Chapter 283
Chapter 283
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 283
Chapter Title: 115. Happiness (2)
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The shelter system had been designed from the start as a tool for exploitation, a way for the government to more quickly identify and conscript human resources—especially the newly emerging Awakeners.
It took advantage of the uniquely Korean sense of unity, the obedient and loyal nature of citizens who followed government orders without question. The scheme was successful enough to gather plenty of young Awakeners on Jeju Island.
But the shelter system completely collapsed when the Incheon government shirked its responsibilities and fled.
Under Kim Byung-chul's regime, the military initially pretended to respect the shelters' autonomy. In reality, they tightly controlled the system and pulled every dirty trick to dismantle it.
However, after repeated harsh lessons, the shelter residents realized the upper echelons wouldn't take responsibility for their lives anymore. They came to despise Kim Byung-chul. In fact, many refugees who had come to Seoul turned right back around, returning to the shelter system and scattering to camps near Incheon or Seoul, centered around the shelter leaders they themselves had elected.
Shelter 73 was one such place.
But it seemed changes had occurred in the shelter system while we were unaware.
"Hm? What's that?"
Ha Tae-hoon, gripping the steering wheel, spotted a flag fluttering in front of the shelter camp.
One was a weathered flag printed with the number 73.
Judging by the design and material, it looked like something made back when the government was still functional.
Next to the 73 flag flew another one, crudely hand-drawn with a ridiculous cartoon penguin.
"Isn't that Park Penguin's flag?"
Soldiers atop watchtowers dotted around the wooden-fenced camp glared down at us.
Ha Tae-hoon spoke into the radio.
"This is the vehicle that requested entry earlier. Please confirm the vehicle number."
Moments later, a massive iron gate—likely salvaged from some large factory—rumbled open.
Before it had even fully opened, Cheon Young-jae jumped out first and dashed toward the gap.
Watching him go, Ha Tae-hoon said,
"He's definitely not himself."
"Yeah."
He really wasn't.
The usual Cheon Young-jae would have sniffed out any ambush before Ha Tae-hoon even noticed and warned us.
His detection abilities were that sharp—but right now, he was too mentally rattled to use them properly.
It must be that important to him.
While Cheon Young-jae talked with the armed men approaching him, we slowly drove into the camp.
We parked where directed, and Cheon Young-jae walked back over to us.
"Looks like this place has come under Park Penguin."
According to Cheon Young-jae, as reality worsened, mergers and absorptions had started happening between shelters—factions forming and splintering.
Four powerful shelters were at the center of it all, and Shelter 73 had chosen to align with Shelter 13, led by the infamous Park Penguin.
Park Penguin had already pulled five more shelters into his faction.
At least 20,000 people were now under his banner.
"...We might be witnessing the founding of a nation."
I could agree with Ha Tae-hoon's words to some extent.
Why only halfway? Because I'm a particularly pessimistic doomsayer among pessimists. I believe most of these people will die before they can even form a kingdom.
War, mutations, natural disasters—we've been hit with all sorts of calamities, but the real disasters haven't even begun.
Monsters. Humanity's natural predator.
Bang Jae-hyeok's tent sat in the middle of the settlement, pieced together from tarps, wood, and assorted plastic scraps.
An elderly woman sat in front, whittling something.
Looking closer, it seemed to be a plant stem.
Probably sweet potato vines.
Ha Tae-hoon and Cheon Young-jae greeted her.
"Introduce yourself. Park Gyu. This is Jae-hyeok's mother."
Bang Jae-hyeok's mother had a stern, stubborn look rather than a kind one, but there was no judgmental scanning or false flattery.
"Pleased to meet you."
She seemed quiet and resolute.
Shortly after we exchanged greetings, Bang Jae-hyeok emerged from the tent.
He limped out slightly, a steel-and-plastic prosthetic brace strapped to his left knee, and nodded to me in greeting.
We stepped aside for a brief chat.
"Life here's not bad. Still, it's more comfortable with your comrades. Honestly, the world's getting worse by the day."
The Legion faction's collapse had immediate ripple effects across the capital region.
Armed deserters and small runaway groups were one thing, but entire companies of soldiers had deserted, pillaging refugee camps indiscriminately and even trying to take them over.
The refugees weren't pushovers anymore, so sloppy deserter groups often ended up hanged instead. Still, some camps had fallen to brutal soldiers.
And the fanatics were growing bolder, stealthily spreading their corrupted ideology everywhere.
"Anyway, I'm glad to be teaming up with you, Senior Park Gyu. I was worried a cripple like me wouldn't be welcome."
"Come on over, and catch a cat for me."
"A cat?"
"Yeah. A real sly one."
"I think I know the type."
Since we planned to leave the same day, we kept talk short, borrowed a communal handcart from the shelter, and loaded Bang Jae-hyeok's belongings onto the truck.
"Hm."
I had no intention of commenting on someone else's stuff, but Bang Jae-hyeok had an oddly large number of shoes.
Brightly colored sneakers, no less.
Noticing my gaze, he sidled up with a grin.
"Nike Air Cooking. Last import before the war hit."
"Oh yeah?"
"This one's Jordan 13 Godgame Retro 2019. That there's Salomon XT18."
"?"
I wasn't into shoes, but the way he looked at his carefully maintained collection made it clear how precious they were to him.
But so what?
"Got it, enough showing off the sneakers. Pack 'em up."
"If you like any, just say. I'll hook you up."
"Sure. Maybe later."
Shoes weren't the issue right now.
A far more important problem—one that dwarfed shoes—had been waiting for us since before we arrived.
"Cheon Young-jae, you saw your girlfriend, huh."
This was it.
"Oh, slipped my mind."
In Bang Jae-hyeok's evasive glance, I sensed he wasn't fond of the topic.
"Isn't it important?"
"It is, but..."
Bang Jae-hyeok gave a wry smile as he loaded a couple more sneaker boxes onto the cart.
"Things got messy."
He glanced at Cheon Young-jae, who was energetically hauling luggage behind us, then whispered to me.
"That girl was hanging with druggies."
"..."
"She swears she never touches the stuff, but what can you do? Her whole neighborhood's crawling with addicts."
Thud.
A sneaker box—with some long Nike model name—toppled off the clumsily stacked pile.
"And between us, no matter how you spin it, they didn't part on good terms."
"I've heard that much. How'd it end?"
"She got disillusioned."
"Yeah?"
"She liked Young-jae 'cause he seemed manly and straightforward. But once they were together, he was too clingy, always whining. Like, she's not his mom. Guess she lost all patience."
Bang Jae-hyeok sighed and pulled the cart.
Screech.
The worn wheels ground out a harsh friction sound as they rolled, mingling with his voice.
"Honestly, I only brought it up 'cause if he doesn't man up and go get her, he never will."
"..."
"Nothing good can come from meeting her. Plus."
The wheels paused.
Bang Jae-hyeok turned north.
"Realistically, it's tough to even reach her."
"Why?"
"The northern area's suddenly been eroded. Monsters appeared out of nowhere. Word is some giant thing toppled over, and the whole area got eroded. Never heard of that before. Anyway, a huge swath got hit, monsters spawning everywhere."
"What kind?"
"Small types."
"Spiders? Or."
"Necromancer types."
"Minions?"
"Tons."
"That's a problem."
"Bigger problem: a village full of drug addicts got swallowed in the eroded zone."
"And that's where she lives?"
Bang Jae-hyeok let out a deep sigh and nodded.
"..."
To sum it up: a total shitshow.
Going to rescue her would be a shitshow, and even if we did, no good outcome in sight.
I rank drugs right up there with monsters in danger.
If monsters destroy human territory itself, drugs destroy the human soul itself.
Controlled doses under medical supervision for unbearable pain or surgery—that's drugs' original purpose. But addicts don't care about doctor's orders.
They dose up for the high, just short of OD'ing.
Hey, if they only wrecked themselves, you could call 'em benevolent addicts.
Most drag down everyone precious to them too.
The forms of ruin vary, but they all fit the same tragic mold.
Bang Jae-hyeok's probably worried about what his old friend's ex has become.
"She looked fine when I saw her. Really fine. Not skin-and-bones, cheeks hollowed out. But... how to put it. From afar, maybe. She didn't seem completely fine. Can't explain it exactly, but something was off."
Watching someone you know turn into a stranger hits hard, good or bad.
Of course, there's every chance this Mun-hee never touched the stuff.
Human will can sometimes leap beyond our narrow views with noble resolve.
"What're you guys talking about?"
Cheon Young-jae approached.
His expression was dark.
He'd probably overheard from midway through our chat.
Not all, but enough.
Bang Jae-hyeok hesitated, glancing at me.
After a moment's thought, I told him,
"Tell him straight."
Bang Jae-hyeok wavered.
No room for wavering.
This was basic trust between comrades.
I said firmly,
"It's something Cheon Young-jae needs to hear."
Cheon Young-jae's face, which had been smiling non-stop since we arrived, rapidly drained of life.
Not good news.
Hell, it could mess with his head.
He might even leave us over this.
But that's still better than shattered trust.
"What's going on?"
His voice sank with uncharacteristic heaviness.
Bang Jae-hyeok looked troubled.
It was a heavy, depressing topic.
I stepped up beside him.
I said nothing, but hoped to lend him strength that way.
Not sure if it got through, but Bang Jae-hyeok fiddled with the screws on his knee brace—unfastening and refastening—then retold the story in a longer, more detailed version.
"...Mun-hee's up on Acid Hill. With Yoon Sung-jae."
The biggest addition in this version: Cheon Young-jae's ex's new man played a bigger, more pivotal role.
"She still with Yoon Sung-jae?"
Cheon Young-jae forced the words out, barely containing his emotions.
"Probably. They were always together. Even the last time I saw her at the market."
Cheon Young-jae let his arms hang limp.
Lacking even the strength to stand, he leaned against the cart and squatted down.
When Bang Jae-hyeok offered him a cigarette, he accepted without resistance, lighting the crude roll-up of rough tobacco—no filter like pre-war cigs. It belched thick, acrid smoke skyward.
Bang Jae-hyeok shot me a look.
Leave him be.
After putting some distance between us and Cheon Young-jae, Bang Jae-hyeok said,
"Man, I don't know. Was it really necessary to tell him? Emotions have expiration dates too. For Young-jae, his is pretty much up."
"Could be canned emotions."
"Maybe. But you can't tell if the packaging's tin or plastic."
"Cheon Young-jae... he has trouble trusting people. What kinda backstory's he got?"
Bang Jae-hyeok offered me the crude smokes too, but I passed.
Not just 'cause I don't like them. With drugs as the root of all this crap, lighting up felt like a contradiction.
"Told you they parted badly?"
"Yeah."
"Young-jae wouldn't let her go. She broke it off, but he refused. Stayed on his knees, unmoving. He knew she'd left for good, no turning back. But he couldn't accept it."
"...He should've at least beatboxed or something."
"How'd you know?"
Bang Jae-hyeok's eyes went wide.
"What?"
"That Song Mun-hee-stealer Yoon Sung-jae was a beatbox champ."
"...Really?"
"Nah, just a guess. Anyway, Young-jae wouldn't let go, so Yoon Sung-jae stepped in. On day five of the kneel-in, he and his crew beat Young-jae down."
"Young-jae hadn't eaten properly by then, right?"
"Yeah."
Looking at it neutrally, Young-jae was the villain in that snippet.
Cut from life's long tale, that slice painted him as the clear bad guy—oppressing and tormenting Song Mun-hee.
Yoon Sung-jae, meanwhile, was the fairy-tale prince, teaming with allies to subdue the tyrant and rescue her.
But unlike fairy tales, life rolls on endlessly, flows shifting unpredictably.
"They all wanted to kill him—knew what a scary bastard Young-jae was. But back then, murder was still a capital crime, cops around. Still, they tried to hamstring him for insurance. Song Mun-hee desperately stopped them. Young-jae wrote a pledge never to approach her again and left the shelter."
"When was this? Feels like ages ago."
"Way back. Seoul shelter days."
I checked the time.
Late morning, nearing noon.
"What now?"
Bang Jae-hyeok asked.
"Cheon Young-jae's call."
I walked slowly to where he squatted against the cart, back turned.
He looked up at me.
I asked,
"You going to get her?"
He nodded.
"Good."
I turned and called to Bang Jae-hyeok and Ha Tae-hoon watching us.
Cheon Young-jae stared at me puzzled.
"What're you doing?"
"What? Don't need our help?"
I asked with a faint smile.
"Th-that's!"
"I'll ask once."
He hesitated, then grumbled with a wry smile.
"Seriously. This guy. Can't talk you outta anything."
Not exactly out of pure kindness.
A fact to engrave deep.
To keep myself from tumbling into the bottomless well of good intentions.
That's why I ask.
"But one thing's clear."
"...What?"
Watching him still reeling emotionally, I said calmly,
"If that girl's alive, I'll decide whether to accept her or not."
Not dictatorship.
I'm saying I'll take full responsibility.