Chapter 93 - Real Estate Investment Looking a Hundred Years Ahead

This had been an eventful year in more ways than one. Just thinking back over the biggest incidents gave me quite a list.

The appearance of the strange fog, the proliferation of horrifying monsters, the government's insane decision to abandon ten million citizens and seal off Seoul, Lee Se-jun's shocking ambition, the Korean Peninsula effectively coming under the divided rule of Communist China and the United States, the countless truths I encountered as I advanced toward the pinnacle of magic...

"Whew."

With a sigh, I slumped onto a bench. Thank goodness there was one in a corner of the field hospital, where soldiers came and went, groaning and complaining of pain.

At the edge of my vision, South Korean soldiers with vacant eyes swayed limply, weeping in silence. One peculiar thing was that hardly any soldiers were being carried in on stretchers, dying of genuinely fatal wounds.

The American soldiers watching the wards from a distance, beyond the barbed wire, looked puzzled. But knowing what the cordon was really like, I soon realized why.

The casualties were killed before the monsters could get them. Otherwise, the monsters dragged them away.

I also managed to learn the truth about the soldiers with dog tags on their armbands from snippets of conversation I overheard. As luck would have it, I heard jangling as they passed right by me.

"Did you catch the dog tags Sergeant First Class Sim threw?"

"Yes..."

"Then attach them to your armband."

I could only see their backs, but the sight was unmistakable. One cowed soldier forced his stiff, tense legs around in wide arcs as he walked. The other, holding his shoulders forcibly straight, pulled out a cigarette with a trembling hand.

Few were dying here, but the shadow of death remained.

Then wasn't it time to look for traces of the living? Right on cue, Hamza approached with a folder in his hand.

"Je-min, what are you staring at?"

"I'm eavesdropping on the guys with dog-tag armbands."

"Forget that and check the news, please. Look up what's happened to Pakistan, too."

Swiping through my smartphone screen with my thumb, I began skimming various reactions and articles with the help of automatic AI translation. A corner of the screen caught my eye.

May 8, 2028, 2:16 p.m.

As I checked the time, Hamza casually plopped down beside me and leaned his head over.

"Hamza. Don't you have a phone?"

"My smartphone hasn't been approved yet."

"You've got it rough, too."

First, I quickly checked the domestic websites, now swept up in full-scale censorship and control. As befitted the country where the monster outbreak had begun, and where the warped system known as the cordon was taking shape, there was plenty of sensational information. What mattered was that most of the conspiracy theories and tabloid rumors were grounded in fact.

The huge headline right at the top was a case in point.

[Martial Law Troops in Cities Attempt Indiscriminate Detention of Citizens Opposing Emergency Measures. Where Have the Missing Gone?]

It was true.

The ROK–U.S. Joint Command was hauling people in from the rear, both to scoop up anyone with an aptitude for magic and to maintain infrastructure in Gyeonggi, the region forming the second cordon. Specialist soldiers and civilian Operators were prime examples.

"They're sending all of them into the fog now, apparently. To rotate out the troops at the Seoul cordon."

"What about the guys trapped in Seongnam?"

"I think they're the reason. Some people stationed in Seongnam defied orders. General McKinsey announced that he'd readjust the overall level of control, and demand for ear mages and shamans to deploy there shot up. Demand for detection was high to begin with."

"Are you allowed to tell me such juicy information?"

I was the one horrified by how freely Hamza rattled off facts that sounded as if they ought to be stamped Top Secret or Confidential. He met my eyes squarely and scratched his chin, then twitched his beard with a confident smile.

"Je-min, I'm a civilian, not a soldier. The best of the best. Command probably knew that when they told me."

"Oh, yeah."

After getting high on our Supreme Mage pride, Hamza and I returned to the subject at hand.

According to the inside information Hamza had picked up on his trips to headquarters, it worked like this.

That specialist-soldier designation was a blatant stamp of approval: you were useful talent, so the military had decided to keep you.

Those who volunteered out of strong patriotism or altruism, or who had no criminal record and whose families' whereabouts were known, were recruited by the military and assigned as specialist soldiers. They operated alongside regular troops and had complicated affiliations, but in return their families received priority evacuation.

Specialist soldiers were included in the military supply network. As human resources for whom the military was responsible, they were unofficially treated as the most senior personnel, except when it came to defending the cordon.

Their official designation was Battlefield Environment Management Soldier, but since that sounded like a facilities-management job, people generally called them specialist soldiers.

Then what were civilian Operators?

That designation was a sign that talent considered a high flight risk, socially untrustworthy, and uncooperative with the military had been dumped into the role.

Of course, first-generation civilian Operators like us spirited Supreme Mages and the Taegeuk Cape Brigade had been one hundred percent volunteers. Unfortunately, most of those brave people with such noble intentions had reportedly been ground down in the attrition of maintaining the cordon.

With most of those first-generation civilian Operators dead or missing, the military had been forced to make major revisions to its original strategy.

Here, Hamza deliberately lowered his voice as he explained what he'd learned.

"Je-min. This was Command's original plan."

After estimating how many troops the Korean government had mobilized near the capital since last December and taking over Reality Survival Command's duties, the ROK–U.S. Joint Command had arrived at the following assessment of the situation at the time.

Eighty thousand troops had been stationed within Seoul, including Capital Defense Command. Another hundred and twenty thousand from frontline divisions had been concentrated in Seoul and the northern region. A further hundred and forty thousand from both frontline and rear-area divisions had been stationed on Seoul's outskirts to prepare for possible contingencies.

An estimated total of three hundred and forty thousand troops had been deployed near Seoul.

Only then did I understand why the National Assembly had been attacking the response to the Seoul unrest for so long, asking whether it was a pretext for a coup.

"Even if I were sane, I'd have thought this was a self-coup."

"It lacked the speed you'd expect of a coup, and the number mobilized was enormous, so people probably assumed the United States had tacitly approved it. It was practically on the scale of an all-out war."

In any case, Seoul had become a hellscape, and the troops stationed inside it had been annihilated.

The military's original strategy had apparently been to plug the first cordon with specialist soldiers and surviving frontline divisions, while running the second cordon in Gyeonggi as a network of strongpoints staffed by less-trained second-line units, reservists, and even civilian Operators. Whenever a monster appeared, they would hunt it down like a game of whack-a-mole.

But if things were going to go according to plan, the monsters would never have proliferated in the first place.

The civilian Operator system, now reorganized under Marshal McKinsey, worked like this.

"They charge you for transport to the outskirts of Seoul, for escorting and protecting you until you awaken magic in the fog, and even for basic supplies. Then they make you carry out missions that pay military scrip. In return, you can exchange scrip for dollars, and once you collect a thousand units, you're allowed to leave the cordon."

"You'd still be in Korea even if you left the cordon. What's the point?"

"Collect another thousand and you get priority evacuation for your family. Another thousand after that gets you U.S. permanent residency, and yet another thousand lets you evacuate to the United States. I heard they're already implementing a plan to grade people by performance and give them different-colored identification bands to emphasize the differences in treatment."

"What about non-mages who don't awaken magic? They can't be civilian Operators."

"They go to the factories."

I understood immediately. They intended to expand what they'd done with us Supreme Mages, working people like subcontractors.

They'd supply a basic popgun, a gas mask, and some bullets. As for the rest of your military equipment, squeeze the money out of someone and get it yourself. Pay military scrip whenever you use the military supply network. Carry out missions to earn scrip, then use that scrip to purchase your survival.

In return, your treatment improved with the missions you completed.

It was fucking awful, but grit your teeth, get it done, and prove your worth.

The ultimate endgame content was evacuation overseas.

I could only scoff at the later generations of civilian Operators. Did this kind of thing really motivate them?

"They ought to be begging to live near the cordon, and instead they're spouting this overseas-evacuation bullshit."

"Don't you have an American dream, Je-min?"

"I've got a magical dream."

Seoul real estate had won yet again.

Any mage trying to leave a prime fog-access neighborhood was the dregs of the dregs, worse than a non-mage.

Then my thoughts suddenly turned elsewhere.

"Northern Gyeonggi was abandoned. Do you know what happened to the soldiers there?"

"Scroll down there."

Hamza tapped the screen with his index finger, pointing at its edge. Another upward swipe of my thumb brought a truly outrageous headline into view.

[China Expresses Sense of Responsibility for Korean Peninsula's Monster Outbreak Amid Crisis Facing All Humanity... "We Will Resolve the Situation Together With the Korean Government in Incheon, Reelected Through a Democratic Vote." Statement Targets Pyeongtaek's ROK–U.S. Joint Command, Now Reduced to a De Facto Military Government.]

[Growing Rift Between Two Superpowers Over Korean Peninsula Finally Ignites Hegemonic Rivalry: China Officially Announces Establishment of ROK–China Combined Command...]

["Shock" as Remaining South Korean Units in Northern Gyeonggi Declare Support for Korean Government in Incheon and ROK–China Combined Command. Military Experts Lean Toward Quid Pro Quo Declaration in Exchange for Promised Large-Scale Material Support.]

I didn't have any particular thoughts about it. The monsters had already broken loose. What good would hating China do now?

Quite apart from the fact that China pissed me off so goddamn much I wanted to stake my life on it, telling the troops abandoned in northern Gyeonggi not to accept Chinese support was telling them to turn into monsters and die.

Still, I couldn't help having my mood soured.

When I tapped the screen off, Hamza let out an "Ah!" and protested.

"Je-min! What about Pakistan?"

"It's probably fine. It can't be more fucked up than Korea is right now."

"That's true."

I didn't know much about what kind of country Pakistan was, but apparently it had become a better place to live than the Republic of Korea in 2028.

"I'm surprised you haven't run away."

"You'd shoot me, Je-min."

"You know me well."

Hamza's lack of any intention to desert gently soothed my sour mood.

There was no desertion from the Supreme Mages. Once a Supreme Mage, always a Supreme Mage.

Our tight-knit camaraderie was the pride of the Supreme Mages.

Besides, Hamza was a sacred relic in waiting. If he said he wanted to leave the Supreme Mages, I'd have no choice but to pull the trigger through my tears and keep him with me as an eternal friend.

I liked living Hamza, too, but rather than watch him leave Korea, I'd prefer the company of sacred-relic Hamza.

"Anyway, what's in that folder you keep holding?"

"Oh, right."

Only then did Hamza hand me the folder. I accepted it because he offered it, then stared blankly at him, wondering what it was. His beard twitched as he kindly explained.

"Your comprehensive examination results are back, Je-min."

"Then you should've given them to me right away!"

This was why I'd been stuck on a bench during this precious time when I ought to be heading to the cordon, showing off badass magic, basking in praise, and slaughtering monsters to rake in experience points!

I hurriedly looked through it, but didn't spot much useful text.

Normal liver function, normal blood pressure, no damage to the optic nerves or retinas, some oral inflammation, scarring from frequent injuries to both hands, minor nerve damage in the left hand, nervous-system fatigue...

After skimming it all, I seemed the very picture of a healthy young man. Healthy enough to live comfortably to eighty without even minor illnesses, even if I never exercised again.

If not for the images of my chest.

At first, I doubted my own eyes. The contrast was so stark it looked as if the black and white had been inverted. I had to look at Hamza and ask.

"Is this an AI fake?"

"No."

There was a star drawn on my heart.

A pentagram.

* * *

May 8, 2028, 5:14 p.m.

Lee Se-jun, who had finished a lap of the parade ground ahead of me, frowned hard.

"There was something drawn on my heart, too. But it was only a single line. They asked if I'd ever had heart surgery, and when I said no, they just marked it down as an anomaly and moved on."

I'd asked Se-jun just in case, since he was a heart-branch mage. He, too, had something engraved on his heart, but apparently it was only a line.

Only Se-jun, Hamza, and I had returned to the barracks so far, so putting our heads together produced no clear answer. That left us no choice but to rummage through the belongings of the pastor, the most knowledgeable among us about mysticism.

Maybe he'd have a notebook where he'd organized the relevant information.

Se-jun, meanwhile, was too busy stuffing his face with snacks he'd bought at the PX to show any interest.

"Speaking of which, Je-min, you still owe me a lap."

I ignored his nonsense. Then Hamza chimed in.

"Je-min, isn't that stealing?"

Hamza didn't understand the finer points and voiced his concern, so I kindly set him straight.

"Hamza. What do you call moving things to someone who needs them more, like the donations in an offering box?"

"Transportation?"

"By believing in Jesus, the pastor has already tacitly consented to involuntary transportation. Don't stir up trouble. Help me search."

Unfortunately, the pastor's backpack contained nothing but a revised Bible, a cross, a candlestick, chocolate, bottled water, and Viagra.

I could only ponder the problem as I respectfully put his backpack back in order. I was on my own now, and the problem was that a pentagram didn't bring much to mind.

Spiritual protection, maybe?

If something had gone so far as to engrave a pentagram on my heart, there had to be something special about it. But that was so vague I could only frown.

I'd been puzzling over it for quite a while when I heard a vehicle pull up nearby. Turning my head, I saw Captain Kim Ho-un running over in a hurry.

Just as I began to worry that there might be something in my test results they hadn't disclosed, he spoke.

"Baek Je-min. You've got your next callout."

"What? Je-min had tests this morning and still hasn't had a proper meal..."

Just as Hamza began to protest, I swiftly reached into the pastor's backpack. My hand closed around a bundle of chocolate.

Without hesitation, I immediately tore the bag open.

RRRIP!

Then, without the slightest pause, I tipped it into my mouth and chomped away. There wasn't time to taste whether the chocolate was sweet or bitter.

As soon as I'd crunched it up and swallowed, I held a hand out to Hamza.

"Hamza."

"Yes?"

"Water."

A bottle of water emerged from the pastor's backpack and landed in my hand. I opened it, washed my hands, wiped around my mouth, gargled once, and gulped down the rest.

Even bottled water went bad if you left it long enough. Chocolate melted if you left it sitting around, too, so I, the archmage, had decided to put it to good use.

With that series of preparations complete, I hurriedly grabbed my gun and gas mask and threw on my rain poncho.

Ready to go.

Total time, including changing clothes: just five minutes!

"..."

I flashed a full-toothed grin at Captain Kim Ho-un, who was staring blankly at me.

"Let's go."

Perfect timing. I'd been feeling down, thinking the entire day might be a bust.

I simply couldn't understand people who wanted to leave the cordon.

Hunting these grotesque, horrifying monsters gave you a shot at omnipotence. Why wouldn't you do it?

Prime fog-access real estate was skyrocketing right now!