Ulleungdo, the Island of Miracles and Patriotism (1)
In for a penny, in for a pound. After scarfing down the evening rice soup porridge Jumo had whipped up for me (...), I hopped straight onto the ferry bound for Ulleungdo.
"What's the purpose of your visit to Ulleungdo at this hour?"
"Taking tomorrow off as annual leave! Heading there for some raw squid sashimi."
"Approved. When do you plan to return? What's your itinerary?"
"Gonna catch a glimpse of Dokdo at dawn, grab some pumpkin taffy, and head back in the afternoon or evening."
"Mm, perfect tourist. You're cleared!"
"Huh? Senior, isn't that reason a bit iffy? I'm trying to set foot on Ulleungdo here."
"You're Sejong Island academy staff. A verified 'domestic national' already cleared at the academy level—no need for a hardcore check. It's a straight shot from Sejong Island to Ulleungdo."
"Fair point." If my starting point hadn't been Sejong Island, getting in and out of Ulleungdo wouldn't be so easy. Even though it's an island inhabited since ancient times, its proximity to Sejong Island means access is controlled just as strictly. Especially between Sejong Island and Ulleungdo. With folks trying to sneak into Sejong Island via Ulleungdo, the ferries aren't your average passenger ships—they look more like warships. And the entry screening? It's basically immigration control.
"We still gotta follow protocol, right?"
"It's fine—Sejong Island staff heading to Ulleungdo. Not with any foreigners. Wait, unless it's a foreign daughter-in-law? Instant free pass? Heh heh heh."
It was a close call riding the last ferry on a Sunday evening; a slight delay in screening, and I wouldn't have made it to Ulleungdo at all.
Screeech. The ferry docked at Ulleung Port.
"Halt. Disembark one by one in line. Until identity confirmation, obey the agents' instructions."
After getting off the ship berthed at the massive Ulleung Port—built on a scale rivaling Busan International Port—I went through entry screening just like leaving Sejong Island and finally exited the port.
This is Ulleungdo in this world.
Memories flooded back of visiting with friends years ago to see Dokdo. One slight disappointment, though.
Is this Ulleungdo or Guam? The Ulleungdo I knew didn't exist in this world. Franchised seafood joints were a given, but even international chains lined the streets. The buildings, weathered by sea breezes, sported designs far sleeker than anything in Seoul, neon signs twinkling like Gangnam at night.
Welcome to Ulleungdo, the Island of Miracles!
Under that slogan, text in every language imaginable. Women in marine-look uniforms stood like tourist guides everywhere, hawking to foreigners. In one line: a state-run resort. Calling it Ulleung-Guam or Ulleung-Saipan wouldn't be far off—Ulleungdo had become a bigger tourist draw than Jeju, all thanks to mana.
With Sejong Island at the center, people flocked to the East Sea for more mana absorption, and Ulleungdo—closest to Sejong—was the top pick. Most who entered were ability users. They'd book a room, meditate their way to stockpile mana. Better yields than Uljin or Gangneung.
But plenty of non-ability users visited too. Who? Not locals.
"Honey, can we really make it big?"
"We have to. We're here for a one-night, two-day on Ulleungdo instead of three nights, five days in Hawaii. I'll make sure we succeed."
"Honey, if we have that kid later, we'll raise them happy, right?"
"Yeah. No turning them into villains—just raise them as patriots."
Mostly twenties or thirties newlyweds. Kids under fifteen? Nowhere in sight. Ability users that age couldn't even enter. No reason for children on Ulleungdo, this "island for adults' dreams." It was an island for making children.
"Hey, young fella. Here alone?"
A gray-suited old man around sixty approached me. Back when I visited with friends, the local pickup guy wore a fisherman's vest from the market. This one? His Rolex over the Taeguk Watch screamed wealth. Old, sure, but filthy rich. And he wasn't the only one.
"No lady?"
"Solo trip. Sejong Academy staff."
"Ah, really? Shame. Thought you were newlyweds on the 'ability conception course.'"
"Haha..."
Parents, right? They all want their kids exceptional. In this world, even the dim or talentless could dominate with a superpower.
"As you know, even us pre-Cataclysm births can contribute—by birthing ability kids."
"Any grandkids with abilities?"
"Listen here. My son's a B-rank ability user. Forty and high-risk birth? Still counts."
"Whoa..."
Born with a silver spoon? Could that kid swing it? Superpowers trumped silver spoons; parents couldn't always leave fortunes, but they could gift awakenings.
"Check Ulleung locals—everyone's got an ability family member, past or present. Same for the virgins and lads visiting. Why do they pay 5 million won a night and still flock here? To make superpowered kids."
"'Pumpkin Honeymoon.'"
"Don't use that slang. Though it does keep us fed. Use our term."
"What's that?"
"Patriotic Trip."
"......"
Make your kid an ability user, no matter what. From that culture came Ulleungdo's newlywed superpower conception tours. Stats backed it—kids conceived here post-honeymoon had higher ability rates. Living a year cost tens of millions, sure, but one night for fertilization? Doable. In 2025, couples picked "auspicious days." Not just Koreans—foreigners too. This was a conception hotspot. Not tourism. Pregnancy.
"No reason for a guy alone... Trying to snag a Ulleung girl? Give it up—even prosecutors can't touch 'em."
"......Haha."
"That reaction... You an ability user?"
"Nah. Just... way different from the Ulleungdo I heard about as a kid."
The old man's eyes lit up.
"As a kid? Heh, that'd be when Ulleungdo overtook Jeju."
"My parents dated here in their youth. Lots of stories."
"Heh, pre-Cataclysm Ulleungdo."
He gazed at the distant sea, nostalgic amid the glittering neons.
"Folks used to free-dive and boat here. No fishermen left now. Government forced 'em all into pensions and hotels."
"No backlash?"
"Backlash? They'd have rioted if evicted. But nah. Hawking tourists beats sun-baked diving—hundreds, thousands times the cash. Who'd refuse?"
Too lucrative to say no.
"Your parents' nostalgic Ulleungdo? Gone. This place has one purpose."
Patriotism. Birth was patriotism.
"So that's why you're really here alone? Even as Sejong staff, looks suspicious."
"Haha. Solo for real. See... I'm this kinda guy."
I pulled out my business card.
"Sejong staff with a card like...? Gasp?!"
"Sir."
I winked. He handed it back, tongue clicking in awe.
"Slippery one, eh... Heh. Jumo's heads-up had me curious—turns out it's a VIP."
"Appreciate it."
This old-timer? Local, but also manager of an Imae Mangnyang-run pension.
"Welcome to Ulleungdo, the Island of Miracles and Patriotism."
He hit his car key toward the lot; a black midsize sedan flashed like it was summoned.
Vroom. It pulled forward on its own. He opened the back door.
"This much?"
"Even five-star Seoul hotels valet you. Can't skimp at a 5-million-won pension."
"True that."
I reclined the seat.
"Then... to your destination in comfort, Section Chief Do."
"Thanks, sir."
"Yes, sir."
Did he know? That the onsen bubbling from his land, and the pension around it, was Earth's most valuable spot?
Nope. Just thinks he's a plain pension manager, Imae Mangnyang collaborator.
No one knew that onsen's powers.
"Uh, Section Chief Do. Old man curiosity here."
"Shoot."
"...Next time, which exec lady you bringing? The Chairman maybe?"
No matter how Ulleungdo changed.
"All five...?"
"......"
"Ah, no worries if not. Any lady, my lips sealed. Heh heh."
This country's elders hadn't changed.
Ulleungdo. Overseas, they called it the island of miracles and conception.