Chapter 344
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 344
Chapter Title: 139. The Weight of Life (2)
There were people who raised mutations even before the war.
They weren't mutations from the start.
They were family members showered with love.
Mutation factors that happened to fly in massively enlarged those beasts—whether fully grown or still developing—in a way anyone could see was excessive.
Education about mutations had been widely disseminated years before the war broke out, and it was a topic people were genuinely interested in, so everyone knew about it.
Some voluntarily requested euthanasia through the authorities, but others hid the animals they saw as family and kept them anyway.
News stories about overgrown mutations slaughtering their families, killing neighbors, and rampaging through streets were common breaking reports before the war.
To cut to the chase, the outcome was predetermined.
Raising a mutation is a misfortune for both the mutation and humans.
Of course, I'll acknowledge there are exceptions.
That nameless Cat Mom proved it, and I'm one of the people who's witnessed the possibility of humans and mutations coexisting.
But reaching that understanding isn't easy.
Think of it like trying to convince someone who hates you for no reason.
Not easy.
If there are others around, they might try to kill the mutation before any understanding is reached.
Many who hid mutations faced trials for violating laws and ended up in prison.
So, it's a tragedy set in stone.
Well, in Foxgame's case, it might be a comedy, but not for Kim Byung-chul's daughter.
She's excessively cheerful, but a good kid.
And she's Kim Byung-chul's daughter, to boot.
Even if he's fallen to just a warlord now, he was once someone who claimed to be the leader of Korea.
Plus, considering the thousands of people around the government warehouse he protects—if not commands—there's no way he wouldn't care about his daughter's safety.
I dug through my phone and found Kim Byung-chul's personal ID from a past message, then called.
"Marshal Kim Byung-chul's radio."
An unfamiliar voice answered.
Marshal, huh.
He's leveled up already.
"This is Park Gyu. Can you connect me to Commander Kim Byung-chul?"
Whatever they call him, he's Commander to me.
A moment later, Kim Byung-chul picked up.
"Oh! Hunter Park! Long time no talk! What's up?"
It's not easy to gauge someone's feelings from voice alone, but at least Kim Byung-chul didn't sound upset today.
"I saw a post online that seems to be about your daughter raising a dog."
"Humphrey?"
"Pardon?"
"I thought you meant our Humphrey. You're talking about the puppy, right?"
"You know it's a mutation, right?"
I sharpened my tone.
Enough for him to notice.
Even if Kim Byung-chul hadn't lost power, my reaction would be the same.
No exceptions in the face of clear, predictable danger.
President or whatever, he needs to realize the risk.
Before the war, I spoke my mind even to the man called China's Emperor.
That's our duty as those who stand against the rifts.
"I know."
Kim Byung-chul responded in a changed voice, grasping my intent.
"You should put it down as quickly as possible."
"...Isn't that a bit cold?"
"If it's more important than your daughter's life, then leave it be."
"..."
"If you have nothing to say, I'll hang up."
"Wait, Hunter Park."
"Yes."
The moment I heard that tone, a bad feeling hit me.
Kim Byung-chul's voice had shifted to the classic plea of someone asking a favor.
I could handle a small request, but favors from someone as high up as Kim Byung-chul always came with hassle and risk.
I braced for refusal and waited for his next words.
"I'm really sorry, but could you convince my daughter for me?"
"..."
"My wife took my son in the divorce, and then contact cut off during the war. So she's my only remaining family."
"How am I supposed to convince her?"
I was an instructor briefly, but no great teacher.
I prefer demonstrating over teaching, anyway.
I lack the depth to persuade and the patience to wait for a change of heart.
Above all, I'm not his subordinate, nor in his territory.
I can't leave my area shorthanded during migratory bird season just to go convince his daughter alone.
"I'm not a counselor. And I can't even go there."
"You don't need to come."
"Pardon?"
"Can't you just say a few words there?"
I found myself staring at the monitor without thinking.
On it was a photo of Kim Byung-chul's daughter hugging the mutation dog.
"Online?"
"To me, you're as capable an internet warrior as you are a hunter."
"..."
"I'm truly sorry, but I can't be harsh with my own daughter. But you're famous on the boards—maybe you could say just enough to sway her?"
Kim Byung-chul sighed.
"It's embarrassing as a father, but she won't even listen to me now... not even a fart's worth."
I thought for a moment.
"Internet warrior" is a dated term, for sure.
No one, including me, uses it online anymore.
But it's true I'm known on the boards and have some influence.
I nodded.
A few words online? That seems fine.
No loss, and refusing might earn his grudge.
Better to accept.
But first, I clarified responsibility.
"As you know, online advice gets ignored all the time. If she won't listen in person, who would online? Keep that in mind."
"Got it."
"And if 30 days pass from now—or 45 at latest—put it down regardless of her wishes."
"...I'll consider it."
"That's not a suggestion. It's a warning."
And so, unexpectedly, I took on counseling Kim Byung-chul's daughter.
Her name is Kim Ye-rim, 17 years old, raised in luxury.
Kim Byung-chul didn't say she had a disability, but mentioned she refused school after middle school due to excessively rich emotions.
In short, poor emotional control.
Looks like one of the autism spectrum symptoms.
Our mentor Jang Gi-young once said about autism:
"Autism? That term didn't exist back then. Know why? In the old days, every neighborhood had a 'dummy brother.' Older guy playing with kids. Obviously slow. Middle school age, but hanging with elementary kids? Then, around middle school for me, those dummy brothers vanished. Not just my neighborhood—tons disappeared."
Jang Gi-young grinned.
"Where did all those neighborhood dummy brothers go?"
His nostalgic ramblings were a big reason they distanced us.
Anyway, since I'd taken the job from Kim Byung-chul, best to give it a shot.
I steeled myself, sat properly at the computer, and tapped the keys briskly.
"..."
Tap tap.
I messaged Ye-rim-i.
A reply came soon after.
I couldn't help but smile.
Kim Byung-chul's daughter knew me.
And knew me quite well.
Strange.
That someone I'd never met or spoken to knew of my existence like this.
Feeling unusually warmed, I gave some fan service.
"..."
Tap tap.
Is this a generation gap?
Down to business.
The moment I saw that, I thought of my colleague Lee Sang-hun.
Lee Sang-hun was an excellent hunter, but the National Crisis Committee wasn't easy enough for performance alone to guarantee promotions.
Sure, he had great results, but compared to me, he was just one of the top performers—and not an Awakener like me.
His promotion came from handling mutation incidents like this smoothly.
I clearly remember him venting about the difficulties in a press interview.
"Convincing families was the hardest part. Dozens of times harder than putting down the mutation. Why? Pets are family, right? They say half of Korea's scams target family and friends. It's not getting duped unknowingly—it's knowing and falling anyway. Love connects people, but that bond drags the other down the cliff too."
Lee Sang-hun sighed, staring blankly at the screen.
That human anguish earned him high praise.
I don't know the details, but according to Kim Daram—who hated his guts—he just put down the mutation first and notified later, all talk.
Filter Kim Daram's words accordingly.
I believe my colleague convinced people his way, thinking of other families.
Walking his path years after his death, in that empty funeral hall? Unimaginable back then.
I sent a prepped photo.
One of the few precious shots with me and my partner Gold.
Obviously, I'd mosaicked my face.
Suddenly, I realized this wouldn't be easy.
I felt Lee Sang-hun's ordeal firsthand.
I kept messaging into Kim Ye-rim's silence.
A moment later.
A cold reply flew back.
"..."
What now?
What words would change her mind?
I know.
It was an era where everyone was smart and superior.
Even when their own knowledge was wrong, they thought others were.
Changing minds with words alone is a delusion.
"..."
Tap tap.
All I can do is convey the truth.
Reports say mutations boost instinct alongside intelligence.
An explanation for why loyal pets turn vicious once smarter.
Either way, mutations raised by humans do harm them.
Rare exceptions exist, but exceptions are exceptions.
Reality crushes those clinging to them.
That's my conclusion.
And.
That's Kim Ye-rim's answer.
I took a screenshot.
For when Kim Byung-chul questions me later—proof I did my part.
And I did.
But my conscience nagged.
Left like this, Ye-rim-i will probably die.
Horribly.
"..."
I stood, circled the bunker around the central toilet.
Sat back down.
Where to start?
My options are limited.
Migratory birds are camped outside.
Not targeting us—just migrant groups passing my territory at the same time, eyeing each other and digging in along the roads.
One wrong move, and it spills over to us.
Heading to Seoul now is foolish, and I have no justification to risk it just to kill that mutation.
Roll roll—
My rough mouse wheel scrolling mirrored my frustration.
Habitually, I clicked the hot posts tab.
Still flooded with that damn outdated trend Foxgames spread.
Tap.
My fingers moved on their own.
Right.
If I can't convince Kim Ye-rim, create an environment where she can be convinced.
A phrase I typed absentmindedly.
Yes.
This guy's the problem.
Foxgames planted false hope in people.
Solution might be simple.
If he gave false inspiration, make him take it back.
"..."
Tap tap.
How long had it been?
Messaging this rotten-minded guy I once saw as a board saint.
He might have blocked me.
Blocks can be toggled.
No block.
He's even welcoming me.