Chapter 11

I don't know about that sister of mine, but I didn't have any particular connection to the neighborhood called Seoul.

Not only am I not the type to go outside much, but I've barely ever left the outskirts of Gyeonggi-do in my entire life.

Still, I've imagined it enough.

Streets with endless crowds and high-rise buildings jutting up jaggedly.

Looking at the location itself, it's not much different from the image I had painted.

However...

There are too few people on the streets.

It's not that there are absolutely none, but it was practically at a level of annihilation.

There must be overflowing reasons.

The fact that it's a weekday must have played a part, and the soldiers and two-and-a-half-ton trucks roaming everywhere must have created an atmosphere of fear as well.

But more than anything, there was a separate, decisive reason.

The main culprit that caused the massive blackout.

That pillar still towering into the sky and showing off its overwhelming presence must have literally dried up the floating population of Seoul.

Just what on earth is that, and what is happening inside it for the military to come out so strongly?

However, it was self-evident that that cylinder was a supernatural phenomenon.

I don't believe such a phenomenon is possible with human technology in the first place.

Well, no matter how much the US developed a special weapon, wouldn't it be difficult?

Anyway, the black cylinder that literally swallowed a district of Seoul became an object of fear.

To the extent that even refugees were generated in that populous Seoul, which is practically the pride of the nation.

Of course, the country isn't in chaos yet.

Because right now, just looking at Gyeonggi-do, they don't know of the existence of that black cylinder, and Seoul is also being controlled quite well.

Excluding the black cylinder, there are no visible abnormal phenomena yet.

Yet.

But even amidst that, there existed those who had lost their homes.

I casually looked around the refugee camp.

They were gathered in one place, having pitched tents in the plaza.

Naturally, their expressions were uniformly dark.

It feels like an invisible line has been drawn between the mutants and those who aren't.

The appearance of the mutant side is menacing, but their numbers are vastly inferior, giving it a bizarre feeling.

I walked between the tents.

I need information.

What the blackout zone is, what on earth is happening inside...

And if possible, whether anyone has seen a human-shaped wild boar inside.

While looking around, I saw a middle-aged man standing a bit away from the crowd.

A middle-aged man with an impression suggesting he had lived his whole life on a smooth, paved road.

With a neat face but an infinitely exhausted expression, he was smoking a cigarette.

"Excuse me."

"...Hm?"

The man's two eyes widened significantly as soon as he saw me.

It's a familiar reaction now.

Because these massive wings and the halo, with its presence that stands out as much as its size, are things that absolutely cannot be hidden.

"...You are a mutant, right?"

"Yes, that's correct."

The man said that with an uncertain expression.

Well, unlike other mutants, I did maintain a cute appearance.

"A mutant, hah."

The man's voice became slightly colder.

It's at a level where you wouldn't pay much attention if you weren't conscious of it, but that minute difference could clearly be felt.

"Yes, I have something to ask you."

"What is it."

"Is there anyone who went inside there and came back out?"

The man's gaze headed toward the black cylinder.

He snorted mockingly.

"Hah, it seems you are not from around here. Seeing as you're asking about that damn cylinder."

"Yes, that's correct."

"Then go back. Don't stir things up doing useless nonsense."

The man's reaction was quite sharp.

It's not that his perspective is completely incomprehensible.

His property and whatever else must be inside there right now, so he probably doesn't like an outsider blabbering about it.

But I also harbor my own desperation.

"...It seems my younger sister is inside there. I lost contact with her after she last went to Gangnam..."

"...I see."

At those words, the man's tone softened slightly.

He glared at my wings and halo for a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moment, then spoke as if it couldn't be helped.

"You asked if there was anyone who went inside there and came out."

"Yes, I did."

"There isn't. At least not here. The people gathered here are only those who briefly stepped outside Gangnam-gu and lost their homes to return to."

I let out a sigh at those words.

It was highly unwelcome information.

Because depending on the situation, I was even considering going inside myself.

"...And also, it will be the same even if you go somewhere else. Because there hasn't been a single person who said they came out. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Even though there were so many people in there..."

"...I see."

"So, if you're going to do useless nonsense, go back. Don't muddy the waters."

His words are a bit rude, but since he's the one who provided the information, I can understand him.

Also, he isn't wrong.

Among the people gathered here, how many must have left their families inside there?

If even one person jumped inside, the others wouldn't be able to suppress that desperate impulse either.

In the end, in this situation, it would only result in increasing the number of victims.

"Then by any chance... what are the soldiers doing?"

At my question, the corners of the man's mouth twisted.

"The soldiers?"

"Yes, are they perhaps doing rescue operations inside..."

"Hah."

The man burst into a mocking laugh.

"Rescue operations, you say. I know what you mean, but that's impossible."

"...Then what?"

"The soldiers, well, they seem to be going in and out. I don't know what kind of tricks they're playing, though."

Going in and out?

"...Are you saying they can go inside and come back out?"

"I don't know. But it seemed that way. Because I saw a few going in last night."

"But why aren't they res..."

I stopped mid-sentence.

The reason is obvious. They either have no intention to rescue, or they cannot rescue. It must be one of the two.

"More importantly."

The man stubbed out his cigarette.

"Since you are a mutant, it would be better for you to go over there."

The place he pointed to was one corner of the camp.

It was where the mutants were gathered.

"...Why?"

"The atmosphere is bad. Especially lately."

The man's voice lowered.

"Because people have started blaming the mutants."

"...Blaming the mutants?"

"Yes. Saying these things happened after the mutants appeared, so it's because of the mutants."

"......."

"Of course, it's nonsense. But people want to believe that. Because they need an object to blame."

The man let out a sigh.

"So be careful. Especially with an appearance that stands out like yours..."

It was then.

"Hey, you son of a bitch!"

A shout erupted. I reflexively looked in that direction. People were flocking toward the center of the camp.

"...What is that?"

"...It has started."

The man said with an exhausted expression.

"Do not go. You will only get swept up in it for no reason."

The man's words were extremely rational.

There's no need for me to approach there and get swept up in it.

Of course, I thought like this and stepped forward taking the lead during Shin Ah-yoon's incident... but the impulsive influence was strong back then.

At that time, the pastor was despising Shin Ah-yoon for no reason at all.

Since it was a situation where his intentions and goals were plainly visible, he just seemed completely abominable.

But now...

"Isn't my son unable to come out of there because of you people! Bring him back! I said bring him back!"

Everyone here is a victim.

Their anger has lost its direction and flowed the wrong way, but there was a reason for it.

Unlike the pastor who could be cornered somehow, it meant that they were blinded by anger and reasoning wouldn't work on them.

What could I possibly do by trying to stop them there?

Rather, stepping up as a mutant would only make things worse.

I knew that fact well.

But am I the kind of human who moves solely based on rational judgment?

I've always been a bastard who moves however I please.

"...I told you not to go."

I heard that sound from behind, but I ignored it.

"Stop!"

At my shout, people looked at me.

Honestly, I was somewhat surprised because I didn't know my delicate voice would draw this much attention, but I quickly gathered my wits.

The man who had been shouting looked at me.

"Miss... hah. You seem to be a mutant too. Why, are you trying to defend them because you're in the same situation?"

"Please stop. You know that blaming this person right now is unjust, don't you."

At those words, the man let out a hollow laugh.

"Unjust? These things happened because of monster bastards like you guys, didn't they?"

"Do you have evidence?"

"Evidence? Everything started after you guys appeared!"

As expected, reasoning doesn't work. I know that attempting to converse with someone who has lost their rationality is meaningless.

But the ones I need to persuade are the masses.

And I had an excellent appearance for persuading the masses.

...It feels like curses will pop out at any moment, but the reason I deliberately censor myself is also because of this.

"That's merely a chronological sequence. It's not a causal relationship."

"What?"

"Just because the mutation phenomenon and the blackout phenomenon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠occurred around the same time, there is no evidence anywhere that the mutants are the cause."

"T-that's, still..."

"And even if they are related."

I looked at the trembling werewolf.

"What did this person do wrong?"

"......."

"This person is also just a victim who suddenly became like this one day. Just like you all."

The man's face turned red.

"Don't spout nonsense that doesn't even make sense! When did we become monsters?"

"You didn't become monsters, but."

I looked around at the people.

Eyes full of hostility, looking as if they would yell at me at any moment.

But I have no intention of blaming them.

Because, we are...

"It's exactly the same that we are victims who lost our homes and families."

As soon as my words ended, the halo above my head trembled and emitted a deeper golden light than usual. I didn't intend it. But as that light spread in all directions, the pupils of the murderous man momentarily blurred.

The shouting of the crowd, which had been like an angry wave, subsided like a lie. The air stagnated, and only the rustling sound of the feathers of my wings colliding behind my back filled the silence.

The man stared at me blankly. His lips, which had been preparing a logical rebuttal, crumpled noticeably. He couldn't avoid my eyes.

"...Who doesn't know that."

The man's voice cracked. His earlier imposing manner was nowhere to be found. He trembled his clenched fists and muttered like a sinner making a confession.

"I know. What fault could they possibly have? They were probably just unlucky to grow fur and have bones stick out. But... but someone has to take responsibility! That pitch-black pillar swallowed my son, what am I supposed to do!"

The man staggered and fell to his knees.

"Then what am I supposed to do? I, my son..."

But it was the same for the man; he was pushed to his limits.

Moreover, he was ordinarily righteous and ordinarily objective.

Knowing that he himself was not honorable and was cowardly, it seems a sense of shame overcame him.

The man spoke, sobbing as if squeezing it out.

"Then, then what about my son... my son... Just who am I supposed to blame..."

Saying that, the man bowed his head deeply.

He was looking for an object to blame, but it seemed he also knew.

That this was something no one could be blamed for.

I patted his back.