The Snow Creeps Toward Buri Island
After finishing his conversation with Montage, Won-goo immediately called in the beggar pathfinders.
“Gather up!”
This was Sabbath — all it took was one raised hand and a shout of assembly, and every beggar pathfinder in the vicinity came scurrying over.
“I'll keep it short. You know that region where the big earthquake hit recently? It's snowing there now. Dig up every scrap of information you can about it. You have three hours.”
Stomp-stomp-stomp!
The beggar pathfinders scattered in the same instant they had gathered.
“Can we actually trust the intel those guys drag back? I've given them a few jobs before, and I could never quite bring myself to rely on them.”
Pacific said as he walked over.
“That depends entirely on who's doing the asking.”
“True enough. They do deliver when Director Gong's the one ordering.”
“Well... Gong has pulled a lot of crazy stunts in Sabbath. But is it really that serious? Some snow falling?”
“Whatever the cause... a region stuck on repeat with a single weather pattern is never a good sign. Let's just keep an eye on it for now. Everyone head back to the office. I'm going to stop by the Coin Exchange, then go see Dinosaur.”
He stopped by the Coin Exchange and invested three more coins into Strength.
Then he set off to meet Dinosaur.
“Director.”
“Hey. Been keeping well?”
“Thanks to you, Director, always. By the way... did you happen to summon the pathfinders?”
“Yeah. That was me.”
“Ah...”
“What? Been running your mouth about me?”
“Oh, no, never. How could the pathfinders dare badmouth you?”
“As if. They'll badmouth you anywhere there's even a hint of privacy.”
With that, Won-goo handed Dinosaur a pouch full of gold coins.
“I threw in a few extra. Spend it well, Dinosaur.”
“You really could just give me the principal...”
“Take it when it's offered. There were times when I wouldn't even part with a few silver coins, remember?”
“Business seems to be going well for you these days, Director.”
“Well, is it? Things have only just gotten back on track.”
“Fair enough. All this time, you've been way too... for your abilities, that is—”
Dinosaur caught himself mid-sentence. He faltered, glancing warily at Won-goo before stopping.
Watching a hulking mountain of a man get steamrolled by someone as unremarkable-looking as Won-goo never got any easier to get used to.
“Why'd you stop mid-sentence?”
“...”
“You said the right thing. I've been playing in the gutter for way too long.”
“Yes...”
“Dinosaur. Finding people you actually work well with — that's genuinely hard.”
“Th... that's true.”
“So if good people are hard to find, what do you do? You put in the time until things click. That's all there is to it.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“That's the point. It's only now that my people are starting to click. Just think of it that way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you heard the news about Pacific?”
“Yep.”
“Don't take it too hard.”
“Aw, come on. Why would I be upset? I'm settled and living comfortably thanks to you, Director. Not upset at all.”
“Sure you're not. Don't worry about it, though. I already told Pacific he'd better not touch the goods you deal in.”
At that, Dinosaur's face lit up even brighter. He bowed a full ninety degrees.
“Thank you! Director!”
“Good. You've been doing well so far. There's an exception to my bald-man rule, and you need to keep proving it every single day. Got it?”
“Absolutely. That's how I intend to live.”
For the first time in a long while, Won-goo wandered the market alone.
The Shelter was divided into several districts, and the ones he rarely visited were the entertainment quarter and the market. There simply wasn't much reason to go out of his way.
But the moment the Gong Clinic Director appeared in the market, all eyes turned toward him. The tension in the air was palpable.
The reason was simple: most of the market's merchants weren't officially registered to do business in the Shelter.
Working without official registration made you nothing more than a street vendor — which meant the authorities could sweep you away at any time, and it would be perfectly justified.
In fact, back when Won-goo used to run wild under aliases like Sapa and Physical Therapist, he'd once flattened every last street stall with the Trailer itself.
After that, the market merchants had never once crossed a line with him. They'd learned that as long as they stayed on the right side of it, they'd be left alone.
“Whoa... Director Gong! What brings you here?”
“Had some time to kill. This place hasn't changed a bit.”
The reason he tolerated what was, in essence, an unlicensed street market was that it played its part in keeping the Shelter running.
Not every survivor was well-off. Plenty still agonized over every single silver coin, and those people couldn't afford to use officially registered shops.
Which meant the cheaper market was the answer.
Won-goo browsed and shopped his way through the stalls. Pickpockets usually infested the place in force, but today, not a single one was in sight.
He was strolling leisurely back toward the office, arms full, when the pathfinders appeared — clutching stacks of documents loaded with information.
“Good work.”
Won-goo passed a pouch of silver coins to the pathfinders.
Then and there, he began reading through the intelligence they'd gathered. As he read, he let out a long breath through his nose. He lit a cigarette and finished every last page on the spot.
Then he returned to the office.
He handed out the things he'd bought to his crew.
“These are for you, Mage.”
Won-goo passed over several books. They were worn and tattered, but Mu Beob-sa received them with evident delight.
“Most appreciated, though I must ask — what's the occasion, exactly?”
“Ugh... when someone hands you a gift, you just say thank you. Why do you have to get all sniffy about it?”
“But... Director Gong, whenever you do this, isn't it usually the prelude to some difficult case, if I recall?”
“Did I take a bullet to the head? We haven't even finished dealing with Ganjeol Point — why would I start a new case?”
“Truly, now? If you say so.”
“Seriously... are your symptoms flaring up again? Can't a man just buy presents?”
“Then all the better.”
“Give them back! I'll use them as kindling!”
“No, no, not at all! Thank you very much!”
“Hyun-sung!”
“Yes, Hyeong-nim!”
“Here, take this and wear it. It had a great set of options on it, and I got it cheap.”
What Won-goo had brought back was a scarf. An ordinary-looking one, but enchanted with magic, and the effect was excellent.
The neck was the single most exploited weak point on any survivor.
Armor often failed to cover it properly, and it was where blood drained fastest — a spot that demanded constant vigilance.
“Thank you, Hyeong-nim! I'll wear it always!”
Lee Hyun-sung bowed deeply as he accepted it.
“No need to wear it all the time. Just when we're working.”
“Yes, Hyeong-nim!”
“Su-won, Jo Mu-sa, Geum Chul-soo.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You three — I bought you some shoes.”
“Thank you.”
“And gloves for Hye-ji.”
One item after another kept coming out of the subspace bag.
“Rafael.”
“...?”
“Here. This is yours.”
What he handed Rafael was a flowerpot. A pot blooming with blue flowers.
“You always stare at flowers more than anyone. So I got you one. Take good care of it.”
Surprise flickered plainly across Rafael's eyes. Perhaps because she'd grown quite close to the crew herself, she bowed her head and accepted the pot.
And finally, what Won-goo pulled out last was a cat.
A kitten.
“Why a cat?”
“Seems like Danshin's got a soft spot for the things. The moment a cat shows up, his eyes spin right out of his head.”
“What about me? Nothing for me?”
Pacific asked.
“I ordered you something good. And everyone — get your gear together.”
At those words, Mu Beob-sa's face crumpled.
“I knew it! My instincts were right! We ARE taking on a case, aren't we!”
Mu Beob-sa exploded.
“Oh, come on... would it kill you to have some patience, old-timer? Do you want to do that in front of the new crew member?”
“I've watched this Gong Clinic Director for more than a day or two, so I know how it goes. Am I not exactly right?”
“Honestly... am I a con man? Have you ever once seen me trick you into a case?”
“I have. Was that not when you tricked me and severed my wrist...”
“Ugh... that wasn't a case!”
“Why is that not a case! My wrist and fingers from that time still ache to this very day!”
“That's because you're old.”
“I am NOT old!”
“Aigoo, stop the screaming already. Is your illness flaring up again, elder? Just listen first. Listen. I told you already — Ganjeol Point isn't wrapped up yet, and I have no intention of taking on anything new.”
“Then why did you tell us to gear up, I wonder.”
“That's what I'm TRYING to explain, 'I wonder.' You mustn't have a seizure before the explanation is done, 'I wonder'!”
“Then explain, and I shall consider it.”
“Argh... my blood pressure. Talking to this old man is like talking to a brick wall, I swear.”
“...”
“The conclusion is this: the snowfall in that earthquake zone has been going on for a minimum of three to five days.”
“That long? There's no reason for this much snow, is there? The four seasons have been gone for ages...”
Jo Mu-sa said.
“Right. Which is exactly why we're going. Something might be happening out there.”
“Do you think a dungeon or a tower is about to spawn or something?”
This time it was Pacific's take.
“Could be. But I've never seen a case where a dungeon or tower spawning made it snow nonstop.”
“It's not going to be an ice age or something, right?”
Geum Chul-soo chimed in — and Pacific reacted instantly.
“Chul-soo. Don't jinx it. In this godforsaken world, literally anything is possible.”
“Ah... I'm sorry.”
“No, you don't need to apologize for that.”
“It probably won't be an ice age... but we still have to check. Some of these scenarios love to stage absolutely dog-shit situations for you. Anyway, get ready. We're only going to look and come back, so pack for about three days.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Pacific.”
“What?”
“You've got nothing to pack anyway, do you? Go call Danshin over.”
“Got it.”
“Ah... this thing...”
Won-goo was surveying the earthquake zone through a pair of binoculars.
He'd already been watching the falling snow for over two hours.
By now, so much snow had piled up that the quake-warped landscape had transformed into something resembling a mountain of white.
“What's wrong?”
“Hold on. Let's watch a bit longer. Nothing's confirmed yet.”
Won-goo kept observing.
There was, in fact, an incident surfacing in his memory — but he was hoping it wasn't that one. And nothing had been confirmed besides.
Still, instinct was not something to be ignored.
As long as the monsters aren't visible... they're not visible yet.
“I think we'll have to get closer.”
“Is that safe? That whole region is a walking trauma zone.”
“We'll only go as far as the entrance. Hyun-sung!”
“Yes, Hyeong-nim.”
“Wrap it up and load the Trailer.”
At once, the crew set down their half-eaten ramen and scrambled to get moving.
Once they'd approached the entrance, Won-goo examined the surroundings in closer detail.
Like a man conducting a full expedition, he scoured the area back and forth.
“What are you looking for?”
“If you see any sign that monsters have moved through here in large numbers, tell me immediately. Got it?”
And so the crew spent quite a while combing the entrance.
It was Geum Chul-soo who found the trace.
“This... this is a monster track, right?”
Footprints leading inward.
“Aren't these goblin footprints?”
“They are. We're screwed.”
“Why?”
“Confirmed — and why is that, I wonder?”
“Shit... it's an Arctic Giant.”
“An Arctic Giant? What in the world is that, if I may ask?”
“If it's a giant, doesn't that make it a Large Species?”
Giants were, of course, classified as Large Species.
Their grades varied wildly depending on the type.
But surprisingly, giants had a reputation among survivors as easier prey than ogres.
The reason lay in the difference in ferocity.
When an ogre worked itself into a rage, it charged without the slightest regard for its wounds.
Giants, however, had a habit of fleeing once they'd taken wounds beyond a certain threshold.
And fleeing meant more opportunities for the hunter. So survivors had developed a routine: wound the giant first, drive it into running, then trap it and take it down.
“Listen up. There are an enormous number of giant varieties. But they broadly fall into two categories — and the dividing line is worship.”
“Worship?”
“Some giants are worshipped. Ones like that Arctic Giant over there — the kind that command elemental forces. And those types... are worshipped by other monsters.”
“So what you're saying is, it's batshit strong?”
Pacific said.
“Extremely. But that's not the real problem. The Arctic Giant expands its territory. And once it does... the land starts snowing, just like that.”
“Hmm?”
“Huh?”
“Right. And THAT'S the problem. From that position, its territory would reach Buri Island in no time — and after Buri Island, the next thing in its path is the Shelter itself.”
“So we have to kill it. What grade are we talking?”
“Minimum grade 10. And that's the minimum. And it's not just the giant, either. It keeps pulling monsters to itself. Leave that thing alone, and how long do you think it takes for it to become an army?”
Only then did the full weight of it land on everyone.