Chapter 362
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 362
Chapter Title: 148. Painkiller (2)
Whether it's due to Confucian culture or something else, Korea places an excessive amount of authority on a person's biological age and demands corresponding virtues to match that authority.
I had no intention of going along with that trend, but Kim Hanna was undoubtedly trapped in the age trap—a precarious outsider.
Even a brief glance revealed she was full of flaws.
"......"
She didn't say a word for an entire hour.
She wasn't some prominent politician with shamelessness or a personal creed to back it up.
She kept glancing at me, under intense stress, while exercising her right to silence.
In a situation where it was transparently clear that her fragile stubbornness was aimed at nothing more than "I don't want to do anything"—a childish direction—my gaze toward Kim Hanna couldn't help but be unfriendly, no matter how much I tried to steel myself.
While she remained silent, I reviewed her file.
Born and raised in Hwaseong City, Gyeonggi Province.
A place even more Dongtan-like than our Dongtan Mom's hometown.
It was known for its good educational environment, yet her schooling had stopped at middle school.
She must have refused to go to school.
The problem was that happened ten years ago.
After that, her life was filled with blank spaces for a full decade.
When the war began, she moved to a shelter with her family, survived the first wave of attacks, and was relocated to a Seoul shelter under government policy.
Her life was blank again for the next year, but a year later, she scored the highest on the simple aptitude test—that litmus paper—and headed straight to Jeju.
The record from the examiner who tested her at the time caught my eye: "A perfect Awakened, no questions asked."
She must have tried hard at first.
She wasn't faking illness like now; she approached training with a fresh mindset and even ventured into what they called Big Holes—rifts—a few times.
It was surprising.
That a friend who seemed like a total shut-in hikikomori could make such a change.
But that transformation didn't last long.
Once that one year—the brightest in her otherwise blank life—passed, her record began filling with negative entries of a different kind.
- Always reluctant to deploy on missions, citing illness.
- Severe malingering.
- Pushes her duties onto others despite unlikable looks and personality. No hope of mending team relations. Recommend transfer.
- Bad rumors spreading. After first meeting, team decided against accepting her.
- Recommend transfer to the Lighthouse despite activity in Big Holes.
...
...
Anyone can get tired.
Willpower is like stamina—different for everyone.
Some endure extreme situations steadfastly for a long time, while others can't last a single moment and run away.
Records are inherently brief and concise.
There's a "remarks" section, but even that's just supplementary for tracking numerical trends.
It's hard to find the "person" in them.
In the end, you have to rely on speculation and deduction—uncertain methods.
But we have data.
We know well what makes people sick, exhausted, and give up.
It's like how the Health Insurance Corporation tailors medical checkups by age group—it fits perfectly.
"......"
I turned to her family details.
Both parents deceased.
Younger sibling missing.
The timing of their deaths—shortly after she arrived on Jeju—was intriguing in many ways.
Maybe this one, Kim Hanna, had forced herself for her family's sake.
After a year of effort, when she found them gone, she turned into who she is now.
Just my guess, of course.
Either way, I had to put her on the battlefield.
That was my job.
"Your body always hurts, huh?"
I broke the long silence.
Kim Hanna glanced at me and nodded silently.
It was obvious, but she was big-boned.
Not overweight, but her frame was so large that among other women, she looked like a different species.
Her hunched posture and downcast gaze robbed her of any commanding presence.
I let out a deep sigh and stared straight at her face as she averted her eyes.
"You can't run forever."
"......"
"This is a dead end."
My mentor, Jang Ki-young, mostly talked about hope.
You can do it.
If you try, it works.
If you do it, it happens.
Those were his usual lines.
As his direct disciple, I said something entirely different.
"You know where you'll end up if you're kicked out from here, right?"
Reality.
To be precise:
"Be in the training yard at 4 a.m. tomorrow, combat-ready."
"......"
"For reference, tomorrow's mission is patrol and recon. Not life-or-death, not a suicide run."
"......"
"Even if something unexpected happens, don't worry. As long as I'm alive, I'll protect you."
Reality she could handle.
The bare minimum to stand on the battlefield.
Back when I first became team leader, we had plenty of manpower, and my team's top rankings made recruiting easy.
But as the war dragged on, people grew scarce.
Many left for promotions, transfers, or newfound Awakened aptitude—good reasons—but plenty departed due to accidents, deaths, or personal failings.
I had to accept people I didn't like and make them work.
Of course, if possible, I'd reject or avoid unqualified members.
Forcing someone to change and use them isn't advisable or satisfying.
Sure, there's a slim chance of uncovering hidden talent, but I understand how agonizing it is for them to be the low-probability case.
"I'll be waiting."
I'd laid out the terms.
The next dawn.
"......"
Kim Hanna stood under the dim streetlight, her large frame hunched, waiting for me.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Half a success.
*
Since it was a light patrol, I didn't bring other team members.
The new Seoul was buzzing with activity.
Snow piled up here and there, but daytime temps were still above freezing.
This was the last chance to move freely.
Everyone was doing their best in their roles.
I hadn't met with the Defender siblings personally because everyone was that busy.
Well, in their case, they volunteered for mopping up remnant zealots, too.
I chose a patrol route that was somewhat secure but still on the uncontrolled outskirts.
Basically, a casual stroll. A warm-up.
Woo Min-hee hoped to secure the power plant in no more than ten days.
Meaning, at minimum, take Awakened in there within ten days to clear it.
As we walked together, even without much prior connection, a natural chance to chat arose once or twice.
"Eek......"
Kim Hanna made a sound.
I could guess what she saw.
A corpse.
Starting with one skeleton tied to a chair, hands bound behind, then bodies sprawled in disarray—displayed blatantly in the ruined shop window like exhibits.
Probably looters or warlords.
Jeju folks hadn't seen many corpses, so their reactions were fresh.
I spoke up at the unknown dead.
"That person didn't want to die either."
"......"
"Almost no one in this world truly wants to die. I even believe those who take their own lives didn't really want to."
"I-is that so?"
Kim Hanna spoke for the first time.
As I sensed at our first meeting, her voice was surprisingly cute.
Like something from a commercial or anime.
"They want to live, but things make it impossible, so they die. I don't think they sought death itself."
"......When you put it that way, yeah, it kinda makes sense."
"Not fun, huh?"
I asked her abruptly.
She glanced at me, startled when our eyes met, and looked away.
"Why isn't it fun?"
Her words were flowing now.
Positive sign.
"If you die, no more breathing, no thinking, no internet."
"I-internet?"
She looked at me again.
I met her eyes squarely and replied clearly.
"I like the internet."
"Ah."
"Why?"
"Y-you don't seem the type at all."
"What's wrong with using the internet?"
"No, I mean, the internet's just a tool, right? Liking or hating it outright feels off......"
"You didn't browse weird sites, did you?"
Her sizable frame jolted.
"N-no, never!"
"......"
This reaction feels off.
Named users see certain things.
But I'll hold my tongue.
Leaving the rare flow of conversation behind, we continued patrolling the target area.
I deliberately chose open terrain for the route.
A path no one would normally pick, but with an Awakened beside me.
An Awakened's reflexive barrier can block bullets, and its deployment speed matches thought speed.
Instant activation at the sound of gunfire.
One reason Awakened are such a pain for enemies.
Countless Chinese soldiers died following bad orders from superiors.
They claim they invented our Intimidation technique—well, they claim everything's theirs anyway—but that one might have merit.
Maybe they discovered it first.
But that's it.
Discovery means analyzing it, hypothesizing, theorizing, applying, and proving—not just stumbling upon it by chance, which means nothing.
"Over there."
Had she relaxed? Or opened up to me a bit?
This time, Kim Hanna spoke first.
Heightened senses from the open field delayed my response.
I spoke only after reaching cover, as gloom shadowed her face again.
"What is it, Kim Hanna?"
"Oh, nothing."
"You were about to say something. Speak when you can."
"Really, nothing."
"I think it's better to die as the boy who cried wolf than a silent sufferer."
I believe in speaking my piece and living with it.
Sure, some politicking, but that's fair self-PR.
You need that much self-love.
"Sorry, but... no internet now, right? There used to be Failnet or something, but it's gone."
"There's Viva! Apocalypse! too."
"Ah, that satellite internet?"
I nodded.
"Not bragging, but I'm named there."
"What?!"
Kim Hanna jumped back in shock.
That big a deal?
"......Not bragging, but I'm pretty good at everything. Not the best in any one thing, but average—no, above—in all."
"D-Division Commander Woo said something like that."
"Min-hee did?"
"Yes. The hunter with the callsign Professor is perfect at everything except becoming an Awakened."
Unexpected.
Woo Min-hee praising someone else in public.
Probably lip service.
Easy to verify.
"When did she say that?"
"About two years ago."
"......Really?"
Two years ago changes things.
Woo Min-hee.
Maybe not empty words back then.
"Isn't Division Commander Woo scary?"
No one doesn't fear Woo Min-hee.
Not even the arrogant Lee Sang-hun or the cheeky Gong Kyung-min—they instinctively kept their distance.
An unexpected reply awaited.
"Everyone badmouths Division Commander Woo, but I think she's a good person."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. She takes in trash like us low-performers—uh, Awakened with bad records... like this. Otherwise, we'd be at the Lighthouse already......"
Something feels off.
The nuance screams internet Yeopo vibes.
As I stayed quiet, she fidgeted with her fingers and continued awkwardly.
"......Division Commander Woo's the only one who looks after the elderly well."
"Yeah?"
"Jeju's only nursing home is one she supports."
"For real?"
"Yes. I heard it's for parents of old friends, juniors, seniors—people with ties."
"Not lying?"
"W-why would I lie? She's not even family."
"Sounds like a lie."
"It's true! They even call her 'Princess' there."
"......"
Princess? What princess?
All princesses frozen solid, probably.
Not even Seven Princesses.
Anyway, things went better than expected.
Conversation isn't always best, but it's excellent.
From total darkness to a glimmer of dawn—that's progress.
We finished patrol in good spirits.
No crises beyond a few rats startling Kim Hanna—which was actually a nice happening.
Thud!
It proved she was a proper full Awakened.
"......Tomorrow, we start the operation."
"T-tomorrow?!"
"No big risks. It's an outer shell peel-off op. Spider types won't budge from inside anyway; just minions."
"Minions......"
"Just to feel the battlefield vibe. Retreat at any anomaly."
"I-is that so?"
"Why so scared? You've been in rifts, right?"
"Y-yes."
She mumbled blankly, then nodded as if remembering something, looking at me.
"I saw Savior Kang Han-min too!"
"Yeah?"
"Yes! He was amazing. Not even human—like a god!"
"A god......"
Become a god, did he?
Kang Han-min.
Years ago, a memory like a painting unfolded before me.
Twins in similarity.
Impatient upper brass.
Hunter on the verge of expulsion.
Me, stuck with that hunter.
Just the two on patrol.
And awakening.
"......"
I'm not one to regret or miss lost time.
But a twinge of resentment is undeniable.
No matter how controlled, I'm human with a beating heart.
"......Like the internet?"
Needed something to salvage this sour mood.
"I-internet?! I do a bit......"
"I'm named."
Corrected myself.
"No, legend."