A World Without Journeys
That day marked the end of travel in this world.
Two Disaster-class monsters appeared at once, and then came the moment when one man alone took them down.
“…On leave, Sergeant?”
“Yes. Even if you’re a cyborg Super Soldier, you’re still human in the end. It’s been a while since I last went back to my hometown.”
The general behind the desk was smiling, but the warmth was missing from that smile.
That same day, the Observer monster that had swallowed the SHAS main base training ground. A single laser beam from it and his entire squad was reduced to ash, leaving only Sergeant Gang Ji-hyeong alive.
In the chaos, she had seen it.
The instant the monster’s huge eye embedded in its torso began to go berserk, a man in a black exoskeleton had appeared and reversed every death that had occurred.
The Bone Mask.
The man who had brought the dead back to life and wiped out a Disaster-class monster that even the Hwarang unit couldn’t touch in a single breath.
After that day, Ji-hyeong owed him a debt.
So when she returned and saw the distorted broadcast on the news painting the Bone Mask as a villain, she immediately filed a report up the chain.
“He is not a villain!”
She did it to leave even a single line of the truth intact.
…But what she got back was just a single order.
“Leave.”
No, more precisely, the order to stay quietly out of sight.
To stay out of view, to keep your mouth shut, to be conveniently removed from the picture—the kind of leave that erased anyone who knew inconvenient truths.
“You don’t know, but up top they’re causing quite a stir these days. Especially in the political circles.”
“No, even if it is, does that mean they can just blatantly fool the people like that?”
“Hoho, watch your mouth.”
The general’s brows furrowed deeply.
“You think because you’re Super Soldiers you have a couple extra lives? The military is not supposed to get involved in politics for any reason. This is an upper-level directive. Got it?”
It was nothing less than “shut your mouth and stay out” as a command.
The military is a place that obeys orders without question.
Ji-hyeong knew that.
Even as a Super Soldier, even when called a hero, she was still just one soldier of the Republic of Korea.
The people she had to protect.
The citizens, her comrades, and her family.
All of them lived inside this peninsula.
And this land was the country that buried first those who spoke the truth.
They would simply vanish under the excuse of “honorable sacrifice.”
“You bastards. Are you that scared of the ‘new generation’?”
Ji-hyeong gave a bitter smile and pulled her cap down over her eyes.
***
City terminal.
After so long, Ji-hyeong stood in front of the ticket counter wearing her civilian clothes instead of her military uniform.
One bag in her hand.
And an expressionless face.
“One-way ticket to Wando, Jeollanam-do. One hundred twenty-eight thousand won.”
“…Even more than three years ago?”
“Yes. With how often monsters are appearing lately, the drivers get a ‘survival allowance.’ It’s only natural in this world, isn’t it?”
The attendant’s tone was calm, almost indifferent.
It was the tone of an era where death itself had become just another item on the daily statistic.
Not round-trip, one-way.
A single ticket cost one hundred twenty-eight thousand won.
But Ji-hyeong didn’t think it was expensive.
It was actually a price she could understand.
Leaving the city in this world meant stepping outside the state’s surveillance net.
In other words, surrendering the right to be protected.
*What if I run into a monster along the way… I’ll have to sacrifice at least one arm or leg.*
The word “travel” had long since disappeared from common usage.
Thick reinforced glass and vibration-dampening devices lined the bus windows.
Every route had its designated “safe corridor,” and even those required approval from military unmanned reconnaissance drones circling overhead to confirm no monster activity before departure.
Drones hauled cargo, unmanned trucks delivered supplies.
Yet humans still had to cross the roads themselves, which made the difference between those vehicles and a human life.
The farther you got from cities like Seoul, the steeper the odds of death rose.
Simple reason: monsters always hit the places with the fewest people first.
City centers had surveillance radars, combat walls, and defensive drones, but once you left the city those protections vanished.
A “blank zone” untouched by military hands or communication networks.
People called it that with a mix of mockery.
“The South Korea erased from the map.”
“Hoho, four passengers today. In these times, even three is a miracle~.”
The driver’s drawl carried a lazy drawl.
“Still, miss, why leave a safe city in the first place?”
“Just… I missed my hometown after so long.”
Ji-hyeong answered with a short laugh.
“But this bus… is it really safe?”
“Hoho-ho, don’t worry! This bus was just remodeled this time. Even though it’s only a half-inch thick, it has anti-air missile launchers too.”
The driver tapped the rusty metal cover beside the driver’s seat with his fingertip.
“That’s the missile firing system. If a monster suddenly comes out, the bus itself fights back. The world’s gotten pretty nice, hasn’t it?”
Ji-hyeong simply gave a thin smile.
Hardly anyone left the city anymore.
Those who did were mostly people who had given up on life or old men who wanted to step on their hometown one last time.
That might explain why the driver looked surprised when a young woman bought a ticket and boarded.
Ji-hyeong quietly lowered her head and walked into the bus.
That was when it happened.
“Hi!”
“Ah, Arum-ah! Dad told you not to talk to strangers!”
A voice far too soft and delicate came from behind the seats.
Ji-hyeong froze for a moment.
“…Children?”
Her gaze slowly turned backward.
Two kids sitting side by side on the worn, old window seat at the rear.
One looked about elementary-school age, the other still had the round face of a kindergarten child.
Ji-hyeong’s voice caught in her throat.
This route covered roughly four hundred kilometers from Seoul to Wando—eighteen hours or more at the current pace—and was considered a dangerous route in a high-alert zone.
More than half the highway had collapsed from monster activity, and checkpoints were blocked at every turn.
The bus could only pass each section after receiving approval from reconnaissance drones, and travel was strictly forbidden after dark.
Yet here, on this route, were two young children.
That fact was far stranger and scarier to Ji-hyeong than any monster.
The children’s laughter warmed the bus air for only a moment, yet even that warmth felt ominous.
“Those little ones snuck up from Jeollanam-do to see their mom. The mom’s working in Seoul, they say.”
The driver let out a sigh mixed with a chuckle.
“Eh?! But… minors without guardians aren’t allowed to board intercity buses, right?”
“That’s right. But— they hid in the cargo hold and came up. What can you do? Their mom’s working and can’t come down with them, so when they get back they asked me to ‘take good care of them.’”
He glanced at the road for a second, then added quietly.
“…This world’s gotten pretty rough.”
Ji-hyeong stared silently at the children.
After the monsters changed the world, the word “prosperity” had disappeared from the military’s vocabulary.
Still, people had to eat and live.
Even while knowing the danger, parents scattered to provincial construction sites and coastal jobs.
And sometimes, children chose these dangerous routes because they wanted to meet their parents.
It wasn’t a tragic story from the news—it was something Ji-hyeong had seen with her own eyes many times.
“Even so, this is not allowed! Minors without guardians are prohibited from boarding intercity buses by law! Get them off right now!”
Ji-hyeong’s voice rang out firm and decisive.
But the driver scratched the back of his head and smiled awkwardly.
“Oh, miss. I hear you, but… their mom already left them with me and headed to the factory. If we make them get off now, there’s nowhere to go anyway. Better to just let them stay.”
Ji-hyeong bit her lip hard.
The average death rate on intercity buses was around five percent.
And this route was more than ten hours long.
In other words, the odds of encountering a monster doubled.
At that moment, a soft voice came from the back.
“Don’t worry! If there’s danger, Oppa Bone Mask will save us!”
“…!”
“Yes! That’s right!”
Unnie Yuna shouted along with her little brother.
In the two small fists clenched tight, their eyes held a pure, innocent light that still believed in the world.
Ji-hyeong closed her eyes for a second.
She had seen too many people heading toward death with empty hopes, so she cautiously knelt to the children’s eye level to “persuade” them.
“Kids, heroes… don’t always show up whenever you want. This isn’t a hero comic—”
“Bu-but…”
The little shoulders trembled.
Arum lowered her head, eyes glistening, and murmured.
“Mama… promised.”
“…What?”
Arum sniffled and pointed behind her with her finger.
“To that Bone Mask Oppa over there! She said she promised to protect us!”
“…Eh?”
Ji-hyeong instinctively turned her head.
And in that instant.
By the window seat where weak afternoon light filtered through, there really was him.
The man who had saved her in the hell at SHAS main base.
The “hero” the current government considered a thorn in its side at the same time.
“Hiiiieeeeeeng! Unnie’s bullying me! I got so sad… and I’m so hungry! Make me some more bread!”
“Ah, Arum-ah! You’re making up another weird reason again to get free bread from Oppa! It’s the third time already! You’re a nuisance!”
“…It’s fine. You can have some too.”
“…Eh?”
[ “Bread Mode” has activated. ]
[ Description : Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!!!! ]
“Bread.”
Poof.
Instantly, golden particles scattered from the air and a freshly baked croissant shot forward with a soft “puff.”
The outside was crisp, the inside warm and filled with melting butter.
“Wow! It’s real bread!”
“The smell… it’s like a bakery! Oppa, I’ll eat it up!”
The two kids clapped and ran over, and the sweet scent filled the entire bus.