Chapter 155
Chapter 155
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 155
Chapter Title: 75. Lovers (2)
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Since Cain murdered Abel, few acts have sparked as much conflicting opinion and debate as killing another human being.
In particular, when it comes to groups who have no choice but to kill—soldiers, police, executioners, and the like—there's enough argument and theory to fill entire books.
For us old-school hunters, we handled it by relegating murder to a secondary category.
Just as Diderot rendered the divine meaningless by placing entries on God under natural sciences in the Encyclopedia, we didn't confront the topic of killing head-on.
Instead, we classified it merely as one auxiliary action among those accompanying operations.
The code we learned in school doesn't affirm killing in any provision.
Searching my memory, there was one clause allowing the exclusion of those who interfere with mission execution through hostile acts while eliminating monsters,
and another stating that hunters have a duty to defend themselves against those attacking them during a mission. Those were about the only justifications we had for killing people.
As is always the case with laws, the implications of the unspoken gaps are just as significant as the explicit wording.
As far as I know—and I believe I understand it correctly—there are no provisions punishing murder or imposing penalties for it.
Of course, killings driven by personal motives, rather than unavoidable ones during missions, would be punished under Chinese or Korean law, not our regulations.
One thing's for certain: we had no qualms about killing people.
Strictly speaking, it didn't require deep judgment.
The judgment happened only once.
Is that person blocking us from dealing with the monsters we're currently facing an enemy or not?
There was a condition about hostile acts, but in real situations, it was largely ignored. Even signs of hostility triggered immediate neutralization.
The Chinese military, who were usually with us, handled most of that neutralization, but if it was urgent or their forces were insufficient, we helped eliminate those secondary targets. No room for doubt there.
Anyone interfering with us hunters battling monsters—humanity's enemies—was no different from a monster themselves.
Though it's been a long time since I took off the uniform, my eyes, still shaped by that mindset, see the man and woman babbling in front of me as enemies.
They've bragged openly about killing people, and as raider gang members, they've actually slaughtered countless others in horrific ways.
In this world now, that's more than enough to deem someone an enemy.
The one odd thing is the overly transparent attitude of this kid, at least ten years younger than me.
Is he thoughtless? Or is his judgment clouded from too many drugs?
He stuck rigidly to his own perspective, rambling only about himself.
His intellectual level didn't even approach average, not even with flattery.
Forget his impoverished vocabulary; the level of language he used hadn't evolved a bit since he first faced the war.
"We're going to Incheon. Gonna find my parents there, and if they're gone, I'll bust my ass doing day labor or whatever. I'm sick of it now. Killing people, stealing their stuff, scaring them..."
He seemed to finally feel the pain from the frostbitten scar at the tip of his nose, grimacing as he pointed it out to his girlfriend. She glanced at me more than he did, but her mental age didn't seem much different from his.
"Hahaha! Look at Kyungjin's face! He looks like a retard."
Just moments ago, she was on the brink of death, yet here she was, laughing so frivolously it echoed through the whole container.
"Can we crash here just one night? And you got any spare fuel?"
The man asked me boldly, looking straight at me.
He only used polite speech when he needed something—that seemed to be his style. It was absurd.
But I wouldn't kill them here.
Dummy house or not, I hated the idea of blood splattering and corpses piling up.
"Let's get the story straight. Which gang were you with? How'd you end up here? Where'd you get the snowmobile?"
I delayed his answer, steering toward what I wanted to hear.
"Sejong City."
"Sejong City?"
That place got nuked.
Twice in a row, no less, and to top it off, biochemical weapons rained down.
Seoul got hit too, but compared to the focused barrage on Sejong, it felt almost emotional.
China's assault on Sejong was pure strategic bombing, unleashing enough firepower to wipe the entire city off the map.
All the wartime institutions and top officials were concentrated there, after all.
The reason the government couldn't manage the situation for so long after the war started was because countless bureaucrats died in that attack.
I don't know the exact details, but they say tactical missiles—bunker busters designed to pierce even air raid shelters—were mixed in with the nukes.
The result? Sejong City became a city of death, nothing left.
The heart of Korea was utterly shattered.
"I thought there was nothing there."
"Nah. When I first went, there were still plenty of people living. The neighborhood was a shitshow, but underground it was solid—huge bunkers, electricity, hot water."
"And a gang lives there?"
The man nodded.
"King's the boss there."
"King?"
"Gang leader. Nobody knows his real name."
The woman beside him added coldly.
"A total disgusting pervert. He only picks pretty girls with good bodies, keeps them in his house. Does all kinds of gross shit. Then when he gets bored or they don't suit him, tosses them to his underlings."
"How many are there?"
"I can answer that."
The man eyed me.
"Feels like I'm just answering questions. Got fuel? Haven't heard that yet."
"I can give you half a gallon of synthetic fuel."
"What's a gallon?"
"Half a can."
"What? Using fancy words."
The man pulled something from his pocket.
Jerky.
I didn't know what meat it was, but it wasn't pre-war stuff.
The fishy, rotten stench was enough to get it banned under pre-war food hygiene laws.
He tore off half and handed it to the woman.
Chewing the jerky sloppily, he grinned.
3,000.
"For real?"
Practically an army.
"Not all raiders. Lots of captives from elsewhere."
"Slaves,"
the woman added.
"Yeah. Slaves, grunts like us, drugged-out crazies as many as us, scary soldier-types, everything except what's missing.
Helicopters, tanks. Even using Chinese mercs."
Listening made me think of one forum user I'd briefly forgotten.
CrunchRoll, was it?
The guy with bikini-clad women at his side, soliciting in front of I'm the Just.
Probably him.
Considering how physically improbable building a harem like that is in this world.
"So you escaped from there?"
"Not escaped exactly—I joined the raid. Got assigned to the assault team. But the boss had a lot of enemies."
The man recalled with a bitter smile.
"Just betrayed them."
"Betrayed?"
"Happens all the time. Place full of shitheads from the start. If you think you can escape King, you bolt. Most get caught and turned into pig feed, though."
After that, it matched what I knew.
They rampaged through the frozen wastes on snow vehicles and snowmobiles prepped for winter raids, killing and looting everything in sight.
Then they met DSRA.
"No warning at all. Nothing. Just a tiny village with some smoke. We thought everyone was asleep, charged in excited. Then suddenly a whistle? Like a horn blast, flash of fire, and our vehicle flips.
Gunfire everywhere after. What could we do? Fucked. Grabbing my girl and running was a miracle."
As expected, a perfect ambush—not even a chance to fire back. Virtual wipeout.
The flip was probably a shot to the undercarriage, not a direct hit.
They had the luxury to aim for captures, not annihilation.
Makes sense—shaped charge warheads like that wouldn't leave many survivors inside.
I'd heard everything I wanted.
That's when I pulled my gun to march them outside.
"You're gonna kill us, right?"
The man stared at me blankly.
I met his gaze silently.
"Felt a chill from the first look."
"Why think that?"
"What? Your face? Kinda like that. Similar to King. Looks normal, but doesn't feel human."
Whatever else, he had good instincts.
To survive from his teens in raider packs till now, he'd need some talent.
"Then why come here? Could've run midway."
"With guns on us? No fuel either. Stepping out means freezing to death."
"How would you kill me?"
He gave a bitter smile, shaking his head.
"Decided not to do that shit anymore."
"Get up."
I aimed my guns at both.
No need for many words.
The subtle, grating click of the safety was explanation enough.
The woman muttered curses at me, but I ignored it.
They had no weapons anyway.
And fists aren't weapons against an armed man.
I herded them out of the container box.
Opening the door let the brutal wind rush in.
The woman huddled; the man spun quickly.
Click.
I pressed the muzzle to his forehead, signaling to move.
"Please."
The man suddenly bowed his head.
"Kill me if you want. But my girlfriend... spare Mijin?"
"What the hell?"
The woman beside him yelped in shock and fury, but he ignored her, head slightly lowered, staring intensely as he continued.
"Keep her. Looks like you live alone. Not super pretty, but cute, right? Might seem young to you."
"..."
"I've killed plenty, always thought a day like this would come. Today's it. Just kill me—no grudges."
I looked at his face.
Calm.
Not without regret, but at his relatively young age, he accepted his fate.
The woman screamed beside him, trying to change his mind.
"What are you saying? We live together! You want me with this old guy? You're crazy?"
To his girlfriend's wails, he gave a wretched laugh, caressing her face.
"Just live. Saw it myself—living's better. Even slave aunties in that chaos are thriving now. They're right. Gotta stay in this world for anything. Think of me now and then."
"Kyungjin..."
I watched the embracing lovers silently until they noticed me and turned, then spoke.
"Both of you, strip off your upper clothes and walk east."
"Both? What about my girlfriend?"
For the first time, the man's face turned fierce.
His youthful features suddenly radiated raider menace.
Probably the face he'd worn killing so many.
We don't make many judgments when killing people.
Enemy interfering with the mission or not.
Simple yes or no suffices.
"Can't spare the girlfriend?"
The raider-faced man seemed about to lunge, then buried his face in the snow.
He was bowing to me.
"Please, please. Just spare Mijin."
Pleading desperately, a voice I'd never heard from him.
People begging doesn't change my mind.
Once tagged enemy, it's just a target for elimination, not conversation.
How many comrades died to fleeting whims?
To avoid repeating mistakes, ruthlessness—call it heartlessness—is key.
I could pull the trigger anytime.
But,
"Because of the kid?"
I asked.
A question not in my plans.
The me from seven years ago wouldn't have asked.
The man shook his head.
Face down, he murmured with a laughing expression.
"Don't even know whose it is. Told you, shithole neighborhood."
He looked up at me.
Begging for mercy—mercy not his own.
I looked at the woman.
But she showed no sign of accepting that mercy.
Ignoring me, she pulled the prostrated man up, slapped him hard enough to echo, then kissed him.
"...Hah."
My resolve cooled.
"Get out of here."
The lovers, spared from death, scrambled to their snowmobile.
Following, I heard.
"Where to?"
"Told you. Incheon."
"Gonna keep killing there?"
"Nah. Unless I have to. But who knows. Won't join thug gangs anymore. You seem ex-military—you get it? Things you can't do alone become nothing when you're in a group?"
"......"
For a brief moment, I empathized with this kid.
I raised my muzzle and stepped back.
The man mounted the snowmobile; the woman hopped on behind, glancing warily.
Soon, with a roar, it kicked up snow and left my territory.
Not over yet.
I didn't let them go for nothing.
Calculation involved.
Their snowmobile was nearly out of fuel, and I'd siphoned what little remained while they brought food. Exiting here means running dry soon, freezing in -22°C.
But temps rose a bit.
-18°C.
Same shit, different degree.
Still, the sunlight felt a touch warmer.
Eyes closed, I felt the sun on the white expanse through my lids, listening to the engine fade. It stopped soon after.
Fuel out, finally.
I watched what they'd do.
Expected outcome: one.
Scrounge weapons somehow, attack me.
Kill me to secure survival.
In crumbling times, humans aren't much different from beasts.
"?"
What unfolded was unexpected.
The young lovers who'd lived by killing didn't turn toward my territory.
Leaning on each other, they trudged into the snowy plain where blizzards occasionally whipped.
Laughing clearly, audible from afar,
Vroom—
I appeared before the couple wandering the snowfield on their motorcycle.
They stared at me.
I tossed a can of synthetic fuel at their feet.
Bundle with hand warmers and some food too.
"Wh-what? Suddenly?"
"Incheon's that way. If snow buries roads, use signs and abandoned cars. New sign at the Incheon turnoff."
"Why the sudden change?"
I looked at the woman, who'd bristled at me throughout.
Not beautiful, but definitely cute in ways.
Told her.
"She's got a kid."
I watched them depart.
The snowmobile, fueled by life's blood, bounded lighter and swifter across the plain, vanishing from sight.
Leaving their youthful laughter scattering, I turned toward the bunker.
Am I getting old?
Or did wearing the armband briefly instill some generosity?
Dunno.
Just hope this whim—or senility—doesn't bite me back.
Three years and three months since the war began.
Days are warming.