Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 008
Chapter Title: Escape
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The looks on the hiking guy's face and the special forces uncle's when they saw my blood-and-god-knows-what-else-splattered state were priceless.
Well, anyone stumbling on a murder scene would react like that. Especially if the corpse was a monster.
I glanced down at the Patrol Entity's body, hacked into six pieces. I'd played it cool on the outside, but my mind was elsewhere.
'No way this docks points on my practical exam, right?'
The manual had been crystal clear: if issued firearms couldn't handle it, retreat at the first sign of trouble.
Instead of following orders, I'd gone rogue and diced up the monster. Might as well have cherry-picked every "don't do this" from the interview guidelines.
Shit.
If I'd known, I'd have just bolted.
Of course, no use crying over spilled milk. Couldn't revive the damn thing and chase it topside now.
Anyway, that wrapped up every mission.
Steal the sample from the fifth floor.
Shut down the generator in the basement.
Now all that was left was the finale: hop the chopper on the rooftop and get the hell out.
I shook the blood off the Four Tiger Sword roughly and nodded to the two of them.
"Let's move. Elevator time."
They nodded wordlessly, keeping a careful distance.
Yeah, I got it.
No one wants to hang with a guy who butchers non-humans like that.
Luckily, the path to the elevator was uneventful. With the generator off, the creepy vibe permeating the hospital had lightened up considerably.
Ding-
The doors to the rickety old elevator slid open with a spine-chilling metallic groan. The inside was cramped, and a nauseating moldy stench hit us like a wall.
"...You sure it's safe to ride this thing?"
The hiking guy—Park Kyung-min—asked in a shaky voice.
"Manual says so. Should be fine,"
I replied, and the special forces uncle—Jo Tae-sik—chimed in.
"Safe or not, we ride. No one's climbing twelve floors on foot."
The elevator arrived, and we squeezed into the steel coffin.
Three dudes packing a tight space meant stale sweat mixed with the fishy tang of blood wafting off me. I hit the rooftop button for the twelfth floor. Doors shut, and the thing lurched upward with a jolt.
Jerk.
This godawful practical exam was finally in sight of the finish line.
Risking your neck just for a public sector interview? It really drove home how brutal the job market was these days.
Still, a full-time gig with reliable paychecks? Maybe worth the gamble.
Lost in those lame thoughts, a heavy rumble started up as the elevator began its slow climb.
Every creak of the cables sent fresh waves of dread crashing over me.
'Cable's not gonna snap on the way up, is it?'
Horror flick clichés kept flashing through my head.
Park was still wearing that shell-shocked expression, and I could feel Jo glancing my way every few seconds.
What he was thinking was obvious. This guy's a monster too, huh?
Of course not.
I was just your average literature major dropout with zero resume specs to speak of.
That's when we were slogging through the awkward silence.
Ding.
The elevator ground to a halt at the fourth floor.
Yeah. The fourth floor. Not twelve.
"...Huh?"
Park let out a bewildered squeak.
I clicked my tongue inwardly. Figures. No way these anomalies would let us waltz out easy.
The doors parted, revealing the hospital from its glory days—bustling doctors and nurses zipping around, patients chatting amiably. All of them smiling warmly at us, beckoning us over.
"Come on in. Rough day, huh? You're safe now."
"It's secure here. Hurry this way..."
Pure horror movie cheese. A thousand times recycled. Like I said, falling for this is an IQ thing.
I glanced sideways on reflex. Jo had the same read—we both locked eyes on Park's cheeks.
Worried he'd get lured again, like with that lullaby.
If he bit this time, no mercy slap. Straight knockout and fireman's carry.
Sensing our stares, Park's shoulders twitched. He clutched his cheeks in terror and yelled.
"W-Why's everyone eyeing me like that? I didn't fall for it this time! Swear!"
Then, on pure instinct, he hammered the close button like a maniac.
Tatata-tat-tat-tat!
I couldn't help but snicker.
Whoever said humans are learning animals nailed it.
Yeah. You learn this stuff the hard way—by getting smacked.
Screeech-
Doors sealed, and the elevator resumed its climb to the roof. Park finally exhaled in relief and slumped to the floor.
"Haa... haa... For real, didn't bite this time."
After all the bullshit, we hit the twelfth-floor rooftop. Doors opened, and cold, damp night air flooded our lungs—way fresher than the hospital's stale reek.
Dead center on the helipad sat a chopper, rotors idling slow post-landing.
But I didn't drop my guard. Exam wasn't over yet.
Guideline 9 burned in my brain.
This place was exhausting me to the bitter end.
Board wrong bird, though, and it was a one-way ticket downstairs. So I crept up and peered into the cockpit.
Jackpot—no red eyes. Just a regular middle-aged pilot.
He spotted us and bellowed over the megaphone.
Callsign confirmed.
We're done. For real.
We scrambled aboard.
Only then did I relax and wave the others in.
Doors slammed shut the second we were in. A guttural roar, and we lifted off. Gazing down at the grotesque, shrinking Our Hope Hospital, I let out a long breath.
What a clusterfuck of a practical exam.
The chopper touched down at what looked like a normal hospital on Seoul's outskirts.
No sooner had we stepped off than agents in white hazmat suits swarmed us, shuttling each to separate isolation rooms.
They confiscated the Four Tiger Sword from my hand and the glowing heart from my pocket.
"We'll hold onto these for now."
I handed them over without a fuss.
Decent weapon—hated to lose it—but what could I do? I wasn't some random civilian anymore. Now I was under the organization's thumb. Company gear wasn't for personal joyrides, or it'd be disciplinary action. No choice.
In isolation, they ran basic checks: blood draw, piss test, shoved through some weird scanner. Felt like a lab rat.
The doc eyed my build and whistled.
"Musculoskeletal scores off the charts. You work out or something?"
"Nah, just built this way."
He shrugged and scribbled on the chart without prying.
Finally, a white-coat doc came in with mental health questions. Sanity check, probably. I played the part of a totally normal, well-adjusted citizen.
All procedures wrapped. Left alone in the room.
How much time passed? Door opened, and in walked a familiar face. Lee Chang, in his rumpled suit.
He plopped into a chair looking half-dead from exhaustion and cut straight to it.
"Heard you stirred up a shitstorm."
I shot him a blank look, like what're you on about?
"Pardon?"
"The Patrol Entity. Shredded it to ribbons, they say."
Lee Chang waved dismissively, like it was a hassle.
"Heard it from the other test-takers. No need to play dumb."
So he knew. Felt a prick of guilt; I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Couldn't risk failing. Manual says surface retreat counts as mission fail anyway."
He snorted, amused.
"Oh, that? Failures don't matter. Wipe the memory, let 'em retest. No need to go all-in on your life."
"...Come again?"
My face froze. Absurd. Speechless.
Why the hell tell me now? This guy.
Reading my expression, Lee Chang cracked a genuine grin for the first time—almost laughing.
"Heh heh. Bet you're the first in practical exam history to off a Patrol Entity and bail. Brass has their eyes on you now. Congrats."
Was that a compliment or shade?
I hesitated, then remembered something crucial and spoke up.
"...So, uh, what's the starting salary?"
He gave me a deadpan stare.
"Seriously? Asking that now?"
"Gotta know if the life-risking pay's worth it."
He scoffed and tossed out casually.
"Net 40 million won base. But case incentives are massive—top earners rake in hundreds of millions a year."
"Hundreds of millions?"
"Yep. Dangerous work, fat rewards. Got no fear? Money's easy pickings here."
Hundreds of millions. Suddenly, my near-death stunt felt like a decent bet.
"One more thing. Manual says first mission after a month of training. Which division am I slotted for?"
Lee Chang pondered briefly.
"Obvious from your practical scores. Brass won't waste talent on a desk. Skip research or admin. Odds on frontline Investigation like me, civilian Rescue, or straight-up anomaly-slaying Exorcism Squad."
Listening, seemed my fate was manual labor after all.
Eh, never figured desk work suited me anyway.
Then his pocket buzzed. He fished out his phone irritably, rummaged in his jacket, and chucked something at me.
Caught it on reflex—an envelope, fat with cash. Inside: hundred 50,000-won bills and a plastic card.
"What's this?"
"Practical exam bonus. Told ya—500k for surviving."
I hefted the weight, mumbling.
"Five hundred thousand won..."
Year's rent sorted.
I pulled out the card. Fresh scan photo of my sour mug, crisp emblems: the bureau's haetae beast and the national mugunghwa flower.
Temporary agent ID, huh.
"Next Monday, flash that at the National Intelligence Service building on Guryong Mountain and clock in. They'll brief you there."
"Ah... so then..."
"Yeah. You're hired, dumbass."
Hired. Brain short-circuited. He tacked on like that was it.
"All that's left is the grind. Toughen up before day one. Later."
Lee Chang stood and bailed from the room.
Alone, I stared down at the temp ID in my hand.
In this era of record youth unemployment, I'd landed a grade-7 civil servant spot others dreamed of.
Sure, the agency meant betting your life every mission.
But better than a grade-9 drone buried in complaints and peanuts.
...Probably.