on his shoes, and walked to Han Seung-moon, who was crawling around on the rooftop.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He stopped in front of Han Seung-moon, who was lying on all fours, and looked down at him.

Director Jang extended his hand to Han Seung-moon.

“Looks like you had kalguksu for lunch?”

“N, noodles...”

“You vomited a lot.”

You must have chewed it well.

D, don't look...

Someone might throw up, you know.

The pale Han Seung-moon grabbed Director Jang's hand and struggled to stand up.

At that moment, the rooftop door burst open.

“Huh...! Huh...!”

Pae Chae-won wiped his sweat and ran onto the rooftop. He approached them with a worried expression after rushing up.

“Are, are you okay...!?”

Han Seung-moon waved his hand at the approaching Pae Chae-won.

“Ah, I'm fine-”

Pae Chae-won grabbed Director Jang's arm instead of Han Seung-moon.

“......”

Director Jang's expression stiffened slightly, and Han Seung-moon awkwardly scratched his head with his outstretched hand.

Pae Chae-won, realizing his mistake, let go of Director Jang's arm, and Han Seung-moon quickly asked.

“I'm glad everyone seems to be safe. Director Jang, w, where is the control center?”

“The command center? Why...?”

“Millions of people in Uijeongbu are about to die.”

It was a statement of intent to save them.

After a long silence,

Director Jang smiled.

People haven't gone mad yet.

*

“Damn, the phone isn't working...”

I returned the phone I borrowed from the flu patient.

“Is everyone's phone working?”

“I called Seok-ho earlier to tell him Si-ho was here, but the call didn't go through...”

“Mine is also dead.”

No phone was working. The flu patient laughed wryly.

“Phones communicate through base stations, and if the poles connecting the base stations are cut, it won't work...”

It seems impossible to contact David Kim or Hong Seon-a.

“Everyone, wait here. I'll go meet some soldiers. Pack your things in the meantime. If I'm late, you can go ahead.”

There are over 50 newborns in the hospital nursery. The number in the millions is not just a number.

“Wait,”

Yang Pan-seok, tapping his knees, stood up.

“I can guess what you're going to do.”

“Right.”

“Wouldn't it be more effective if two congressmen put pressure on them?”

So I went to the Gyeonggi North Provincial Office with Congressman Yang Pan-seok. It's where the soldiers were using as a command center. No one failed to recognize me.

“You, you can't go through here-”

“I have something to say to the commander.”

Translation: Don't you know who I am?

“W, well...”

“It's urgent.”

Translation: F*ck

Frowning and tapping my hiking stick, I was instantly teleported to the highest-ranking officer.

I plopped down on the sofa and said to the commander.

“A huge gate will open in Uijeongbu. We need to evacuate people immediately.”

“...W, what do you mean?”

“Not 100%, but the current situation suggests it. If it happens, millions will die.”

The commander, who had plenty of field experience, listened to my explanation without flinching.

“There's a magical vortex in the sky. In other words, an enormous amount of magic is concentrated at one point. So, if such a massive amount of magic is gathered and nothing happens, it means something that can consume that much magic will happen, right?”

“......”

“This isn't a politician's delusion. It's the opinion of a world-renowned expert. When magic gathers, something should happen, but in the sky over Uijeongbu, magic has been gathering crazily for a long time. It's still happening now.”

“......”

“Something corresponding to that massive amount of magic will happen. I suspect it will be a gate. I've seen small gates being swept away by that magic. Magic and gates affect each other in real-time. Whether it's a magic storm, an explosion, or something else, something will happen. And it will be unprecedented.”

“......”

“We need to evacuate millions of people. Immediately.”

I finished my explanation, chugged a bottle of Pocari Sweat I found from a broken vending machine, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

At this point, the main forces of the national army are stationed in two major areas.

First, the border with North Korea.

Second, the encirclement around Seoul.

And Uijeongbu is right above Seoul.

In other words,

“Evacuate the refugees to the northern part of the encirclement around Seoul. Evacuate the people through the eastern part of the encirclement, specifically, Namyangju, Hanam, and Seongnam, to the south.”

We can go around Seoul to the south. The army is deployed in that formation.

“The gate will spread centered around Uijeongbu. There are a few gates in Gangwon and Chungcheong, but at least not as many as here.”

“Wait, wait, give me a moment. How do we evacuate millions-”

There's no time for that.

“I'll take full responsibility.”

“...Just one call-”

“Yoo Hyun-jong.”

The former Democratic Party's National Defense Committee chief, Yang Pan-seok, smiled.

“You've grown.”

The standing committee is where you grill the responsible ministry. And politicians keep any weaknesses they find until they die.

*

...Seoul defense line breached. Support needed. Repeating. The main gate in Seoul has gone berserk. The eastern encirclement has been breached.