The Cake Is Not a Lie (4)
The abandoned corridor leading into the underground nuclear facility at Pyeongsan had been my choice. It made sense. If I had burst into an active tunnel, everyone would have known exactly where I was.
Calling it a coincidence feels too mild. It was almost as if I was asking the universe to reveal my presence here.
This particular passage had never been under the jurisdiction of the South Korean government. In fact, it was a forgotten relic of imperial history.
Is the inside actually cleaner than I expected?
I illuminated the walls with magic instead of a flashlight and began reading the inscriptions.
“Now from Ro-3 area. Uranium ahead.”
“To Ro-4: 100 meters remaining.”
I had just entered the Ro-3 section. Uranium lay directly ahead. And Ro-4 was still a hundred meters on.
These markings were the leftovers of the Empire. More precisely, part of the Ni-Go research program.
The idea that uranium and its enrichment products could become weapons wasn’t unique to America. Germany, Japan, and the Soviet Union had all pursued their own programs, but only the Americans succeeded in producing a completed device in time to drop it on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Imperial Japan, facing a desperate survival situation, had stripped its closest colony—Korea—of nearly everything it needed. People, rice, minerals. People across the entire peninsula, rice concentrated south of the 38th parallel, minerals north of it.
According to my records, the Pyeongsan uranium mine had also been a Japanese operation.
With Incheon easily accessible via the Seoul–Incheon line, transporting natural uranium to the mainland had been relatively straightforward.
One of those underground tunnels had survived every historical twist and turn, only to be forgotten entirely. Now I was simply reclaiming it for its original purpose.
After liberation, the South Korean government had catalogued most of these routes. But Pyeongsan sat north of the 38th parallel. Immediately after liberation, the area had fallen under Soviet control.
Authority over the uranium mine had passed through the Soviet Civil Administration, then, after the war, through the Demilitarized Zone negotiations, into the hands of the Republic of Korea.
Given all the major events that had unfolded, it was no surprise that so many shafts, chambers, and tunnels had collapsed.
I had simply reopened one.
Overlaying the facility layout I received from Ham Cheon-ho with local topographic maps had been a perfectly reasonable way to guess where the imperialists might have hidden secret passages.
So walking these corridors now was anything but random.
Thanks to the great-grandfather of my red princess, Chiyoko, who had personally ordered Emperor Hirohito to develop the uranium mine in Korea.
Thanks to the Comrade Great Leader—who was now in embalmed preservation, called the genius of the revolution, the sun of the nation, the legendary hero—who had ruined the early administration of North Korea.
And thanks to His Excellency Park Chung-hee, who knew how to develop the economy and had quietly laid the groundwork for nuclear weapons in the Blue House.
That was why I couldn’t hate these twisted currents of history. All that remained was to lock the water flow in the direction I wanted.
“Now from Ha-9 area.”
“Entry strictly prohibited.”
The Japanese military secret tunnel leading to the nuclear enrichment facilities ended at the Ha-9 section in the Iroha sequence.
The faded warning sign still carried a subtle threat, but I had no personal connection to it.
Probably Japanese soldiers had stood guard while the route was active.
I opened the door at the end of the locked corridor and stepped inside.
A door that had stood silent for half a century creaked open at the touch of my telekinetic power.
The outer edge of the facility greeted me. The deeper I went, the thicker the surveillance would become. The success of my mission depended entirely on reaching the absolute center without being detected.
I used Charm to seize one South Korean soldier in the blind spot of the CCTV.
At the exact moment his superiors would have noticed my presence, I froze his actions. Then I made him lead me straight to his superior.
After repeating the process five times, I finally stood before the head of this facility with nothing more than casual conversation.
In the duty room of the facility director, I smiled and said, “Today’s events here will be forgotten the moment I give the signal. Understood?”
“……”
The director of the Pyeongsan uranium mine was a South Korean Army brigadier general. I had no idea why soldiers were stationed at a uranium mine… or maybe I did.
I asked the brigadier in Korean, “Do you have any idea why I’m here?”
“You—!”
Instead of an answer came a blunt curse. Once the man realized I was merely an immature girl, his language would turn vicious.
Well, maybe he just assumed I was weak.
But it was nothing more than a crude threat conveyed through words and expression.
Even if he tried to intimidate me with the most menacing glare and threats, the power dynamic was completely reversed.
“I’ll say this in advance. You will not shoot me. And you will not shoot yourself. No one here today can die.”
As I spoke, I casually pulled a revolver from the brigadier’s desk using telekinesis.
According to regulations, a single revolver should accompany every officer wearing the rank of general. Apparently the real thing was still in use.
With that, I had completely neutralized any unpredictable variables.
Standing before the brigadier, I summoned Shattenmädchen and pulled out the radio hidden inside it.
While the brigadier stared in wide-eyed shock, I spoke into the radio in Russian.
“I have successfully infiltrated the facility. No unexpected variables detected. I will be returning shortly.”
“Confirmed. Return safely, miss.”
From the radio came Pavel’s voice, waiting alone on a quiet rural road near Pyeongsan.
I hadn’t bothered to follow strict communication protocol, but I saw no reason to point that out.
The brigadier looked startled when he heard the language coming from my mouth.
“Hah… so you’re from the Soviet Union?”
“How rude of you. Of course that’s what you’d assume.”
It had been a half-guessed assumption on my part.
Most memories would scatter under the power of Charm, then get randomly rationalized. But to prepare for any possibility that the memories might return, I had planted entirely false information.
Knowing that, I let the brigadier keep rambling with his own “logical” reasoning.
Only when the false memory fully surfaced would the illusion become absolute.
“…So the Soviet bastards actually realized the truth? Then why… why did they choose direct military action instead of a diplomatic solution?”
The ones who realized the truth weren’t the Soviets. I simply wanted to watch a cloud of mushrooms bloom over their heads.
“The plutonium incident at Busan Port a few days ago…!? The Busan and Gori nuclear plants were nothing more than a distraction… or perhaps a feint…?”
Half the answer was correct. Since I wasn’t holding the phone, he would never learn the full truth.
I asked him again, “Where is it?”
“What are you talking about…!”
“What else? The plutonium, of course.”
“Do you really think I’ll tell you just because you ask?”
Apparently everyone lacked learning ability. Had I tried to look pitiful—kneeling and begging with “Please tell me”?
“Of course you won’t admit it with your bare hands.”
In the past I would have opened my mouth in classic fashion, accompanied by a dramatic groan. This time I decided to try something more experimental.
Shadow-based spatial displacement.
“I expect you to learn from this. After all, you’re the first human being to step onto this experimental stage.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I summoned the shadow immediately.
The mass was large enough to cover an entire human head. Roughly the size of a basketball. Smaller than the scale I had tested against the barbed wire earlier.
But the precision had improved dramatically. Since I was dealing with a person, I had no choice but to be more careful.
If the connection broke, the displaced area might simply be cut away. I wasn’t worried about the experimental subject itself; if he died, I would have a harder time covering it up. That was a burden Charm alone couldn’t easily erase.
Anyway, the shadow-space displacement worked perfectly even on humans.
The brigadier’s head, squeezed shut in panic as he watched the approaching shadow mass, was now completely covered by Shattenmädchen, its form lost.
I opened the interior spatial pocket of Shattenmädchen and transmitted the entire head exactly as it was.
There was a soft pop—the displaced part simply fell away into the shadow. Only the area the shadow had already infiltrated was replaced.
Even though everything above the neck had been fully displaced, the brigadier remained alive, breathing.
The continuity of his soul remained intact and organically linked.
His sense of sight was the dominant human sense, so from his perspective it must have felt like an instant wall of shadow crashed down, plunging him into absolute darkness.
His flailing arms—evidence that he still couldn’t see—were proof enough.
He waved his hands frantically, patting the spot where his face should have been. Of course, only shadow was there to be touched.
He startled so hard he fell backward, butt slamming the floor. The shadow that had been anchored to his head followed him, sliding smoothly along the ground.
I warned him, “Stay perfectly still. If I misplace the return position even slightly, the blood might spray everywhere.”