Chapter 59
Chapter 59
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: 38. Butterfly
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DragonC's latest work was bound to receive mixed reviews.
Because it really was drawn by Pilkreum.
I'd given him a few pointers.
One of them was that he must never reveal he was Pilkreum, no matter what.
As a result, DragonC had transformed into a enigmatic artist who only communicated through his works.
There were some hardships, though.
"Hm..."
Exactly as I said.
Time would resolve everything.
Whether fast or slow, our fates were converging on a single endpoint.
For once, the reporter was doing their job properly.
Their info was fresh, not even on the crowded Failnet yet.
"..."
It was a shame that none of the videos I hoarded before the war included how to use an espresso machine.
I enjoyed coffee, but I wasn't the type to die without it— instant mixes were a fine substitute.
Fumbling by feel, I brewed something passable, but it didn't taste like DragonC's brews.
Defender mentioned working at a cafe once, so inviting him over to learn wouldn't be bad.
Sipping my amateur brew, I waited for the reporter's next update.
"We're in trouble."
In a way, this was overdue.
Ever since the Legion faction guarding the rift abandoned defense for civil war.
What scientists tried to define as wormhole-like phenomena—the rifts—were simply passages linking Earth to another world.
Literal passages.
The rifts themselves had no will; they didn't spit out monsters or drag people in.
Monsters from beyond just passed through to Earth.
Initial hunters and soldiers deployed to rifts were first shocked by their actual size, then surprised at how idle it was.
Monsters didn't pop by daily to say hello.
Sometimes one every week, sometimes none for over 100 days.
Once scout teams were standardized inside rifts, "forecasts" became possible, reducing duties beyond.
But occasionally, like a volcanic eruption, massive hordes poured through explosively, as if drawn by something.
China called it an offensive; others, an eruption.
I preferred the latter.
It captured the explosive force and disaster-scale overwhelming presence.
Rift entrances had kill zones: perfectly fortified monster slaughter fields.
Long-range artillery handled most eruptions alone.
Artillery was the cure-all for ages.
Until monsters started fielding colossal-class behemoths as shields.
Then air force scrambled, tanks fired.
When tanks couldn't cope, infantry prayed to their gods amid the front lines, and we hunters geared up on standby.
This system, established in North America a decade ago, was the gold standard for rift response.
Paju's defensive line was among the world's sturdiest.
It had sealed a top-tier rift rivaling Beijing's with ease.
Occasional colossal slips were unavoidable.
Focusing fire on one meant ignoring the ant swarms of large and mediums below, collapsing the line.
Now, rift scouts forecasting eruptions had retired or fled to Jeju.
The army meant to guard nation and people turned blades on allies, eyeing coups.
Monster eruptions would now spread unchecked into Seoul and beyond.
Like lava, incinerating and melting all it touched.
An hour after the reporter's post, the shortwave radio blared a monster alert.
Radio on, I checked the reporter's paths.
The two due south looked ominous.
Passing through Seoul was certain; after that was the question.
Would they hit Incheon after the ghost town, or curve into my turf like before? Or vanish first.
Monsters chose their paths, but one fact was clear.
Paju region was monster territory now.
No—the whole north.
Like those North Korean aerial photos: entire areas shrouded in gloomy gray.
The reporter was proving quite helpful.
More than Kim Daram, honestly.
Whatever lay behind that mask... who knew.
Could it really be Woo Min-hee?
Unknown, but highly plausible.
Vanished post-war, reemerged once settled; active in danger-filled Seoul; using Failnet (hard without city access); venting on our board after Eom-changi's exploits.
Of course, might not be.
Someone from her department or circumstance I didn't know.
The reporter's public good starkly opposed Woo Min-hee's troublemaking.
Beep-beep-beep—
My K-walkie-talkie suddenly chimed specially.
Screen showed:
Woo Min-hee.
Speak of the devil.
Thinking of her summoned a call.
What now?
Honestly, didn't want to answer.
Just sour my mood.
Might even be an unreasonable request.
But had to now.
Ignore, and she'd suspect my senior had something to hide. Her (30) imagination and bias would sniff out kind Eom-changi's (31) identity!
"Ahem! Ahem!"
Clearing my throat, I responded.
"Oh~ Min-hee? What's up?!"
"Sunbae~."
Her tone through the speaker didn't sound bad.
"Listening to the radio?"
"Yeah, I am!"
"One kraken-type might head toward the spot you showed me before."
"You called just to tell me that?"
"Of course. You're my sunbae. With all our batch dying off, you gotta stay safe. Who'd come to your funeral otherwise?"
"M-Min-hee..."
A bit touching.
We'd been through stuff, but she was my junior. Battlefield comrades trusting each other.
Oddball, but pre-psychic awakening, not a bad one.
Especially, she warned what even Kim Daram didn't.
Ill will melting away.
Woo Min-hee—maybe a good egg?
"Know who Eom-changi is?"
"!!!"
Scratch that.
"Why no answer?"
"Eom-changi?! What the hell? Insult? Such crude from your refined mouth..."
"Sunbae doesn't do internet?"
"Internet? What's that?"
"Huh?"
"Oh, internet! The info ocean! Yahoo, Lycos!"
"What primitive talk."
"Been two years off it."
"Ah, gotcha."
A soft chuckle from the speaker.
"Figures. You're not the type. Wouldn't touch group chats. Kinda high-and-mighty."
"..."
"Your ID reminded me of some weirdo, so I asked."
"My ID? Skeleton?"
"Yeah. Weird beatboxer. Feels like an old guy mimicking youth. Could pass for 60s, not even 50s. Oh."
Someone calling her faintly.
"Gotta go."
Call cut.
Abrupt and rude, but that rudeness was my salvation now.
"Phew..."
Rushed to the laptop.
A year-old upload.
<Delete this post?>
"...!!"
Not deleting.
Would just raise suspicion.
Suppressing the urge, I played it.
Thankfully, past me was cautious.
Black screen, shadowy figure barely visible, beatbox flowing.
"Beat-beat-beat! Bip! Pum-pum! Psh~ Chika-chika! Bachika! Kan!"
I bobbed along, mesmerized to the end.
Conclusion: nothing suspicious.
Not many clues linking Skeleton to Park Gyu.
But something new: a comment.
Maybe board friends finally appreciating my coolness, searching my posts?
Excited, I read.
Why the hate?
Still, nostalgic nicks.
Friends alive or gone forever.
Savoring memories, I prepped the car.
Wasteful on gas, but full readiness for the four-wheeler, then contacted neighbors.
"Defender. It's me."
Easy with comms for Defender siblings.
"Skeleton!"
Da-jeong picked up.
Always her.
"What's your bro doing?"
"Napping. Sleepier than he looks."
"Heard the radio?"
"Yeah. But they'll come here? Paju's far."
"Came this far last year."
"Dangerous?"
"Insanely."
"What to do?"
"Prep vehicles, flee till out of sight if they show."
"Got kickboards."
"Kickboards might..."
Not worried about them.
Mobile pros.
As I went to hang up, Da-jeong changed topics.
"Oh, Skeleton. Saw DragonC's latest?"
"Yeah."
"Thoughts? Didn't seem like DragonC. Looked like that bastard Pilkreum—no, that guy's style. No way?!"
"Dunno. Maybe collab. Both artists."
"Hmm. DragonC forgave Pilkreum?"
"Later."
Hadn't told Defender about DragonC yet.
Internet pal, so soon.
Opportunity brewing.
Plan to gather Mad Sniper mom-daughter and Defender siblings.
"Skeleton!"
"Yeah, Su. Mom?"
"Napping."
"Online again?"
"Found shocking news online for Mom."
"What?"
"Wants to show you herself."
"Not weird?"
"Dunno. Got juicy?"
"Not juicy—heard radio?"
"Yeah. Coming here?"
"Maybe. Prep anyway."
Full prep, ears on radio.
Caster droned positions via fragile waves.
Up the hill over my bunker, scoped north.
Barren land, pioneer lights, then darkness.
Sky full of stars instead.
Under infinite stars, awaited guests.
Far off, shimmering lights spread.
Radio confirmed.
Unlike before, no monster reached my turf.
Meetup with sniper mom-daughter and Defenders delayed.
Lingered on hill, blankly watching the vanishing.
Always mesmerizing: monster deaths, especially colossals, drew the eye.
Comms buzzed.
"Skeleton, seeing it? Pretty lights north!"
Da-jeong.
Same sight.
"Monster dying?"
"Yeah."
"...Like butterflies of light. Countless."
First time seeing a colossal vanish; she was entranced.
Makes sense—first-timers all rave about the beauty.
Monster deaths truly were that gorgeous.
Static—
Radio crackled.
"Skeleton!"
Su this time.
"Seeing? Monster dying!"
"Hey Skeleton."
Rebecca too.
"We hungry. Gimme choco-late."
"..."
Silence, then Su scolding.
"Why weird talk, Mom? That's why Dad left!"
"...Sorry. But Su, Skeleton—monster death pretty, right?"
"Yeah."
The dying monster pitched, spewing thousands of butterflies, blanketing sky in light particles.
Thus, silence fell on comms and radio.
I saw Da-jeong's infinite butterflies too.
"..."
May our human deaths be so too.
That day, most who refused or couldn't flee Seoul perished.