The Age of Chaos
Even the mindless variety shows that tried to wring laughter out of people with their shrill cackling, the current-affairs programs that kept the world turning in front of viewers, and the documentaries that showed both the majesty of nature and the cold cruelty hidden beneath it—all of them switched off at once.
Hundreds, thousands of channels now showed the heads of state from every country.
It wasn’t just television.
In this age of information, YouTube, the most ubiquitous video platform on earth, joined in as well.
It synchronized with each country’s settings and played the same video everywhere.
The embargo had been lifted.
The leaders of each nation began to speak in unison, opening their mouths to say what had already been agreed upon.
South Korea was no different.
The president, gaunt to the point of seeming pale, stepped up onto the podium.
All eyes turned to the giant display boards, the televisions in restaurants, the smartphones in people’s hands.
For several minutes, the president who governed the nation of the present age said nothing at all.
It was as if he were giving everyone time to settle down and focus on the video.
Then, when five minutes had passed, he finally spoke.
“Ahem.”
He cleared his throat and bowed deeply at ninety degrees.
Then, in a solemn voice with a faintly somber edge, he began.
“Respected citizens. Over the past four years, your dedication and efforts have continued to lead this nation down the path of prosperity. Of course, there have been moments of noise and disruption along the way, and at times there have been tears as well. But by taking those sorrows as our foundation, this nation has…”
The president trailed off.
“This nation…”
As if his throat had closed up, he kept coughing lightly into his fist.
Most people sneered.
Some said he’d forgotten his script; others complained that if this was what he was going to do, why had he taken over every channel they’d been watching.
But none of that reached him.
So he drew a breath and continued.
“I’ll skip the preamble. Everyone’s time is precious. Mine too, and all of yours. So please, listen carefully to what I’m about to say. Everything I’m telling you now is true, and I state in advance that there is not a single lie in it.”
The president explained Dark Cover.
The war of all humanity, unfolding without warning.
A world unchanged even after centuries had passed. Yet humans infected and transformed by the D-Virus—the Infectors.
He said they had evolved into thousands upon thousands of forms, and that those creatures who would hunt humanity were the true masters of the world we were about to enter.
He said they would regard humans as nothing more than a banquet.
The calm continuation of the speech only made the unrest worse.
More than a few citizens checked the date, wondering if it was April Fools’ Day.
“This is all true. So we must prepare. You should remain on lower floors, not in high-rise buildings, and you must not neglect exercise. Remember this: Dark Cover. In this unprecedented calamity, a healthy and strong body is the first priority if we are to survive and forge solid unity.”
It was useless.
Unless a person received physical enhancement even once, a human body was far too helpless against the D-Virus.
The saliva of Infectors, their blood, the fungi multiplying on their fingernails and claws—touching any of it was lethal. The moment you breathed the same air as them, you were done for.
But the president left that part out.
They had agreed, from the beginning, not to plant despair that could never be controlled.
So he clenched his teeth.
And delivered his final words.
“Survive. And if you do, gather at Gimpo Airport. The nation will begin rebuilding there. I pray that only good fortune finds you all.”
He bowed once more, and the screen changed.
What followed was a national disaster alert.
With a screeching siren, warnings and survival guidelines scrolled on.
It was fair to say they had effectively declared martial law.
Not martial law over one region, but over the entire country.
Factories would keep running so people could maintain the bare minimum of life.
Troops would be deployed nationwide, and all forms of terror, robbery, riot, murder, and rape would be dealt with severely.
It was the continuation of events so abrupt, so detached from reality, that they felt impossible to accept.
And so most people still could not believe it.
Only after every video medium was restored to normal did they turn their eyes back to those screens.
For the time being, everything stayed quiet.
Yes, for the time being.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“Oh, there it is. There it is. The embargo’s gone, so naturally everyone’s uploading like mad.”
“Rose, I ate stone-pot bibimbap. Had a dangol cake too, as a snack. After that I grilled bulgogi for lunch. And then for dinner I got to experience the unique charm of the chicken and pizza here. Now am I finally starting my background check?”
“Ah, shut up, Victor. I want to watch these bugs tear each other apart. Hah, this tiny little country really is nice, isn’t it? Just look at that internet speed.”
She swung her legs with a bright, delighted smile.
High atop the communications tower, the two of them could see part of downtown Seoul glittering beautifully below.
But Rose’s eyes were not fixed on that.
They were on the livestream of a YouTuber babbling about every social issue under the sun, and on the tens of thousands of viewers divided by his remarks, tearing one another to pieces in the comments.
“Heehee… the support team’s translating everything right away, so it’s actually fun to watch. Look at this—people are arguing over whether the president’s emergency address is true or fake.”
“It’s not our concern, Rose. We just have to accomplish the boss’s objective.”
“Heh-heh. Hey, Victor.”
Rose looked at Victor.
The smiling face on her changed in an instant, going cold.
“Right here, right now—what matters more, the boss’s words or my dagger?”
Victor understood her temperament extremely well.
In Blood Diamond, the killer group, Rose was known as the schemer.
Just because she was a brain-type didn’t mean she was any weaker than him.
Her murder techniques, honed to suit her vicious nature, and her madness-driven way of fighting were enough to make even Victor take a step back.
And that gaze.
Old memories came rushing back.
Victor suddenly felt the scar carved into his right eye ache.
He didn’t show it.
Calming Rose down came first.
If she blew up and came at him without looking back, that would be a problem.
“Sorry. I can wait.”
“Hmm. You’ve gotten a lot more obedient than before. That’s part of your charm, you know? Or was the tattoo I gave you stinging, baby?”
“It’s not that.”
“Sure it isn’t.”
Rose gave a snort, her expression loosening again, and returned to the livestream.
Then, as if she’d lost interest, she switched off her smartphone and shoved it into her pocket.
“Boring. They’re all going to die anyway, so watching them chatter on for hours is pointless.”
Stretching with a long groan, Rose stood up.
Looking out over the city, she spoke.
“You know that saying? ‘Seen from afar, life is a comedy; seen up close, it’s a tragedy.’ Charlie Chaplin said it—some famous British comedian and director.”
“……”
“Doesn’t that quote fit perfectly right now? From far away, it’s pretty, isn’t it? Looks like it’s overflowing with happiness and all that. But if you actually go down there, will it still look that way?”
There would be military units controlling the streets.
People would try to stockpile supplies more aggressively and in greater variety than everyone else, preparing for what was coming.
The violence and brawls that followed would be the least of it.
Somewhere out of sight, murders and extortion would happen all the time.
Rose imagined all that and trembled with a look of bliss.
“It’s a tragedy. Up close, it’s nothing but despair and sorrow!”
“Rose.”
“Yeah? What?”
“That quote starts with the word life. So it doesn’t fit your analogy. This isn’t life—it’s a real situation.”
“Oh? Then I’ll make it fit.”
Rose pulled a sheet of paper from her clothes.
A few photographs and several lines of messy, scribbled writing were visible on it.
“Let’s pick one that suits just the two of us.”
“Pick what?”
“The background check prep you wanted so badly. Like you said, if these guys’ lives are a comedy when we look at them from far away—”
Rose tapped the ID photo attached to the paper with her dagger.
“—wouldn’t it change the second we got close? Pretty sure it’d turn into a fucking tragedy.”
Giggling, Rose made up her mind almost immediately.
“Good. Let’s move. We need fake identities for infiltrating the bunker. Ready, Vic? Vi? Answer me.”
Victor felt awkward at her wordplay.
If he didn’t play along, he had no idea what kind of whim she might indulge.
So, reluctantly, he answered.
“Of course. Ro.”
“Kihihi. That’s right. Let’s go.”
Their figures dropped away from the communications tower.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Yoo Sung-jun sat on top of the equipment modification bench.
It was made of reinforced glass, so it could easily bear that much weight.
Seated there with his arms folded, he stared straight ahead.
Jeyca kept rolling her eyes back and forth, doing her best not to meet his gaze.
But that wasn’t going to help her avoid this.
Yoo Sung-jun sighed and spoke first.
“I’m sorry. As the party leader, I should’ve paid more attention to you and Sung-hwan, but this is my first time building and leading a party, so I was inexperienced.”
Jeyca jerked in surprise and waved both hands frantically at him.
“N-no! Don’t say that, Sung-jun oppa. It was more my fault. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad.”
“You probably kept quiet because you thought it might interfere with the mission. That was the first mistake. The second was mine—for creating an atmosphere where you couldn’t just lay it all out.”
An atmosphere where she couldn’t speak?
Jeyca was flustered.
That wasn’t what this had been at all; she’d only put it off because she was afraid it would become a burden for both of them.
And Yoo Sung-jun had never once made her feel cornered or uncomfortable.
If anything, there had only ever been one thing.
He probably didn’t even realize it, but his indifferent, offhand acts of care had reached her with the force of a pounding heart.
How am I supposed to say that…? He asks whether I need anything before the mission. He gently tugs my arm so I won’t walk through the mud but take the clean path instead.
And that wasn’t all.
He always took care of her and her brother’s utensils first, and whenever he spotted an Infector, he stepped in front without hesitation to shield them both...
Those small acts of warmth, one after another, had piled up until it became impossible for Jeyca to face Yoo Sung-jun and speak to him honestly without feeling tense.
Her mouth kept drying out, and the fact that Sung-hwan wasn’t here only made the moment feel unfair.
She would probably never know.
She would never know that the reason Yoo Sung-jun asked was because he had already finished his own maintenance, and that keeping her from walking through the mud had been an attempt to prevent the possible trail of an Infector from catching up to them.
The reason he took care of their utensils first was also simple: he ate faster than they did, so he was trying to match their pace.
As the all-rounder responsible for protecting both of them, stepping forward was only natural.
Warm consideration? No. It was just the accumulation of things he absolutely had to do.
Whether he knew it or not, Yoo Sung-jun blinked, unfolded his arms, and placed a hand on the bench with a faint smile.
“So I’m going to fix it now. First, let’s cure your terminal illness. How many points have we saved up?”
He was removing the one thing that could hold the party back, all for her sake.
For her sake, Yoo Sung-jun was extending a hand of goodwill no one else would have so readily offered.
In the gap between their mismatched judgments, Jeyca’s earlobes flushed red.
…And there it was again. Another pleasantly mistaken feeling, piling up one more time.