The Call of the Sea

Have I ever seen an item this thoroughly blinded?

That was the first thought that hit me the moment I looked inside the safe. I was still a newbie — only four Dark Zone drops since I'd arrived in this world — but I had no memory of anything like this. Lucy seemed to be in the same boat. She was scrubbing at her gas mask goggles, wondering if something had gone wrong with them.

I don't know what it is, but if it's been blinded, that means it contains information convicts like us aren't supposed to know.

Information we aren't supposed to know equals expensive. Operating on that simple logic, I shoved my hand into the safe without a shred of hesitation.

What I felt at the tip of my glove was the crisp texture of A4 paper, fresh off a printer. It had a decent thickness to it, so it was probably a bundle of documents. A little dust had settled on top, but there wasn't a single crease or smudge of human handling. In other words, whoever owned these papers had stuffed them into the safe the instant they received them, without even reading them. Normally you'd sneak a peek just out of curiosity, but they seemed to have drawn a very hard line between official business and personal interest.

Except this isn't some secret base run by a shadowy organization. It's just an ordinary convenience store.

The possibility that a shopkeeper trying to make a living in this deeply suspicious coastal apartment complex was actually a special agent for some government outfit? Kimchi being a traditional Chinese dish was more likely than that.

That was when Crazy Clock, who had been quietly observing from my wrist, suddenly fired a laser scan at the document bundle. A strange light flickered for a moment, and my heart lurched — I was afraid Lucy, standing right next to me, might notice. But she just kept staring at the papers in my hand, clearly none the wiser.

"What's inside?"

"...Some kind of document bundle. About as thick as a thin magazine, and from how crisp it feels, I don't think anyone's handled it much since it was printed."

"This is a convenience store, so maybe it's just a ledger the owner kept for personal use?"

"That would've been a clean ending with no twists, if only. But the gas masks we're wearing have a specialized AI built in. It censors text and certain image data that convicts like us might come across in a Dark Zone — and right now this entire bundle is being censored. No way it's an ordinary ledger."

Crazy Clock's laser scanning continued even as Lucy and I talked. I only managed to pull the papers out of the safe after it had finished completely. It was just a stack of documents — why the hell was getting them out of the safe this much work?

I let out a sigh of relief at that. If it had turned out to be an asset of that nameless company, there was no telling what other bizarre thing Crazy Clock would make us do.

The first reward was Alpha Fluid, so the quests themselves aren't bad — but right now I need to farm steadily and make money. I've still got my own mess to deal with first.

I grabbed a leftover plastic bag from nearby, carefully wrapped the classified documents, and stuffed them into my backpack. And just as Lucy and I were about to leave the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠convenience store—

"...Somang Planned City?"

Ah, fuck.

As long as I was a resident of this world, I had just learned something I wasn't supposed to know. It wasn't that I was completely in the dark — I'd already dug through EFD's hidden lore and plot hooks back in reality and come across all kinds of weird information. The problem was that this knowledge had now been inscribed on this body, not just my soul.

I'd never heard the name Somang Planned City until today, but of course I knew about Dark Zones themed around this kind of setting. I'd played so many I couldn't even count them, so it took a second to dig through my memory — but the moment the three pieces clicked together, sea, wish, coastal city, the answer came immediately.

"Lucy."

"Yes?"

"How's your stomach? Can you handle ugly?"

"I don't think it's bad. I've seen plenty of things I'd rather not have, living in prison."

"Good. Whatever you do, don't throw up with the gas mask on. If the mask breaks or you have to take it off, you're the one who pays for it."

"...Is something the matter? Your whole mood just changed."

Instead of answering, I opened the convenience store door and listened to a familiar sound coming from far away.

Wash.

Wash.

Even though we were a fair distance from the ocean, the sound of waves pushed clearly into my ears, as if someone had pressed a conch shell against the side of my head. I wasn't the only one who noticed something was off. Lucy paused and tilted her head.

"From now on, you're going to start hearing strange sounds in your ears. Nonstop."

"For example...?"

"Sounds related to the sea. Waves. Seagulls. Wind howling. Foghorns. And... something crawling up onto land."

With that, I took the lead down a night street that had grown a shade more sinister. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠There was no more time to leisurely farm out in the open. I kept moving without delay, passing additional warnings to Lucy as she stuck close behind me.

"Don't make any light source except a Glow Stick. No torches, no campfires. And absolutely, under no circumstances, an oil lantern."

"Is there a particular reason?"

"Because an oil lantern looks more like the light sources you'd commonly see along a coastline than anything else."

Some people might argue that the clustered electric lights on squid-fishing boats were a more common sight, but traditionally, the light source most often used in harbor towns was the oil lamp. As long as you had enough oil, that soft, widely spreading glow lasted a remarkably long time — and that distinctive dingy yellow-to-orange light guided the lost, whether the sea was buried in pitch darkness or smothered in fog.

We slipped out of the shopping street and climbed over the wall that separated the apartment complex from the road. In this day and age, a five-meter soundproof barrier around an apartment complex was standard — but this place hadn't installed a single one, as if noise pollution had never been a concern to begin with.

Well, of course. Whether the noise is coming from inside or from outside, it all needs to reach everyone's ears loud and clear.

The concept of noise pollution simply didn't exist here. If they'd actually cared about it, they never would have packed the apartment towers this densely — so close together that, to put it mildly, there wasn't even room to set your foot down. Even in apartment-obsessed Korea they at least kept a little distance between buildings. That said it all.

Of course, I had no intention of getting spooked and giving up on high-value farming now. He who does not farm has no right to eat.

I carefully inspected the entrance of the nearest apartment building, then climbed over a planter full of withered branches and opened a first-floor hallway window. I boosted short Lucy through first, then climbed in right after her.

"Wouldn't it have been fine to just go in through the entrance?"

"It was too dark to see clearly, but the entrance was covered in finely crushed glass."

"Ah."

You might wonder what crushed glass even mattered when we were wearing sturdy combat boots — but if those shards punched through the soles and lodged themselves in, they'd produce a constant noise. There was nothing quite as nightmarish as becoming a walking noise generator in a Dark Zone, so I casually skipped the tutorial the Dark Zone had prepared as a nasty welcome.

"That's just how Dark Zones are. Other people, the Native Species that live here, sometimes the Dark Zone itself — they all take malicious pleasure in tormenting intruders every way they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠can. Once you've set foot in a Dark Zone, don't take anything 'obvious' for granted."

"I'll be careful."

Maybe all the intensive coaching I'd given her on the way here was paying off. Lucy started scanning our surroundings with a noticeably sharper gaze. The alloy baton she'd drawn was the kind the guards used to physically beat prisoners — sturdy enough that even a light swing could shatter an ordinary person's limbs in one hit. And despite that, being made of alloy meant it was light, too, which made it a pretty optimal weapon for someone like Lucy.

Meanwhile, until my teammate grew into a fully competent fighter, I had to play the all-rounder. I took a throwing dagger in one hand and Pretty in the other — both convenient for indoor use. I'd brought the compound bow along, too, but it was a bit much indoors. Apartment hallways tended to run long and straight, sure, but we were still inside. If I was only going to get one shot off, I was better off not drawing it in the first place.

"We're skipping the first and second floors. When you're farming a residential complex this dense, it's better to skip the lower levels."

"Wouldn't it be more efficient to hit the lower floors fast and get out?"

"If we were doing a speed 'farming run' — in and out fast — you'd be right. But don't forget: we need to pack our bags full of high-value items. High-value loot isn't just lying around in places anyone can walk into."

Understanding, Lucy opened the emergency door and carefully checked inside. We'd already agreed: I took point outdoors, where I knew the terrain cold, and Lucy took point indoors with the baton, where a sudden fight was more likely.

"Nothing particularly strange on the emergency stairs."

"Toss a Glow Stick."

Lucy bent a Glow Stick in her small, childlike hands and flung it. A soft fluorescent glow lit up the inside of the stairwell. Just as she'd said, nothing unusual. I sent her up first and kept watching our rear. Even as we slowly climbed the emergency stairs, I periodically checked above, below, and behind us.

Wind howled and hummed in my ears. If I let my concentration slip even a little, I felt like I wouldn't even hear Lucy's footsteps right in front of me.

Back when I was playing the game, I especially hated this. It wrecked sound-based play.

What was this debuff called again?

Call of the Sea, wasn't it?

If my ten years of memory were accurate, that was the name. Call of the Sea was a debuff that more than lived up to it. It filled the ears of every Prisoner inside the Dark Zone with a constant wash of ocean noise, wrecking sound play, and slowly — bit by bit — drained your Sanity Gauge. At this very moment, it wouldn't just be us. Every other convict would be hearing the same thing.

What made this debuff ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠especially nasty was that it didn't need any special trigger. The moment Prisoners were dropped into the Dark Zone, it activated automatically thirty minutes later. We'd been in this one a little over thirty minutes, so it had kicked in right around the time we finished looting the convenience store.

There are so many coastal-city-themed Dark Zones that I was way too slow to recognize this one.

But regretting it now wouldn't change anything. It was already done. If we walked out empty-handed without farming, the next plan I'd so carefully prepared would fall apart. Like it or not, we had to farm under this debuff.

It's not like there's no way to clear it... it's just incredibly difficult.

That was enough idle thinking. Spinning up distant goals and plans that weren't even close would only make my head spin. Right now I needed to focus on searching and farm—

Thud.

The moment I lightly bumped into Lucy ahead of me, I stopped. She had cracked open the emergency door leading to the third-floor hallway and was quietly studying the corridor beyond. Then she turned her head toward me and made a gesture. It was the signal we'd agreed on beforehand: other convict spotted.

Another convict?

That couldn't be right. I signaled back, asking her to confirm she'd seen it correctly. Lucy checked inside again, then this time sent the light source confirmed signal. Meaning a human with a light source was here. Ahead of us.

Lucy wouldn't lie about something like that, so I put my own eye to the crack in the door — and came face to face with a soft amber glow illuminating the darkness at the far end of the hallway.

Oh, shit!

I immediately grabbed Lucy's small head and yanked her back. The light grazed the gap in the emergency door, then vanished again. An amber glow, wandering at its leisure through an apartment swallowed in darkness and silence. There was only one thing that guarded the densely packed residential zones of this deeply suspicious coastal city.

"That's not a convict like us."

"Then...?"

If Dark Zones set in bustling downtowns had the Lightman, Dark Zones with dense residential districts had the Guard Dog. That Native Species generated its own light from within its body like a firefly — a glow remarkably similar to an oil lantern — patrolled while pretending to be human, and swiftly hunted any Prisoner who took the bait.

And one more decisive fact.

"That bastard has a hell of a nose."

BOOOOM!

Something slammed into the emergency door we'd so carefully closed, at tremendous speed.