Unregistered in Neon Rain
Article 11, Paragraph 3: All citizens who awaken abilities must register with the state and hold a special social class.
Article 12, Paragraph 8: Unregistered ability users are classified as 'potential threats'.
Article 39, Paragraph 5: All awakened individuals bear the duty of national defense as prescribed by law.
Even though it wasn't the rainy season, Incheon's night streets were perpetually damp from the endless downpour. High above the city center, Hyundai Arcane Holdings (HAH)'s massive holographic whale floated in the air, towing billboards and scattering ad slogans as it swam lazily through the sky.
[Stagnant mana that just won't grow? HAH will fill it for you!]
The beams of light from the mana supplement ads scattered in the rain, weaving grotesque neon patterns across the heavens. Sixty years ago, this sky had been filled with artillery shells; now it brimmed with the glow of capital.
To someone like me, modern society felt nothing but cold.
After the National Defense War, the world had changed overnight, and Korea now languished in the shadow of the megacorp Hyundai Arcane Holdings (HAH). The toothless government justified regulating abilities under the banner of national security, obsessively collecting iris scans and mana waveforms from every awakened individual. Eventually, through government-corporate collaboration, the new generation of specialized, tech-trained ability users began shoving aside relics like me— the 'outdated' ones.
Those who once raved about us as 'humanity's shield' or 'light of salvation' during those brutal, frigid days now treated us like expired milk. Unfit for consumption, reeking, only good for the trash.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my worn hoodie and stood before the automatic doors of the neighborhood convenience store, 'Arcane-24'.
"Sixty years ago, to replenish mana, you'd have to chew on deer meat out on the Manchurian plains. Ting... Tsk."
A bitter joke lingered in my mouth.
I looked like a sturdy guy in his late twenties, but my soul was pushing eighty. Whether it was a side effect or a blessing from the elf bastards' mana engraving, this 'immortality' had granted me long life and youth—but in exchange, an unrelenting void.
"Welcome... Oh, you again."
The part-timer greeting at the entrance showed no warmth in her voice. Guess my face—sweeping up near-expired goods every night—had made an impression.
I nodded curtly instead of replying and beelined for the lunchbox aisle. Jackpot: today's target, the 'Pork Belly Mana-Recharge Bento', sported a yellow 50% off sticker.
"Nice. Luck's on my side today."
A grin spread across my face unbidden. It rivaled the relief I'd felt crossing the Yalu River unscathed under a hail of bullets.
Humming cheerfully with the bento in hand, I headed to the counter.
"This, and a 2-for-1 glacier water."
"Mana glacier water's out of stock—probably restocked tomorrow."
"Ah, then just the bento."
"I'll do payment and ID check together."
I pulled out my government-issued powerless civilian ID card and tagged it on the terminal. But instead of the clear chime, a shrill warning blared.
The part-timer impassively took the card and slotted it in. No cheerful payment tone—just the irritating beep echoing through the store.
This ID card has expired. Please renew at your nearest community center or local Ability Management Bureau branch.
"...Pardon?"
Shit, the fake ID renewal was due yesterday? I stared blankly at the screen. My electronic accounts frozen in disaster—vision going dark. That ID was my only usable one...
"Sir, ID's expired, so payment's not going through. People are lining up behind you. Got another citizen card?"
The part-timer's glare stung. As if.
I rummaged through my pockets desperately. Expected a crumpled bill or two—only a wad of receipts.
"Uh, could you... try scanning once more? It worked fine yesterday."
"Machine says no. People waiting—step aside."
Didn't need to look; the irritated stares from rush-hour salarymen burned. Especially the presence right behind me—chillingly sharp.
Trouble.
Cold, disciplined mana leaked subtly. I sensed its waveform and consciously relaxed my tensed shoulders on reflex.
I knew without asking. In Incheon's rough underbelly, only one carried that aura.
Click-clack. Polished heels and heavy presence approached my side.
"I'll cover it. This one's bento too."
A cool, crystalline voice. Turning, a tall beauty stood beside me—near-silver blonde hair in a neat bun, crisp black suit skirt. Government ID around her neck. The pristine white shirt collar gleamed with the Ability Management Bureau vice director badge.
"Uh... ma'am? No need, really."
I feigned awkwardness and backpedaled. Merc whispers about Incheon branch's monster vice director flashed through my mind.
She scanned me wordlessly, her blue eyes X-raying my soul.
"Don't want to watch you bicker over 6,400 won with a line behind. Jeong Ian, right?"
No waiting for confirmation, she handed the part-timer a water bottle and tapped her bracelet on the terminal. HAH's hot web ad, the premium 'Atlas-G7' mana-assist bracelet.
Thank you! We love you, Vice Director Ha Ye-rin! Payment complete.
Vice directors get custom chimes? That thing costs as much as a car—impressive.
She took the plastic bag and water from the part-timer, shoving the bag into my chest. Clutching the bento bag, I bowed repeatedly out the door.
"Thank you. I'll pay back once I renew the ID..."
"Forget it. More importantly, Jeong Ian."
Ha Ye-rin followed me out, halting me. Rain poured on the night street, but a faint barrier along her curves repelled the drops. Masterful mana control.
"...Yes, Jeong Ian. What is it?"
Wanted to ditch the bureau rep fast, but ignoring a vice director decked in HAH high-end gear? No guts.
"Fourth time today. My home convenience store, every quitting time."
She stared at me awkwardly frozen without an umbrella. Her remembering me weighed heavy.
"And you? Always off. Database says powerless, but every move screams trained mana user."
Just like our agents, huh.
"Nah, ma'am. I'm just big and scary-looking, but a total coward. Rolled through life, picked up the habits."
I ignored her latter words, grinning obsequiously and scratching my gray hair.
Her eyes narrowed further.
"Yes, my detection senses no mana or mana power from you. Thoroughly ordinary civilian. But my instincts keep warning. You're hiding something."
Her glowing HAH bracelet no doubt scanned and assisted in real-time.
I smoothly changed tack.
"Trust the system over gut. Nation-certified powerless, y'know? That bracelet looks slick, haha. High officials live different."
"...By decree, HAH's latest scanners deploy citywide soon. Unregistered? My hunch won't judge then—law will. Register at city hall soon."
Ha Ye-rin delivered the icy warning and strode into the rain without reply. Watching her vanish into the skyscrapers, I tucked the bag against my chest to shield the bento.
Night air bit cold.
"Law's judgment my ass... Scary when she weaponizes bento prices."
I muttered bitterly, crossing to the old city center opposite the towers. Sea wind from distant Incheon Port carried a faint, bloody-mana tang through the rain—like sixty years ago.
Inevitable scent of Incheon's night port, teeming with desperate souls. Shaking my head cleared the irritating whiff.
Battlefield memories faded like old black-and-white photos. Heroes' fates or op successes? Nah—now it was dodging HAH surveillance, scraping next month's rent, renewing fake IDs.
Home-heated pork belly was fantastic, unlike my mess. Chewing the always-tasty, soggy stir-fry, I gazed out the window. Flashy skyscrapers contrasted my old-town alley's dank shadows, untouched by HAH holograms.
"ID renewal 3 mil, rent due, mana stabilizers left? Need those too... Plus 6,400 won bento debt to that official..."
Finishing the near-empty bento, I tallied mentally. Rice grains grated like sand.
Merc work flooded lately—big payouts fiercely competitive. Offices wouldn't cut slack for my straits...
Ledger's dizzying red and merc woes made my disposable chopsticks tremble. Even Soviet mortars overhead hadn't shaken me this bad.
Cleared the mess, perched on bed, grabbed smartphone.
"World's improved. Killing's app-ordered now."
Swiping the battered screen, I entered the merc office code on the site. Bland community board shifted to black backdrop, red request posts glowing.
Skipped ID-needed gigs like escort/delivery; hunted 'anyone' jobs.
Scanned filter-hidden jobs carefully.
High-pay hits screamed trouble. 'Unregistered preferred' meant 'no state liability for accidents, no records.' 'Accidents' didn't end on-site—clients offing mercs post-job to dodge payout? Open secret.
Beast hunts safer. Tedious, risky—but ramen-easy for a vet like me.
Fearing it'd vanish, I accepted the sewer extermination fast, hauled out the dusty aluminum case from under the bed.
"Time for outing prep, my babies."
Click.
Unlocking yielded cold metal clank; case opened to gleaming blades, tac vest, belt, black tac gloves greeting their owner. Thick oil scent wafted.
First grab: 45cm refinery dagger, guarding my flank since Manchurian fields sixty years back. Elf crude engraving on damascus steel—faded but mana-chilled. Outdated vs. Arcane Future M (APM) cold weapons, but conduction still viable. Man or beast, neck hole kills same—sharpness when needed matters.
"You've suffered. Crappy owner keeps you active past sixty."
Habitually whet on stone, checked silver edge, sheathed on left thigh.
Strapped throw knives to right thigh/tac vest, checked old mana-suppress gloves. Leather worn but intact, finger feedback glitchy. New ones too pricey. Bare hands risky for my strength control—must-have.
Clatter. Shook dwindling oral mana stabilizers, clipped to belt rear with medkit.
Geared, hid under black hoodie, exited. Convenience bag neatly folded by door caught eye.
"...Pay back 10k with interest, she'll drop it."
Casual words, but bureau vice director's gaze nagged. Her instincts too sharp. Veteran she'd be, but my combat XP matched. Mana concealment not rusty.
But exposure? No quiet retirement—rotting as bureau basement lab rat forever.
First, fix this damn ID mess.
Creak, slam!
Rusty hinges echoed down hall as I hit the night streets again.