Chapter 10 - That's Not Spam

It happened around the time I headed for the restroom after reassuring the driver in the break room.

"I'm going to take a dump."

"Oh! Here are some tissues, sir. Take them with you."

"Huh?"

"They might be out of toilet paper. Hehe."

As I headed to the restroom, I thought I could see why First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi was fond of the driver.

Still, there are people who say they'd plant an apple tree even if the world were ending.

Presumably, they mean to preserve their dignity by maintaining their daily routines rather than crumbling before the apocalypse. Or perhaps it reflects a steadfast resolve not to let every little thing upset them if nothing will change anyway.

But there were more apple-tree planters in the world than I'd expected.

For instance, the restroom line was ridiculously long.

When the stall in front of me still hadn't opened after I'd waited more than ten minutes, I finally lost patience and hammered on the door with my fist.

BANG BANG BANG!

"Get out! You've gone over five minutes! Forget five—it's been thirteen!"

"Aw, damn it, I'm constipated. I only just started feeling the urge."

"I can hear your phone!"

"What am I supposed to do? I'm constipated. You think shit just comes out? I have to collect myself, steady my breathing, and calmly push."

"Turn your phone off first!"

"You're being awfully rude, but you seem desperate, so I'll let it slide. Calm down. Besides, I need classical music to soothe my mind so my sphincter relaxes. I'm relaxing it right now."

"Ugh."

It was obvious his bathroom habits were what had made him constipated, but the shitter behind the door seemed utterly unwilling to admit it.

In the end, another stall opened three minutes later, and I finally got to relieve myself.

Even after I'd finished, the classical shitter still had his door shut.

Despite people pounding on it.

"Hey! You're not dead in there, are you?!"

"Are you out of toilet paper?"

Eventually, the people who couldn't take it anymore started dispersing to other stalls.

After washing my hands thoroughly, soap and all, I passed the classical shitter's stall and encountered quite a spectacle.

"What the hell?"

Even someone as clueless about classical music as me could tell at a glance—or rather, a listen—that this was nothing of the sort.

It was a cute children's song I'd heard when I'd gone to church during basic training because they were giving out hamburgers.

["March forth, young soldiers of Jesus~ With Jesus~ leading the way~."]

"Fight the devil with all your might and claim victory~ We are the army of love~."

From behind the stall door came the classical shitter's voice, singing along.

Feeling just how insignificant and worldly I was, I quietly left the restroom.

With faith like that, he was more than qualified to awaken the doctrinal magic I'd heard about in the conference room. Perhaps he hadn't encountered the fog yet, or perhaps he was already a magician who'd awakened doctrinal magic.

Marveling that I'd managed to manifest magic among such extraordinary people, I headed off to attend to the most important part of my day.

The task I'd postponed in my rush to get here: eating.

Back in the break room, I immediately asked the driver,

"Come to think of it, I still haven't eaten."

"They set some food aside. They should've reheated it by now so the Operators can eat together. You can head over. The lieutenant ordered me not to approach anyone except Operator Baek Je-min, so I'll stay here."

Thanks to the thoughtful driver's directions, I made it to the cafeteria before it was too late.

There, I saw the assorted religious figures and soldiers from the conference room carrying their trays to their seats.

"You shameless monk, why'd you take the meat side dish?"

"The meat on this humble monk's tray is not destined for his mouth. It is a reserve portion for those who might feel self-conscious about taking some themselves, so you needn't worry, Pastor."

"Ha! Nobody dodges a question like a shameless monk."

While Pastor Park Yo-han and the monk Cheong-hwi exchanged these warm wishes, I picked up a tray and got my food.

The menu laid bare the anguish of a dietitian wrestling with how to provide varied, plentiful nutrition on a limited budget.

Stir-fried seaweed stems, kimchi, mashed boiled eggs, and kimchi stew that, at least, looked like it had been simmered into something tasty.

I desperately swallowed the words tickling the back of my throat.

This was Suwon City Hall, wasn't it? Why was the food like this? Was this the fucking military?

Now that I had my food, I needed a seat. But everyone had claimed a separate table, displaying not the slightest trace of team spirit, so I'd be eating alone wherever I sat.

I settled down by myself at a random table, picked up my utensils, and sampled the side dishes first.

Surprisingly, quality still counted for something: it actually tasted good. There was a home-cooked flavor on my tongue that couldn't even be compared with the dishes back at my unit some nine years ago, made from boxes of frozen meat we'd beaten with shovels to thaw.

As I finally relaxed and ate, a familiar face took the seat opposite me.

"Thanks to you, Operator Baek Je-min, I just got chewed out by the captain."

First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi had shown up with two cans of Let's Be coffee.

He pushed one toward me, then confidently pulled a can of processed ham from inside his jacket and placed it beside my tray.

"The meal looks a little lacking, so here's what you wanted. You asked for something like Spam, right?"

"Oh."

I remembered how he'd lowballed our deal by substituting luncheon meat for Spam, but decided to let it go.

Fine. The Armed Forces were in a hell of a state too. They could mix a little wheat into the ham.

Honestly, if you fried luncheon meat properly, you couldn't tell it apart from Spam. It was less salty, too, pleasantly mild and tasty. Humming to myself, I accepted the can... then found my eyes widening.

"What the hell is Richam?!"

"Whoa, whoa. Calm down."

"How am I supposed to stay calm when Spam's turned into Richam?!"

After some back-and-forth, Shin Han-gi spoke as though offering a compromise.

"You know the mobilization order's been issued, right? There's already talk about whether we should start shifting to a wartime economy. Apparently some people think we should at least do it in Gyeonggi Province. Seriously, keep this to yourself."

"So?"

"So later on, you won't even be able to get Richam. Stock up on cigarettes now. Alcohol's good too. For now, Operators in southern Gyeonggi will have to notify the military when traveling to another region. And Richam has a higher meat content than luncheon meat. It's your Spam substitute."

With mixed feelings, I accepted the Richam.

Was he saying this might be my last meal with anything remotely like Spam? Once again feeling keenly how bleak the Republic of Korea's future was, I peeled back the lid and licked every last crumb off it.

"Sir, don't do that. You look too pitiful."

"Do you just throw away yogurt lids too?"

"That's different."

Once I'd finished eating, I headed to the break room with Shin Han-gi, drinking my Let's Be coffee.

Everyone was busy. The halls were full of soldiers rushing breathlessly around, while people who looked like civil servants were hammering away at their computers too frantically to look up.

It felt strange, as though Shin Han-gi and I alone were still enjoying an ordinary day.

He shrugged, apparently sensing how I felt.

* * *

When we finally returned to the break room, the driver welcomed us with a salute and a shout of "Loyalty!"

The break room seemed to have become a private space for me, Shin Han-gi, and the driver. I felt bad for everyone else, but we were all on emergency standby anyway. As a magician, I figured I might as well enjoy a little easy living.

"All you need to do is figure out how to learn magic properly."

"So do I have to believe in Catholicism, Protestantism, and Buddhism all at once?"

In theory, wouldn't believing in every religion under the sun—Catholicism, Protestantism, Buddhism, Islam, shamanism, and everything else—make me the strongest? Apparently, though, it wasn't that easy.

"You're going to learn to read Sanskrit, ancient Hebrew, ecclesiastical Latin, medieval Chinese characters, and Quranic Arabic? All of them?"

"Wow. That's brutal."

That was no territory for a fucking lowlife like me, who'd never even taken the TOEIC and couldn't break two hundred points.

I could barely manage one language, and now learning magic meant reading and writing languages nobody even used in the Republic of Korea?

For me, Baek Je-min, who hated studying so much I'd escaped on the day my tutor came by, claiming I was just popping out to the convenience store for coffee, it was far too cruel a trial.

"Well, people tend to look down on religious figures, but there are respectable intellectuals among them too. The ones appointed Operators certainly qualify."

"Tell me about them, then. A few of them were just sitting there quietly."

At that, Shin Han-gi opened his notebook and explained them one by one.

"Pastor Park Yo-han may not look it, but he ministers at a newly established church. He reported cases of people losing their entire family fortunes to fraudulent cults to the Korean Protestant association, helping get it recognized as a social problem. He likes money, but apparently there aren't any other scandals surrounding him, and he's very active in charity work."

From the way he kept saying 'shameless monk,' he seemed like someone who looked down on other religions, so that was a little unexpected.

"Oh, but he does fly into a rage about worshipping Grandfather Dangun, calling it idolatry. You've seen how he won't even speak to the shaman."

"A pastor through and through, for better or worse."

"At least he's a pastor, not a parasite."

Despite appearances, I'd studied Christianity a little myself, so I understood.

Catholicism and Protestantism were both fundamentally monotheistic. Being exclusive toward other religions was therefore consistent with their doctrine. From their perspective, acknowledging other religions in the name of tolerance or whatever was actually a little unhinged.

"Cheong-hwi isn't an abbot, but he's known for taking the keenest interest in Sanskrit scriptures within Korean Buddhist circles. He thinks Zen dialogues and personal cultivation are all well and good, but wonders whether many Buddhist scriptures were forgotten because Buddhism was suppressed for so long on the Korean Peninsula. He also hopes to use this opportunity to translate directly into Korean the scriptures that reached us through China."

"That sounds like a wonderful thing to do."

"But lately he's put that on hold to make temple food. He says promoting Korean temple cuisine could improve Buddhism's image here."

That sounded about right for Cheong-hwi.

He seemed as decent as he'd looked.

"Father Jeong Yong-hwan served as a deacon at a parish in the Archdiocese of Seoul before recently being appointed a priest in the Diocese of Suwon. Well... he's a little unusual."

"Unusual how?"

"Well, the Catholic Church is actually a very administrative organization. We asked his superiors what he was like. They said his devotion was fine, but that he gulps down wine, insisting he won't waste the Lord's precious blood. He's a heavy drinker. There's even a joke that he became a priest so he could drink legally."

Not knowing what to say, I merely smacked my lips.

"Madam Geulmun is a man, but insists on using that title, which is apparently unusual. I don't know much about shamanism, but it's caused him a lot of trouble. That's why he's rather prickly. He tells fortunes using written phrases and has also studied Taoism and the I Ching. He says the patterns of the heavens have changed dramatically lately, so he can no longer rely solely on the I Ching. He's more cooperative with the Armed Forces than you might think."

"The one who called us sinister?"

"Hah... Since he has deep ties to the dead, perhaps he possesses some exceptional spiritual insight?"

For a moment, I wondered if Shin Han-gi secretly thought we were fucking awful too.

"The fellow in the turban is Hamza. He's Pakistani and Muslim. Sunni, he says. But there aren't many Muslims in Korea yet, are there? So we're observing him, because it's hard to classify whether his magic is doctrinal or belongs to some other branch."

"He said he eats gochujang and pork belly and drinks soju. Is he really Muslim?"

"By that logic, we eat burgers, drink cola, and have fries too. Even when the doctor tells us they'll kill us."

"Hmm..."

I found myself inwardly persuaded by his argument.

"The others are soldiers who awakened alteration-type magic while on night watch, like you, or through some other trigger. There are two reservists including you, one who came from active-duty service, and one NCO."

"You're not going to introduce them?"

"We know so little about alteration-type magic. It's easy enough for the military to talk to the religious practitioners who use doctrinal magic and identify its characteristics, but with alteration-type magic, we struggle to find anything in common beyond a change in a particular body part. So they're postponing introductions for a while to prevent contamination of the information through people coordinating their accounts or getting things confused."

"Huh."

I leaned back against the break-room sofa and idly popped my lips.

"If I'd known, I'd have picked a church, a cathedral, or a temple and kept going."

"Not everyone who attends awakens. If they did, we'd have wiped out those monsters long ago."

"Then doesn't that mean God really exists?"

I'd meant it as a joke, but Shin Han-gi gave me an awkward look.

"That already has people in some places at each other's throats, insisting their god is the real one. Some have requested changes to our terminology, saying it should be called a miracle, not doctrinal magic. There's also strong hostility toward Operators who've awakened alteration-type magic. That's why the military prefers the neutral expression 'localized penetrative alteration activity' rather than 'magic.'"

Wherever you went, the easily offended got to call the shots.

Grumbling, I crushed my Let's Be can and tossed it into the trash.

Then I decided to pull the Magic Crash Course booklet from inside my jacket and look it over for the first time in a while.

"So. Is there a separate place to study magic?"

"First we'll assign your accommodations, then tomorrow we'll set up a dedicated space for the Operators."

Around then, the driver, who'd been listening intently beside us, cautiously spoke up, his voice a mixture of fear, envy, and excitement.

"O-Operator, sir. And Lieutenant, sir."

"Yeah. Go ahead. I'm sure you're curious."

When Shin Han-gi nodded, the driver's eyes lit up.

"Can Operators really shoot fireballs? And blast electricity? Can you summon spirits too?"

Shin Han-gi stared straight at me, and I answered the driver with a serious expression.

"We shoot fireballs."

"Oh, wow! R-really?!"

"We shoot red-hot lead."

"Oooh... Huh?"

I burst out laughing at the driver's belatedly dumbfounded expression.

"Just kidding."

"Ah, ahaha!"

"I can see ten seconds into the future."

"...!"

Apparently Shin Han-gi hadn't known that much either. He stared at me, eyes wide.

I wagged a finger and flashed a confident smile.

"Once this is over, I'm taking out a fuckload of loans and heading to Las Vegas."