Chapter 211
Chapter 211
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 211
Chapter Title: 93. The Man from Jeju (4)
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It was night, and the full moon had risen.
The full moon cast a gloomy light over the grayish pallor that shrouded the city.
The sight made it seem as if the entire world was diseased.
It felt fundamentally different from human pollution.
There was a malice from beyond, intent on dismantling the whole world we knew.
The honeycomb-structured building looked like a wall at first glance, but according to the blueprints I'd obtained, the hexagonal walls forming the honeycomb contained communal housing for numerous people.
The structure was essentially an apartment block without windows, and true to the lack of regard for privacy in that country, it featured shared essential facilities like bathrooms, laundry rooms, and kitchens.
Each floor's dining hall could seat about fifty people at once, in the same position as the one in my Hyukmyeong-dong and Jeong Ho-kyung's Moran-dong.
So it didn't take long to find the dining hall.
Clinking cutlery sounds echoed from inside the communal dining hall.
They're eating.
I charged straight in.
Dozens of students sat shoulder-to-shoulder along long rectangular tables on either side, eating from stainless steel trays.
As some turned to look at me, I checked their trays.
"......"
Lumps of flour dough.
Exactly the same as what the kids in Hyukmyeong-dong ate.
So Hong Jong-beom was telling the truth.
I froze for a moment, stunned by the result that was so far from what I'd expected.
Movement caught my eye in the distance.
Someone was waving.
It was Jeong Ho-kyung.
"Oh, Park Gyu!"
The moment I heard his voice, the tension drained from me, and I snapped my head toward him, greedily scanning his tray with my eyes.
"......"
The words "miscalculation" flashed clearly in my mind.
Something I rarely encountered in real life, though it happened often online.
On Hong Jong-beom's tray lay the same twisted lump of flour dough as the kids', a failed creation in every sense, sitting there plain without any seasoning.
Jeong Ho-kyung kept chomping away at it relentlessly while waving me over.
This confirmed it.
Jeong Ho-kyung ate the same crude meals as the kids.
A meal this Park Gyu could never accept.
"Have you eaten?"
I shook my head and walked over to him.
He gestured for me to follow him somewhere else.
We climbed the stairs to the rooftop together.
Under the full moon's glow in the night sky, the bleak harbor scenery enveloped us.
He put a cigarette in his mouth and offered me one.
I waved it off and casually asked,
"We brought food supplies—what happened to them?"
As far as I remembered, there were crude crackers, multiple cans, and several sacks of rice.
I wasn't sure about flour, but there was no reason to serve such meager meals if they had that.
"Those are for special meals,"
Jeong Ho-kyung said as he lit his cigarette.
"Special meals?"
"Yes. We distribute them the day after lighting the beacon."
"Lighting the beacon means......"
"Yeah. Luring monsters in. Not sure if it'll happen while you're here, Park Gyu, but it's quite the spectacle."
With that, Jeong Ho-kyung snorted white smoke from his nose and grinned.
His half-lidded eyes, like those of a drunk, stared out at the myriad stars and the moonlit sea beyond.
After gazing at the sea for a while, Jeong Ho-kyung spoke again.
"Do you think this is an exile camp, Park Gyu?"
A sudden question.
"Does this lighthouse look like a sacrificial altar where abandoned kids are just killing time until they die?"
The question was abrupt, and the topic heavier than the image I'd had of this man, so I stared at him silently without responding.
Jeong Ho-kyung gazed down at the gray harbor below with a faint smile.
"Absolutely not. No way. Right now, we're painting the picture of the future here. We're at a historic site that will be talked about forever."
I had no way of knowing what he was trying to do or what he was thinking.
One thing was clear.
"This is just between us, but I've never failed once in my life."
Jeong Ho-kyung was utterly convinced of his own success.
I didn't ask what kind of success he meant.
No point—he wouldn't tell me even if I asked.
*
It had been three days since I arrived at Gaeseong Lighthouse.
An unknown ID called on the K-walkie-talkie.
Personal ID: LAB-0072
When I answered, Lightning's voice came through.
"How have you been?"
"Fine. Doing well."
"How is it there?"
"Livably, except no internet."
"The supplies from Jeju haven't arrived yet. Might have to wait a bit."
"Supplies from Jeju Island?"
"Yes."
That didn't match what Woo Min-hee had told me.
Pretending ignorance, I continued,
"No airport there."
"We drop them by parachute from the air. Hard to find, though."
"Legion won't just let that happen?"
"They don't want monsters dropping in either."
"Got it."
"Hey."
As I went to end the call, Lightning suddenly spoke up.
"Have you seen a kid named Jong-hyuk there by any chance? Ri Jong-hyuk. Seventeen years old, from Pyongyang's Ryomyong Street New Town."
Family, maybe.
Or a close acquaintance.
Whoever it was, someone precious.
Enough to ask a near-stranger like me.
"I'll look around."
"Thanks."
Even over the radio, Lightning's voice brimmed with a vitality I hadn't heard before.
For breakfast, we got a soup made from a few potatoes and skim milk powder mixed with hot water and unidentified grain powder.
Relations with the kids remained awkward.
I kept my distance, but they didn't approach much either.
It was recent that they'd even acknowledged my spot in the corner of the dining hall.
Still, after a few days, I could sense the difference between Hyukmyeong-dong and Moran-dong.
Hyukmyeong-dong housed North Korean kids, while Moran-dong had South Korean ones.
Same ethnicity, same language, but separated due to circumstances more alien than living abroad.
Cruel, but unavoidable.
Kids bully over the tiniest differences.
Even same-neighborhood kids call renters "trash"—imagine if from different countries.
In fact, the kids here didn't like me much, but when I pulled out my phone, they swarmed like bees.
"That's an American phone, right?"
Even a kid who'd never spoken to me before asked.
"Yeah, American-made. Well, actually from China."
"Can I touch it?"
"Sure."
I tossed the phone over and watched them play, then recalled the morning call and asked,
"Anyone here know a Ri Jong-hyuk? Seventeen, from Ryomyong Street."
"Ri Jong-hyuk?"
The kids exchanged glances.
All seemed to be hearing the name for the first time.
One older girl had info.
"Ri Jong-hyuk?"
But her expression wasn't friendly.
"Sounds like Ri Gwan-ju's son. That bastard's kid wouldn't survive here."
"Did he commit a crime?"
"His dad did. Threw gas bombs and machine-gunned escapees to the South—sent thousands to the afterlife. My uncle died then too."
After breakfast, I returned to work.
Hong Jong-beom, absent from breakfast, showed up at the workshop like he'd heard and handed me something.
It was a can.
But a pet food can.
"......"
"Won't eat it?"
"How do you even eat this?"
"Give it to me then."
He looked disappointed at my rejection of his rare kindness.
Not wanting the awkward vibe, and tired of the horrific facility food, I pulled out a hidden chocolate bar.
"Th-this?!"
I broke it in half and gave him one piece.
"Y-you still have stuff like this?!"
"The prepared always have plenty."
"Amazing! Teacher Park!"
Teacher Park?
Ridiculous nickname.
But better than "old man," I guess.
Thinking that, I asked Hong Jong-beom,
"You know a Ri Jong-hyuk?"
"Ri Jong-hyuk?"
"Seventeen, from Ryomyong Street."
"No kid I know."
Hong Jong-beom said nonchalantly.
"Okay."
"Why are you looking for Ri Jong-hyuk?"
"Someone I know asked me to check on him."
Hong Jong-beom chewed the chocolate.
"Wow, this is really good!"
He savored it, expressing delight with his whole body.
That good?
Crunch.
Edible, but the stale taste was inevitable.
Still better than the bland facility slop or dog food cans.
And this damn facility even had livestock.
"Over there. That's the pasture."
Hong Jong-beom pointed to a honeycomb cell visible from atop the wall.
The pasture I'd passed several times.
Sure enough, a herd of dairy cows grazed leisurely.
But they were in poor shape.
Most had ribs showing, and one lay dead on its back, bloated like a balloon.
Just grazing in limited space wasn't enough nutrition.
But why it was abandoned was obvious.
"......That's a Beetle type."
A monster in the pasture.
Beetle type. Small breed.
One of the early monsters, now rare on frontlines.
True to its origins, combat power was inferior to peers, but reports said capsules appeared nearby with high probability.
And sure enough, capsules were there.
About five.
The spherical gray masses dominated part of the pasture like grotesque tumors.
Hong Jong-beom looked down at the monster with a gloomy tone.
"......After that appeared, Jeong Ho-kyung banned entry."
So that's why he whined to Lightning.
Monster in food zone, help us.
Why not clear it himself?
Beetle type was inferior except for its reflex field—barely different from otherworldlings.
Even if it were a Dancer type or medium breed, these Awakener kids could crush it with numbers.
Given the dire food situation—dog food as "special"—securing milk cows was urgent.
*
"No."
Jeong Ho-kyung turned serious.
I hadn't criticized or complained.
All I'd said was to reclaim the pasture.
"Do you know how precious each kid here is? Losing even one could cripple this lighthouse. We don't fully know how many Awakeners are needed for it to function properly."
"Better than going mad eating flour dough."
"Meals look meager but are nutritionally balanced. We do specials on holidays too. Appreciate the thought, but operations here aren't your concern."
"I'll help."
This Park Gyu volunteering service was rare.
Ties with Hong Jong-beom and kids, and wanting better for those sacrificing to protect Seoul.
Plus, Woo Min-hee said Jeong Ho-kyung was an Over Level 5 Awakener.
Limited combat experience, but academy-trained meant basic skills.
With him, we could clear every monster here—even overtime.
That's why I offered.
But the hand I extended.
"No."
Jeong Ho-kyung rejected it without hesitation.
I glared silently; he met my gaze.
"I know you were in China, fought monsters multiple times."
Finally pretending to know.
"But academia doesn't call that monster hunting. It's human sacrifice—trading lives for monsters."
"......Denying our era?"
"That's the global standard. Trained in the revised curriculum, that's all I can say."
"Fine, I'll do it alone."
One monster, five capsules.
A bit tedious, but doable.
As I turned to leave,
"No!"
Jeong Ho-kyung shouted firmly.
"Why?"
I stared straight at him.
He wasn't angry or excited.
But my past self overlapped slightly with the current me.
"......"
I sensed it.
From the days when humans and monsters felt little different.
"It's just."
Jeong Ho-kyung averted his eyes.
He clenched his molars; he seemed angry too but held it back.
Instead, he offered lame excuses, eyes elsewhere.
"You're a guest here. Can't assign dangerous tasks to guests—that's on me as manager. And if anything happens to you, how do I face Director Woo?"
"......"
"Honestly, Director Woo scares me......"
Yeah, his fear of Woo Min-hee seemed genuine.
His whole body shivered mentioning her.
I left without a word.
Walking the hall, I heard a fist slam the wall.
Then,
"Ah...... Ugh......"
That hurts.
Concrete, not plywood.
I didn't know why he lashed out at me, but I had a hunch.
Inferiority complex, maybe?
A high-ranking Jeju official, never-failed, feeling inferior to an end-timer like me? Semantically off, but that's how I took it.
Anyway.
"Jong-beom."
"Yes, Teacher Park."
"Can you open the pasture door?"
I'm pretty stubborn.