Korea University (3): Suddenly, Terrorism?
Suddenly terrorism? ...For a game interview, that was one hell of an absurd question.
"Hmm..."
Luckily, my brain had been pickled in Chasefield X until dawn, so my thoughts spun quickly. Two escape routes, three spots that seemed dangerous. There were also places I judged relatively safe. Thanks to having attended Korea University, I knew the building layouts, rough headcounts, and how the school's systems worked.
Anyway, I'd thought it through a lot, but my answer was simple.
"If it were me, I'd get the hell out right away."
"Why?"
"What's dumber than facing an enemy when you have no gear and no idea what you're up against?"
I had no clue how the other two took my answer. Shai laughed, and Conel just unclasped her hands and stared at me silently.
I was waiting for the next question when her words caught me completely off guard. Conel picked up her fork and sliced the nearly untouched chocolate cake in half.
"What if you're certain a terrorist attack will happen here, killing at least a thousand people?"
"...You're assuming we have to fight? Even then, wouldn't it be tough? We don't even know who's doing it or how many..."
"No. If the outcome is certain, inferring the cause isn't hard."
I had a rebuttal ready, but looking into Conel's eyes, my mouth wouldn't move. With those confident blue eyes, she spoke as if stating the obvious.
"The only ways to kill a thousand people here are a bomb or systematic mass slaughter."
"Uh..."
"Terror groups targeting Korea could be domestic or foreign."
Conel cut a tiny piece from the tilted half of cake and popped it in her mouth. "But domestic forces have no reason to target a university, nor the capability. At best, they could stir up minor riots."
She twisted her lips slightly at the cake's sweetness, then picked up the tiny spoon for stirring coffee. Unlike the fork, she scooped up a mushy blob of cake with the spoon.
"Foreign groups are different, though. Organizations with grudges against Korea? Probably IS or the American Free Revolutionaries."
"Both seem pretty unlikely, don't they?"
Being able to do it and actually doing it are worlds apart. Conel nodded at my question, setting down the messy spoon on her plate before continuing.
"True. IS is still mired in civil war, and the Free Revolutionaries took heavy losses in their Chicago op. No bandwidth for foreign ops."
"Then..."
"Even slim odds mean we pay attention."
Conel's words made it sound like she had the means to check and confirm. Way too much for a 27-year-old woman my age.
...Isn't this a bit too fantastical?
While I entertained that slightly rude thought, Conel's explanation grew more specific.
"I investigated cargo entering Incheon Port and lists of illegal immigrants over the past few months. No terrorism links to the Middle East or America."
"If both are out, then no groups planning terror in Korea..."
"That's what we'd conclude. If the outcome weren't certain."
My throat felt dry, so I sipped the macchiato in front of me. Full of ice, no cool refreshment—just a bitter coffee aftertaste lingering in my mouth. This topic felt way too heavy for a game interview.
"Now..."
"The lead came from a broker in China's Dalian while checking Incheon logistics."
Something felt off. Like I shouldn't hear more. These people around me suddenly felt uncomfortable.
"Enough already..."
"Do you know Taepyeongseongdae?"
Taepyeongseongdae. It means an era of abundance and peace under a wise, benevolent ruler.
"Not in that sense, right? You mean... that side?"
I said "that side" because these days, unlike the old days, it's hard to say the name outright, like Voldemort.
Unlike me, Conel—as a foreigner—had no hesitation.
"Yes. North Korea's two reactors, Taepyeongseongdae 1 and 2, completed ambitiously in 2030."
"Hmm..."
I knew I shouldn't listen more, but questions bubbled up. What did that have to do with the terror happening now? North Korea? Taepyeongseongdae? Totally out of left field. Because...
"What does that have to do with anything? North Korea's already gone."
"Correct. In '34, Taepyeongseongdae 2 had a core meltdown, radiation leaked, and North Korea became basically uninhabitable."
North Korea couldn't fix the reactor issue at Taepyeongseongdae 2. Management failed across the board, leading to a meltdown at 1 as well.
I knew this incident well because it tanked Seoul real estate prices hard. My parents bought our house in Seoul right after. I remember them joking bitterly about unintentionally fulfilling their dream of owning in the city.
...So what did an event buried in history 16 years ago have to do with this?
Before I could ask, Shai—who'd been quiet till now—cut in suddenly.
"When something goes wrong at home, you suspect the neighbors, right?"
"Terror over some dumb rumor like that?"
Early on, rumors flew about sabotage by South Korea or America. It was big enough for a UN-led multinational team to investigate for two years. As I said, the cause was North Korean negligence—plain incompetence.
"What if it wasn't incompetence?"
Conel had boldly denied such tales all along.
"What if it really was sabotage, and North Korean remnants are convinced South Korea did it—so they're planning terror?"
"But why tell me..."
"Korea University—beacon of the nation's top intellects and future. Thousands of their lives? Perfect target for vengeful remnants of a fallen state."
Something was seriously wrong. Wasn't this a Chasefield X interview? So why the creepy horror story in the interview?
I got no time to argue. Conel glanced at the clock on the cafe wall and declared like a judge passing sentence.
"Time's up."
Ding dong dang dong~! The familiar chime echoed. It was the campus-wide announcement. A brief crackle of static—out of place in 2050—then a flat voice.
If terror was starting now, this was it. The signal.
I started to stand, but froze when Conel extended her arm.
"Don't do anything stupid. You'll die."
"...You're joking, right?"
I desperately hoped Conel would laugh and say it was a joke. Betraying my hopes, she stared intently at something.
Outside the cafe. Somewhere.
Ding!
I whipped my head around as the cafe door opened and people entered. They looked too rough to be students or staff. Three men in cargo pants and thick gray coats unsuitable for the weather. The one in glasses—who seemed the least menacing—stepped forward slightly and spoke.
"Everyone, we need to head to the earthquake drill quick. Why're you all just sitting there?"
The man's accent was subtly off as he addressed the cafe patrons. Common sense said no one would all gather at the auditorium for a drill. But he spoke as if it were an order they had to obey.
I swallowed hard without thinking. The suspicious men were heading straight for us. I couldn't ignore them; I had to watch as they approached. Worn combat boots, faded cargo pants, gray coats bulging subtly. The glasses guy slipped a hand into his coat, straightened his arm toward me—our eyes met—and aimed.
"South Korean bastards got bad ears? Didn't you hear me?"
"Ah..."
Polymer frame. Light, durable, chambered in .40 S&W. Right in front of me was a Glock 22 pistol, straight out of the game.
"Get your asses up quick-like!"
The scrape of chairs being pushed back. People rising hesitantly. My eyes locked on the pistol shoved in my face.
This was insane. A moment where death was imminent, and I was thinking something stupid.
...This guy's grip on the pistol is all wrong. One-handed, wrist bent, gun tilted awkwardly toward me.
Thanks to Chasefield X, ways to neutralize him flashed in my mind. Break his thumb to drop it, jam a finger behind the trigger to prevent firing. Or rack the Glock slide back to stovepipe a round. Most extreme: with that grip, grab with both hands and yank up to disarm him outright.
The guy clearly wasn't experienced. Shoving the muzzle right up to my forehead was the biggest tell. I'd never do that at this range.
I raised both hands, staring at the gun, frozen. He smirked.
"Don't shake. Stand up slow. Go quietly to the auditorium, and nothing happens."
His words about shaking made me realize it: my body really was trembling.
A old memory hit. The sharp sensation twisting my gut, the filthy breath of some creep. That uncontrollable shaking from back then.
I...
"Waaaaaah!"
A huge wail erupted behind me. Even with the gun on my head, my eyes flicked that way. Because...
Conel—who'd been dead serious moments ago—was bawling her eyes out, snot and tears streaming.
"Mooooommy!"
The crying face of that exotic, cute girl was straight-up violent. Conel collapsed to the cafe floor like her legs gave out, sobbing.
...A dark yellow puddle spread between her legs, accompanied by a foul stench.
I froze, more shocked by this than the gun. Instead, Shai beside me stood, shielding Conel.
"Sorry! She's just really scared!"
Shai dropped to her knees, pleading desperately. One heel slipped off, and two buttons on her white blouse popped open. Through the gap, her dazzlingly white cleavage flashed.
...Honestly, I doubt I was the only one who saw.
"Ahem, get up!"
"Please, just let us use the bathroom real quick. It won't take long!"
"Waaaaaah!"
The glasses guy shook his pistol, yelling to move despite the scene. After a brief standoff, the burliest of the three—who'd been at the back—stepped forward.
"Fine, a quick break's okay. Can't ignore such a desperate plea."
The man's eyes were glued to Shai's cleavage as he spoke. Glasses tried to block briefly, but hierarchy kicked in—he backed off.
"Come on, then."
"Y-yes... sir."
"Hurry it up, you South Korean dames."
Conel and Shai headed upstairs first, the man following while ogling their asses until they vanished.
"Dame? Man, the lieutenant's got weird tastes."
"With that mug, he's probably got four kids already."
"South Koreans don't pop 'em out like us, even if they want a bunch."
The two men's chat mixed in awkward North Korean dialect. These days, "North Korean" isn't discriminatory, but their speech matched.
About four minutes later—
Bam!
A loud thud from upstairs.
"Hey, Chang-o? Chang-o, you hear me? If you do, come out!"