Chapter 17 - The Most Important Thing Is Missing

In the middle of all this chaos, getting a hospital room to myself was impossible, no matter how important an asset I was.

As people groaning from every imaginable injury steadily filled the beds, my room ended up packed with more patients than it was meant to hold. It looked like it had originally been a four-bed room, but now it felt more like an eight-bed one.

Most of them were soldiers in combat uniforms.

Though I wore a combat uniform too, I was still a civilian, so I couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. Mixing civilians and soldiers together like this felt... strange.

Most were hurt worse than I was, with arms or legs swathed in bandages. Some spent the entire night groaning and moaning with fever.

The first soldier among them to come fully to his senses became my phone-charger buddy.

His name was Lee Dae-min, and his right leg had been amputated. I didn't bother asking what had happened. He didn't ask my name either.

Instead, we passed the time watching the world go by on our respective phones.

Beyond my cracked screen, people marched through the streets holding up placards, facing off against martial-law troops with shields raised and tanks ready to roll.

As the camera busily zoomed in and out, the reporter at the scene swallowed and began speaking.

["As condemnation of the government intensifies across the country, there are signs that martial law will expand nationwide under directives issued by the president and government, who recently relocated to Incheon. Public opinion and support are wavering sharply. Calls for a change of government are mounting in Daejeon, Gwangju, Busan, and smaller cities surrounding the metropolitan centers..."]

"Bullshit."

That wasn't me. As a citizen of a democracy, I understood why those people were reacting that way.

The belated curse came from Lee Dae-min. The scar on his lightly scorched left cheek twisted as he began tapping furiously at his screen.

Since it was a livestream, countless chat messages were scrolling up alongside it. On a hunch, I checked the chat.

[Step down, you incompetent government that got ten million Seoul citizens killed@@@]

[It appears the Chinese communists have finally launched biological and chemical warfare. Don't let yourselves be fooled. When China offers to help, remaining thoroughly on guard is the only way to end this crisis.]

[If the military's going to shoot everyone dead instead of protecting people, why the hell are they collecting our taxes?!]

[You're all full of shit. If those things pour out, are YOU going to pick up guns and stop them?]

TAP TAP.

I closed the chat without hesitation.

The venom of the Korean internet was shining brighter than ever in this crisis. Shuddering anew at the Korean people's five-thousand-year history of honing their eloquence to pulverize someone else's sanity with nothing but a wagging tongue, I quietly checked other news.

[Countdown to a Power Cut? Leaked Internal Document Reveals Military Discussion of Cutting Electricity to Seoul to Prevent Attempts to Break Through the Cordon...]

[What Exactly Are the Monsters That Attacked Suwon Station? Why Are the Military and Government Still Silent?]

[Hellish Screams from the Cordon... "The Military No Longer Tries to Protect Its Citizens"]

Every news section I visited was a complete shitshow.

Faced with an unprecedented crisis, the entire Republic of Korea had plunged into one vast muddle, and no one seemed to possess the power or knowledge to resolve it cleanly.

The public—ordinary people like me—was divided and subdivided, with every imaginable argument taking aim at the others.

Then a fresh article, just posted, caught my eye.

[Exclusive First Release) Footage of Suwon Station Monsters Obtained—Citizens Must Judge for Themselves]

Without thinking, I checked the posting time.

January 18, 1:01 p.m.

The content was simple.

They had uploaded a video, claiming to be the first to obtain leaked footage filmed by a civilian near Suwon Station despite the military and government's media embargo.

I played it just in case. It didn't look like an AI-generated fake.

Swirling fog. Flashing muzzles and gunfire. Human screams mingled with the Amalgams' distinctive, heavy, wind-instrument-like howls.

It seemed to have been filmed on a smartphone. As the person's hands trembled and they started to flee, an Amalgam emerged from the fog and charged.

Only then did the camera shake wildly, as though the person filming had turned and run without even managing a scream. Naturally, the soldiers spotted them and opened fire.

RAT-TAT-TAT...

The person filming went down mercilessly. Before long, a pool of blood spread around the smartphone, and the video ended.

All sorts of comments appeared in an instant, and the article's view count began soaring.

[What the fuck is that]

[Filming right next to an active military operation? Good riddance, you dumb fuck]

[They shot a civilian dead without hesitation, and THAT'S the comment above's response?]

[Not even one of those things can be allowed down here... Kill them all~!!!]

If I'd been one of the people living easy in the rear, this article might have given me a massive dose of fear and dopamine alike.

I might have felt the nasty thrill of a zombie movie coming to life, an unpleasant sense of liberation at the world falling apart. But by now, I had matured beyond measure and undergone tremendous personal growth.

Normally, I'd have trolled the comments with something like, Ten million? Kill all fifty million if that's what it takes to stop them~. But the mature me merely chuckled and turned off my phone.

My dopamine receptors had returned to normal.

This was why people shouldn't get used to unpleasant stimulation. Feeling how healthy my mind had become, I finally understood what true liberation meant.

That was when the chatty doctor came in.

"Mr. Baek Je-min. The command post at Suwon City Hall is asking for you."

"Me?"

"Oh, don't get me started. I told them that, given your injuries, you couldn't be discharged until early February. They said I didn't have to discharge you, but it was urgent and they wanted you brought over anyway. Still, you're in good physical shape, so with prescribed painkillers, you should be able to make it to Suwon City Hall. Just don't use your left hand under any circumstances."

I had no idea what possessed someone to bandage my left hand into a club and then tell me not to use it.

Anyway, it would be my first outing in eight days. There was only so long I could spend lying around in a hospital room. Bored and stir-crazy, I decided to go, if only to find out what had happened to everyone else.

As I prepared to leave, Lee Dae-min looked at me and asked me something for the first time.

"Hey. How'd your left hand get wrecked?"

Apparently, he felt unsettled about losing the person beside him—the only other fully lucid patient in the room.

I looked at his right leg, then grinned and very carefully tapped the bandages wrapped around my left hand.

"I shot it myself. Then I seared it on a hot rifle barrel."

Horrified, the chatty doctor nearly smacked me on the back, then forced himself to refrain.

"Mr. Baek Je-min, that's nothing to brag about. Just get going. Mr. Lee Dae-min, let's change your bandages."

With that, a chilly nurse escorted me down to the lobby.

The lobby was packed with injured people and visitors waiting to see patients, amid groans from people suffering every sort of injury imaginable.

It felt like a miracle to find familiar faces in that crowd.

First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi and our thoughtful driver were passing the time chatting back and forth. As I approached, Shin noticed me, removed his helmet, and tucked it under his arm.

"Operator Baek Je-min. You're looking radiant."

"You don't actually mean that, do you?"

"I'm just saying it. Everyone's been pretty down lately."

With a bitter smile, he led me to a requisitioned van with the thoughtful driver.

"Driver, no need to rush. They'll understand. The Operator hasn't fully recovered from his injuries."

"Yes, sir!"

"So this is how you slack off?"

"Operator, with all the tension and crushing responsibility this crisis brings, we need to unwind somehow. I'm still only a first lieutenant, you know."

We each got into the van and slumped in our seats.

Except for our thoughtful driver. He kept checking his surroundings without pause, glancing into the rearview and side mirrors. I suspected it was because of those monsters, the Amalgams—even though the day was bright and clear, without a speck of fog.

Shin Han-gi, sitting in the front passenger seat as vehicle commander, set his helmet on his lap and sighed deeply.

"Don't worry... Not that I'm in any position to say that. Let's take it slow. Nice and slow."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Suwon City Hall had a strange atmosphere when we arrived in the requisitioned van.

Before, it had been preparing for combat. Now... how could I put it? It felt like a place fully prepared to shoot anyone who got on its nerves.

You might wonder what the difference was. Before, there had still been a little romantic optimism that things weren't that bad yet. Now their eyes gleamed with genuine, razor-edged menace.

If you gave them trouble, they looked ready to shove a muzzle at you before they even considered a rifle butt.

Only after stating his rank and name and showing his ID was Shin Han-gi allowed through the tight security to get out. The thoughtful driver and I followed him, and from that point on, the way people treated me changed slightly.

"This is Operator Baek Je-min. Make sure you all treat him properly."

The moment Shin issued that warning, those menacing stares shifted subtly and deliberately turned elsewhere.

They still kept sneaking glances at me, apparently unable to contain their curiosity.

I was only a bandage-wrapped civilian in combat fatigues, without even a helmet, but the soldiers' reactions after eight days away felt entirely new.

I hurried after Shin Han-gi and asked, my voice dropping without my noticing,

"What's gotten into everyone here?"

"Following this latest spread of the fog, we reassessed localized penetrative alteration activity and the civilian Operators. That's also why you're being called in."

As we walked through Suwon City Hall, the familiar conference room came into view.

Armed soldiers guarded its main entrance closely, but at the sight of Shin Han-gi, they silently saluted and stepped aside.

Familiar faces waited inside.

Along with field-grade officers in full gear, headed by the colonel without a name tag, magicians were already seated throughout the room... Among them was Hamza, the turban-wearing honorary Korean who had bolted early on.

A casual look around revealed more survivors than I'd expected.

"Oh? You're here, Mr. Baek Je-min."

Pastor Park Yo-han glanced my way, touching the arm of the glasses that gave him such a sly look.

"You aren't someone who would go easily."

Monk Cheong-hwi smiled serenely and pressed his palms together.

Hamza, Shin Na-in, and Staff Sergeant Lee Se-jun also blinked at me and waved. We hadn't been particularly close, but apparently surviving one fucked-up place together had sent their sense of closeness through the roof.

As I found a seat, I caught part of Shin Han-gi's report as he approached the colonel and saluted.

"Loyalty. I've brought Operator Baek Je-min, sir."

"Good. Well done."

"Loyalty."

Shin took a place at the end of the assembled officers.

Only then did the colonel without a name tag turn his exhausted, bloodshot eyes toward us. He rubbed the dark stubble of his unshaven beard and sighed.

After that, seemingly having composed himself, he began.

"First, I'll explain that Mr. Hamza did not abandon the operation."

He tapped the blank white screen with his own hand and calmly explained.

"Mr. Hamza ran alone to the vicinity of Seryu Station and joined the thirty-one troops deployed there. When the collision occurred on Suwon Station's underground Line 1 platform, he made a considerable contribution to rescuing Staff Sergeant Lee Se-jun, Mr. Shin Na-in, and others who had escaped along the opposite tracks, and to stopping the Amalgams pursuing them. At Mr. Hamza's enthusiastic suggestion, we have decided to name his magic [Angel's Intuition]."

"Angel's Intuition?"

Pastor Park Yo-han frowned as he asked, and this time Hamza vigorously defended himself.

"The Quran. The words of Muhammad, guided by the angel Jibril. There can be no doubt that Jibril inspired and guided me."

"Hey, you Muslim bastard. Who said you could just call Gabriel Jibril?"

"Pastor, enough. In any case, Mr. Hamza identifies himself as a Sunni Muslim. If similar magic manifests among other Sunni believers in the future, we will classify it as doctrinal magic and designate it Angel's Intuition. Save the religious quarrels for later. Mr. Shin Na-in and Staff Sergeant Lee Se-jun survived thanks to him."

Pastor Park Yo-han swept his eyes over Shin Na-in and Lee Se-jun, then folded his arms, his face full of discontent.

Only monk Cheong-hwi's softly recited mantra broke the silence in the conference room.

Once the colonel saw that things had finally settled somewhat, he rubbed his eyelids again and straightened his posture.

"We invited you Operators here today because field testimony has demonstrated that your localized penetrative alteration activity... your so-called magic is far more useful... and powerful than the military had believed."

The officers said nothing while the colonel spoke.

Instead, they watched us while standing at parade rest, visibly trying to keep their faces expressionless. They couldn't hide their exhaustion, though.

Only the colonel continued speaking with his fatigue laid bare.

"The military has therefore adopted a policy of sharing detailed information about this crisis—all information we have reliably established—with you Operators in full. In return, you must sign a confidentiality agreement pledging not to disclose it to the press or anyone else. These matters are classified at Level 3 or above. Under emergency martial law, violations may be tried in a military court rather than a regular court."

"Martial law?"

"Martial law will extend to Gyeonggi Province from four p.m. on January 18."

Hmm... Did I really need to know...?

Part of me thought that reflexively, but another part—the voice of reason—clicked its tongue at my complacency.

Didn't I want to learn magic? I needed information to use stronger magic! Was I just going to walk into the fog? Was I insane?

Listening to that voice of reason made me reflect on just how lazy and indolent I'd been. Right. Thorough preparation was the only way to survive the hell inside the fog.

As I straightened up, steadied my breathing, and prepared to listen closely, the colonel had his subordinate officers begin distributing filed documents to the magicians.

First came the confidentiality agreement.

"You can sign or leave a thumbprint."

"There's no ink pad."

CLICK.

Seeing them produce one the moment I spoke, I had to reconsider whether the Republic of Korea's military had always been this thoroughly prepared.

Why were they acting so differently? The military I knew never had anything properly equipped, and borrowing supplies from the neighboring unit whenever an inspection was announced had been routine.

I reluctantly stamped my thumbprint on the confidentiality agreement and handed it over. The officers collected it, and in exchange for the sheet that left my hand, I finally received a proper file.

[Seoul Cordon Timeline]

A PowerPoint presentation appeared on the white screen.

The colonel began explaining, his expression a little—just a little—more somber.

"We'll begin with the first report of the fog..."

* * *

November 24, 2027, 3:48 a.m. Fog first appears in the Bukhansan area. Considered an anomalous weather phenomenon; no comprehensive investigation conducted.

December 3, 2027, 2:43 a.m. First encounter with the head-fusion mimic beast, informally known as the Amalgam. Government first becomes aware after CCTV captures it fleeing in alarm at the sound of a siren from a police car parked at a police substation, while officers dispatched in response to local residents' reports are fleeing toward the substation.

December 5, 2027, 22:16. First reconnaissance conducted within an area where fog severely limits visibility.

December 6, 2027, 4:03 a.m. Reconnaissance fails; contact lost. Body-camera footage establishes that Amalgams employ intelligent hunting tactics, using surrounding terrain and structures for cover and approaching while mimicking humans.

December 8, 2027, 11 a.m. Restricted-Access Zones established and isolated in areas where fog limits visibility to fifty meters or less, to halt and contain Amalgam spread.

December 13, 2027, 3:32 p.m. Police tactical unit successfully kills an Amalgam. Confirmed vulnerable to sudden temperature changes and heat; death occurs after a certain amount of bodily fluid is lost from the head, its main body. Amalgam corpse recovered; research begins.

December 14, 2027, 9 a.m. Amalgam hunting methods, mimicry, and infection judged lethal. Necessity of preventing civilians from leaving Seoul confirmed. Existing police resources insufficient to respond.

December 14, 2027, 3:12 p.m. Efforts to stop Amalgams disguised as a response to deteriorating public order and civil unrest. Security martial law declared in selected areas under the pretext of civilian assistance and volunteer service. Redeployment of personnel and material resources begins.

December 17, 2027, 8:17 a.m. Attempt to separate an individual fused into an Amalgam nearly causes a biological catastrophe. Addressed by burning the relevant facility. Subsequent orders strictly prohibit rescue attempts and corpse recovery.

December 18, 2027, 1 p.m. Additional Restricted-Access Zones established as fog spreads and Amalgam range expands. Cooperative arrangements initiated through the United States embassy.

December 23, 2027, 2:13 p.m. Anti-Amalgam tactics established. Joint military, police, and fire-service operation successfully stops Amalgams leaving Restricted-Access Zones.

December 24, 2027, 1:34 a.m. An anomalous organism of a form distinct from Amalgams discovered at a construction site in a redevelopment area.

December 24, 2027, 3:11 p.m. Organism discovered at construction site designated an 'autonomously mobile extracted spine' based on its ecology and appearance. Experts first raise concern that Seoul's ecosystem may be undergoing replacement by an alien one.

December 28, 2027, 10 a.m. Countermeasures against autonomously mobile extracted spines established. Immobilizing them using pressure from fire hydrants or extinguishers and temporary changes in body temperature, then shooting them, confirmed effective. Photosensitivity also confirmed, but their lethal biological characteristics necessitate high-grade body armor and shields.

January 1, 2028. Containment of anomalous organisms outside Restricted-Access Zones judged successful.

January 2, 2028, 7:14 p.m. During investigation into the disappearance of a maintenance worker who descended to perform sewer maintenance, an anomalous organism of unknown origin identified near a Seoul sewage treatment plant.

January 3, 2028, 2:11 a.m. Confirmed to be a cellular colony derived from human DNA. Designated a 'degenerative cellular colony.' Indicates potential impossibility of controlling the situation. Concerns raised over a critical threshold beyond which anomalous organisms may emerge explosively.

January 3, 2028, 8:05 a.m. Final reconnaissance attempt within Restricted-Access Zones.

January 4, 2028, 1 p.m. Circumstantial evidence discovered within Restricted-Access Zones suggesting the possible presence of unidentified species beyond the three already identified.

January 4, 2028, 4:11 p.m. VIP officials screened and evacuated due to risk of Amalgam infection and possible infection by unidentified species.

January 6, 2028, 2:13 a.m. Visibility in fog begins to drop to extremely short distances.

January 6, 2028, 2:31 a.m. Critical threshold breached.

January 6, 2028, 8:11 a.m. Cordon orders issued to military units deployed along major roads on Seoul's outskirts.

January 6, 2028, 11:34 a.m. Emergency martial law declared throughout Seoul. Shoot-to-kill measures and permission to open fire authorized.

January 6, 2028, 1:46 p.m. Mobilization order declared.

* * *

After hearing the explanation of what had happened, I smacked my lips and idly turned a page.

"Excuse me."

"Yes, Operator Baek Je-min. If you have a question, please ask."

"Isn't there anything about magic?"

It was an obvious question, but everyone was looking at me like I was insane.