Chapter 204
Chapter 204
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 204
Chapter Title: 91. Breakdown (2)
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Her movements were odd.
Even though she was dressed as a soldier, there was no confidence in her steps, and her stiff expression betrayed clear fear.
The way she kept glancing back over her shoulder was enough to fuel my suspicions.
She might be bait.
In these sudden standoff situations, tossing in someone expendable to gather intel on the enemy was a common sight in China.
Her rather unremarkable appearance lent a bit of credence to my theory.
Ignore the woman.
Assume she's just another drone.
One drone was already hovering overhead.
Probably keeping watch to see if anyone tried to slip out from this factory.
That meant the enemy wasn't just this lone woman.
I stayed quietly by the third-floor window, waiting for her to approach.
As she entered the factory, a muttering sound drifted up.
The language wasn't entirely clear, but it sounded more like Korean than Chinese.
My hunch solidified as she drew closer.
"There's no one here. Nobody at all. I swear."
A terrified, slurred voice, choked with sobs, echoed up the stairs across the vast empty factory floor.
Squeak—
The sound of her climbing the stairs.
I'd quietly piled chairs and heavy objects in front of the only entrance door.
Stacking them soundlessly.
Then I returned to my observation point and kept watching her hiding spot through the mirror's reflection.
Squeak—
The woman reached the third floor.
There was only one office up here—a combined reception room and manager's office.
Soon, she knocked on the door.
"The door... the door's shut."
She spoke again.
"It won't... open. Something's blocking it. Huh? No way? It really won't open! Come see for yourself. What am I supposed to do? I can't do it alone."
Her voice rose higher, laced with injustice, on the verge of outright tears.
Someone was forcing her to do this.
I didn't know who yet, but I'd find out soon enough.
"No! Look, can you hear that? I'm trying my best!"
I glared at the mirror while listening to her breaking voice.
Something glinted.
"......Hoo."
I took a shallow breath, held it, and switched my rifle to single-shot mode.
Something appeared at the window.
A person.
Man or woman, I couldn't tell—but the target was in sight.
I simulated their position in my mind, broke cover, and aimed my rifle right there.
In that split second, the figure in the window froze.
My gun spat fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Two rounds hit.
The first pierced the shoulder; the second likely tore through the throat or some other vital spot.
The follow-up shots were pointless.
I shoved aside the barricade I'd built and flung the door open.
"Kyaaaaack!"
The woman's face appeared as she tried to force the door.
Late thirties. Or maybe younger—who knew.
Hardship etches more years into the face than time alone.
Definitely older than me.
I aimed my rifle at her as I thought that.
"Hands up."
She was out of it.
I fired into the floor to snap her back to reality.
Only then did she grasp the situation and beg for her life.
"P-Please, spare me!"
She wore a Chinese army uniform but wasn't Chinese or a soldier.
Civilian.
I pressed the gun to her forehead and asked calmly.
"I just killed one. How many more? Answer me. You've got ten seconds."
I raised the rifle butt threateningly, as if ready to smash her.
Establishing dominance and making clear I could harm her was essential in battlefield interrogations.
But.
"What?!"
She reacted unexpectedly.
"He's dead?! Huh?! Dead?! That bastard?!"
Joy.
I had no idea what was going on, but she was thrilled from the depths of her heart.
"That fucker! Piece of shit! Deserves to rot in hell!"
She muttered in uncontrollable ecstasy, looking a bit unhinged.
"Come here! This way!"
She led me to where the sniper had been.
"Total bastard, right? Sold us out to the Chinese army!"
From her rambling, I pieced together that civilians had remained in this industrial complex, including her and several others, and the sniper had been oppressing them.
"Krrgh..."
When I arrived, the man was still alive.
The bullet had gone through his larynx, lodging in his trachea.
Fatal wounds, but horrifically, he clung to life.
Not for long.
As I appeared, he rolled his bloodshot eyes toward me, trying to speak.
But only bloody froth bubbled from his ruined throat.
I scanned the surroundings.
Two women tending to him, three more standing awkwardly and watching.
Unlike the uniformed woman, these were all in their twenties.
Ages varied from early to late twenties; heavy makeup, revealing, flimsy clothes—not practical.
The vibe was decadent, to put it mildly—not fitting for this world.
Chinese goods hanging everywhere, signs in Chinese, army gear, and her testimony—it wasn't hard to figure out what this shady factory was.
I asked the uniformed woman while eyeing the dying man.
"What is this place?"
She hesitated, so one of the young women watching, arms crossed, snapped curtly.
"Can't you tell? Why ask when you know?"
They were probably prostitutes.
Catering to the Chinese army.
Nothing else explained surviving two brutal winters with this unproductive group.
The man I'd killed was likely their pimp.
"We got caught by gangsters."
The uniformed woman's name was Kim Mi-young.
Still wearing fear and excitement on her face, she asked permission and pulled out a long pipe, stuffing it with something and lighting up.
Only then did I notice the back of the factory.
Beautiful red flowers bloomed everywhere.
I asked while looking at them.
"How many of you?"
"Five."
A red glow flickered at the pipe's end.
She puffed foul-smelling smoke, stared into space, and smirked.
"He acted like a nice guy at first. Then one day he snapped, turned beastly. There was another man in our group—he killed them first to show his true colors."
Groups bound by chance, without blood ties or deep bonds, always risk fracturing.
Those fractures rarely end cleanly.
Usually stained with violence, threats, murder—the losers enslaved to the victors.
Common tale in this world.
The notable part: they'd tied up with the Chinese army, and the other women looked cold hearing it.
"That disgusting bitch."
One even voiced her displeasure openly.
Kim Mi-young continued undeterred.
"They sold the women to the Chinese. Pushed prostitution on the patrolling soldiers."
"Do Chinese troops patrol around here often?"
"Yes. They come a lot. Bring us stuff."
She flapped the hem of her uniform.
"Where are the rest? You said five."
"All dead."
She gave a wry smile and glanced at the factory.
"One last winter, two killed each other fighting, one got his throat slit picking a fight with a Chinese guy."
"Throat slit?"
"Dunno. Not in uniform, huge sword? Something like... guan dao? Sliced his head clean off in one swing."
That reminded me of China's strongest hunter group.
China rejected international hunter standards, making their own.
Colors: white, green, blue, yellow, red. Five tiers.
The top red rank equated to global S-class—only five out of thousands monthly Chinese hunters achieved it.
They reverently called them the Five Dragon Gates.
One wielded a unique, inefficient cold weapon resembling the Green Dragon Crescent Blade.
"......So the only one left was the guy I killed?"
Maybe he'd killed Gold's mate and drove off the pack.
"Yeah. He spoke the best Chinese, sucked up best to the army. Best fighter, best shot too."
Kim Mi-young stared at me.
That look gave me a bad feeling—I was getting dragged into trouble.
"Save us."
*
Vrrr—
The new young organ I'd transplanted from the industrial park—my heart—pumped stronger than before, as if making up for lost rest, spreading light and vitality through my domain.
I smiled at the rapidly charging batteries and headed to the first floor.
The once-dark bunker brimmed with light; AC and heater ran simultaneously, mercilessly purging the stale dampness.
Operation success.
But perfect? Eh.
Bottom line: the women stayed in the factory.
"Where we gonna go out there?"
"What do we ride? Got cars?"
"What if the Chinese chase us? Who's responsible if we die?"
"He was a shithead, but damn good at blocking those Chinese bastards."
"West? Where those huge dogs are?"
"Can't you just handle it for us, mister?"
They refused to leave.
Many reasons, but one clear: the young women hated Kim Mi-young.
"Auntie said it herself! Nothing good out there."
"Wasn't it you who said sell our bodies to the Chinese and scrape by?"
"You who dragged us to their base."
"Why? Can't hack being the pimp's maid?"
"Where'd you bring this guy? New pillar man?"
Kim Mi-young's rep was worse than the dying pimp's.
Amid endless sharp barbs, she lit her pipe.
"Can't even keep your own body safe."
One spat contemptuously and turned away; the others followed.
"......"
I left her frozen in white smoke.
Grabbed one woman's shoulder as they left.
"What? Huh? What? Wanna go once?"
The still-agitated woman snapped.
I fired into the air.
"All of you, into that room."
Gunshots shut most mouths.
After they filed in, I locked the door and asked.
"Chinese army. When do they come? Truth. Lie, and I burn it down. Show up at a different time? Burn it anyway."
No plans to burn or kill, but my safety first.
With enemies cleared, I searched the factory faster, finding the parts I wanted.
Before leaving, I passed the red garden.
Kim Mi-young stood in the center.
She stood dazed amid the profusion of red flowers.
I ignored her, freed the women.
Even unlocked, they wouldn't leave the room.
I headed to where the man lay.
He was dead, eyes wide.
I glanced indifferently at the corpse, then elsewhere.
Drone controller.
Familiar—Chinese army integrated drone rig.
Military-grade: jam-resistant, reliable.
High failure rate rumored, but if he'd used it this long, not faulty.
Took the controller with parts, his gun and ammo too.
HUD showed the drone still over the factory.
Perfect drone set acquired.
Up to the roof, scoped the Chinese outpost.
Something'd grown.
More barracks; pier-like structure on the coast.
Black mass afloat offshore.
Nuclear sub.
The one that rained death on Korea repeatedly.
For some reason, massive claw marks and dents scarred its side.
"......"
No way.
Nah.
No mutations in the sea.
Or... couldn't rule it out.
Back to the garden before leaving.
Planned to take Kim Mi-young.
She wasn't welcome here anymore.
Not taking responsibility for her life, but dropping her in Incheon or Seoul gave a shot at a second chance.
She stood ghost-like in the center, face vacant.
"Hey."
I called.
No response.
"Come with me. I'll get you to Seoul."
War twisted lives, but by my childhood standards, she'd been a schoolgirl dreaming of the future.
Sister-age, basically.
"Things have stabilized since the Legion faction took power. They provide food, housing, jobs—not comfy, but livable."
But she glared sharply.
"......Can't you keep me?"
"Huh?"
"Hate being alone. No guts to go elsewhere. So keep me with you?"
"All I can do is drop you in a safe zone."
"C'mon, you're alone too, right? I'll do anything you want. Please?"
"No."
I shoved her off firmly.
"Why?"
Her pissed-off face told me conversation was pointless.
I turned away.
A red flower caught my eye amid the blur.
Plucked it absentmindedly, headed to the motorcycle.
Pathetic laugh echoed behind.
Vrrr—
Recovered the drone, started the bike.
No Chinese; no sign of them coming.
Packed loot neatly, headed home.
Last look at the cloudless industrial park under blue sky.
Sudden thought.
Not just my generator was broken.
Hearts break sometimes too.
Not just the left-behind.
Maybe ours broke long ago.
*