Forewarned Terror -8-
Branch Director Park Sung-chul regretted everything.
First’s live broadcast had drawn a staggering three hundred and seventy thousand viewers. At the start, even Park Sung-chul had been swept into the feverish atmosphere of the chat room First had engineered. Each time one of those arrogant Royal Loaders was electrocuted and burned alive, a sharp, electric thrill had shot through him.
His wife, Baek Shin-hee, had secretly studied a monster corpse he had smuggled in, only to be discovered as a mutilated body one day. The will she left behind made it painfully clear that the Royals were behind her death. That was why Park Sung-chul could not resist. He had no choice but to fall for First’s whispered temptation—to carve away greater evil with a blade tempered in malice.
At that moment, it felt as though his soul had slipped free of his flesh and was now staring back at what he had become.
“Yes…!! Kill them all!! Crush those high-and-mighty Royals!!”
The man cheering for murder, utterly consumed by the overheated frenzy, was the very villain Park Sung-chul had always despised.
The same was true for the other viewers. Out of three hundred and seventy thousand people watching the stream, only about ten thousand were actually typing. The remaining three hundred and sixty thousand sat frozen, overwhelmed by the chat’s bloodlust. It was a scene of pure insanity.
First was openly abusing the voting system, turning every single viewer into a murderer. Yet the audience had forgotten how to think. They were drowning in the immediate pleasure she offered.
The instant that truth hit him, cold sweat poured down Park Sung-chul’s back.
What have I done?
Blinded by a moment of revenge, how many people had he helped turn into killers?
Someone—anyone—please stop this slaughter!
That was when a brilliant golden light stepped onto the stage.
The hero, Last, had stormed the stage.
First was so delighted she unconsciously lifted the corners of her mouth. To the onlookers, however, the expression looked like nothing more than mockery.
“I thought that face looked familiar… So it’s the rumored first-generation enhanced human—the hero of Cheongang City. A-rank Hero Last, correct? What brings you to me?”
“End this absurd murder show right now,” Last declared, voice ringing with conviction.
The people around them flinched, terrified that offending First might bring her wrath down on their own heads. Yet First seemed to enjoy Last’s resolve; she responded in a far more composed tone than before.
“Why? I have not touched a single ordinary citizen. The only ones I’ve targeted are the evils devouring society. Aren’t heroes supposed to represent the will of good, innocent people?”
“Exactly. This airship isn’t carrying only criminals—there are innocent civilians aboard as well. They have no obligation to be dragged into your little farce.”
“I gave fair warning. I announced that if the airship took off, I would come for it myself. Boarding anyway was their choice. Let me ask you one thing, Last. Do you truly believe they stepped onto this vessel with purely innocent intentions?”
“Are you saying that impure intentions justify their deaths?”
“In some cases… yes?”
Neither side yielded an inch. The debate stretched taut as a wire.
Last, tired of the endless argument, changed the subject with a question that had been burning inside him.
“You call yourself First. I have one question for you as well.”
“Go on. I’ll listen.”
“Why do you take on the role of evil yourself just to punish other villains?”
The words pierced straight through the mask, striking Chae Yuha’s true self.
Taking on evil? Me?
No. To anyone watching, First was clearly evil. She had manipulated viewers into participating in a murder show and spread a supposed murder virus to innocent civilians aboard the ship.
…But there had never been any murder virus. The Royals and prisoners who had been electrocuted were only knocked unconscious and moved to safety. It was the line Chae Yuha had drawn for herself—a final boundary so she would not forget who she used to be.
The aunt who had tried to shoot her. The suspicious window that made the world feel fake. In days endlessly repainted with fresh lies, this was her last desperate struggle to remember her own existence.
Last could not possibly know that. Neither could the viewers.
Yet the moment her core was struck, First stared at Last in blank silence for a long time. The pause was so noticeable that even the audience could sense something was wrong.
“…Hehe.”
Belatedly, First let out her signature artificial laugh to cover her inner turmoil.
For some reason, Last saw Chae Yuha’s face superimposed over that smile.
“Did you know? Sometimes people simply want to watch the world burn.”
“At least you don’t seem like one of them.”
“…Ah, is that so?”
Provoked by Last’s light taunt, First’s voice rose sharply.
“Then watch closely what I am capable of from now on.”
Clack!
Electric collars snapped shut around the necks of the remaining trash who had yet to reach the stage—and around Last’s throat.
“Now, dear viewers! The final act has begun!”
“The name of this game is ‘Hero and Villain: If One Must Disappear, Which Should It Be?’”
The chat’s reaction was unanimous. Wasn’t the answer obvious? The hero should live and the villain should burn, of course.
But First added one more rule.
“Of course, if we proceed like this the outcome is too predictable to be fun. So this time, I will give the authority to activate the collars not to the viewers—but to you, Last.”
Two remotes, one red and one blue, materialized before him.
“The red remote activates your own collar. The blue one activates the collars of the rest of this nameless garbage.”
“The rules are simple. Press one. It doesn’t matter which. If you do, we will leave a bag containing the vaccine on the airship, withdraw without further interference, and even retrieve the bombs we planted. We won’t touch them.”
Silence fell.
At first glance it seemed like a question with an obvious answer—until the remotes were placed in Last’s hands.
If Last himself became the executioner, everything changed. A hero was someone who saved lives; he must never become the judge.
If he pressed the blue remote and killed the villains to save himself, the so-called hero would be executing people for his own survival.
First was saying: If protecting them is so important, then sacrifice yourself.
The collar around Last’s neck now carried a voltage on an entirely different scale. One press and the current would surge through his entire body, burning him from the inside out.
The tension was suffocating. No one could predict what Last would choose.
Except one person.
“This promise that you’ll withdraw if I press it—you’re not lying, correct?”
“Why would I lie at this stage? It would ruin the image I’ve built.”
“Then that’s enough.”
Press.
Last chose the red remote—his own.
Crackle!!
Lightning erupted across his body. Black smoke billowed. Muscle fibers glistened beneath strips of peeled skin.
“W-what…!!”
Even the trash who had been spared could not hide their shock. They had no idea what kind of fool the man on stage was, but who in their right mind would take the enemy’s side when their own life was at stake?
Yet Last had pressed his own button without the slightest hesitation. He stood with fists clenched, enduring the massive electrical charge.
The entire audience was struck speechless. The rage-filled chat fell quiet. Even the Royals who had caused this nightmare went still.
And the quieter it became, the more brilliantly the golden aura behind Last flared, spreading in every direction.
The electric shock finally stopped.
Last remained standing. This time he had not lost consciousness.
“…”
With bloodshot eyes he stared straight into First’s broadcast camera. Though crimson with burst vessels, those intelligent blue pupils pierced the minds of every viewer watching.
“…Ha!”
First let out a hollow laugh at the absurd sight.
“Hahahaha!!!”
Her laughter, now filled with genuine delight and exhilaration, spread across the entire city.
“What a satisfying finale.”
“Keep… your promise.”
“Of course. I’ll leave the vaccine here. Administer it within twenty-four hours and no one will die.”
At those words, Last—who had been forcing himself to stand—collapsed in relief. His body fell limply from the stage, only to be caught by dozens of hands.
First watched quietly, then murmured something in a tone completely unlike anything she had used before, almost as if reciting a poem.
And the broadcast ended.
“W-what is this?”
Chae Yuha stared at Nadja with eyes that demanded an explanation.
Nadja simply shrugged, offering no words.
“I mean, I wasn’t planning to hide it forever. But I didn’t expect us to get exposed in a single day.”
A.G.O guiltily looked off into the distance, as if the remark had struck home.
Chae Yuha instantly delivered a dropkick that sent the android flying straight out the window. Consider it her reward.