Chapter 60
Chapter 60
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: The Weight of the Armband
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Armband: Only those who can bear its weight may wear it."
Countless people whose names and faces I didn't know.
With even the slightest mistake, you become their target of criticism.
The responsibility of representing the group.
The burden of being in the spotlight.
The heavy load of always handling things perfectly and fairly.
Trust and duty. Crushing expectations and suspicions pressing down.
That weight, like your arm might rip off—you had to endure it with sheer malice and grit to truly become the armband.
Yes. An "armband" fundamentally required a venomous streak.
Yet armbands that overcame all that and exercised proper control were rare.
Most armbands succumbed to the sweetness of power and fell into corruption.
Unfairness. Excessively harsh measures. Abuse of authority.
They turned power-hungry, narcissistic, and selfish.
Those who lacked leadership qualities from the start, or who had the armband thrust upon them unwillingly, showed these traits.
I was one of them.
I was the tyrant on a chalkboard of zeros and ones, the incarnation of terror who purged every scrap of rebellious data.
No regrets. In fact, I think I did the right thing.
For trash worse than human scum, only fitting rule would do. If sweet words didn't get through, you had to draw your sword, right?
If they'd seen those monkey-like fools endlessly debating the erogenous zones of 2D characters on the other side of the screen, any sage from world history would have lopped off their heads. I have no regrets.
The previous armband had dumped it on me like fleeing a plague—I didn't ask for it.
Even so, I took responsibility and tried every way to reform that den of trash. That makes me a pretty decent leader, doesn't it?
In the end, I was hanged in a witch hunt and dragged down, but my three-letter nickname would surely go down in history as the tragic armband who tried to enlighten the ignorant vermin but ultimately failed.
"What's this armband stuff?"
Reisi's voice snapped me out of my reverie. She was tilting her head, looking at me. I kept my sharp gaze fixed ahead and said to her.
"Eyes front."
"Uh, yeah?"
"Don't duck your head. Eyes straight ahead. Tuck in your chin."
"O-okay."
"An armband must always be dignified. Always steadfastly scanning the surroundings, weeding out the troublemakers."
"Got it."
Reisi straightened her gaze and posture to match mine, staring straight ahead.
"Take a look around, Reisi. Don't turn your head—just move your eyes. And listen closely. What do you notice? Sloppy clothes. Bloodshot eyes. The rustle of metal against fabric in their pockets. They've got weapons hidden in their inner pockets."
I lowered my voice to a whisper. Han U-sol and Yoon Na-rin, walking ahead of us, subtly perked up their ears too.
"Are they carrying it to protect themselves in this dangerous neighborhood? Or just to harm others?"
"W-well...?"
"No one knows but them. On the surface, they're all dangerous rabble. Potential criminals. Villains."
"Just grab 'em and interrogate?"
"Even if you grab and grill them, they'll claim it's for self-defense and that's that. It won't tell you if their heart's black as pitch."
Countless IPs made of numbers all claim innocence. Whether they're lying, biding time to reveal their dark intentions, or truly clean—the armband can't distinguish and prevent it preemptively.
So, the armband has only one option.
"Wait."
Wait patiently, investing time.
Quietly, silently. Watch until they reveal the abyss they hide.
And the moment they do, react swiftly to contain it before it spreads.
That's all there is to it.
"That's why an armband can't rest. Always prepared 24/7 for terrorist incidents that could happen anytime, anywhere."
You can't rest even if you want to. Even if your eyes burn from unwanted illicit pics, you push on with your duty.
Because that's what an armband is.
With great power comes great responsibility.
"Anis...!"
Reisi looked at me with an expression of deep realization and感動.
"You're the best, Anis."
Han U-sol nodded. Yoon Na-rin beside him smiled, murmuring, "Didn't expect that from her."
I'd only shared a bit of my experience managing a community of pitiful lives, but they all seemed to like it. Pride swelled, and I sniffled a little.
The group's expressions turned motivated. So motivated it threw me off.
Han U-sol quickened his pace.
"Most incidents happen in the entertainment district. Especially the back alleys. Frequency spikes at night. It's morning now, so let's map the area quick, patrol lunch and dinner too, and thorough sweep at dawn."
He glanced back at me with a grin.
"24/7. Thoroughly. That's the armband's weight, right?"
Uh, wait. That serious? Sure, I said it, but that was web community standards. Patrolling morning, lunch, dinner, dawn—every time slot? That's intense, no?
We're public servants anyway? Clock in at 9, out at 6 sharp. No evenings or dawns.
I wanted to say that, but seeing the three fired up and united, it'd fall on deaf ears. So I nodded along.
...Did I overdo it hyping them up?
"F-fighting."
Screw it. Whatever.
We roamed every nook of X-5 Block, memorizing the layout.
Alleys everywhere. One between every shop, all so similar it was hard to tell apart. We noted landmarks to avoid confusion and plotted patrol routes.
Morning, so back alleys were empty. A few drunks aside, not much stirred. Could pass for quiet, sparsely populated lanes.
But mysterious bloodstains etched on walls occasionally reminded us it wasn't as peaceful as it looked.
Lunchtime rolled around. Back at the dorm, Fergus had kimchi stew ready. We savored the 72-year-old's hearty cooking while fine-tuning the most efficient patrol route.
Patrolling four-strong every time was impractical, so pairs alternating: mornings and lunch me and Reisi, evenings and dawn Han U-sol and Yoon Na-rin. Day and night shifts.
Evenings and dawn being riskiest, just those two felt unsafe, so Fergus would tag along.
This week like that, next rotate shifts. Discussion done.
"We're off."
"Be careful."
"Yeah."
Post-lunch, Reisi and I headed out on patrol.
Drunks who'd partied till morning gone home; entertainment district quiet. Only gambling addicts' murmurs from casinos.
Lunchtime, so brothels closed. Streets even calmer than morning.
Strolling quiet alleys, boredom hit. I called to Reisi.
"Reisi."
"Yeah?"
"I told you about armbands earlier."
"Yeah."
"Now, how to do 'armbanding' properly."
"Different?"
"Totally."
Earlier was just virtues an armband needs. 'Armbanding' is different.
"First, pick some asshole you don't like."
"...Huh?"
"Then shake 'em down."
No one comes up clean when shaken. Grab, flip, rummage—dirt always spills eventually.
"Nothing? Shake till it does. Even petty stuff. Still nada? Note 'em and tail till they slip."
Relentlessly, tenaciously.
Moment they break rules, punish.
No mercy for excuses. Petty infractions hit hard. Punishments extra harsh.
A notch beyond "Isn't that too much?"
Viciously, brutally. With feeling.
That's armbanding.
"Uh... is that okay?"
"If it's some prick I hate who broke the law, yeah. It's called a legal emotional dumpster."
"I see."
Reisi seemed hesitant at first but nodded in understanding soon after. Knew she'd get it quick. Sharp kid.
How long we walked? Alley by a brothel.
"Anis, that...?"
Maybe twelve? Boy slumped against the wall.
Why here? Even daytime, not kid territory. We approached.
"Hey, kid. What're you doing here? Dangerous spot."
Boy ignored us lazily. Felt off, so we tried again.
"Kid, here..."
"Fuck off, you bitches!"
Boy exploded irritably. No wonder lounging in back alley—mouth foul for a kid.
Stunned briefly, we forced smiles. We're heroes; kids precious. Protect them.
Just slum-raised, heart's probably good.
But his next words shattered our smiles.
"You crazy bitches, why're you grinning? Gonna do something or fuck off?!"
Wow. Brothel alley vibe? Kid's mouth filthy. Veins bulged on my forehead. Glanced—Reisi same.
"Anis."
"Yeah."
"Can we armband this?"
I closed eyes, checked armbanding criteria.
One: Dislike the prick?
Yes. Rude brat before me. Strongly disliked.
Good. First condition met. Second...
"Shake him down."
What second? Dislike means shake. Reisi and I pinned the kid, rifled pockets.
"W-what?! Let go!!"
"Shut it!"
First inner pocket: dagger.
"You're under arrest for illegal dagger possession, punk!"
"N-no such thing!!"
"It exists if I say so! Even if not, suspicious as hell with that dagger. Coming for questioning!"
Kid thrashed. Useless. No mercy for minors.
Now pants pockets: coins, palm-sized transparent baggie.
"......What's this?"
White powder inside.
All three froze. Obvious drugs. No one clean when shaken, but drugs from twelve-year-old? Unthought.
"Well, well, big catch!! Arrested for drug possession!!"
"W-wait!! I got a story, unavoidable!! Hear me out!! LISTEN!!!"
"That's backtalk, punk!!"
Smack! I slapped his yap shut.