Chapter 27 - Love of Country, Love of Magic

The pastor, the monk, and I kept talking for a while, discussing what the magic scripts might mean in numerology and what significance there might be to the blood from my right hand hurting a monster. Before long, though, my enthusiasm inevitably waned.

Things I had ignored while fixating on the idea of twenty-five kinds of magic were starting to come back to me.

“Well, the theory that a five-by-five grid has twenty-five cells, so there might be twenty-five kinds of magic, is fun enough. But aren't we reading too much into a single hand-branch script?”

“Well, that's...”

“Imagining them and describing them out loud seems safe enough, so we should look into the scripts Shin Na-in and Lee Se-jun saw, too.”

“Urgh...”

Pastor Park Yo-han couldn't bring himself to finish his reply.

Right. Everyone knew there had been far too many leaps of logic. We'd fitted things together and thought they sounded plausible, but once our heads cooled, the limitations were obvious.

The pastor had been especially excited about my right-hand blood hurting a monster, going on about the Lord's power and whatnot. Looking at him now, I wondered if he was the most mystically inclined of us all.

Monk Cheong-hwi quietly pressed his palms together and reflected on his own conduct.

“Hmm. Perhaps we were indeed too impatient. Walking through a thick fog, we ought to fear a misstep, yet I nearly became a moth rushing toward the first light it sees. I forgot that these magic scripts were discovered alongside those uncanny creatures. Obsessed with the meaning of numbers, I neglected to guard against their inherent danger.”

“Let's forget the right and left hands for now. Won't those imported brainiacs in Pyeongtaek figure something out about that? They probably know more about this damned stuff than we do.”

“Well, if that shaman calling herself Madam Geulmun were alive, she might have worked something out from the numbers. Those people make such a fuss about the Four Pillars of Destiny; numerology might have given her an instant insight.”

Above all, we needed to know whether the hand-branch script really had any numerological significance.

Though, in my heart, doubts were creeping in about whether numerology could be trusted at all. I also wondered whether this even fit with humanity's occult traditions in the first place. We decided to refrain from excessive speculation and deduction and focus on something else instead.

The intuition I had described feeling.

Interestingly, neither the pastor nor the monk doubted my account.

“The way I see it, you're bewitched by this magic business. You're not the sort to lie about something like this, at least. Though we do need to take what you say with a grain of salt.”

“However much a person tries to deceive himself, it is difficult to conceal his longing.”

We thought we had focused too much on numbers. Rather than seeking meaning in the scripts themselves, we decided to look to the most solid tangible evidence we had: the magic.

Instead of a bunch of occult amateurs putting their heads together and reaching the wrong conclusions, we would stick to what we knew for certain, like people with actual field experience.

“Je-min. You said the hand branch hit you right from the start—bam, bam, bam! An intuition that this magic symbolized human intelligence. Does that happen whenever you learn alteration-type magic?”

“The eye branch was similar. The situation around me was so shocking when I awakened it that it didn't really stand out.”

Who could have known that Han Myeong-un, who'd been standing night watch with me, would get wetly mashed together with that couple kissing despite their age gap?

My knees had gone weak the first time I saw it. Those monster bastards were still utterly horrifying, both in appearance and in how they lived. Unless I was learning a magic script, I never wanted to encounter them.

As we recalled the past, we discussed how magic worked.

That made the differences clearer between doctrinal magic, which depended on religious beliefs, and alteration-type magic, which used the human body.

“What? You mean all that burning and mangling your left hand and other crazy shit wasn't to concentrate, but a condition for activating the magic?”

“Then did you think I shot my left hand because I'd gone fucking insane?”

“You're insane either way!”

As the pastor barked at me with wide eyes, Cheong-hwi rose, held his palms out toward us both, and smiled calmly.

“More importantly, you called it eye magic, Stage Two, did you not? When you use the magic that binds a target in your sight so it cannot move, you activate it through the reasoning that ‘time is relative, and because my suffering lasts the longest, I share that time.’ I find that interesting. It is profoundly solipsistic, and...”

“An arrogant perspective. Just like a sorcerer.”

Pastor Park Yo-han looked at me with an inscrutable expression, his arms folded, then shook his head.

And so the three of us inferred what each branch symbolized, based not on numerology or the like, but on my practical intuition and understanding.

“You said the hand branch represents both the starting point of humanity's evolution into the foremost of creatures and the symbol of that status. Thus, it signifies human intelligence. I suspect its underlying logic is that the rightful right hand of humanity, foremost among all creatures, can vanquish monsters that seem to profane humanity.”

“Then the eye branch is... seeing. Sensation? Hmm. It must be cognition. As you mentioned, Je-min, vision plays the greatest role in how we experience the world. We see and feel. Look: of the five senses, we even single out seeing when we talk like that. Seeing is our surest way of recognizing things. Besides...”

“Besides?”

“What was it? I heard that the eyes originate from the brain. And ultimately, cognition is something the human brain does, so you could say eye-branch magic is deeply connected to what goes on inside your head, too.”

“You're more scientific than I expected, Pastor.”

More than anything, I hadn't known the pastor took such an interest in this stuff.

He hardly seemed like the same man who'd just been babbling, practically spraying spit, about splitting twenty-five into two and five and adding them to get the perfect number seven. To think the day would come when he looked so rational and scientific.

“Listen, kid. Rationality originally refers to the Lord's coherent providence. The claim that humanity evolved from monkeys is clearly nonsense because of the missing link, but proper study of the human form, made in the Lord's image, and of its body can instead be considered an effort to understand Him.”

“Pastor, does that mean you don't believe in dinosaurs?”

“Of course I do. We find their bones, don't we? Know why they died when that meteor hit? Because they didn't believe in the Lord. Just remember that.”

I'd wondered if he might be an Amalgam in disguise, but that was a relief.

The pastor's explanation that the Lord had punished them with stone before resorting to fire and water began playing softly like background music.

The monk and I met eyes.

“Perhaps you should ask Shin Na-in and Lee Se-jun whether they had the same experience. You do not seem to have spoken with them much.”

* * *

That was how our first meeting on February 22, 2028, ended.

Holding on to the entertaining but groundless hope of twenty-five kinds of magic, I decided to spend the remaining time talking to Shin Na-in and Lee Se-jun.

Shin Na-in was wearing earphones, singing a church hymn, and playing an electronic piano. Apparently moved by it himself, he streamed tears, then soon clasped his hands and began praying.

“Almighty Lord God... Though I vowed to serve You, I have failed to show a pure and upright heart. Say but one word that I may repent, and I shall be healed.”

“Hey. Shitboy.”

I put a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of his impending trance.

I'd waited twenty minutes outside a toilet stall while this bastard sang with earphones in and regulated his sphincter. I figured that entitled me to steal twenty minutes of prayer time.

That got us talking about magic scripts.

“I'm surprised you had a similar experience, Je-min. The eyes are cognition, and the hands are intelligence. In that case, I will explain in as much detail as possible the guidance the Lord grants through the ears.”

“No, don't. Short and simple. Just the point.”

Shin Na-in was diligent about this sort of thing, so he really did keep it short, simple, and to the point.

“The ears are a vast harmony. A melody guiding humanity... Destiny ordained by the Lord would be an apt description. Within that tune, even the voices inside people's hearts become part of the harmony. Only the cries of monsters sound subtly discordant.”

It was an utterly idiotic explanation, but by Shin Na-in's standards he had made an effort, so I let it slide.

Writing out a magic script would cause trouble, so we focused on describing it aloud and picturing it in our heads. That gave me a rough idea of what the ear-branch script looked like.

It was a vertically elongated oval with four horizontal parallel lines drawn over it.

I casually compared it against that numerology business, then snorted when I couldn't see any connection to the number seven whatsoever. Just entertaining nonsense, after all.

“I'm off, Shitboy. Pray hard.”

“Sit and pray with me, Je-min. The Lord strives to save His wandering lambs. I do likewise.”

“Will you pay me in scrip?”

“How much would you like?”

Since he actually meant to pay, I tried to make a quick escape.

Then something odd struck me, and I turned back to him.

“Shitboy. Come to think of it, the pastor doesn't cross himself. Why did you do it that time?”

“What time...?”

“At Suwon Station. When you snatched the drone operator's device.”

“...”

His expression instantly stiffened.

He avoided my gaze, his face deathly pale and his eyes wavering, like he'd killed someone—like a criminal guilty of some monstrous sin.

At last, he let out a deep sigh.

“You caught me.”

An ominous feeling made me unconsciously edge away as soon as I heard that.

Had this bastard been attacked by a monster and had his mind taken over?

Had Father Jeong Yong-hwan possessed his body?

Just as I was wondering whether I should scream, Shin Na-in revealed his true identity.

“Actually, I was a Catholic who had even received confirmation. My baptismal name was Andrew Dae-geon. Looking back, I am utterly ashamed.”

“What? You?”

“Yes. Deceived by the wicked schemes of the Antichrist pope, I nearly missed out on salvation within the church.”

And so the truth about Shin Na-in came to light.

Born into the Catholic faith, he had been a devout believer. But he'd become enraged by Catholicism's efforts at inculturation, allowing ancestral rites and showing tolerance toward shamanism and other religions, and converted to Protestantism, which he considered true Christianity.

“Salvation exists only within the church. Knowing that, yet leaving people to be led astray by other religions, makes Catholicism the heresy of heresies—emissaries of the Antichrist! To think I failed to abandon that old habit and made the sign of the cross, which isn't even in the Bible...! It proves my faith is still lacking!”

“Right. Pray hard.”

Leaving Shin Na-in behind, I went to see Lee Se-jun.

Lee Se-jun was sitting on the mattress in his quarters, cleaning his rifle. He was running a cleaning rod through the bore when I arrived.

“Se-jun. Let me borrow that rod when you're done.”

“Sure. I've got oil here, so you can use it beside me.”

He finally seemed to have absorbed a little civilian life, looking more like a laid-back next-door neighbor than a staff sergeant.

I plopped down in front of him and brought up magic scripts. After talking with the pastor and the monk, we were looking into which aspects of humanity each branch symbolized. Had he realized anything when he learned the heart branch?

He stopped cleaning, tapped the barrel with an oily hand, and tilted his head. Then, as though he'd struggled mightily to grasp a clue, he squeezed out an answer.

“The heart is... life. Living, maybe. The script was just a circle with a single line drawn through it. One horizontal line inside the circle. There wasn't anything else.”

“It appeared in the fog for you too, right? It was a different shape before that. How did you awaken Stage Two?”

“When I was really depressed about not being useful... I opened the booklet on the off chance, and there was the heart script. Then, uh... how do I put it...”

He wasn't a skilled explainer, but I could roughly understand him.

He'd awakened Stage Two along with some negative, gloomy feelings. I wondered whether Shin Na-in was likewise at Stage Two. The ability to distinguish people's inner voices by concentrating seemed a little different from hearing monsters' inner voices.

Still, neither the ear nor the heart branch seemed to have effects that differed as drastically between stages as the eye branch did.

“That helped a lot, Se-jun. Wait a second while I fetch my rifle.”

“Je-min, now I get it. You're doing it here because you don't want to clean your own room, aren't you?”

“Your survival rate goes up when you go on missions with me.”

“Ah, damn it.”

He was annoyed, but let it pass.

Not every Operator fought alongside the soldiers. He could take relaxed rear-support assignments like the pastor, who'd had it easy in Pyeongtaek. What a stubborn fool. Fighting monsters was his goal, so even while trembling in fear, he seemed intent on volunteering for frontline assignments.

I brought over my standard-issue K2 and chatted with him while cleaning it.

“By the way, I hear there's an upgrade option for the K2? To the version active-duty troops use. Is yours that one?”

“Yes. I switched to the K2C1 ages ago. Are you still using a plain K2?”

“I wanted to try an American rifle, but they were expensive.”

“Well, that's sensible when you consider ammunition supply. American firearms companies might hand them out as a promotion, but those offers could end whenever the company feels like it. Get a taste for them, and you won't be able to keep up with supplies. Your best bet is to stick to ROK military standards and receive supplies that way.”

Aside from his tactlessness, Lee Se-jun was one of the better people among our Supreme Mages.

Pastor Park Yo-han, the Christian nutjob. Monk Cheong-hwi, hard to approach because of his quiet spiritual cultivation. Hamza, who vanished somewhere like a ghost. Shitboy Shin Na-in.

Compared to such colorful personalities, Lee Se-jun and I had quite a lot in common in terms of sensibilities.

Above all, we shared the experience of living ordinary, secular lives without being religious.

So naturally, I had to ask.

“Most people would curse this fucking country after being rejected for long-term service. Why are you so dedicated?”

“I was on basic livelihood assistance. I grew up on government money, then enlisted.”

CLACK.

Having finished assembling his rifle, he pointed it at the ceiling and checked it over. Then he lifted his eyes to me and raised one corner of his mouth.

“Even if the country thought of it as thoughtlessly tossed charity, even if it treats me like an idiot, I, Lee Se-jun, don't forget kindness I've received. A man ought to have loyalty. Don't you think?”

“Then you haven't forgotten that I saved your life either?”

“That's why I cleaned rifles with you, knowing I'd have to clean my room afterward.”

This guy's arithmetic was strange.

* * *

February 27, 2028, 9:17 a.m.

We Supreme Mages spent some time regrouping, each doing our best in our own way.

The pastor said he was heading back to Pyeongtaek to explore the occult with the Yankees. The monk went to the medical ward to soothe soldiers who were injured or suffering aftereffects. Hamza went to headquarters and became a master at guessing. And our alteration-type trio was grouped into a team, receiving three units of scrip per person per day in exchange for remaining on standby.

Meanwhile, new faces began appearing one after another at the Suwon City Hall CP: civilian Operators joining under Captain Kim Ho-un and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi's guidance.

To our alteration-type trio, lounging in the lobby and killing time, the sight of them was truly shocking.

“What the hell is that? Why are they wearing Korean flags like capes?”

“What are you talking about? Who would wear a Korean flag like a...”

Lee Se-jun shared my bewilderment.

Four men and two women in their thirties or forties entered proudly, chests out, Korean flags wrapped around their upper bodies. Like triumphant generals. Crosses densely covered the areas around the flags' four trigrams, giving us a fair idea of their religion.

Only Shin Na-in welcomed their arrival with a satisfied smile.

“Do not arrogantly venture forth alone to defeat evil, but join forces with others. It seems that wish has been fulfilled. Reassuring indeed.”

At that moment, I felt relieved that we civilian Operators weren't obliged to be friends with one another.

That conviction only grew stronger when First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi noticed us, came over, and whispered their organization's name.

[Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Magi Corps].

The dizzying name sent an electrifying shudder through me, and I hastily turned away. Apparently understanding my chills, Shin Han-gi added:

“Headquarters won't be grouping different organizations together, so you can rest assured.”

Watching him leave to show the Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Magi Corps to the military gear shop, I felt anew just how precarious the Republic of Korea's situation was.

Had it come to this, Korea? Having to drag in even people like that?

Confronted with an existential crisis, my mind, which had been obsessed with magic until now, cooled abruptly. I stopped lounging around, stood up, and patted Shin Na-in and Lee Se-jun on the back.

“Gentlemen, let's go. I feel like doing something patriotic today.”

“What? You, Je-min?”

“Well...”

“Yes.”

Not driven by curiosity about magic, but by what might have been the first sense of crisis in my life, I told them:

“I feel like being really fucking patriotic right now, so let's hurry up and go.”