Chapter 34 - The Taxpayer I

1

Since we happen to be on the subject of civil servants, they show up suspiciously often in Korean contemporary fantasy.

"Hello! Oh, you're entering the gate? May I see your hunter license?"

"Oh dear. Your license has expired, sir. I can't let you in like this. Please go to the Hunter Management Bureau and get it renewed."

"What? You want me to let it slide just this once? Hah. What do you take us for?"

The “gate management civil servant,” for instance.

For generations, East Asians have been such ardent civil-servant fetishists that they imposed bureaucracy even on the hell ruled by King Yama.

Rather than fear a monster wave, any true East Asian ought to lament, “Alas, those barbarian monsters are too foolish and unfortunate to have discovered civilization!” Then they should teach them bureaucracy and establish a state consisting of a Great King Monster, middle-management monsters, and low-ranking administrator monsters.

How could mere apocalyptic chaos justify an exception to the enforcement of the nation's august laws?

Of course, our world had no gate administrators, but another kind of civil servant most certainly existed.

“Awakened Undertaker.”

“Yes?”

“June is almost here. Have you filed your comprehensive income tax return with the National Tax Service...?”

“Oh.”

Noh Doha's words jolted me to attention.

“You're right. It's that time already. Thank you for pointing it out.”

“Heh. Put it off because it's a nuisance, and it'll become a headache. They collect whatever they please later, don't they? Perhaps you should head straight to the tax office once you're done with today's work...?”

“Good point. Well, I won't be able to pay any taxes anyway... But I'll go get it over with.”

That's right.

In an age when the wrath of the military that had burned through its youth was forgotten, when lawmakers' gold badges lay buried in the dirt, and nobody gave a single fuck about any of it—an age when survival had become a crude joke—

The National Tax Service still existed.

Today, I think I'll tell you about the last legacy of the Republic of Korea's government, the vestige of a collapsed, abandoned building: a minor anomaly called the “National Tax Service Tax Office.”

2

KA-TALK!

I first heard that familiar yet unfamiliar KaTalk notification sound on a spring day, May 4 of run fifty-six.

“... Hm?”

At first, I thought I'd misheard.

Ever since Earth's genre had executed a flashy drift into apocalypse fiction, words like “phone call,” “text message,” and “communication” had been erased from humanity's dictionary.

'Was that just a KaTalk notification?'

Thinking it couldn't possibly be, I opened my smartphone.

But lo and behold. For the first time in nearly a year, a red [1] stood proudly atop the KaTalk app.

I hurried to check the message like a kindergartner receiving their very first KaTalk.

――――――――――

[Notification Message Received]

'A Republic of Korea Falling Once More'

'A Nation of Citizens Who Die Together'

An electronic document from the National Tax Service has arrived.

Greetings. This is a notice from the National Tax Service.

May is the month for filing and paying comprehensive income tax each year.

The National Tax Service has calculated your comprehensive income tax in advance. Please review the notice below, then conveniently file and pay through our automated telephone service (☎4444-4444).

■ Filing inquiries: ☎444

――――――――――

“...”

After reading the message, the pressure in my expression dropped compared to what it had been before.

You could also say I was deflated.

“Ah, shit. What the hell? It's a ghost text.”

Ghost texts.

Anomalies like these had occasionally appeared since the apocalypse arrived. They were also why electronic devices, including cell phones, were treated as Class 1 hazardous materials.

We were now in an age of limitless competition, where even anomalies struggled to survive.

To show off even a little individuality, they had to diversify their breeds—not just ghost texts, but ghost calls, ghost websites, ghost radios, ghost televisions, and so on.

SG Net was effectively the only safe communications network on the Korean Peninsula, and considering that even SG Net had once been contaminated by Hero Syndrome, the entire world was a safety blind spot.

Yet dealing with ghost texts like these was surprisingly simple.

'Ignore it.'

Just blow them off.

There's an English proverb that says curiosity killed the cat. These days, curiosity had leveled up a little, and regularly hunted not only cats but humanity as well.

At this point, you couldn't find any government organization on the Korean Peninsula, let alone the National Tax Service. Naturally, the correct response to a text demanding comprehensive income tax was to ignore the hell out of it.

But the very next day...

“Oh, Boss. Did you get the text?”

“Hm? What text?”

“You know, the one from the National Tax Service telling you to pay taxes. SG Net's going crazy over it right now.”

“... You got it too?”

That changed things a little.

“Oh, um, I... I got one too. A letter.”

“What? A letter?”

“Y-yes...”

Sim Aryeon hesitantly held out a letter. The envelope had already been opened. I skimmed it and found exactly the same content as the notification message printed inside.

“... This is rather serious.”

A sense of foreboding crept up my back, like cold handprints were feeling their way along my spine.

“R-right? I thought you were playing a prank, Guild Leader, but then Seo Gyu said he got the same text...”

“Where did you find the letter?”

“Wh-when I woke up, it was on my bed. Right beside my pillow...”

It hardly needs mentioning, but... the security at my guild's headquarters was insane. Go Yori had demolished the guild in one fell swoop in run eighty-nine, but that was because Go Yori was abnormal.

Even if Lupin's grandfather showed up, let alone Lupin himself, it would have been impossible to evade my surveillance, leave a letter sitting in Aryeon's bedroom, and depart.

If the intruder was human, that is.

[“I received the same message.”]

The Saintess's testimony delivered the decisive blow.

[“When I woke up before dawn today and opened my front door, I found a letter wedged in the gap.”]

“What about the other awakened?”

[“The same phenomenon is occurring all over the country. Those who own smartphones received notification messages, while everyone else was sent a letter.”]

Her ordinarily emotionless voice grew even lower and more impersonal.

[“Undertaker. More importantly, no one witnessed the moment a letter arrived.”]

“What?”

[“In other words, not a single person observed the mail carrier delivering the letters.”]

Here was what she told me.

It had happened that morning at a guild in Incheon that the Saintess monitored with Clairvoyance.

Though not as secure as mine, this guild's headquarters was also quite well fortified. It was underground, with multiple layers of steel doors and several guards.

A simple diagram would look like this:

――――――――――――――――――

■ ♙ ■ ♙ ■ ♙ ■

Door Guard Door Guard Door Guard Door

――――――――――――――――――

The guards took turns standing night watch. In short, this guild always had personnel who were awake.

And yet, when the guild members opened their eyes that morning, every last one of them found mail.

Under their pillows.

“...”

[“The same message was sent not only to awakened people, but ordinary people as well. Undertaker, in my judgment, this 'National Tax Service comprehensive income tax letter' is...”]

“No ordinary anomaly.”

[“Yes. At the very least, it is certainly an anomaly capable of exerting influence across the entire Korean Peninsula.”]

I could only let out a hollow laugh.

... There was an unidentified entity trying to squeeze taxes out of us even as a ghost.

3

-Anonymous: Tried calling the National Tax Service lol.

If I had to choose the most important virtue for navigating this harsh apocalypse, it would be the caution to test even a stone bridge before crossing—and then not cross it anyway.

But among the awakened, there were occasional reckless fools who went through life with their guts hanging outside their bodies. People like that generally booked an early ticket across the river of the dead, but a few rare specimens remained alive and well.

The author of the firsthand account posted on SG Net that day was one of those exceedingly rare endangered creatures.

-Just tried calling 4444-4444 like the notification said. Everyone around me told me absolutely not to, but hey, the worst that could happen is I die lol.

-I punched in the number and it actually dialed? It rang a few times and connected within seconds. A receptionist? An operator? Anyway, you know that kind of robotic voice. That's what came on, yeah.

-Don't remember exactly, but I think it said, 'This is the National Tax Service ARG Application and Filing Center. Please select the service you require.'

-Then this weird screen popped up on my phone. Red background, white text. Took a screenshot of this one, yeah...

The post included an image file the author had attached.

――――――――――

National Tax Service

National Tax Service

This is the National Tax Service ARS Application and Filing Center.

[1. File Comprehensive Income Tax]

[2. File Corpse-Added Tax]

[3. File a No-Activity Return for a Slave Workplace]

Data charges apply when using 3G or LTE.

――――――――――

The image quality was uneven, with patches of noise scattered throughout. The combination of a red background and white lettering stabbed at my eyes.

At this point, the stone bridge wasn't merely wobbling—it was tap-dancing. Astonishingly, however, the author kept going.

-Honestly got kinda scared when I saw 'corpse-added tax' and 'slave workplace' lol. That was scare point number one.

-Clicked 'File Comprehensive Income Tax,' since it looked the most normal. That's what the notification told me to file anyway, yeah.

-When I clicked it, there was all this crackling static and the operator's voice told me to enter my resident registration number? Been so long since I entered that thing I almost forgot it lol.

-The instructions went on like I was actually paying taxes, and at the very end it told me to pay into a bank account. But where the fuck are you supposed to find a bank account these days? Hell, even if you have one, the banks aren't operating. How am I supposed to send money lol?

-Don't know if it's good news or bad, but apparently you can go pay in person at a tax office. It told me to go to 'Pocheon Tax Office.'

-This is scare point number two... I actually live in Pocheon lmao. How do these ghost-text fuckers know where I live? lol.

-But I'm pretty sure the tax office around here completely collapsed ages ago, so I don't know why they're telling me to go. I'll head over in a bit and post proof, yeah...

That was where the post ended.

Naturally, the comments exploded—in a bad way.

-Anonymous: You crazy bastard, why would you call that??

-Goryeojang: God, you've got another one coming up.

-[National Roads]Historian: Make sure you post proof.

-Anonymous: If it's Pocheon, all the awakened there belong to the same guild anyway. Bet people can dig up everything about this guy?

-BookishGirl: So a Hero like this was still alive...

-dolLHoUse: Foolish.

-[Contentment]CookingQueen: Human life is precious. Desire lasts only a moment. Aren't there many things in life a little more important than trying to attract other people's attention?

└Anonymous: That's CookingQueen for you. So kind with her words. sob

-[Hundred Flowers]HighSchoolYear6: Eeeek. >_<);;

-Anonymous: I'd bet everything I own this dumb fuck is 100% gonna die, yep.

I didn't criticize the author.

Instead, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

“Seo Gyu. I'm heading up to Pocheon for a bit. Watch the place while I'm gone.”

“What? Pocheon? Why all of a sudden... Oh, are you going because of that firsthand account on SG Net?”

“Yes. It's a newly emerged nationwide anomaly. I should check it out.”

“Wow... You really are diligent, Boss.”

I packed lightly and immediately headed north, feeling almost as though I were out for a stroll.

By my standards, Seoul to Pocheon wasn't particularly far, and Pocheon was also where Sim Aryeon had worked as the Angel of Healing back in run fifty. It was familiar territory in several respects.

I arrived in Pocheon within a few hours. Then, on my way to the tax office, I ran into someone truly unexpected.

“Huh?”

“Hm?”

A sturdy build. A neatly cropped crew cut. A face far too upstanding for someone living through a post-apocalypse.

A young man who seemed to embody the very concept of a “well-raised young person.”

“Oh, um. I'm sorry. You seem to know me... I'm really not very good at remembering faces. Have we met somewhere?”

He didn't recognize me. In fact, I even sensed a hint of wariness toward a stranger he hadn't seen in his neighborhood before.

But I was a self-made social butterfly with [Perfect Recall]. Thanks to that, I could recognize most awakened people. In this particular case, his face was especially familiar.

'Isn't this Lee Juho?'

Lee Juho.

Back in run fifty, he'd been a victim whose father was insulted by Sim Aryeon, the “Goryeojang villain.” Even so, he was magnanimous enough to forgive her.

That magnanimous young man stood squarely on the road leading to Pocheon Tax Office, backpack packed and smartphone in his right hand.

A sidelong glance revealed the familiar SG Net homepage on its screen.

'No way.'

A certain realization suddenly struck me.

'... You were the one who wrote that post?'

I feel this way all the time, but...

It really is a small world.