Chapter 103 - Listen Carefully

People believe everyone is equal.

The belief that every life weighs the same, regardless of birth or ability, must be the loveliest fairy tale of all. Perhaps people cling all the harder to that fantasy precisely because they know the world isn't like that.

One thing is certain: when war arrives, the soft skin covering our merciless reality is ripped away.

Some lives matter more than others.

The more important people are put to more valuable use, while the relatively less useful are treated as expendable.

That was why we Supreme Mages had been assigned to the CP at Suwon City Hall instead of being sent straight to the front.

Ordinary soldiers fought the enemy to glean whatever information they could, while we waited somewhere safe, gathering that intelligence to understand the bastards and preparing to deploy at the decisive moment.

To think human lives could be this unequal.

I was so glad I'd learned magic.

The moment we returned to the place where the Supreme Mages had made their historic beginning, I once again understood what a triumphant homecoming felt like. As the helicopter's rotor noise gradually subsided, the everyday sights of Suwon beyond the window were sweeter than anything.

Non-mages with vacant, terrified eyes carried boxes, hauled sandbags, and dug with shovels. Soldiers in NBC protective suits and gas masks swaggered about in neat ranks, menacingly fingering their guns.

The divide between mages and those who hadn't learned magic was already becoming stark.

Of course it was.

How could anyone who turned their back on the mystery of magic—a mystery that paid back one hundred percent of their suffering—expect to enjoy its benefits?

What could be done for those who refused to accept that pain had become hope for survival, a salvation granting almighty power? Before long, their duty would be to applaud archmages without cease, rejoicing and showering them with unstinting praise.

Not everyone was like that, of course.

Here and there, civilians wearing padded jackets or thick vests with fluorescent blue identification bands strode down the roads, gun slings hanging from their shoulders.

"Je-min, see anything out there?"

"People with guns."

Pastor Park Yo-han leaned forward to look after me and clicked his tongue.

"Who are those fellows, carrying guns around without even wearing uniforms?"

"Civilian Operators."

Shin Na-in took off his headset and looked through the window with an impassive gaze.

That bastard Na-in might pretend to be listening to his headset and ignore everyone else, but he never brushed off the pastor.

He checked that his K2's selector was properly set to safe as he spoke.

"They were conscripted initially, but it appears they've become mercenaries through using holy-war arts and receiving military scrip. The military has thoroughly engineered the economic structure to make people envy civilian Operators."

According to Na-in, the military-scrip economy had become even more meticulously organized under Marshal McKinsey of the ROK–U.S. Joint Command.

Astonishingly, the inner voices Na-in heard as an ear mage revealed that quite a few civilians envied civilian Operators.

Things might be different in safe cities in the rear, but citizens of Gyeonggi, along the second cordon, could hardly help admiring civilian Operators, who received at least twenty units of military scrip for every mission.

You didn't have to look far for the reason: civilians typically earned only two or three a day helping the military.

What's more, the ROK–U.S. Joint Command had formally announced that military scrip could be exchanged for dollars and begun screening applicants for eligibility. Civilian Operators could apparently breeze through that screening.

As a result, some forcibly conscripted Operators had quickly caught on, formed civilian organizations, and begun cooperating with the military. An unofficial name had emerged for them.

Military-service Operators.

A blend of “civilian military employees” and “civilian Operators,” the new term carried both mockery and envy toward those who staunchly upheld and actively cooperated with the Joint Command's American military-government system.

Reality Survival Command, under the ROK–U.S. Joint Command, officially classified them all as civilian Operators. In practice, however, it was funneling benefits to those who actively cooperated with the military, aggressively encouraging them to become military-service Operators.

It was working closely with Cordon Operations Command to do so.

Na-in was now watching the retreating backs of the civilian Operators through the helicopter window.

"The Americans have built a clever, meticulous system. Firearm permits, automatic approval for dollar exchanges, scrip payments, immunity for collateral civilian casualties during operations... They've dangled bait suited to a vulgar rabble that can't be motivated by faith or a sense of duty."

"When a pack of wolves comes, you need sheepdogs too. Indeed."

The pastor answered Na-in with a sour expression.

Se-jun folded his arms, scoffed, and stuck out his lips.

"So you're vulgar unless you act solely out of faith and duty? There's hope and loyalty too."

"..."

Na-in scowled and put his headset back on.

The pastor smacked his lips and turned his attention to Ryeo-ha.

"Are you all right, Ryeo-ha? You've been like this the whole way here."

"..."

She sat utterly still, her head covered by her rain poncho.

After trying to comfort her, the pastor sighed and turned to us.

"What do we do?"

Apparently, hearing how I'd openly forced the red pill down her throat had given Pastor Park an idea of what was going on.

He didn't make much of a show of it, but his hesitation was noticeable.

His tone and manner toward Ryeo-ha had certainly become more cautious and deliberate.

The euthanasia of some fifty ordinary non-mages.

Even without knowing the exact numbers or circumstances, the crime was too vile for easy consolation, and the situation too desperate for simple condemnation.

But everything in this world has two sides.

As the pastor grew stiff and hesitant, Na-in's gaze softened slightly behind his headset.

"Let her collect herself, Pastor."

"Hmm... I'm worried she'll go astray. You're young too, Na-in. Couldn't you look after her a little?"

"I'll send her before the Lord with my K2. Those who fall for the devil's temptations once are bound to keep falling. All we can do is have them face judgment before they commit more sins, and lessen that burden."

Shin Na-in. One terrifying bastard.

Still, I didn't have enough strength left to respond to any of these conversations.

When the helicopter door finally opened, I got out without hesitation.

The very first thing I did upon disembarking was throw up.

"Bleeuuurgh..."

As I hunched over the ground vomiting, someone approached and patted my shoulder.

"Je-min, you said you were fine because the whole world was shaking. What's wrong now?"

It was Hamza.

Feeling the cool touch of a water bottle against my cheek, I snatched it up as though collapsing into it.

I spent a long while pouring water over my face and working my lips.

Only after rinsing my mouth and spitting it out did I regain enough clarity to speak.

"I'm not throwing up from dizziness. It's because this is horrifying."

"So it's not motion sickness, just vomiting?"

"More bastards besides me are learning magic."

Fucking horrifying. Fuck.

I hated this reality where civilian Operators—mages—were springing up like mushrooms.

If someone more talented than me came along and reached the realm of archmages first, I might go mad with resentment and jealousy and hunt them down.

I wasn't particularly interested in stealing a mage's remains, but if jealousy blinded me and I ended up killing one, what could I do?

Since I'd already acquired them, I might as well take the remains too.

As Hamza's expression twisted strangely, Na-in approached, his brow furrowed in contempt.

"Je-min, if you know you're a fucking asshole, do something about it. Let's pray together and repent."

"Will that get me doctrinal magic?"

Promise me [Soteriological Conviction], and I'd start going to church immediately.

But Na-in shook his head and pointed to himself.

"The Lord's miracle is already within you. You possess alteration-type holy-war arts, and yet you still doubt that the Lord has worked through you?"

"Bullshiiit."

I stood up and looked around at the Supreme Mages.

The sidelong glances from civilians and soldiers told me they were intensely conscious of us, but I didn't embarrass myself by making a show of it. The best way to soak up that attention was to pretend not to notice, then acknowledge it just once in a while.

Shin Na-in, Lee Se-jun, Pastor Park Yo-han, Go Ryeo-ha, Hamza.

I didn't have a shred of heroic spirit, but looking at this lineup made me painfully aware of how precariously the Republic of Korea's future hung in the balance. These were people who could make even an individualist like me feel the crisis facing our society.

I jerked a thumb over my shoulder toward Suwon City Hall, now serving as a military command post.

"I'm genuinely proud of myself for becoming a Supreme Mage with this bunch of useless assholes."

"Je-min, why leave out the bitches? Are you being sexist?"

I deliberately ignored that lunatic Se-jun.

Just then, a familiar face reacted to my pointing and strode over.

"Aphorism. It's certainly hard to meet you under pleasant circumstances."

The duck-billed sergeant first class in sunglasses.

He and his soldiers welcomed us.

"The colonel is waiting. Come along. Let's get you briefed on Seongnam."

* * *

Fortunately, the colonel at Suwon City Hall was alive.

The colonel with the irritated skin, haggard complexion, and hollow eyes, who had removed his name tag and looked after us. Now that I knew why the officers had taken off their name tags, I saw him in a different light.

The Suwon colonel turned his bloodshot eyes toward us and twitched the corners of his mouth, trying to smile. When it didn't work as he'd intended, he gave up and simply spoke.

"It's been a while, Aphorism... I'm glad to see you again like this."

"We're glad you're still alive too, Colonel."

As the pastor nodded, we Supreme Mages found our seats one by one and listened to the briefing.

But the empty seats in the conference room caught my eye more than our reunion with the colonel.

Where civilian Operators from southern Gyeonggi had once gathered, only we Supreme Mages remained. With a newcomer like Ryeo-ha among us, the vacant places left by those who had met their end felt like even sharper shadows.

Father Jeong Yong-hwan, Madam Geulmun, monk Cheong-hwi...

They were different from the later generations of forcibly conscripted civilian Operators.

Even if Cheong-hwi had been a spy or a traitor.

Even Pastor Park, who always looked down on other religions, took off his glasses and made a needless show of polishing them.

"Hmm. Are my glasses scratched?"

"You'll break them doing that, Pastor."

"Na-in, things are blurry even with them on. I'm giving them a proper clean."

SQUEAK, SQUEAK.

Even setting aside Ryeo-ha's persistent dejection, the mood inevitably grew solemn.

The first generation of civilian Operators had faced horrific monsters amid an unprecedented catastrophe, before any proper system was in place. Armed with magic and guns far more paltry than what we had now, they had volunteered to enter danger while everything was collapsing.

Whether they'd done it for a bargain or a conviction, at least Father Jeong and Madam Geulmun had stood with us and died.

We'd known each other for far too short a time to really claim acquaintance, yet I felt a longing in their absence. Perhaps I was imagining what it might have been like if they'd stayed with us until the end.

My chest felt heavy as I quietly whispered to Hamza beside me.

"Hamza. I bet the priest and Madam left sacred relics too. Since we're here, should we ask? See if they left anything?"

"Je-min, seriously, stop saying such utterly shitty things."

Tsk.

Wasn't that important...?

Meanwhile, the colonel waited patiently for our mood to settle, then began operating the projector.

The duck-billed sergeant first class stood beside him. Apparently, with Captain Kim Ho-un and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi assigned elsewhere, he'd taken over their position.

"I don't wish to interrupt your reminiscences, but there's much I must tell you. I'm afraid I'll have to ask your understanding."

The colonel then gave us a detailed explanation of Seongnam's situation using a PowerPoint presentation.

He pointed out, one by one, the areas controlled by the Gangnam Clairvoyant, his subordinate forces, and Unit 55, along with the combat zones.

"The hostile local designated the Gangnam Clairvoyant by the ROK–U.S. Joint Command and Reality Survival Command is rapidly advancing south, occupying the closed subway stations along Line Eight one after another. Their offensive has proceeded in three stages..."

It was the explanation of the three-stage offensive we'd heard at Command.

Since I already knew it, I decided just to review. There was nothing particularly new: plastic-bag bombs filled with human slimes, directed monster packs, and calls to defect, all working in combination.

That was when Se-jun raised his hand.

"Colonel, why do you think they're securing the subway stations? Didn't we blast all the Line Eight tracks to block them off?"

"Yes. Infiltration via the tracks is impossible. However, the Gangnam Clairvoyant and his subordinate forces appear to be using the closed stations as bases, temporary trenches to shelter from shelling. One unusual point is that despite repeated chemical strikes and the devastation of the surrounding areas, their survival rate is strangely high. To be precise, we've barely managed to incapacitate them."

"Is their NBC protection that good?"

"We can't be certain. That's all I can say, because their troop deployment and control are exceptionally effective. Based on prior experience, it's highly likely they're intercepting military communications."

This was what I gathered from the conversation between Se-jun and the Suwon colonel.

The Gangnam Clairvoyant.

Whatever method he used, he predicted where the shells would land with uncanny accuracy. His forces never went near areas under chemical bombardment or repeated gas dispersal, and he hardly sent them outside the fog, keeping the military's detection equipment ineffective.

Instead, he was exploiting his advantage by spreading monster infections among the military units holding the cordon, making the fog follow and spread more easily.

If anyone wondered whether the fog or the monsters came first, even troops in the field were now suggesting it might be the monsters.

But caution and secrecy alone wouldn't have brought down the cordon.

The Suwon colonel operated the projector and displayed AI-generated composites based on the descriptions Madam Yongsan Station had provided.

"Our snipers and special forces have currently pinned these practitioners of localized penetrative alteration activity down, but they continue to pose a tangible threat to the cordon."

A figure in sunglasses and a KN95 mask, with yellow-painted bandages wrapped around a steel helmet: Yellow-Bandage Routed Soldier.

A figure in a gas mask, with the name tags of murdered soldiers plastered all over modified Velcro patches meant for displaying name tags: Corporal Velcro.

Their ridiculous appearances and the fact that they were deserters or routed soldiers left the Supreme Mages utterly unimpressed. Somehow, they lacked impact.

"Those are the fellows threatening to break through?"

Pastor Park put his glasses back on and gave a disbelieving laugh.

Na-in and Se-jun frowned too. Only Hamza looked slightly sick as he glanced at Ryeo-ha. Apparently noticing his gaze, she spoke with her head still bowed, her shoulders moving faintly.

"... The Gangnam man's people are strong. You can't overlook the fact that they're a mage organization, not just an army."

"You say we shouldn't underestimate them, but looking like that..."

The pastor added the words in disbelief, but this time the Suwon colonel sided with Ryeo-ha.

"Despite their ridiculous appearances and the names Command has given them, they pose a considerable threat. This is their voice, transmitted over military communications equipment near the combat zone in northern Seongnam. Please listen."

CLICK.

Inside the thoroughly soundproofed conference room, the PowerPoint presentation on the screen gave way to an audio file.

After a stretch of crackling static, we heard a breathless voice laughing faintly.

["Ah, ah. Listen, listen. Can you hear me?"]

Even I, Baek Je-min, an English-language disaster with a TOEIC score of 400, could tell his pronunciation was awful.

Calling it Konglish was too generous. This was practically Korean masquerading as English.

But the speaker seemed so enamored with himself that he continued without a care.

["Cutting the cable won't help, and neither will turning the dial. Instead of wasting your time, just listen. We won't attack while you're listening. We'll even hold off the monsters for you. Just hear me out. We're all human—there's some goodwill between us, right? How about it? You're listening, then?"]

TAP, TAP, TAP.

It sounded as though someone was tapping the microphone.

Having drawn everyone's attention, the speaker chuckled before continuing.

["All right, let me introduce myself first. I'm your senior. What I mean is, I was a soldier conscripted without knowing a damn thing, told we were going to put down riots in Seoul, and stationed inside the city. How's that? Feeling a connection already? Was it December fifteenth when I got posted to Seoul? I'm way ahead of you guys going through this at the cordon now."]

A frivolous laugh.

A cheerful tone.

The awful English pronunciation mingled with the air of a chattering loudmouth, creating an almost comical impression.

["I think I know what you're thinking. You figure I'm going to demand to know why you abandoned me in Seoul, right? You think I'm trying to smash the cordon and fuck over all forty million citizens because I was left in Seoul and want revenge? No, no. As a soldier, I understand why I was given that mission. We all know, don't we? When you're dealing with these fucking monsters, you can't half-ass it, trying to save this person or that. You have to kill them all. So why am I trying to break the cordon? Heh heh heh."]

You'd probably met at least one.

The sort of chattering loudmouth you could find anywhere. That was what this speaker seemed to be.

Until he said one more thing.

["Because of the people who insist we have to save them."]

Na-in's eyebrows twitched.

Hamza abruptly scowled too, then squeezed his eyes shut and began shaking his head.

["The people calling me a butcher and a murderer told me this. Even if the Republic of Korea fell, we should've tried to save Seoul's citizens. The military exists to protect the people, so what the hell were we doing? Even if all fifty million Koreans turned into monsters, we should've at least tried to save them. How the fuck could we call ourselves soldiers? The moment we gave up saving them, we became murderers. You know what I thought when I heard that?"]

A sharp jolt shot through me.

It felt as though someone was pricking the inside of my head with thorns.

At the same time, the speaker's voice grew sharper, stabbing like an awl.

["Ah. I'm not even fucking human to those people. They don't give a shit whether monsters eat me. They just want us to save people. Soldiers aren't human to them. When we die, it's just one soldier dead. Not even a person. One creature, click. Two creatures, three creatures, click, click, click. That's all it amounts to. It just clicked into place. Click, click, click..."]

I understood instinctively.

Magic.

Something powerful carried through sound, through words.

Scowling, I could only squeeze my eyes shut and bow my head against the pain, as though an awl kept stabbing into my skull. Even splitting my head with an axe wouldn't put an end to this.

The cold, unpleasant sensation churned through my mind so fiercely that I considered using Eye Stage Three, Cognitive Dissonance.

["Guys. You're not people to them. They don't care—they just want you to go and fucking rescue their families. They don't even know what monsters are running around. They just hate you. Aren't you holding out because you don't want to die either? Aren't you there because you've got people to protect too? Doesn't it piss you off?"]

"Urgh..."

Someone couldn't hold out and retched.

My eyes were tightly shut, so I couldn't check, but at least it wasn't Hamza beside me. Thank goodness.

["We're not seriously saying we should kill all fifty million of us. Let's just agree we're all fucked together. Huh? If we're one people? We're citizens of the same country, so how the fuck does it make sense that some get eaten by monsters, some get sent to their deaths to rescue people, and some get called murderers for killing monsters? Think people will look after your family when you die? When people back there gang up on your family, calling them the family of a cordon butcher, do you think your family can survive after losing you?"]

My head spun.

I'd always prided myself on almost never feeling dizzy except from motion sickness, but this recorded voice was different. Something supernatural was manipulating my emotions, not my reason, trying to steer my thoughts.

This went beyond gaslighting.

I wondered if it was the explosion of emotion from inverted Tongue Branch, Stage Two, but my emotions weren't suddenly surging out of control.

This was far more malicious and insidious.

The chattering loudmouth's words were nurturing paranoid doubts: Was that so? Was it really true?

["Join us. Today, you've been blessed. If you see a steel helmet wrapped in yellow bandages on the battlefield, throw down your gun, take off your gas mask and cap, kneel, and raise both hands. The power to keep your family alive. Solidarity. An organization far more practical and flexible than any army. We've got it. Our boss will take care of anyone who messes with your family. Trust him and follow. He's far more trustworthy than the bastards who abandoned you in Seongnam. My smart, quick-witted friends who want to live and have people to protect, I'll give you a little break to think it over. Let's fuck them up together. Click!"]

TICK.

The playback stopped with a click of the tongue.

The instant it ended, the awl-like discomfort boring holes through my head vanished too.

The voices of the Supreme Mages rose as we floundered in confusion.

"Ugh, my stomach. Downing an entire bottle of whiskey wouldn't do this to me."

Se-jun was the first to groan, rubbing his arms. Na-in took a wet wipe from inside his clothes and cleaned his mouth, Hamza bowed his head and drew ragged breaths, and Ryeo-ha curled herself into a ball, rocking slightly.

The pastor, however, stroked his Bible's cover and clicked his tongue.

"That fellow has gone too far. He'll have to reach heaven's gates before he can repent."

Just then, the Suwon colonel and the duck-billed sergeant first class pulled earplugs from their ears.

I'd wondered why they were fine. Apparently, they'd blocked their ears.

No wonder their voices had been absent from all the commotion.

Apparently noticing my irritated look, the duck-billed sergeant first class fiddled with the arm of his sunglasses.

"We've already heard it ourselves. Please give us a break."

"Haaah..."

Fine. Fuck.

A non-mage would go insane listening to that over and over.

I decided to show a mage's magnanimity and understand.

"As you've seen, this... Yellow-Bandage Routed Soldier appears to be functioning as the Gangnam group's actual recruiting officer, urging soldiers to defect. We don't know exactly what magic he's using, however."

"Inverted Alteration-Type Ear."

Everyone's eyes turned toward one person.

Shin Na-in.

Having thrown up once, he was as pale as a tuberculosis patient. He carefully folded the wet wipe, put it in his pocket, and spoke.

"It's in the realm of hypnosis, suggestion, and the breakdown of reason."