Chapter 243
Chapter 243
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 243
Chapter Title: 102. The Gray Dystopia (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
According to the guidebook, in this bizarre society called Jeju, you needed resident registration to live like a human.
I headed to the community center, clutching my starving stomach.
There, I completed all sorts of registrations and received my ID.
A female staff member who looked to be in her early twenties alternated between glancing at my face and the paperwork before smiling brightly.
"Mr. Park Gyu, you're a new adult migrant, so you get a one-week adjustment period, right? That means you're exempt from work for a week."
"Work?"
"Yes. I don't know how things were on the mainland, but here on Jeju, everyone has to go through training or work. It's an island short on everything, so there's no room to let surplus labor sit idle."
"What kind of work?"
"You don't have any special certifications or degrees, so... hmm. Probably a factory or farm?"
"......I'm a former Hunter."
"Ex-military?"
The staff member asked, slightly surprised.
I shook my head.
"No. A Hunter. One of the Old School Hunters."
"There's no record of that. No code for it at all. No 'Hunter' code."
"Is that so?"
I'd figured as much.
How much disdain we'd get here on Jeju as Old School Hunters.
Makes sense—in a place where Awakened are the norm, relics from a bygone era like us wouldn't fly.
"Here's your card. It's like a debit card from the old days, and for someone like you, it's loaded with a decent amount of credits. There's a shopping district nearby, so pick up what you need. If you've got some spare, you could even treat me to something."
The staff member handed me the card with a beaming smile.
"......"
Some kind of compensation, I suppose.
She was being nice, so it wasn't total crap.
Besides the card, I got a Jeju-only cellphone, a guidebook packed with essential living info, and a bundle of recycled paper toilet paper.
Unlike pre-war days, plastic was precious, so the TP was strung together through the center hole like old cash coins.
"As I mentioned, think of it as a one-week adjustment period. You'll get a call on your phone when it's over."
I nodded to the staff member and left the community center.
A massive poster was plastered right at the entrance.
Forward base?
From the vibe, it seemed like one of those small outposts beyond the concrete walls.
I didn't know about the rest, but the risk of death looked pretty high.
The poster's size made that crystal clear.
I left the community center behind and headed to the shopping district.
The shops were right next to it, and surprisingly, they had everything.
Grocery store, hardware shop, electronics specialist, bank—of course—plus jewelry stores, salons, even a nail salon.
It really felt like stepping back to pre-war times.
And among them was the shop I was looking for.
[Harubang PC Bang.]
A PC bang wasn't unfamiliar territory for me.
I'd frequented them in middle school, and even in China, I'd dropped in a few times in Shanghai on leave with guys like Gong Kyung-min or other juniors.
I opened the door, and the familiar scene unfolded.
Neat rows of computer desks and monitors facing each other, people with headphones glued to games or browsing. Staff bustling between them.
Like I'd noticed during roll call and meals, aside from preteens, you hardly saw anyone under twenty.
A staff member approached, checked my card, and explained the rules.
"First-timer, huh? This PC bang limits everyone to 2 hours a day, no exceptions. After that, the computer shuts down regardless of your credits."
Sure enough, a "1:59" timer was blatantly ticking down in the top-left of the screen.
With the staff's help, I logged into the PC bang client and scanned the screen.
Familiar interfaces popped up.
The standout was the games.
Huge icons dominated the desktop.
League of something-or-other, MikeCraft—globally popular titles.
Plenty of folks in the bang were deep into them.
Jeju offering a pre-war gaming setup wasn't a lie.
But I wasn't here to game.
With a sharp eye, I sifted through the cluttered desktop of game icons for non-game stuff.
Soon, a tiny icon tucked in the corner caught my gaze.
[Intranet]
"......"
This was it.
Jeju's internet bulletin boards.
I straightened up and peeked over the partition at the monitors ahead. One guy was reading something like webtoons.
Unicorn18.
That bastard had to be here.
I knew it.
In an era overflowing with sites, maybe not—but now, with most sites gone and internet users down to under 10%, guys like us old net travelers hit every available spot.
I'd done the same.
Even as a Viva! Apocalypse! named user, back in Failnet's heyday, I'd spent more time there.
Our board didn't always have bangers; quality posts were finite.
Unicorn was definitely in here.
With that conviction, I double-clicked the Intranet icon.
Click click.
[Loading]
A portal site vibe screen appeared, one I'd seen before.
"Naver?"
I muttered the name of my old portal without thinking.
Categories were slashed to the bone, but the design matched what I'd used, eerily so.
Like some ex-company dev had retooled it for intranet on purpose.
It offered news, movies, dramas, webtoons, even calculator, calendar, online complaints—full services.
I clicked webtoons.
"......"
I nodded, a smile creeping in.
Pilkkurum.
The guy was alive.
Alive and drawing comics on this soil.
No contact probably because the government reclaimed satellite internet gear.
Any boards around?
Yep.
[Intranet Public Bulletin Board]
Here.
Clicking it opened another window.
[Enter username.]
I typed Skeleton, as always.
And that was it.
No password, no opt-in ad checkboxes.
Just the nickname, and you're in.
In a way, freer than Viva! Apocalypse!.
But no biggie for the government.
Cameras everywhere in this bang alone.
Hell, a cam called out my face right in front of me.
If they wanted, they could monitor everything.
Maybe logging my posts, chats, even expressions.
Like all the CCTVs dotting the city.
Anyway, nickname entered, and topic boards spread out before me.
League of Remicon
MikeCraft
Lost Oak
Red Archive
Horse Muses
Webtoons
Hi Baduk
Ball-Kicking Kids
Basketmans
...
...
Quite a few.
Varied topics.
I clicked "Ball-Kicking Kids."
...
I was a bit shocked.
Shockingly on-topic.
Some trash talk and clashes, but every user stuck to soccer.
No bait, no diaries, no weird pics like on our board.
In short: posts matching the theme only.
The ideal internet culture incarnate.
But knowing it's born from oppression? Not so cheerful.
These board denizens knew the rules.
Stick to soccer here.
Hit me again: this was "intranet," not "internet."
Anyway, I had a mission.
Among this intranet's oppressed virtual boards, find where Unicorn lurked.
Not easy.
42 boards here.
Could comb them all, but I had one week.
After that, I'd be a full Jeju resident, off to work.
Whatever it was, probably not cushy.
Maybe that pilot's mutation farm was my new gig?
Plus, one week was short.
Especially with 2-hour daily limits here.
So, hunt efficiently—like our Hunters dodging barriers for the killing blow.
I stared unblinking at all 42 boards.
Unicorn's haunt.
A spot he'd post up, alternating with Viva! Apocalypse!.
That board.
"......"
My eyes locked on one.
[Red Archive Board]
Red Archive.
That phone game packed with 2D girls, right?
Me, light-years from mobile games, knew it because one of our board users "evangelized" it—hard.
Still burned in my mind.
unicorn18: Red Archive Hotaru-chan.jpg
Unicorn18 catching heat for posting an underage girl pic.
Here.
Had to be.
I clicked in.
"......"
I shut my mouth.
Had to.
The vibe was alien to anywhere I'd been.
One word: "emoticons."
Users didn't speak.
2D character emotes were their only emotional outlet.
A quick sketch of the scene:
...
"......Speak human, damn it."
I muttered under my breath.
Locking eyes with a gamer next to me.
Late teens girl.
Plain looks, but her eyes gleamed unnaturally bright.
Awakened.
A strong one, too.
Level 5 at least?
I turned away, thinking: Jeju through and through.
But how to find Unicorn in this emoticon hellhole?
I'd used Skeleton boldly, but would it even work here?
Deep breath, eyes on monitor.
There had to be a way.
I scrolled through emoticon posts, probing every corner.
"......"
No dice.
Down, down—emoticon feast endless.
What were they even saying?
Maybe coded messages I didn't know, answered with emotes?
Dodging gov eyes?
Even if, I couldn't join—no computer whiz like Valentine or John_nenon, no tech tinkerer like Ha Tae-hoon.
One thing I could do.
Speaking human words in a wordless realm.
No reply.
Users just spammed their emotes.
Deep breath, checked time.
1 hour 10 left.
Long, but meaningless here.
Deep breath, mind cleared.
Keyboard clacks.
Tap tap.
Sentence done, enter.
For some reason, I'd skipped Kang Han-min, prime Unicorn suspect.
Why? Not sure.
Revulsion? Guilt? Resentment?
Or hoping Unicorn was Na Hyein?
No answer on the board, at least.
Clang!
PC bang door burst open—cops with guns, surrounding me.
"You?"
I surrendered without a fight.
No resistance, so no rough handling.
In interrogation, a police officer checked my ID and sighed.
"Guard, 13th class. Park Gyu. Former Hunter—Old School, they call it. You chatted that 'cause you think your old teammate Na Hyein might be here, right?"
I nodded.
True story.
He nodded to his men.
Cuffs off.
"One-time pass."
The officer lit a smoke.
"Government contributions noted, so you're free. Otherwise, tough luck."
"......"
"Keep useless talk off Intranet. This ain't the Korea you knew."
He waved.
Men escorted me out.
But my story wasn't done.
"Hey."
I turned, called the officer.
He eyed me lazily.
"Where are Kang Han-min and Na Hyein?"
Cops tried dragging me.
I held firm.
Two couldn't budge me; one grabbed a baton.
"Stop. He deserves to hear. Teammate."
Officer halted him.
Exhaled smoke, approached.
"Kang Han-min's in the Rift. Still our hope. Na Hyein..."
Thick smoke, weak finish.
"She's broken."
"?"
"Won't leave her house."