Foretold Terror -6-
Thirty minutes had passed since the airship lifted off.
The flight that began in Unhwa had now left Okpo behind and was approaching Seolhwa Melody Valley.
The tension among the guards who had been standing watch was slowly loosening, and disappointment was beginning to well up in the hearts of those waiting for the terror attack.
Only then did the owner of the airship—the Lobbyist—finally let out a sigh of relief.
He had prepared a single show during this flight to secure sponsorship and support from the Royal Loaders for surface exploration.
From his analysis, the Royal Loaders tended to view anyone who wasn’t Royal as little more than ants.
When you spot a trail of ants marching along the sidewalk, don’t you pause out of curiosity? And if one of them is noticeably larger than the rest, don’t you crush it underfoot without a second thought?
You grind its whole body into paste, then simply think, Hmm, that one had a nice crunch to it.
This show had been meticulously crafted to appeal to that exact instinctive, intellectual curiosity—and to the particular tastes of the Royals.
Thirty criminals who had once set society ablaze.
He would run a social experiment with them.
Each held a remote control capable of detonating another’s bomb collar. Yet none of them knew whose remote controlled whose death. The one in your hand could very well be the one that would kill you.
If thirty minutes passed without anyone dying, they would be returned to prison unharmed. But if even a single remote was pressed before the time limit, a battle royale would begin instantly and continue until only one survivor remained.
Through raw strength, remote-controlled bombs, and split-second political maneuvering, they would slaughter one another. The final survivor would be released back into society and given enough funds to rebuild their life.
It was an offer few could refuse. These were people who had already sunk themselves into the city’s underworld; there was no chance they would let thirty minutes pass without pressing a button.
Confident in this, the Lobbyist stepped onto the main hall’s stage and drew every eye in the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re all enjoying the flight so far.”
Heads turned toward him in unison.
“I am Juggernaut, chief organizer of this lobbying effort and owner of this airship.”
The very next instant, the main hall’s lights cut out and a spotlight bathed Juggernaut in brilliant white.
“Now that the mood has properly ripened, I’d like to run a special event. Please direct your attention to the screen ahead.”
A low hum filled the air as the beam shader activated, casting its projection onto the stage.
The footage showed prisoners wearing bomb collars huddled together in a dim, gloomy space, visibly anxious.
Juggernaut faltered internally. Was the lighting malfunctioning? The image shouldn’t have been this dark.
Yet his mouth continued without a hitch, delivering a smooth, polished explanation of the show. The audience sensed nothing amiss.
“…And so, Royal Loaders, we invite you to vote on which of these individuals will survive until the end—or whether no one will press their remote at all!”
As expected, the Royals nodded along, their interest clearly piqued.
Perfect.
If the show concluded successfully, he would earn their sponsorship and pour far more manpower and resources into surface exploration than before. If that happened, escaping this stifling underground existence for life on the surface would no longer be a distant dream.
Juggernaut’s chest swelled with anticipation.
“Voting has concluded! Before we begin in earnest, shall we first see which prisoner captured the greatest interest from our Royal audience?”
At his signal the beam shader swept across the front of the stage.
But what it displayed was not the voting tally.
A black logo on a white background.
A red “LIVE” indicator lit up on what appeared to be a brand-new anonymous channel.
“Ah. Can you hear me?”
A familiar voice.
Everyone in the hall stared, transfixed.
“Look at you all. I know you can hear me, yet you’ve turned into mute idiots with your mouths full of honey.”
A low, throaty cackle echoed through the hall.
“Seriously… why don’t you people ever listen?”
The camera light flared on with a sharp flash.
“I told you I was coming.”
Everyone gathered in the hall stared at the screen, mouths agape. Their minds couldn’t keep up with how drastically the situation had flipped in the blink of an eye.
A few of the Royals eventually regained their composure and began laughing leisurely, trying to calm the crowd.
“Everyone, please calm down. The people assembled here are the faces who will lead Minos into the future. Would we really lose our composure over a mere clown?”
“Well said. Guards, go find where that rat is hiding. I will not permit lethal force. We must make them take responsibility for turning the event into this farce.”
The Royals’ composed speeches seemed to bring a measure of stability back to the chaos-filled hall.
But First had no intention of letting things settle so easily. “Wak!” he shouted, snapping everyone’s attention back to the screen.
“Hey, stop right there! Where do you think you’re going? The real entertainment is only just beginning.”
“Entertainment? How dare a clown speak such nonsense.”
“Get on with it! Are you trying to disappoint us?”
Yet the Royals ignored First’s warning and continued pressuring the motionless guards.
At that moment, Athena—who had been sipping tea—and Jinhyun, who had been observing the situation, shot forward like lightning and blocked the guards’ path.
Before anyone could ask what the hell they were doing, a mechanical hum rang out and all six doors of the main hall opened at once.
Pouring out from them were the very thirty criminals Juggernaut had described during his show explanation.
“You crazy son of a bitch!”
“Juggernaut! What the hell is this?”
Juggernaut had no idea how they had gotten there.
As if answering his silent question, First chuckled from beyond the screen.
“Lobbyist, I believe your name is Juggernaut? I heard your explanation of the show. What was it again? You gathered thirty criminals for a battle royale?”
First reached off-screen and brought something into view—a bundle of roughly thirty remote controls.
“But what should we do? I’m not interested in such a tasteless show.”
Only then did Juggernaut notice the prisoners’ necks. Every bomb collar had been removed.
“The viewers feel the same, right? It’s boring to watch once-famous villains who once set society on fire being reduced to mere playthings for the so-called elite, isn’t it?”
The screen flooded with countless anonymous messages like a raging storm.
Watching them, the Royals finally understood, if only for a moment, how ants trapped inside a glass bottle must feel.
It was humiliating.
The fact that they—of all people—had been reduced to entertainment for the very people they had always looked down on was unbearably insulting.
Perhaps that was why a sudden stomach pain hit them, and faint red rashes began blooming across their skin.
What is this?
When they looked around, they saw it wasn’t only them. The same spots were appearing on the criminals who had just flooded into the hall and on the influencers they had been chatting with moments ago.
“Oh, it looks like the effects are starting to show.”
Once again, First accepted an ampoule marked with a skull from someone off-screen and held it up for everyone to see.
“You’re all starting to feel something strange in your bodies, yes? Any guesses what it might be?”
He shook the ampoule theatrically.
The gesture sent ripples of anxiety and fear through the crowd’s minds.
What is it? What the hell is it?
Why won’t you just tell us?
But the greatest terror, they say, always comes from imagination.
First grinned, tucked the ampoule back into his coat, and declared:
“The entertainment I’ve prepared for you all today is exactly this!”
He thrust a crudely designed graphic toward the camera and shouted.
Royals vs Prisoners: Who Has Committed the Greater Sins?
A Majority-Vote Survival Show Decided by Viewer Poll
“To those who survive, we will award a one-hundred-percent-effective antidote to the murder virus! Let’s give them a round of applause!!!”
Despair descended upon the airship.