Chapter 2 - A Rational Young Man

A community service center a little way outside town.

Normally, the place barely registered unless you were reporting a change of address. Today, it had become a gathering point for men sitting slack-jawed in a daze.

The men in their assorted combat uniforms sat blinking slowly in their chairs, looking like full-time investors whose stock chart called life had gone into free fall.

I glanced around. With so many empty seats, counting was easy.

About fifteen men.

The local reserve unit commander was a middle-aged man with downturned eyes. He looked frazzled by the phones ringing in the small auditorium.

"Ah, yes. Forty-three on the roster, and fifteen have arrived so far. No, I called them in as soon as the mobilization order was approved. How could I possibly get them here any faster? It hasn't even been formally declared yet. Please understand the circumstances... Yes, yes."

He wasn't the only one busy on the phone. The men beside me were furiously typing messages as though they meant to smash their screens, while a neat-looking man in horn-rimmed glasses was calling his family.

"Ah, fuck, seriously... Have those pig bastards up north finally come down?"

A narrow-eyed man who hadn't seemed to have much on his mind was now sticking out his lower lip, gripped by anti-communist fervor.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, honey. It's fine. Even if the reserves get mobilized, it'll be over soon. Yeah, yeah. Love you."

The man in horn-rimmed glasses looked like someone in a war movie gazing at a photo of his loved one and vowing to make it home.

Not to be outdone, I posted in my friends' group chat.

[Are those assholes in Seoul out of their minds? Mobilizing the reserves over a little fog? More importantly, is it even right to call us up before declaring martial law?]

Everything had its proper order. I sent that because I couldn't see why they were dragging civilians in first while leaving perfectly fit active-duty troops alone.

My friends, who were also being hauled in for reserve duty, replied.

[Martial law was declared in Seoul as of 11:34 this morning.]

[Wow...]

I checked the time. It was 1:46 p.m.

In other words, they'd gone from martial law to deciding to mobilize the reserves in roughly two hours.

What hadn't felt real was slowly starting to sink in. I'd shrugged off the news of fog in Seoul. Now, for the first time, I could feel it in my bones: the country really was falling apart in real time.

[What the fuck are those assholes in Seoul doing?]

With nowhere else to vent, I posted that in the group chat.

There was no response. I was wondering why when a red X suddenly appeared beside my message.

The cries erupting around me told me what it meant.

"Huh? Huh? What's going on?"

"Yes, yes. You need to come in now. Martial law has been declared in Seoul, and now the mobilization order is about to... Ah, shit. Is the admin clerk here? Could you check the phone line?"

The reservists stared wide-eyed at the phones in their hands. The commander sighed midway through a polite call to a man who had yet to report for mobilization.

As I stared at them, the man in horn-rimmed glasses, who'd been starring in his own war movie just moments before, sidled over.

"Excuse me. Your phone isn't working either, is it?"

"Sorry?"

"Oh, I was hoping to make a call if yours was working..."

"No. My messages won't send either. I was just wondering what was going on."

"Oh..."

Horn-Rims returned to his seat looking awkward, but I felt an ominous chill. The corporal who'd rushed over at the commander's call was sweating bullets as he checked the phone line and communications equipment. I couldn't pretend that was someone else's problem.

He kept going in and out of the auditorium. A few minutes later, he approached the commander, looking a little pale.

"They say the community center's phones and internet are down too."

"What? Ah, shit... Does that mean we have to go fetch them ourselves?"

He apparently meant to speak quietly enough that the reservists wouldn't hear, but his voice carried clearly through the half-empty auditorium.

The narrow-eyed man with the protruding lower lip clicked his tongue.

"Cell towers are down."

That one remark set off brief exclamations among the reservists.

"Seriously?"

"Fuck..."

Most of them were variations on "fuck," but I refused to let their fear and agitation infect me.

"For fuck's sake. If I'd known this was coming, I'd have left Korea."

I didn't actually have the means to leave. That was just how I felt.

Bitter regret seized me. If I'd spent those days I'd wasted on pleasure preparing to emigrate instead, I wouldn't be dealing with this shit in my eighth year in the reserves!

Then Horn-Rims, who'd been watching for a chance to call his beloved, cried out happily.

"I-it's working! It's back!"

I checked my phone just in case. Sure enough, he was right. The backed-up messages were pouring into the group chat.

The phones started ringing through the auditorium again. Without hesitation, I scoured YouTube, web portals, and whatever else I could find for news.

[Surge in Usage Temporarily Overloads Cell Towers. Cries of Despair Continue for Several Minutes]

[Unrest in Seoul Passes Critical Threshold... Neighboring Countries Watching Closely]

[In Rare Agreement Despite Political Rivalry, U.S. and China Express Grave Security Concerns over Seoul Unrest]

By then, I was starting to snap to my senses. The sensational, dopamine-pumping headlines showing the country getting utterly wrecked in real time had me reeling when another appeared.

[Breaking) Mobilization Order Declared to Quell Unrest in Seoul.]

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who saw it. That made sense. Everyone was glued to their phones.

The commander, busily making calls while checking his own phone, and the reservists endlessly fiddling with theirs all seemed to break out in goose bumps at once. I could see their pupils contract and their teeth tremble faintly between slightly parted lips.

I was no different.

CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK...

I'd never been much of a dancer, but I was performing the greatest dance of my life—not with my waist or hips, but with my teeth.

The commander was the first to act.

"Corporal, go issue the weapons and live ammunition, and bring the field gear."

"Yes, sir."

As the corporal's footsteps faded, a strange silence settled over us. The narrow-eyed man with the pout, the lovestruck Horn-Rims, the commander who'd been making nonstop calls, and every reservist gathered in the auditorium clamped their mouths shut as though by prior agreement.

In that silence, a broadcast came through a device someone had turned up loud.

["Today, the Republic of Korea faces the most dangerous moment since its founding... We urge all citizens to follow government directives without fail. Even if those directives appear unreasonable, please understand that they are emergency measures intended to overcome this national disaster..."]

* * *

In the end, only twenty-one men showed up. Sighing heavily, the commander lined us up to collect our field gear, helmets, and weapons.

I collected mine, returned to my seat, and checked the weapon's condition.

An M16. I'd carried one as an air force air-defense artilleryman, so it was familiar.

Only then did I check the name tags of the men who'd somehow stuck in my mind.

"Those pig bastards up north."

The narrow-eyed man with the pout was Kim Myeong-sin, formerly army.

"Haaah... Haa..."

The man in horn-rimmed glasses, fretting over his beloved, was Kang Daniel, formerly navy.

"All right, check your weapon serial numbers. Those of you who've collected your gear and weapons, please stay calm. We're not a frontline unit anyway. We'll remain here and help maintain public order. Once we've assessed the situation, we'll divide you into teams and arrange roughly three shifts so this doesn't interfere too much with your daily lives. Please don't worry too much. But you must always wear or carry your field gear and combat uniforms."

The downturned-eyed commander, awkwardly trying to soothe the men with a troubled expression, was Park Seong-geun. Plenty of other names and faces sat there, all lumped together as reservists, but I wasn't particularly interested in them yet.

Then someone appeared who instantly seized my attention. Three people in combat uniforms entered the auditorium, carrying heavy baskets into an atmosphere thick with resignation, despair, fear, and irritation.

Two were noncommissioned officers wearing chevrons, their faces so weathered by the sun that it was hard to judge their ages. The third was a first lieutenant with a tidy appearance and slightly prominent cheekbones.

He approached the commander and spoke with him gravely, then set down the baskets he'd brought with the NCOs and faced the reservists.

"Hello, everyone. I'm First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi. Before anything else, I'd like to thank all of you for answering the mobilization order despite this urgent and chaotic situation."

We all agreed to ignore the uncomfortable truth that we'd wanted to bolt but lacked the means to do it.

Anyway, Lieutenant Shin Han-gi seemed to be trying to ease the tension with warm words of appreciation. Then he called over the active-duty soldiers and began handing out papers from the baskets.

"Uh... I'm sure you're all wondering what could possibly have happened in Seoul to warrant mobilizing even the reserves. The military doesn't have the full picture yet either. We can't make premature guesses before reaching a clear conclusion, but for now, I want you to understand how serious the situation is."

While Lieutenant Shin made excuses on the military's behalf, the corporal who'd been rushing around all this time approached in light combat gear and handed me a stapled packet. I took the three or so sheets in a miserable frame of mind, and the title alone made me skeptical.

"I know what you're thinking now that you've received those packets. I do... But this manual was compiled from testimony by the enlisted personnel and officers deployed in Seoul. You need to trust it and read it. However, don't turn the page until instructed. Look only at the first page for now."

Small, neatly printed text ran beneath a large subheading. These were the items that immediately caught my eye.

[Survival and Engagement Rules within Restricted-Access Zones]

1. Detour around areas with limited visibility.

2. Leaving your squad is strictly prohibited.

3. Treat all approaching individuals as suspects. If they continue approaching after a warning, open fire. Shoot to kill.

4. Firearm use in any other circumstances is strictly prohibited.

5. Prioritize acquiring any knowledge obtainable in the field.

6. Rescue of persons is strictly prohibited. If unavoidable, isolate them and seal off the area.

The narrow-eyed Kim Myeong-sin, who'd received his packet before me, clicked his tongue as he read.

"Holy shit. Are these bastards insane?"

I was thinking much the same thing.

"What is this, zombies?"

Right. Any modern person familiar with all kinds of media was bound to feel a strange sense of déjà vu. Could the so-called unrest in Seoul actually be zombies?

The other rules might be common sense, but numbers three and six seemed a little difficult for citizens of a democracy, unused to violence, to stomach. They didn't stray far from the principles taught in the military, but something about their tone felt oddly wrong.

Noticing the uneasy murmurs among the reservists, Lieutenant Shin calmly continued.

"Once you've read the engagement rules, you may turn the page and examine the contents. If you experience symptoms such as vomiting, nausea, dizziness, or headaches, close your eyes immediately and take deep breaths."

RUSTLE.

We mild-mannered, orderly men of the Republic of Korea all turned the page at once. I couldn't help frowning at what I saw next.

Strange scribbles that looked like wriggling earthworms were scattered haphazardly across the page. They were so crude that, with my language skills barely sufficient for even one language, I couldn't tell whether this was writing at all.

Everyone else's reactions, however, were quite dramatic.

"Uh... Urgh, ack!"

Kim Myeong-sin, the narrow-eyed man, was the first to claw at his throat and bring up stomach acid. Several others started dry-heaving after him. The lovestruck Kang Daniel in his horn-rimmed glasses covered his mouth with his hand and even threw up a little of what he'd eaten.

"Bleeeargh..."

The commander seemed relatively better off, but his face had gone white and he was visibly breaking into a cold sweat. He held the packet pinched between two fingers, letting it sway as though he wanted to fling it away immediately.

"Excuse me. What on earth is this?"

"Commander, please calm down anyone reporting symptoms... Sergeant First Class Park, do you see anyone who looks all right?"

At Lieutenant Shin's words, the sergeant first class with sunglasses hooked onto his pouch looked our way. To be precise, his eyes met mine as I looked around in bewilderment.

"You there. What's your name, sir?"

"Baek Je-min."

* * *

A consultation room in the community center.

As soon as we sat down facing each other, Lieutenant Shin produced a form and a pen, gave me a businesslike smile, and asked a question.

"Mr. Baek, do you follow any particular religion? Or have you in the past?"

"I attended the Buddhist, Protestant, and Catholic services at boot camp. Does that count?"

"Hmm. An open-minded, unprejudiced attitude toward various religions..."

Lieutenant Shin scribbled something on the form. I sneaked a look, and the wording was curious. Religious narrow-mindedness? Considering the negative connotations of the word "narrow-mindedness," I figured I was getting a pretty good assessment.

I'd lived my military life by one clear principle: whoever gave me Choco Pies or hamburgers was my god. It felt good to see that finally pay off almost nine years later.

Maybe this was why principles mattered.

"And no shaman or anyone else has ever told you that you have a spiritual gift? You've never undergone a spirit-possession initiation ritual?"

"No, I haven't."

"A male shaman... I mean, have you ever visited a shaman or some other fortune-teller and been assessed for anything spiritual?"

"Oh. They told me my yang energy was so strong I'd never encounter a ghost in my life, so I didn't need to come back."

"Oh."

I remembered being told I should stay away for a good while whenever we set out ancestral offerings, too. Of course, from our ancestors' perspective, my family was a bunch of unfilial fucking bastards who hadn't laid out offerings in over ten years. Whether the shaman I'd visited just that once knew that or not, they'd told me my yang energy was strong enough to overwhelm any visiting ancestors and drive them away.

Lieutenant Shin asked a few more bizarre questions about my personal life, then adopted a solemn, serious expression.

"Mr. Baek. We're going to need you to learn magic."

"Sorry?"

Countless questions flashed through my head.

Why? Magic? What for? Actually, magic exists? And why would I learn it in the reserves?

At the end of all those questions, only one response remained.

"Me?"

"Yes. Right now, most people in the military who don't display a psychological adverse reaction..."

"Why?"

"Well, after compiling the information we've gathered so far..."

"Me?"

"You're the most suitable—"

"Why?"

Lieutenant Shin gave me an icy look. But I couldn't back down that easily either.

Twenty-eight years alive. Eight years in the reserves.

I was the guy who'd volunteered for the air force to have an easy ride, even prepared to become an air-defense artilleryman. I'd served my full term and left as a sergeant, figuring that even if I had to serve three months longer than in the army, at least I'd get more leave.

And that wasn't all. I was Baek Je-min, a young man currently taking a break from employment, who even took the trash out in three or four trips because carrying it all at once was too heavy and tiring. My rational judgment and intuition were screaming.

Magic, my ass.

If I learned it here, right now, in the reserves, I'd be fucked!

"Sir."

Let him say whatever he wanted. I wasn't going to fall for it.

Soldiers always said the same things in situations like this. The country's in danger. A mobilization order has been declared, and you can't be the only one refusing to cooperate... I could already see his whole repertoire coming, and I couldn't have been less interested.

"For starters, once you can use magic, you'll be exempt from night watch, taking your workload into account."

"I've always liked Harry Potter."