Humans Wait
These days, I keep the radio on at all times.
Whatever distrust still lingers, whatever grievances have started to take root — a broadcast from the government of the Republic of Korea is still something that matters.
"The hell it is, you son of a bitch."
A greeting is a greeting, sure — but with the world looking the way it does, wishing people a good morning is a bit rich. Like anyone's going to feel good about that.
"Oppa, good morning."
"Yeah. Morning."
Hmm.
Granted, it was also a perfectly reasonable thing to say. Keeping a positive mindset still matters, after all.
It is absolutely not that I was playing favorites, or giving Harin's words special treatment.
That's what I told myself as I started the day.
Same as always. I serviced the generator, maintained the firearms, tidied and repaired the warehouse and living quarters, then grabbed my pack and my gun.
The one thing that's changed is that I now step outside with a small radio tucked in my pocket. Missing a government broadcast isn't an option.
Honestly.
I still have no idea how much of this is true and how much is a lie.
Food distribution and relief work? That much might actually be possible. But the claim that restoration of the temporary power grid is proceeding smoothly? That's a lot harder to swallow.
As if to signal that the morning broadcast was over, the announcer's voice gave way to the national anthem.
The audio quality was terrible, of course.
It didn't sound like they were playing it through a broadcast computer. It sounded like someone was holding a microphone up to a speaker, static and all.
Still, once you start thinking about how long it's been since you last heard this song, it almost starts to sound pretty good.
I arrived at the Officetel Safehouse.
The coffee Imaginary KATUSA Warrior Lim Ju-cheol had brewed, and the snacks I'd brought, sat on the table.
Four people sat around it.
Me, Assistant Manager Kim Min-seo, Imaginary KATUSA Warrior Lim Ju-cheol, and Choi Young-ho of the 827th Marine class.
"What do you think, Kiddo?"
"About what."
Kim Min-seo asked it while sipping her coffee. Out of nowhere, sure — but I had a pretty good idea what she was driving at.
"The radio broadcast."
"The central broadcast from the Provisional Government?"
"Yeah. Should we take it as a good thing?"
There's an old saying about never discussing politics with people you've been close to for a long time, and it was making this just a little uncomfortable.
I thought as much, and answered anyway.
"Well… it's been pretty decent so far, actually. They play the anthem at the end. Beats sitting around bored."
"You pick up on things fast enough, so don't play dumb."
"…"
Still, if we found out our opinions diverged on something like this, it could get unnecessarily awkward. Being careful about it was only natural.
That said.
"I'll ask you straight. Can we actually go back to the way things were, like they keep saying?"
Kim Min-seo was the type to come right out with it.
"Sheesh…. Obviously that's going to be hard. For one thing, we're sitting here armed with rifles. The cultists have even more than we do. And it's gotten harder to find someone who hasn't killed than someone who has."
And just as I'd said, going back to the way things were was close enough to impossible that you might as well call it that.
Even if the temperature returned to normal, that didn't mean everything else would follow. People had already reached the point where they couldn't trust anyone outside their own people. Even if society got put back together, whether it would actually function was another question entirely.
You could always force everyone to their knees with overwhelming firepower — but that wouldn't look anything like the old days.
"Then what stance should we take."
"…Well. If you want my opinion, I'm going to sit this one out. I intend to stay as uninvolved in government business as I possibly can."
The starting point of anything is always the most important part.
You need the eye to tell whether this is a solid rope that'll hold, or one that's already rotten through — the kind that snaps the moment you grab it.
Throw in with them from the start and you might hit the jackpot. Bite down on the wrong thing, and you become the sacrificial lamb.
Which is why I planned to take a step back and watch, for now.
"But they're starting the reconstruction with Gangnam and Cheongdam, aren't they? Harin's over there, right? If the government sets up a base of operations in that direction, staying uninvolved won't even be possible, will it?"
"If reconstruction were going to be that easy, we wouldn't have spent the last six months living like this. A proper rebuild is going to take at least another half a year."
"That so?"
"Yes."
Food distribution and relief work, they might be able to kick off on schedule. Restoring the power grid and every other piece of infrastructure, though — that was still a long way off.
According to the AI, with a temperature climb of that scale, you'd really need another six months before anything could get properly underway.
"Still, I can't deny that the sooner we pull her out, the better. That's why I came here today."
I said it looking at Choi Young-ho of the 827th Marine class and Imaginary KATUSA Warrior Lim Ju-cheol.
Now recruiting heroes for a mission so thrilling it'll make your heart seize up: the extraction of Dr. Rin, foremost authority on generator construction.
Yeah.
Let's be honest — me breaking through that security gate alone was never going to happen.
The outline of a rescue plan was starting to take shape.
According to Harin, the bunker's power could be cut from B6.
Picture the interior of the PH129 Bunker.
B1 was an ordinary underground parking garage. B2 was the security gate. B3 was the container warehouse. B4 was the residential floor for the upper crust. B5 was the amenities level — medical bay, gym, cafeteria, and the rest.
And according to what Harin had found out, B6 was where the generator room, HVAC, water purification system, and central control room were all clustered together.
"That's a lot of critical systems on one floor. Can you even get down there?"
"You can, actually? Only the relevant technicians go down regularly for maintenance checks."
That was how Harin had answered, when I'd asked whether that was even possible.
She'd already gone down with that security guard she'd gotten friendly with and toured the whole place, she said. If you wanted to, you probably could.
Maybe it was possible because nobody inside that bunker was looking to get themselves killed doing something stupid. Or maybe there just weren't that many guards.
Either way.
"To get Harin out, we need to disable the security gate, and that's a bit much for me to pull off alone. I'm looking for volunteers."
"Ack! Imaginary KATUSA Warrior LIM! JU! CHEOL!"
That was why.
"You could actually die if this goes wrong. You're sure?"
"I'm perfectly fiiine-ACK!!"
I wasn't planning on killing everyone in there just to pull her out, which is exactly why doing it alone felt like too much.
I wanted to handle it with smoke grenades, tasers, handcuffs, and pepper spray as much as possible. Going in solo, I didn't like my odds.
And then.
After Imaginary KATUSA Warrior Lim Ju-cheol threw his hand straight up to volunteer, Choi Young-ho of the 827th Marine class raised his own, just a little, and spoke.
"Then I'll help as well."
"Ack!! PIL!!!!!!!SEUNG!!!!!!!!!!!"
Once a Marine, always a Marine.
A burning camaraderie that can never turn away from a junior's suffering. At a single gesture from a great senior, the tears of a Marine tryhard begin to flow.
"I'll help, so I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop doing that."
"…Ack."
Rai-rai cha-cha-cha.
Hey, papa-ri-pa.
My spirited attempt to even unveil my trump-card Dragoon Stance was shut down then and there.
But Motherless Cha had definitely looked at my Dragoon Stance and told me it wasn't just fighting spirit — it was the real deal. So why didn't Marine Choi Young-ho like it?
It was both deeply hurtful and utterly incomprehensible.