Chapter 219
Chapter 219
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 219
Chapter Title: 95. Signs (1)
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June 1st.
Three omens appeared all at once.
The first came over the K-Walkie-Talkie.
The second omen hit the internet.
Viva Bot dropped a bombshell.
It meant no content on our board had moved her—no global heartstring-tugger.
My pet project had been delayed for some reason, and in that short window, all my effort went down the drain.
The third omen struck in Seoul.
Personally, this one felt like the most classic kind of omen out of the three.
A massive crack, visible even from 2km away, split the Hope Tower—K-Pisa, where our captain m9 lives—in The Hope complex.
The fissure ran from the building's base up near the roof, zigzagging like reverse lightning across the side.
Everyone who saw it said the same thing.
Finally, that eyesore apartment's coming down.
I don't think m9's all that great, but that comment had some weight.
Like he said, if The Hope falls, South Korea's future might end right there.
I'm usually neutral for my own sanity, but here I am spouting negativity—because spring's ending.
Some say spring lasts till June; others say June's summer.
A user I peg as Kang Han-min or Na Hye-in said change was coming with spring.
I'd heard similar hopes at the lighthouse.
That spring's fading.
Or maybe it's already gone.
Not quite an omen, but another stroke of bad luck:
Dongtanmom dropped her facade.
Her message to us? Just more failure and misfortune everywhere.
And personally, bad luck hit me too.
Some of my rice seedlings turned white.
Farming books say it's white blight.
Caused by contaminated water—but I can't spot any issues in the irrigation canal.
No bacteriology knowledge, no tests, no gear. All I've got is smell and clarity to judge water quality.
As all this crap piles up, the crowning event arrived.
Crackle—
The radio buzzed.
Thinking it was Woo Min-hee, I grabbed it hastily—only to realize it was my junior, the one I'd been trying to forget.
"Yeah. Daram. What's up?"
I answered casually, like nothing happened.
"Sunbae."
Kim Daram called me in a low voice.
"Yeah."
I swallowed quietly.
What’s this kid gonna say?
Ranting about that Bittick lady?
On that, I'd dodge till my dying breath.
Not bragging, but my deflections are solid.
As I steeled myself, she blurted:
"You still got the Golden Fleece?"
"Golden Fleece...?"
Totally out of left field—I trailed off.
"That badge. The one from your active days."
"Oh, that."
"You didn't sell it, right?"
"Why would I sell it? Of course I've got it."
Not a treasure, but the Golden Fleece badge proves I lived, fought hard in my turf.
One thing I'd take to the grave.
One bad-end scenario I imagined early on: near death, I'd don my vinyl-wrapped dress uniform from the cabinet, pin on the Fleece, and go out.
Even if my face rots, room crawls with maggots, someday someone finds my bunker, sees my corpse, knows it was Professor, the legendary hunter.
But why's Kim Daram asking about my Golden Fleece?
"You need to attend an event."
"Event?"
"You know Memorial Day's soon? Director Kim Byung-chul's hosting at the National Assembly."
Right, that.
For that event, Kim Daram and I teamed up after ages, cleared parts of Seoul.
But I hate events.
What difference does one guy like me make?
Ten years ago, maybe. But no Awakening now, and propping up an old-school hunter like me won't light up the Assembly.
They already got plenty from Incheon.
My doubts chained—till her next words shut them down.
"They're negotiating a ceasefire with China that day."
"What? Aren't they done for?"
"Remnants in Dangjin, right?"
"Yeah. But ceasefire with that handful?"
Meaningful?
I don't know Chinese constitution well, but a stranded unit after failed offense representing the country? Doubt it.
"Show for the cameras. Plus, unlike us, they still respect hunters. Everyone knows you, so wear the Fleece."
"Got it."
TL;DR: Not cheap props—premium ones.
Better than cheap, not a big deal.
Trip to Seoul means some gains, maybe mend fences with Kim Daram over the Bittick mess.
But.
"Oh, sunbae. Also."
"Yeah."
"Your junior-in-law's hubby has a solid psychiatrist colleague."
"Huh? What? Psychiatrist?"
"You should see him~."
"Why?"
"I'll book it~."
My junior's still holding a grudge.
*
Hunters have dress uniforms too.
Not soldiers, but we fight for nation and kin—same deal.
But ours? Basically nonexistent.
Design's a joke.
Perpetrator: Jang Ki-young, everywhere like panacea. Inspired by game streams from his youth? His trash sense birthed it.
Gold-leaf sheen, North Korean general fringes—fine. But those massive shoulder pads? What?
No one wore it. No one complained.
So for Seoul, I ironed my standard combat uniform.
Three patterns: urban, field, winter. Field's most popular—digital camo like army gear.
I picked urban.
Plain, no flair—but didn't want to look like soldiers.
Separate myself.
Dusted off the gray mono-combat suit, pinned the shiny bauble to the collar.
Golden Fleece.
Not bad.
Freshly starched combat uniform, headed to the rendezvous.
A jeep waited at the road corner.
"Hunter Park Gyu?"
Soldiers were friendly.
Chatted current events en route to Seoul.
"World's good. No monsters, cult's quiet, Seoul rebuild's smooth."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You'll be shocked. Huge changes."
Officer's boast aside, Seoul looked much like the ruins I remembered.
More people, roads cleared, EVs zipping, crude markets everywhere.
Faces lively mostly—but odd ones stood out.
Ragged white robes, barefoot, slinking shadowy in street corners.
Some backs scrawled unknown script in red paint.
Color eerily like the one in Dolsing Man's bunker wall.
Asked the officer.
"Who're they?"
"Cultists."
Learned online.
Not Buddhists or Christians.
Soldier's "cultists": Ten Thousand Streams Return to the Sea Faith zealots worshiping monsters.
Legion already took in North Korean zealots ages ago.
First time seeing them in Legion turf.
Human-shaped, but not to me.
"This way. Team Leader Kim Daram said get checked first."
Soldiers dropped me at the hospital.
Old hospital building; open door showed decent setup.
"Checkup?"
"Didn't hear? Team Leader said full health screen."
That damn psych eval.
Bittersmile, entered.
Unlike expected, it was pre-war standard checkup.
Blood pressure, blood draw, weight, teeth check.
Urine, stool too.
"Endoscopy?"
"Available?"
"Yes. No anesthesia."
"Fine."
More tests after.
Awakening test sheets in routine check? Interesting shift.
Last: psychiatrist.
"Heard of internet addiction?"
Straight in.
"Rare now, but some lose reality in 10+ hours daily."
Hawk-eyed stare.
"How many hours a day?"
"Me?"
"Yes. Daily internet?"
"I don't do internet."
"Doesn't match Team Leader Kim."
"Only 9 hours."
"Ah, 9 hours. Too much, no?"
"Per week, not day."
"Over an hour daily's early sign."
"Oops. Cut to 10 mins less."
Mouthing BS to humor him—
Gunshots echoed outside.
Looked for source; doc calm.
"No worry. Happens all the time."
Ignored, peered out window.
Man down.
"Looks like someone's dead."
Doc tsked.
"Probably Incheon vs. Yeongdong folks. Several daily. No autopsy—just cremated."
Flipped chart, pen ready.
"Back to it: See upsetting post online, get mad, heart races, tremble?"
"I separate net and reality strictly."
"Rephrase: Project self into online personas, like game chars, too deep?"
"Not very emotional, I think."
"Another: Cuss wildly online? Like 'bittick' or 'ajumma'?"
"Pure surfing. Net's just info tool."
"I see."
Nodded.
"Done."
"How am I?"
"No issues."
Grinned vacantly.
"Who uses internet these days?"
"Blinder?"
"That cesspool?"
Doc wore specs: one leg crudely welded, thick old-school lenses gleaming by angle.
"Personal question?"
Lenses flashed.
Couldn't read eyes beyond, but clouds dimmed—gaze met mine.
On my collar Fleece.
"Heard you're a hunter, Park Gyu."
Fixed on Fleece, slow ask.
"Yeah. Used to."
"Past tense means retired?"
"Yep."
"How many'd you kill?"
"Pardon?"
"Monsters."
Stare pierced Fleece, locked on my face.
Brief cold hostility.
"...As many as anyone."
"Right."
Closed chart.
"You're good, Hunter Park Gyu."
Leaving exam room, scanned quick.
Nothing suspicious.
But that doc? Yeah.
Not just him.
Outside, white-robed passed me.
All vacant stares.
Some faces smeared ash-gray, monster-like.
"......"
Last year in Seoul: frozen ruins, monsters only.
Now people back, lively city again—but to me, colder than those ruins.