Chapter 28 - Fog Gacha

February 27, 2028, 2:14 p.m.

Our alteration-type mage trio was at Yongin Central Market, combing through the market streets with armband-wearing military police. Our guns weren't even loaded, just slung over our shoulders, but we were bound to be overwhelmingly intimidating.

THUD, THUD, THUD.

Whenever people heard the crisp tread of combat boots, they edged away from us and disappeared into alleyways. It was like a game of whack-a-mole.

There were no friendly greetings, nor any of the vendors' calls you would expect at a traditional market.

Instead, Shin Na-in, humming hymns with his earphones in, would silently point in one direction.

The military police would all turn their eyes toward whoever he'd singled out. Pulling on their slings and gripping their rifles, they approached the man he'd indicated with a thoroughly frightening warning.

"We're going to search you. Hands up."

"B-by what right!"

"Emergency martial law is currently in effect throughout Gyeonggi Province. Refuse the search and you'll be referred to a military tribunal."

"Come on... You have to tell me what I've done wrong!"

Harsh words were bound to draw a hostile response.

As the military police and the unknown man squared off, the people who'd hidden themselves or quietly retreated began peeking out. A few even raised their phones to record, but the military police maintained their impassive tone, apparently unbothered.

"We have grounds to suspect illegal trading in military scrip. We're acting on a tip, so we'd appreciate your cooperation."

"..."

The unknown man—our prime suspect, believed to be a black-market scrip dealer—looked to be in his mid-thirties, wearing a beanie pulled low and a long padded coat.

After glancing between us and the military police, he irritably held out both hands without a fight. I'd expected him to make a quick getaway or have some trick up his sleeve, but he was far more compliant than I'd imagined.

Just as I was feeling reasonably pleased with the suspect's civic-minded behavior, Na-in laid a hand on my shoulder and whispered.

"He seems to have connections with a military unit around Yongin. He knows they'll let him go."

"So this is all staged, like WWE?"

I turned to look at Na-in and Lee Se-jun, and their reactions were much the same. Na-in must have told Se-jun too. Se-jun narrowed his eyes with his arms folded, then sighed, while Na-in turned up his earphones and hummed.

At any rate, we'd accomplished our purpose in coming to Yongin Central Market: arresting a black-market scrip dealer.

Our alteration-type trio kept scanning our surroundings as we followed the military police, while I racked my brains over the numbers.

There were the twenty units of scrip I'd stashed away for emergencies, plus fifteen from the last five days on standby. Subtract food expenses and I had about thirty left, to which this reward would add another fifteen or so...

Risking your life on an operation was better for a big payday, but these little jobs seemed better for a steady, safe income.

With those thoughts in mind, we left the market alleys and reached the entrance. The military police sat the scrip dealer down at a nearby street-food stall's table, checked their watches, and looked at the three of us.

"We've got about thirty minutes before the vehicles arrive. You're free to look around, Operators."

I wondered whether that was really okay, but Na-in tapped my shoulder to get my attention.

When I turned, both he and Se-jun were jerking their thumbs toward the market and waggling their eyebrows. I followed them back inside before I quite knew what was happening, and Se-jun started grumbling.

"Je-min, you really do hole yourself up and never listen to any news from outside."

"What news is there, other than what's happening at the Seoul cordon?"

Only ominous talk was circulating about the situation on the front lines.

Even someone as uninterested in rumors as me was vaguely hearing it secondhand. According to those rumors, they'd succeeded in devastating Seoul's outskirts and turning them into a concrete graveyard, but that had made it difficult to approach the area without a mage skilled at detection.

The monsters' numbers had fallen dramatically, but now they were using scraps of concrete rubble, cavities created by collapsed buildings, and sections of sealed-off sewers to lie in ambush and launch surprise attacks.

There was even a rumor that casualties over the past month had already reached the thousands.

But apparently those weren't the rumors Se-jun had meant.

While Se-jun stood looking bewildered, Na-in stopped murmuring his hymn, took out his earphones, and shrugged.

"Those aren't the rumors Se-jun's talking about. He means the black market."

Na-in went on and on, explaining all sorts of things as though he knew everything, but it boiled down to this.

"So rather than squeezing the civilian economy directly, the military's only interested in stopping guns from leaking out, controlling medical supplies to keep drugs from running rampant, and maintaining the value of scrip."

"They've switched to a wartime economy, but they'll be in serious trouble if they don't loosen up eventually. Besides, the military has a monopoly on the most expensive, valuable commodity."

This was Na-in's argument.

Whether Gyeonggi Province's underground civilian economy used the won, whose value would have plummeted, or dollars, which could be spent anywhere overseas, was none of the military's concern.

Priority evacuation. As long as the military held a monopoly on this right to obtain legal authorization to evacuate to the safer rear, military scrip's value among Gyeonggi residents was guaranteed to a degree.

By controlling the quantity of scrip, the military could secure indirect control over civilians, while also issuing it to soften resentment over requisitioned supplies.

That was also why civilian Operators were rewarded with more scrip than other people. By turning a blind eye and allowing us to buy sufficient supplies on Gyeonggi's black market with scrip, they guaranteed us financial benefits while delaying our purchase of priority evacuation—a privilege available to us because we were civilians.

Charging scrip for the equipment and consumables we needed to survive was likewise part of their effort to delay those purchases and keep us tied to the second cordon. If civilian Operators still tried to buy priority evacuation, they would permit it for one person.

After that, though, Na-in believed they would quietly raise the price of priority evacuation, using inflation and value adjustments as excuses.

"Therefore, exchanging our scrip and shopping here at Yongin Central Market, where a black market has sprung up, is good for both us and the military."

"Je-min, let's get some fried chicken. You can finish a whole chicken in thirty minutes, right?"

So that was why these guys had brought their duffel bags along.

I only briefly lamented being the one who'd come empty-handed. Then I beckoned them closer and whispered.

"I'm going to buy a load of zero-sugar cola. How about carrying it in your duffel bags?"

"If you get some for me too."

"Deal."

Reaching an agreement with Se-jun was easy.

As usual, though, Na-in was the problem.

"Coca-Cola for me. Apparently zero-sugar cola is bad for the balance of your gut microbes."

"Tsk. You're going to drink sugar water?"

"Cola without sugar is nothing but filthy water. Sugar is what determines whether you're drinking sweetened filthy water or sugar water."

Reluctantly, I nodded with the grudging generosity of an old estate steward handing something out to the farmhands.

And so, after each devouring a whole chicken from a market alley shop, the three of us stuffed our duffel bags with zero-sugar and sugary cola and returned to the military police.

I'd bought sixty-four colas and eaten a whole chicken, and it had cost me a mere six units of scrip.

That even included the extra unit I'd generously given the elderly person tending the grocery store. With deeply wrinkled eyes, they thanked me, saying their grandchild could now evacuate.

It left me with very mixed feelings.

Still, our duffel bags were full of sweet fizzy drinks, and the three of us had satisfyingly full stomachs, perhaps thanks to the greasy chicken we hadn't had in so long.

Their grandchild got to evacuate, and we got full bellies.

Wasn't this true patriotism?

But when we returned, three military trucks were lined up in front of the military police, and the suspected scrip dealer, who'd been sitting there so casually, was trembling all over.

He demanded an explanation from them.

"Hey. Hey... What's going on here? I'm Lieutenant Colonel Baek Dae-san's nephew, you know?"

"You are implicated in illegal evacuation activities."

"Hey! Is taking a little money to get some people out such a crime?!"

By the time the dealer tried to run, it was already too late.

The military police were waiting with firm pressure on his shoulders, and four more were climbing down from a truck and approaching. Wondering what on earth those trucks were for, I craned my neck to inspect their beds. Inside were people of all descriptions.

They ranged from a curly-haired middle-aged woman quietly praying with her palms together, to a shaved-headed monk in robes with protruding lips, to a handcuffed man silently reading a book.

Yet every one of them carried an air of grim resolve, or perhaps tension, that was difficult to put into words.

Even the man reading unperturbed by the clinking of his handcuffs seemed to have his mind elsewhere. He kept turning the same page over and back.

None of our alteration-type trio really understood what was happening, so we decided to ask the military policeman we were at least somewhat acquainted with.

"Who are those people?"

Only then did I see the eyes that had been hidden beneath his helmet and the intimidating authority of his position.

He looked surprisingly guileless and familiar for an abrasive military policeman. He had a youthful face with freckle-like marks on his cheeks. Thumping the dealer's shoulder with his fist, he said,

"You've played gacha games, right?"

"Sorry?"

"Have you played those phone games where you spend money to pull characters?"

"I tried one ages ago and quit, so I don't really know much about them..."

I'd asked who those people were. Why was he bringing up gacha games? I wondered if this bastard was a fucking otaku, but the look on his face was anything but ordinary.

He was staring at me wide-eyed, like Liu Bei betrayed by Guan Yu and Zhang Fei. I couldn't understand what about me had made this baby-faced military policeman feel so betrayed, and it was deeply irritating.

Se-jun, however, seemed to understand perfectly, sucking in a startled breath.

"Don't tell me that's..."

"Why are you the only one who gets it, Se-jun?"

Na-in and I turned toward him in confusion. His face rigid, Se-jun looked at the trucks and said,

"It's fog gacha."

"Fog gacha?"

Meanwhile, the dealer's resistance had grown even fiercer.

The military police subdued him all the more roughly in return. Even as they dragged him away by both arms, he kept struggling.

"Let go! Hey, you... Let me go! Aagh!"

Only when I watched the dealer being all but thrown onto the military truck did I understand what fog gacha meant.

They were trying to make mages.

Criminals or religious volunteers—it didn't matter, so long as they filled the quota.

It was becoming clear that they couldn't rely solely on existing high-tech and electronic equipment to fight the monsters that had overrun Seoul, such as Amalgams and predatory spines. The appearance of a specimen that had survived even biological and chemical warfare during the recent sweep of Suwon Station's underground must have been a major factor.

Attacks using sound. An unknown power that could disable even reconnaissance drones.

Having witnessed that, the military no longer had even the breathing room to consider the potential dangers of magic.

Between that and the appearance of the Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Magi Corps, I wondered if things were more desperate than I'd realized in places I knew nothing about. In somewhat subdued spirits, our alteration-type trio climbed into the truck bed where the military police had taken their seats.

That was when one of them nodded in thanks.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Operators. And this is from me personally."

The shadow of his helmet hid his eyes, but he rummaged inside his clothes and pulled out a slightly dented pack of cigarettes. One cigarette was already missing.

I accepted it without quite thinking and looked at him. The policeman with the shadowed eyes straightened his clothes again and added,

"My younger sibling took part in the operation to clear Suwon Station's underground platform."

I passed the pack with its one missing cigarette to Se-jun and smiled.

"I'll share them with these two."

* * *

February 28, 2028, 8:06 a.m.

After checking the time on my phone's cracked screen, I gathered our alteration-type trio and went looking for Captain Kim Ho-un and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi.

My passion for magic was undiminished, but the Republic of Korea was so utterly fucked that I figured I ought to do something patriotic again. Of course, I also had the modest hope of getting to explore the fog while I was at it.

Besides, there was something all three of us agreed on.

It was about time we found out what was happening near the first cordon. Living like mercenaries inside the second cordon wasn't all that bad, but neither Se-jun nor I—nor even Na-in—had become mages just to go about our everyday lives.

When we expressed that opinion, both Captain Kim Ho-un and First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi looked taken aback, but seemed to start contacting their superiors anyway.

"Yes, yes. The situation at the first cordon..."

While I waited for the tedious reports and conversations to end, I stroked the Magic Crash Course booklet.

The frustration of chasing nebulous ideas without a single certainty, and the powerful effects that relieved that frustration, danced through my head.

Would I someday be able to learn the ear or heart branch too?

Were there still other branches left? Were there really twenty-two spells remaining, twenty-five kinds of magic in total? What would happen once I mastered them all?

As I waited in that pleasant state of excitement and anticipation, First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi finally secured a hastily printed sheet, still warm from the printer, to the whiteboard with a magnet.

"Whew... This is genuinely dangerous. I didn't expect you to volunteer."

"That means you're pleased, right?"

"From the military's perspective, yes."

Se-jun, Na-in, and I narrowed our eyes at the official document.

Na-in kept murmuring "Amen" as though he approved, while Se-jun fiddled needlessly with his rifle sling.

[Transport and Protection of Candidates Suited to Localized Penetrative Alteration Activity.]

The operation outline was simple.

We were to escort the candidates to the vicinity of northern Seongnam, the boundary area closest to the fog currently blanketing all of Seoul. But when I lifted the sheet to look at the reverse, I found it densely covered with precautions and warnings.

1. Strict adherence to the rules of engagement is mandatory.

2. Based on circumstantial evidence from soldiers' accounts in the field, two unidentified species are believed to have been sighted within the fog's thirty-meter visibility range. Extremely dangerous. Avoid at all costs.

3. Entry into buildings in unauthorized areas is prohibited.

And so on and so forth...

I took off the magnet and picked up the printout, feeling a thrill.

The terror of not knowing what might lurk there. The fear that I might confront, even from a distance, the thing responsible for fucking this country over. The shiver at the thought of seeing something so dangerous that dropping at least three hydrogen bombs on it was being seriously discussed.

And... the countless mysteries and truths that would still be hidden within.

If I wanted to find out whether alteration-type magic truly was an occult system of secret arts or worked on some other principle, I had to take risks.

"We're really going..."

Now that we actually were going, Se-jun muttered to himself in a voice trembling with fear.

"Lord, your son now goes forth to holy war."

Na-in quietly offered a prayer with his palms pressed together.

They had some pretty strong lunatic tendencies, but fighting monsters required a few lunatics.

Waving the printout, I asked First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi,

"When do we leave?"

Then some wholly unexpected people appeared.

A middle-aged man in horn-rimmed glasses, his Korean-flag cape fluttering, adjusted his glasses and turned toward us after seeing the printout in my hand.

"Lieutenant, I overheard a little. Is it really such dangerous, difficult work?"

The Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Magi Corps.

They were looking at First Lieutenant Shin Han-gi with quite serious expressions.

"Yes, but there will be fighting, so the experienced members of Aphorism here..."

"Aphorism?!"

That objection came from me, not the Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Magi Corps.

"We're the Supreme Mages."

"... The Supreme Mages of Aphorism have volunteered, so things should be all right."

"Good heavens... Lieutenant. How can you trust children this young with such a task!"

The middle-aged man looked at us as his Korean-flag cape fluttered, revealing the crosses drawn densely across it.

"We will go with them. Great power demands great responsibility. And the more gifted the individual, the more they need proper instruction! Surely it is the Lord's providence that we, chosen as His shepherds, accompany them and guide those who will become His new herdsmen!"

Uh, uhhh.

Uhhh!