Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: 60. The Traitor (2)
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The soldier's condition was better than expected.
He was covered in grass seeds, dirt, and vines from crawling who-knows-where, but there were no major injuries or illnesses.
Not even the telltale signs of alcoholism you often saw.
I waited for him to recover before starting the interrogation.
Not wanting my territory exposed, I conducted it right by the stream where we'd caught him.
"Rank and name."
I'd never been trained in interrogations.
We dealt with monsters, not soldiers.
Unless the day came when we had to interrogate monsters.
Still, I'd seen Chinese troops and mercenaries grilling civilians before.
I tried mimicking their style.
His name had tones I couldn't pronounce, so I just called him Ma.
Ma's rank was captain—equivalent to a major in our military.
He couldn't have been older than his late twenties, but ranks in a fallen nation were as worthless as its currency in a collapsing country, so I didn't dwell on it.
As expected, he was from a Chinese landing force unit based around Dangjin.
He rattled off some convoluted command structure involving the "Joseon Province Liberation Whatever," but it wasn't important, so it went in one ear and out the other.
What mattered was what he told me.
Seoul and nuclear explosions.
"Seoul's gone. A few might survive, but no one's living there now."
Ma corrected himself.
"Next to Seoul. A coastal city full of people."
"Incheon?"
Ma nodded emphatically.
"We'll destroy the city with the most Koreans gathered there. Kill them all."
"How do we stop it?"
Even if they launched a nuke right now, did we have the means?
The cutting-edge ballistic missile defenses the U.S. provided during the war worked great, but China countered by saturating the sky with their own massive barrage. In the end, a few hit Seoul, and the surroundings were turned to ash.
And that was three years ago.
Even if defenses remained, would they still function?
Not with the government fractured, factions warring, and civil strife raging.
"We only have one left. If it gets intercepted, that's it, so we're planning carefully."
Ma's Korean started off clumsy but grew fluent as he spoke, matching a native's rhythm and vocabulary.
"Time's short. The contact in Incheon is already prepping to receive the nuke."
"Contact in Incheon?"
A traitor, then.
This is where Ma's story gained credibility.
"I heard the contact has a position that lets him haul massive cargo through central Incheon without suspicion. They'll hand over a warhead detached from a sub-launched missile, and detonate it right in the heart of the city."
I met his eyes steadily and asked calmly.
"Why's a Chinese soldier telling me this? You want something."
Spreading fake intel was a classic ploy.
Even on Failnet, government shills were dismissing Dongtanmom's end as staged drama.
"What's your angle?"
Finally sensing the chill in my gaze, Ma looked down and sighed.
"...I'm a soldier from the country that started the war, so maybe I shouldn't say this, but I hate seeing people die. It's over already—the war, my country, everything. No need to wipe out this nation's people too."
Anyone could say that.
I could spout the same to a Chinese face.
I changed tack.
"Joseonjok?"
With Korean that good, had to be 99% chance.
But no.
Ma shook his head.
"Han Chinese."
"Your Korean's flawless."
"I went to school here."
"Where?"
"One of those Korean 'trash colleges.' In Gyeongsangbuk-do. But I loved it. Cherry blossoms in spring, friendly people. Made lots of friends."
"How long?"
"Five years? No, six. I remember my dad yelling to come home after six years."
Six years.
If true, he'd studied hard.
I'd spent about that long in China and could barely string together a sentence.
"Anyway, no time! For real. Once the vanguard meets the contact, it's done."
"What do you want from me?"
"Connect me to a Korean military head or top decision-maker."
I could make an intro.
But would they buy his story?
I was only half-convinced myself.
He had zero proof.
His polished Korean and backstory might sway some, but to me, it reeked of a spy's rehearsed script.
"Where'd you come from, anyway?"
Ma pointed southwest.
"Run into anything on the way?"
If he was from the Chinese forces down there, he'd know.
The ruler of that area: Gold.
"No."
"I see."
I nodded and turned to leave when Ma blurted out awkwardly.
"I avoided those dogs' territory."
"Detour?"
I turned back.
"Yeah. Took a detour, that's why I'm beat up. Not even a real path. I collapsed from exhaustion."
"..."
"My AWOL buddies stupidly headed straight through the dogs' turf. Heard massive noises. No survivors, probably."
Ma sighed with a wistful look.
"Even if those Korean-illiterate guys reached Korean troops, they couldn't explain jack."
"They're trucking the warhead overland?"
Ma nodded.
"Gotta. Subs can't get close. Somehow they sense it and rain torpedoes like ghosts."
"Land route's crawling with mutations they know about."
A warhead's heavy and bulky.
Land transport? A 1-ton truck's out; need at least 2.5-tonner.
From Chinese outpost to Incheon? Straight through Gold Pack turf.
Tough.
Gold Pack attacks humans entering their zone, high chance.
Sure, sometimes they're too stuffed to move.
But for a do-or-die op, risking mutant dog whims?
"...Mutations won't be an issue."
"Why?"
A hint of resentment—indirect proof I saw Gold as an ally.
Ma met my glare, voice shrinking.
"Sub's bringing a mainland hunter. Supposedly a powerhouse."
"Mainland?"
"Hainan, probably. Island at China's far south. Still untainted, I hear."
Like Jeju.
Makes sense—a big country has its Jejus.
"When's the sub due?"
"Yesterday, or day before."
I thought it over.
This guy.
Hard to read.
But didn't seem like a liar.
Motives suspect, sure, but the mutant dogs' howls yesterday were real.
"...Hang tight."
Team leader me wouldn't report upstairs on this flimsy intel alone.
Just testimony, no hard evidence worth trusting.
But Woo Min-hee mellowed with age, and so did I—more worries now.
Maybe from witnessing similar crap at my doorstep.
I radioed Woo Min-hee.
No answer.
Tried twice more; a subordinate finally picked up.
"Sorry, Director Woo's on Jeju. Can't reach her. I'll relay when she returns."
"This is urgent."
"Don't tell me."
"Chinese troops targeting Incheon with a nuke..."
"Gotta cut."
Line dead.
Tried again—powered off.
"..."
What now?
Let him go to die?
I'd done my part, honestly.
Even if connected, Woo wouldn't buy it.
Too outlandish, even to me.
She'd probably snap.
Apparently, Park Gyu left a bad taste too.
While I radioed, the Chinese guy vanished.
Could track prints, but I let it be.
*
Gunfire jolted me awake last night.
Southwest—Gold's turf.
Dog barks too, maybe.
Nothing after I woke.
No more blasts, no mutant howls.
"Hm."
Hallucination?
Not a frequent nightmare guy, but one recurring: stranger opens my bunker door, guns me down.
So vivid I wake screaming.
Like that?
But no visuals.
Dozed off again when Defender radioed.
"Hear that boom?"
Defender.
"Sounded like an explosion."
"From your mutant dog buddies' zone. If my gut's right, Chinese hunter weapon."
"Chinese hunter gear?"
Sleep fled; yesterday's lone Chinese soldier loomed ominous.
"Chukonu."
"?"
"Repeating crossbow. Wrist-mounted, sight-aimed triple explosive bolt launcher. Fires three where you're looking. Bolts act like mini-drones—homing."
"News to me."
"Fresh from trials before Korea split. But that tearing-air sound? Unmistakable. Chukonu."
Chinese army.
Top-tier threat in pre-war scenarios.
One where they overran my whole area and wiped me out—a Park Gyu bad end.
That old ghost rearing up.
"Spotted Chinese troops yesterday."
Defender annoyed me lately, internet antics aside—he's my neighbor.
I spilled the story.
"For real? Especially the Incheon contact."
"Yeah."
"...Fuck."
I froze.
Defender kills plenty but doesn't curse.
This was raw.
"Sorry. Slipped."
"No need."
"Uh, ask the Chinese for the contact's name?"
"Didn't."
"Mind checking? I'll scout with my sister."
"Got it."
Quick wash, then out.
Pulled the bike—motorcycle's backseat grandpa now, but bikes rule here.
Stars galore, waxing gibbous moon lighting the dark ground.
North by stars, 30 minutes in: found Ma.
Beaten bad, groaning.
Face swollen unrecognizable; propped him, checked consciousness.
"Y-you?"
He knew me. Good.
Didn't ask who.
Thankful he's alive.
"Know the contact's name?"
"Contact? Location yes... Ah."
Ma's puffy eyes widened.
"Heo. Heo-something."
"Heo?"
Defender's curse flashed; linked to him, and I'd met the guy.
"Heo Jong-cheol?"
Said it.
Ma nodded.
"Yes! That's him!"
Heo Jong-cheol.
Ex-hunter, minor Awakened.
Hated this country, his own people.
So nuking Incheon's civilians? No qualms.
And he'd teamed with Chinese.
Nuke-armed Chinese.
Defender's radio crackled faintly.
"Three mutant dog corpses spotted."
My pupils flickered—briefly.
Didn't last.
"Gold among them?"
"Can't tell. Night, high alt."
Everything confirmed.
Ma told truth.
Chinese linked with Korean traitor in Incheon; brought hunter to smash Gold Pack, clear land route for nuke truck.
"..."
I pondered.
Truth? No savior, no battlefield cred.
Self-chosen hermit, old-school hunter.
But not so irresponsible to ignore this disaster.
Not one or two lives.
Not thousands, tens of thousands.
Three million.
More or less, who knows.
Countless fates on me.
"Can you help?"
Heavy sigh over radio.
"...Follow you, I'd side with him, somehow."
No shock, no dismay.
Added one question.
"Were you a team?"
"Yeah."
I nodded.
Team? Can't be helped.
Even I'd hesitate.
Hated teammate under attack? Body reacts before brain—school drilled that.
That's us old-school hunters.
"Got it. Then solo..."
Bitter, resigning—
"SKELTON!"
Another voice boomed over radio.
"What're you doing?"
Darat's voice.
Bright, clashing with the mood.
Perplexed, groping words—she jumped in accusatory.
"Not using the summon scroll!"
"Summon scroll?"
"The one from your romance-failing dumb oppa?"
Right.
Forgot.
Defender's crude-drawn Defender summon scroll.
Black hole in memory.
But genuine vibe.
One rose-tints couldn't touch now.
Smile crept up; into radio:
"Summon scroll call."
Resigned chuckle over line.
Soon, truck rolled up, owner grinning.
"Defender, arriving."
Stared, absurd; blurted:
"...Kid?"
"Better than beatbox?"
Defender bumped fists.
Hesitant, but clash melted reluctance away.
"Let's go."