Chapter 191
Chapter 191
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 191
Chapter Title: 89. Forbidden Record (1)
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They say the wise can foresee the future.
Park Gyu, who predicted the downfall before the war and boldly built a bunker, might not be at sage level, but he could certainly count himself among the reasonably wise.
Now that the Legion faction has taken control of the capital region and I've reconnected with Kim Daram, let's predict what's in store for me. One possibility stands out clearly.
She probably won't kill me outright but will try to throw me into monster hunts instead.
Knowing my skills well, she'll likely assign me to the toughest, most dangerous missions.
To avoid that kind of doggy death, I left the National Crisis Committee and racked up multiple debts to carve out my own territory. I absolutely won't obey Kim Daram's orders.
To that end, I've spent the last few days thinking about how to smoothly refuse her demands.
Pretending to be sick is a time-honored excuse backed by history and tradition, but it comes with plenty of counters.
If I claim a herniated disc in my back keeps me from moving like I used to, Kim Daram would drag me to a military hospital for a CT scan.
Just stubbornly insisting I'm sick probably won't fly.
I considered mental health excuses too, like being unable to hunt due to psychological issues.
The best route would be cosplaying as a fanatic cultist.
Fanatics don't hunt monsters, after all.
From what I've heard, Mutations are somewhat cooperative with the cultists.
But pretending to be a cult member isn't easy.
For starters, I know nothing about their rituals or the language they use.
Plus, Kim Daram knows my personality too well—she'd never buy me spouting some insane religion that monsters are our friends.
So cultist cosplay isn't a wise choice.
I thought about panic disorder or PTSD appeals, but even if I went full method acting, I doubt it'd fool Kim Daram.
I glanced at the things hanging on the walls and scattered around the room.
Blackout sheets taped side by side, the coffee maker, the artificial fish tank with goldfish, the two-shot photo I printed myself of me and I Am Grozer's CEO, and the portrait overflowing with cartoonish approval drawn by Dajeong.
These are the traces announcing I'm still alive after the war.
And they give me strength.
The strength to live through today and tomorrow.
But people can't survive on hope alone.
I shifted my gaze slightly to the side.
There hung a cheap Chinese dagger as a trophy.
Kim Pilseong's dagger.
Every time I saw it, it dredged up betrayal and disappointment toward Kim Daram, but now it's different.
The moment I looked at that dagger, a brilliant flash of insight streaked through my mind.
I immediately fired up the boiler and prepped for a shower.
Shwaaa—
While the water heated, I dragged a full-length mirror in front of the shower stall, stripped down, and examined my body in the reflection.
Not out of narcissistic excitement at my own form.
I had a few purposes.
First up: a self-inspection of my body.
Sure enough, eating less has trimmed my muscle mass.
Sticking to solid protein blocks kept it to this level—if I'd skipped them because they tasted bad, my body would've withered away unpleasantly by now.
No other major issues.
Teeth are healthy, and hard-to-see spots like my back, the backs of my legs, and under my arms show no pathological signs.
Embarrassing as it is, I spread my legs a bit, bent over, and checked my anus too.
Not many non-fatal illnesses in the apocalypse, but anal issues are especially deadly given daily use and dense nerve clusters.
Anus checks out.
Everything else is fine.
The payoff for diligent health management.
Maintaining a body this pristine in the apocalypse is reward enough for my wisdom.
With physical stability confirmed, I moved to the next task.
This one was even more crucial.
I hunted for scars on my body.
Hunters like us pick up big and small wounds on the battlefield.
The battlefield itself is an extreme-stress environment rife with trauma risks, and the places we went were too dangerous even for Chinese authorities to handle.
Above all, scalping monsters means you can't avoid getting scratched.
Pre-war, barbers would spot bullet grazes on my scalp while cutting my hair and ask if I'd been scratched up.
I left mine as is, Lee Sanghun got a hair transplant, and Gong Kyungmin tattooed over his scars for flair.
But right now, scalping scars on my head aren't the point.
I'm looking for scars on my legs or waist—key areas for human mobility.
Mostly on the legs.
"Hm?"
Found a good one.
A scrape right in front of my knee.
Not from the battlefield.
I got it slipping on the slick floor coming out of a Chinese bathhouse.
Just a skin tear, minor stuff, but whatever was in the bath water—some mala spice crap, I think—left a deep scar.
"......"
A bit shallow, but the mark is dark.
This should work.
Yeah, let's say Kim Pilseong gave me this one.
*
When someone without legitimacy seizes power, one go-to tactic for the ruler is doling out favors to the people.
Like opening gladiator arenas and tossing bread in Rome, or the 3S policies of the Fifth Republic—diverting eyes from unpleasant politics with entertainment.
The Legion faction's new regime seems inspired by predecessors, rolling out similar policies.
And ironically, the entertainment they provided is stuff we know well.
Failnet has been resurrected.
More precisely, they seized the base stations the National Crisis Committee abandoned, restarted the wireless network, and as a result, Failnet friends showed up on our boards after a truly long hiatus.
But their invasion isn't what it used to be.
Compared to the old days when scrolling dozens of pages yielded nothing but Anons, their firepower has dropped by tens of times. Our board friends have thinned out too after enduring harsh times, so we just shrugged it off. Besides, Failnet folks don't have much time left.
I privately asked Ballantine about Failnet's lifespan.
It's really not long now.
Last gasp before death, they say.
A brief moment of clarity before the end.
Ballantine brought up something I hadn't asked.
Ballantine told the Legion their demands and gave away Failnet's server location—go dig it up yourselves. They can rebuild a second Failnet or shut it down, their call.
Just wishful thinking.
Our John_nenon will meet eternal death alongside his Failnet.
Anyway, thanks to Failnet, we reconnected with the Incheon line, which had gone dark.
Incheon's reorganized around three main shelters, with under a million survivors left. From over ten million matching Seoul's peak, down to less than a tenth in three years.
Like thirty kids in a classroom, only three survive.
The Legion plans to move that population back to Seoul.
The original reason the National Crisis Committee sent people to Incheon was a bogus lure about Jeju Island—now there's no way or reason to go.
They've also disclosed Jeju's reality to the public.
Exactly as I knew it.
Jeju's another hell.
Safer, higher quality of life, but corners untouched by humans spawn Capsules and Mutations, turning into demon caves.
Maybe blowback from Rifts resisting closure like they have a mind of their own?
Monsters lack reason, but Rifts having will is a long-standing hypothesis. Problem is, relocating to Seoul ain't easy.
Current Seoul status, via m9 who's living in one corner right now:
No one's moving to The Hope just 'cause m9 says so.
Recent visitor says a huge new crack appeared on the outer wall. Soon, maybe?
Anyway, the Legion's resolve to reclaim the capital—recognized by so-called "customary constitution"—seems firm.
Moving hundreds of thousands and setting up new bases ain't easy, yet they're pushing ambitiously.
Problem: this capital shift ties directly to my fate.
If Seoul's a monster-mutation expo, Kim Daram'll summon me for cleanup ops.
And sure enough, soon that loathsome signal blared.
Personal ID: DARAM2
"......What's up? Kim Daram."
People often say my voice is curt, flat emotionally.
Now I've dropped the tone two keys lower and ladled in gloom for flavor.
"Sunbae, heading to your bunker. You still living there?"
"......"
"Sunbae?"
"......Can't leave. Still here."
"You upset?"
"......Always like this. Since that day."
"I'm coming now, so come outside. Won't go in. No hobby of peeking at other people's toilets."
Moments later, vibrations rumbled.
Armored vehicles and more heading this way.
A military jeep pulled into my territory.
It stopped right in front of my main bunker.
Kim Daram hopped out of the armored car.
"?!"
A flicker of surprise hit me.
Kim Daram's missing an eye.
Eye patch on.
Deep claw marks scarred beneath.
"......"
I knew.
How tough it must've been for a National Crisis Committee alum like her to secure a spot in the Legion.
But knowing and seeing are different.
"Sunbae, long time no see."
"...Yeah."
Then another stepped out of the jeep.
Defender.
He spotted me and snuck a wink.
Looks like he hasn't told Kim Daram about our connection.
But here's the thing.
This throws off my calculations.
Still, old-school hunters like us don't stop for miscalculations.
I moved slowly.
Limping on one leg.
"?"
Defender tilted his head.
Keeping my gloomy expression, I limped toward Kim Daram.
"Sunbae?"
Kim Daram asked.
"What happened?"
"......That."
I desperately ignored Defender's quizzical stare stabbing from behind Kim Daram and answered flatly, forlornly.
"Kim Pilseong. He was no slouch."
Defender nodded at me with an "I get it" look.
My internet bro for sure.
Telepathy.
"Yeah?"
Meanwhile, Kim Daram wasn't all that shocked.
Makes sense.
To someone who's lived hell losing an eye, one bum leg won't tug much at the heartstrings.
"That's why you're depressed?"
"......"
"How've you been holding up? Kim Pilseong's been gone over a year."
Kim Daram stared straight at me.
"Knowing you, you couldn't just sit idle."
"......Me?"
"Yeah. You're surprisingly lonely, aren't you? All prickly about it."
"......"
Underestimated Kim Daram.
She basically teamed up with me before.
Team roster changed a lot, but core was always me and her.
Me up front, her supporting fire.
We must've killed countless monsters that way.
She knows me as well as I know her.
"Leg really hurt?"
"......Think I'm faking?"
"No, Jeon Sihoon."
Oh crap.
"Jeon Sihoon—wasn't that you?"
"......"
"Even if that thug boss Awakened, he couldn't handle an Annihilator-level without help. Far as I know, only you could solo it sans Awakening aid. So I figured you did it."
"......Did I say I was curious how you survived?"
Kim Daram's Kim Daram alright. Can't fool her with half-assed lies. No choice now but to show it.
"......I'll teach you."
Not "Professor."
"SKELTON."
End of <89. Forbidden Record (1)>