Chapter 21 - Retaking Suwon Station’s Underground

I fiddled with my phone’s cracked screen and checked the time.

February 5, 2028, 8:15 a.m.

I’d gotten up early. I was that nervous—and that excited.

Today was the day the government and military would finally start putting magicians to serious use. It coincided with Gyeonggi Province’s conversion to a wartime economy and a new front line.

The social welfare office reopened for the Operators had undergone yet another transformation. Now it looked like a military surplus store stocked with all kinds of military supplies and equipment.

Out front, Captain Kim Ho-un and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi were directing soldiers as they organized the supplies. When I approached, Shin Han-gi, who knew me well, spotted me and grinned, tapping his clipboard with his pen.

“You’re here early, Operator.”

“Are these the support supplies?”

“Yes. They’re the result of command policy to encourage civilian Operators to participate in operations and improve their survival rate. They won’t be free, though.”

“What do you mean, not free?”

I frowned, wondering how something called support could be anything but free. Captain Kim Ho-un was kind enough to explain, his cheekbones twitching.

“From now on, Gyeonggi Province will issue military scrip instead of won or dollars. People who work in cooperation with the military administration will receive it, giving them priority for rationed supplies or allowing them to redeem a set amount for supplies they want.”

Gyeonggi Province’s transition to a wartime economy was simple enough.

The won was probably already worthless, so handing it out would accomplish nothing, while foreign currency was far too precious now. Giving everyone equal rations in this situation could amount to pouring water into a bottomless reservoir. The aim was to use rations as bait to drag the economy back to barter.

From now on, only people who brought military scrip would receive rations from the military administration. Apparently, this was also an attempt to preserve its control in the face of extreme unrest and collapsing public order.

That was a long explanation, but to sum it up in one line: a new Gyeonggi local currency.

Beside Kim Ho-un, Shin Han-gi smiled contentedly and pointed at the containers piled with supplies like a home-shopping host.

“Civilian Operators can select military supplies here that aren’t available to other civilians. Not just Korean products, either. That includes all the American equipment and firearm attachments recently brought in through Pyeongtaek Port, along with various survival kits, medical supplies, and so on. Apparently, several American gun manufacturers see this crisis as an opportunity to enter the Korean market, and they’re taking the lead in providing support as a kind of promotion. Other companies are doing much the same. Thanks to them, you Operators are well supplied.”

“Wow. Legalized gun ownership must be right around the corner.”

The North Korean commie bastards were selling old AKs on the west coast, while sleek American AR-15s and the like were coming in through Pyeongtaek. It looked as though the day wasn’t far off when the Republic of Korea’s fifty million citizens would point guns and go bang-bang instead of arguing.

Intrigued, I wandered around the containers to inspect the new supplies. AR-15s led the lineup, with rails, sights, grips, tactical lights, and every other kind of component stacked up in glorious piles. A strong metallic smell stung my nose.

“What about the Korean stuff, then?”

“That’s standard issue, of course. A K2, one grenade, three magazines, a gas mask, and a rain poncho.”

“A rain poncho?”

I grimaced at the thought of having to pull that goddamn thing over my head again. Shin Han-gi balanced his pen above his upper lip and teased me.

“All our stockpiled and newly produced chemical-protection suits are going to the frontline cordon units right now. Would you like to join them?”

“Hmm... No.”

After a moment’s consideration, I shook my head.

Diving into the fog was a joyous, exciting prospect, but the frontline cordon units were there to keep it out, not go inside. Besides, they’d face one monster attack after another. It could turn out to be a lot of pointless bullshit with very little to gain.

“So how do I get this military scrip?”

“Work a full day at a military-designated job, and you’ll generally receive two units. One unit can be exchanged for five packs of ramyeon, one Hetbahn rice bowl, and two two-liter bottles. Firearms like these will start at around sixty units. You Operators will earn a little more in exchange for volunteering for high-risk missions. About ten units.”

As I understood it, this was basically a quest system.

With existing currencies like won and dollars either losing their value or becoming far too valuable to establish workable prices, they’d built an entirely new structure so people who cooperated with the military administration could enjoy more benefits and support.

Operators could freely choose one of the missions arranged by the military, head out, and earn scrip. We also had access to a wide range of supplies denied to other civilians.

Naturally, switching to this kind of wartime economy would meet fierce public resistance. The military had come up with a thoroughly rational, capitalist solution.

Shin Han-gi’s eyebrows twisted slightly, and he gave a bitter, hollow laugh.

“One hundred units of scrip buys one priority evacuation slot. A second cordon will be established around Gyeonggi Province, anchored at Suwon and Gapyeong.”

Letting refugees pour out indiscriminately could help spread monsters like Amalgams, but simply locking everyone in would obviously provoke resistance. Their attitude was to turn the whole thing into a business instead.

To the people of Gyeonggi Province, it would sound like utter fucking bullshit. But that wouldn’t matter to an iron-fisted government that had already abandoned Seoul and northern Gyeonggi.

“You’re here already, Mr. Baek Je-min?”

“You’re here too, Pastor.”

“We can finally get to work in earnest.”

Pastor Park Yo-han let out a deep sigh as he polished the glasses that gave him such a sly look.

The magicians in Suwon began arriving one after another. For now, they were all familiar faces, so there was nobody new to introduce. Captain Kim Ho-un looked us over, then had the soldiers show us a whiteboard with several document folders attached by magnets.

“The military and academic community are currently showing tremendous interest in civilian Operators. Keep in mind that you won’t only be deployed for reconnaissance or combat. Command or personnel in the rear may also request your participation in noncombat situations. Please select whichever mission suits you.”

Perhaps to emphasize that we were civilians entitled to make our own decisions rather than soldiers belonging to the military, we had complete freedom even in choosing missions.

A mobilization order was in effect, yet I could freely choose where I wanted to go. It was a privilege I’d never even imagined. Was this why people tried to grasp even a little more power?

Grinning away, I approached the whiteboard to see what missions were available.

Support for research into magic or psychic powers. Apparently, the job involved working with scientists and theologians in cooperation with the American advisory group to investigate the underlying principles. There seemed to be plenty of people besides me willing to handle that boring, tiresome assignment. An obvious rejection.

Wasn’t there something else?

A sweet assignment with reliable support, where I wouldn’t shoulder the risk alone and a group of us would have a good chance of encountering the fog. I took risks when there was a chance to gain magic; I didn’t just leap into any fog I saw.

Of course, there was just such a mission.

[Secure and Occupy Suwon Station’s Underground.]

Where other people wanted to eliminate risk entirely, I wanted a manageable level of it.

And now that I saw a suitable amount right in front of me, I poked it with my index finger without hesitation and looked at Captain Kim Ho-un.

“I heard they restored power underground at Suwon Station and cleared it out?”

“... Only the concourse on the first basement level. The train that derailed onto the platform still makes entry into the second-basement platform area difficult. The concourse was subsequently sealed off as well, in case anything else got in.”

“Then why go back? It’s sealed.”

“It should be in the folder. Take it and have a look.”

I removed the magnet and leafed through the folder, finding the operation’s objectives and outline.

Suwon Station was a key transportation hub where multiple rail lines intersected. If any Amalgams that hadn’t been eliminated—or the predatory spines believed to have entered with them—remained underground and spread elsewhere, they could compromise the cordon.

To regain control of the station’s underground, the military had reportedly cut the power again and spent the past two weeks conducting biochemical warfare using heavy gases.

According to the experts, these anomalous organisms consisted of the same substances that made up human beings, so they believed biochemical weapons lethal to humans could inflict sufficient damage.

However, the available domestic special forces were busy, and most of the magicians the military had conscripted and retained as specialist soldiers were stationed with the frontline cordon units. That had led to a slightly different force composition.

The magicians unlucky enough to be dragged into frontline cordon units weren’t civilian Operators. Assigned to units under vague titles like specialist soldier or specialist officer, they were apparently stuck playing endless defense. Life really could be cruel.

Anyway, once the military regained control of Suwon Station’s underground, it planned to decide whether to demolish the route toward Seoul and seal it completely or use the station as a logistics hub for entering the city.

After learning the operation’s outline, I made my decision with a broad grin.

“I’ll volunteer for this one.”

“Mr. Baek Je-min, this operation is extremely dangerous. When Amalgams are separated, they can be killed with calm, aimed shots to the head, but they’re learning about human firearms and tactics. They won’t expose their weaknesses easily. There’s also a strong chance predatory spines remain down there.”

Captain Kim Ho-un seemed like a nicer person than I’d thought.

Twitching cheekbones aside, he was trying to stop me when I said I wanted to put myself in danger. But contrary to the misguided prejudices of those around me, I was a cautious investor who assessed a reasonable level of risk before committing.

“Is there fog down there?”

“Most likely, yes.”

At that moment, I could see my own face reflected in Captain Kim Ho-un’s eyes.

Only then did I finally realize it.

A person really could smile that beautifully.

Before hell can seep in, we march into hell.

I smiled contentedly as I recited the motto Pastor Park Yo-han had given our organization, Supreme Mages.

“So terror won’t bring us to our knees.”

“...”

Captain Kim Ho-un glanced at First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi.

Shin Han-gi merely shrugged with an awkward smile.

Finally, his eyes subdued, Kim Ho-un took a fluorescent identification band from a box behind him and handed it to me.

“Operator Baek Je-min. There should be a vehicle ready for you in the city hall parking lot.”

I was issued a fluorescent identification band marking me as a civilian Operator, a steel helmet, a gas mask, a rain poncho, a K2, three twenty-round magazines, one grenade, one bayonet, a bag of hardtack, and a new canteen.

Though civilian Operators lacked specialized training, our ability to use magic meant we were treated almost like mercenaries. The government and military seemed to want it that way.

They must have concluded that if the Republic of Korea couldn’t fully control us, no other country should be able to either.

Once I’d received my supplies and slung the rifle over my shoulder, Shin Han-gi approached.

“Your parents have gone to Pyeongtaek Port, Mr. Baek Je-min. The Americans are also eager to relocate Operators’ families to the United States. If your parents agree, they’ll receive immigration assistance payments and benefits. They’ll enter as refugees initially, but... depending on your performance during this crisis and the standing of the Operators, they may even receive permanent residency.”

“Sounds like you’ve had American connections for a while, Lieutenant Shin Han-gi.”

“It benefits everyone, doesn’t it? I keep my promise, and the United States builds a good relationship with you.”

I laughed at that and turned away.

Good. Now I really didn’t have to worry about my parents.

Become an archmage, and the American Dream would take care of itself. What greater act of filial devotion could there be? I trusted my parents would understand that their son had blocked their calls to pursue his dream of making a name for himself.

Following the soldiers’ directions, I climbed into the back of the deuce-and-a-half. The thoroughly fucked-up streets of Suwon gradually came into view.

The shops lining the streets were closed. Armed soldiers patrolled with watchful eyes, and with road restrictions in place, the only vehicles moving were military vehicles and a handful with authorization.

The sidewalks, on the other hand, were relatively crowded. Most were people gathering in small groups to protest the newly announced military-scrip policy and transition to a wartime economy.

“Guarantee the human rights of Gyeonggi residents! Guarantee our right to survive!”

“Guarantee them! Guarantee them!”

Most of the rest had accepted the situation early and were lining up under military police direction, hoping to find jobs that paid even one more unit of scrip.

An unbridgeable distance separated the protesters from the military police. The truck carrying me would pass between them.

I blew into the gas mask’s filter to check its condition.

HUFF, HUFF.

The strong smell of rubber meant it was definitely new.

Before long, other soldiers climbed into the truck. When they saw the fluorescent identification band I wore like an armband, they quietly moved away or averted their eyes.

“Move out!”

At the vehicle commander’s order, the military truck began rattling forward.

And with it began my first true journey as a magician.

* * *

February 5, 2028, 9:14 a.m.

I checked my cracked-screen phone’s battery: 88%. Trusting that would last a while, I switched it to power-saving mode and tucked it into my inner pocket.

When we reached Suwon Station and I jumped down from the back of the deuce-and-a-half, soldiers and officers in chemical-protection suits were bustling around. A few spotted me and the newly arrived soldiers and beckoned us over.

They handed each of us a chemical decontamination kit.

“We’ve been ventilating for three days, but there may still be gas remaining. You know the injection goes into your thigh, right? Don’t take your gas mask off under any circumstances. We’ll give you each an extra filter... And for your hands, we’ll at least find you some spare leather gloves.”

The chemical-defense officers fussed relentlessly over the soldiers, like mothers nagging their sons to pack everything they needed before a picnic.

I took a quick look around the station. The wrecked buses had been pushed to one side and used to form a barricade. Three armored vehicles and one tank had been newly deployed and were undergoing constant maintenance.

Machine-gun positions had been set up behind sandbag cover, aimed particularly at the underground passage and entrances. The gunners seemed tense, staying at their posts without leaving their weapons.

Even though the sky was clear, without a trace of fog.

Of course, my own heart was pounding too. Tension, fear, and a delicious rush of exhilaration combined to make the entire world feel electric.

As I put on the leather gloves, checked their fit, and tested whether my index finger rested properly on the trigger, I found myself wanting a more definite understanding of my magic.

When I was inside the fog, it would part before my eyes and show me footprints ten seconds in the future. But was that really all?

My brief memories with Father Jeong Yong-hwan kept coming back to me, making it hard to believe the magic only showed footprints. He’d believed its true effects would emerge only when its pronunciation and tones were reproduced perfectly. His tentative hypothesis was that simply seeing and understanding it limited its effects.

In fact, I didn’t only see footprints. Sometimes, as the fog parted, I saw the future ten seconds ahead.

“Hmm...”

Perhaps, even if the true effects of alteration-type magic required reproducing its phonetics and tones, repeated use of an incomplete version—or some particular triggering event—might strengthen its existing capabilities.

What would happen somewhere without fog, then?

I hated the burning sensation, like scrubbing my eyeballs squeaky-clean with shampoo, so I normally never triggered it deliberately. But learning that pain had some connection to magical effects had changed my mind a little.

Deciding it was worth a try, I looked at the road first.

Using a place where people came and went as my sample would make it easier to compare the ten-second time lag than staring at some featureless spot where nothing changed.

Alteration-Type Magic—Eye, Stage One.

I looked ten seconds into the future.

The tiny blood vessels that must have run along my optic nerves pulsed all at once, bringing a sensation of being seared by fire. The same aching pain you felt when staring straight at the sun with your eyes wide open seemed to course through my entire brain.

As the sensation of my eyes being scorched made tears stream down my face, I saw another military truck approaching along the previously empty road.

But that was my limit.

“Ugh, fuck...”

My eyes watered so much I could no longer see.

I squeezed them shut, pulled off my left glove, and wiped away the tears.

I could use magic even without fog, but the problem seemed to be that the backlash was stronger than usual. I massaged my eyelids with the slightly cooler leather glove, trying to shake off the unpleasant sensation.

Then I heard a military truck stop, followed by the footsteps of people disembarking in an orderly fashion.

Before long, those footsteps gave way to familiar voices.

“Mr. Baek Je-min, are you crying because you saw us?”

“The shitter? Why are you here?”

“The shitter...?”

“Why’d you come here instead of taking some cushy assignment?”

Shin Na-in tilted his head. Behind him, Staff Sergeant Lee Se-jun yawned with an indifferent expression.

“That’s a perfect name for you, Mr. Shin Na-in. You spend twenty minutes in the bathroom every time you go.”

When I’d wiped away the tears and finally regained my vision, I found Lee Se-jun checking his K2 and Shin Na-in grinning as he removed his earphones.

“Why, to drive out Satan’s minions, of course.”

“We can’t let Suwon Station be breached. Gyeonggi alone is in this much chaos. If Chungcheong, Gangwon, Gyeongsang, and Jeolla end up like this too, the country’s finished.”

Instead of commenting one way or another on their convictions, I decided to respect them and nod.

Checking my rifle sling again, I looked at Lee Se-jun.

“All right. Then before we head into the Suwon Station underground dungeon, let’s clear something up.”

“Clear what up?”

“Lee Se-jun, you fucking bastard. I let it slide when you quietly dropped the polite speech, but are you going to keep acting like you haven’t got a clue?”

He looked taken aback, then flushed and was about to get in my face when Shin Na-in planted a palm against his chest. He led him a short distance away and whispered.

“You’d understand if you’d heard what Mr. Baek Je-min said about his intentions...”

“What? He really shot his own hand?”

“And then he grabbed the barrel and burned his hand while firing on full auto...”

“...”

After that brief, forceful exchange of fragmented conversation, the two returned. Lee Se-jun had transformed into a scrupulously respectful junior.

“I believe I was overly familiar with you and behaved rudely, sir.”

“Let’s mind our manners with each other. We’re adults in society, after all.”

“Yes, sir.”

And so, by the operation’s starting time of 10:15, our trio had finally established a healthy relationship.

“No need for ‘sir.’ Just call me Mr. Baek Je-min. As long as we respect each other, there’s no problem, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Baek Je-min.”

Shin Na-in watched us and chuckled, finding something terribly amusing.

It went without saying, though, that this idle conversation was meant to hide our mounting tension and excitement. As the operation drew near, Lee Se-jun fiddled needlessly with his canteen as though his lips had gone dry.

Shin Na-in rubbed his own earlobes, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he were trying to hide an excited smile.

This crazy fucking fanatic apparently thought he was going on an actual holy war.

Still, like him or not, wasn’t he a fellow member of our order? Endlessly generous toward the members of Supreme Mages, I could gladly accept their shortcomings and eccentricities.

Before long, about thirty soldiers assembled in formation in front of the underground entrance to the bus transfer center—the same one through which we’d escaped.

Their commander was a first lieutenant named Baek Han-seong. He already had his gas mask on, so I couldn’t see his face.

But the slight tremor in his voice told me how nervous he was.

“Check chambers.”

“Check chambers!”

Repeating the command, the gas-masked soldiers loaded live ammunition. The three of us followed their movements and did the same.

Clicks sounded as bolts were pulled back and released, muzzles pointed skyward.

“Chambers checked, all clear!”

“Load live ammunition.”

“Load live ammunition!”

“Listen up. Remember the rules of engagement. I’ll give you the most important ones, so get them straight. If you see fog, shout ‘Fog’ three times. If you spot a suspicious person, take aim immediately. Act first, report afterward. Rescues are strictly forbidden, and no bodies are to be recovered.”

“Shout ‘Fog’ three times! Aim immediately! Act first, report afterward! No rescues! No body recovery!”

“Whew...”

Only after steadying his soldiers like that did First Lieutenant Baek Han-seong approach us.

“We’re ready. We’ll cover you as soon as you Operators enter.”

Only then did the three of us put on our gas masks and pull up our poncho hoods. Once we’d checked that the drawstrings were tightened, I naturally took the lead.

Before us, the dented, mangled metal emergency shutter had been neatly cut away, as though burned through with a welding torch. Beyond it lay the restored concourse.

Fluorescent lights now shone where the red emergency lights had been.

Without hesitation, I slipped off my rifle sling, took the weapon in my hands, and stepped forward.

“Now, before we go, let’s recite our Supreme Mages motto.”

“It’s Aphorism...”

“Shh.”

With Shin Na-in deftly shutting down Lee Se-jun’s complaint, our trio moved in first.

“We are madness against madness.”

“Absurdity against absurdity.”

“Before hell can seep toward us, we march into hell.”

Ah, now that was worthy of Supreme Mages.

I happily savored the sound of my breath escaping through the gas mask’s filter.

HUFF, HUFF—.

Let’s go.

Toward magic.