Please, Help America

"Those shit-star bastards. They really ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠discharged Second Lieutenant Shin?"

"Not discharged. Cashiered."

"Either way, he's out of the army."

"Yeah."

"...This isn't right."

The cashiering of Shin Haneul. It was news enough to set every Awakened unit in the Republic of Korea stirring.

"He was a decent man."

"Didn't see much of him. Still."

He was nothing like Park Gyeongtae, who had mana stones shoveled into his hands through sheer favoritism. On ability alone he had become the second-strongest Awakened in Korea, and not one of the merits he earned along the way was ordinary.

Had it been wartime—or any other country—a man of that caliber would have been promoted on the spot. He was a true soldier besides, first in line for the filthy work. Nothing like Park Gyeongtae, forever sidling toward whatever was easy, whatever paid.

And they were meant to believe a man like that had been so blinded by credit that he annihilated his own unit?

"That's bullshit. How does one second lieutenant wipe out a whole unit on his own say-so?"

"Way things look, that sack of shit Byeon Jungseop did it... so why'd Second Lieutenant Shin take the fall..."

Something was wrong. That much, they could say for certain. But not one of them had the nerve to step forward and say it where it counted.

"If the 1st Special Mission Unit hadn't been wiped out, this would've gone differently."

"Since when do ifs count for anything?"

"Even so. Those guys would've thrown their careers in the trash to cover for Second Lieutenant Shin."

These men had no such courage. Get driven out of the military and you were finished—that was plain enough—and they had no wish to throw their careers away for a Shin Haneul they had never even dealt with directly.

"But Second Lieutenant Shin's gone, and the 1st Special Mission Unit's wiped out. Means we might get assigned the good dungeons, right?"

"Oh—hold on. Are we about to become Korea's aces?"

Even in the middle of it, there were those weighing their own gain and loss. No. Most of them were. Only the manner of showing it differed.

"Still, though. Talent like Second Lieutenant Shin's—shouldn't they have stuck him in some dead-end post just to keep him in the army?"

"Talk sense. You think Lieutenant Colonel Jin and his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bunch would sit quiet for that?"

"Yeah, but that means we're running ops ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠without him now. We'll be all right, won't we?"

"Come on. What's the worst that happens?"

With that, a brief silence settled over the unit. True enough, they were all thinking.

The death rate in Awakened units was extremely low. The incident that had swept Shin Haneul up not long ago was nothing but the product of a stupid mistake, and in general Awakened units died less often than ordinary ones. It was only natural they felt no real sense of danger.

But afterward, something grew stranger by the day. Pushing through the dungeons, their bodies felt it first.

"Hey. Don't the dungeons feel weirdly brutal lately?"

"Right?"

"Same today. Walked in and I was already spent."

What met them at the entrance was a small pack of goblins—the sort they would normally have cut down without breaking a sweat. Putting them down took nearly an hour.

"At this rate, are we even getting off on time today?"

Still, they could rest now. A zone cleared, they lit cigarettes the way they always did and settled in for a short break.

That was when it happened.

A twitch.

The goblin they had definitely killed. Its corpse shifted, just slightly.

"Hey. Hey."

"What?"

"Did that bastard just move?"

"The hell are you—"

He had meant to jeer at the other man for getting spooked. He never got the chance.

GRAAAAH!

A splitting crack—and the goblin, risen as an undead, burst the man's head open like a watermelon.

Every day, another anomaly. The reports kept coming in: mutated dungeons appearing, Awakened dying.

And not only in Korea. From the Americas to Asia, Europe, Africa, and Oceania—even the Arctic and the Antarctic were in an uproar.

This was a transitional age. Before the Tower came into being, Awakened had few ways to make themselves stronger. That was why.

Of course, even if the same crisis had fallen across every continent, not every nation's answer was the disaster Korea's had been. Most countries were scrambling, somehow, for a solution. The Republic of Korea alone felt no sense of crisis at all.

The field commander's mistake. A lapse of discipline in the ranks. They laid every cause at someone else's feet. The one rule was that it must not be the fault of anyone important.

Eyes covered, playing innocent.

In the life before, Shin Haneul had saved all of it. From Jeju in the south to Paju in the north, from Ganghwa in the west to Dokdo in the east, he had run himself across the whole of the country.

But now? There was no need. He was only spending time with his family, in the mansion Jonathan had lent them.

"Grandpa! Come here! Over here!"

Minwoo, for his part, was already entirely satisfied with the yard. Small wonder. The military housing they had lived in before was an old concrete building, paint flaking in patches, and even the playground had been so ill-kept that it felt unsafe to turn a child loose in it. Here, the neatly tended yard was wider than that playground had been. He rode his kick scooter, filled a basin and splashed in it, and played with the stray cats, and the smile never left his face.

"You this happy just because there's a yard?"

"I'm happy because I get to play with Dad!"

Every time he saw that guileless face, something ached in Shin Haneul's chest. It must have been around now, in that other life—the unit growing so busy he barely saw his son's face. And after the Tower appeared, after he learned the world itself might end—

A sharp sting. Watching his son's bright smile, guilt drove itself deep into his chest for no reason he could name.

"Grandpa's the dragon. Got it?"

Minwoo shouted it from inside the tent pitched in the yard, both arms flung high. His grandfather dropped to his knees and crawled exactly as his grandson demanded, throwing himself into the part.

"Uwooooh! I am a monster!"

"Not a monster! A dragon!"

"Kraaaah!"

For the record, Shin Haneul was a tree.

"Dad! Save me!"

"Hm? You said Dad was a tree. How's a tree supposed to fight a dragon?"

"Dad-tree can do it!"

He had no idea what sort of tree that was meant to be, but he couldn't very well lose. Shin Haneul swung an imaginary sword and cut his father down.

That was when his mother called them all.

"At least eat something while you're at it. The child must be hungry."

She meant a snack. Shin Haneul moved quickly to head her off.

"Mother. Minwoo's already had five meals. Eight, if you count the snacks."

"Oh, please. You think this will fill him up? A growing child needs to eat. It all goes to height anyway."

He had his doubts. If all of this went to height, Minwoo would end up a giant past ten feet tall.

"That's enough food for today. We'll need to put him to bed soon."

"What are you talking about? It's far too early for bed. It's still broad daylight."

"Even so, it's a stretch to call this daytime..."

He meant to heed his mother in almost anything, but this was separate. He was not about to love his precious son into childhood obesity. He was working up to persuading her when Minwoo's voice came from the yard.

"Dad, what are you doing! Hurry up and get in here! Grandma, you come too!"

"Minwoo. I think it's about time for bed."

No answer. Was he pretending not to hear?

Smiling, Shin Haneul stepped out into the yard.

"Minwoo. It's about time to brush your teeth and wash—"

But his son hadn't gone quiet because he didn't want to sleep. There was a presence at the front door.

A soft knock.

"Is anyone home?"

Calling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quietly, as if they feared the doorbell would be a bother?

He checked the peephole. Beyond the small lens stood a man in sunglasses, and behind him two more in the same uniform. US Army, without question. He asked without opening the door.

"...What is this regarding?"

The man in sunglasses answered.

"I sincerely apologize for calling at such a late hour, and without any notice. I am Colonel Curtis of the US Army Awakened Special Operations Command—"

"The point, if you would."

He was fairly certain he knew without hearing it. Sunglasses—no. Colonel Curtis did not stray from that expectation by a hair.

Their coming at all was no surprise.

The AARC kept a close partnership with the US military and traded information constantly. Shin Haneul's own information was a separate matter, but he had permitted it. Hiding it would not have hidden it, and more importantly, he had meant to deal with the US military from the start.

Fast, though. They were fast.

A different league from the Korean military. That much was certain.

"I understand your business."

"Yes. Then—!"

"Then good day."

Curtis had lifted his head with a brief flare of hope; Shin Haneul turned his back on him. He was just walking away from the yard gate when Curtis cried out, voice raw with desperation.

"Mr. Shin Haneul! Have you heard? Dozens of Awakened died trying to contain the dungeon that opened in Portland. Men counted among the finest in our own unit."

He said nothing.

"And that was a medium dungeon. If a mutation like this appears in a large one, how much of our strength will be lost... No. I doubt we could even stop it."

"So?"

So many Awakened dead, trying to hold Portland's mutated dungeon. A sad story. A pitiful one. But what was he supposed to do about it? Every last one of them had chosen to go.

Nor did the people of Portland have much to fear. A dungeon burst was a catastrophe you could see coming: evacuate to a safe zone, and that was the end of it. Monsters spilled out in a burst faded on their own, given time. You went back then. And Portland was hardly the only city in this state. The whole world now stood exposed to a dungeon burst, and Shin Haneul could not circle the globe stopping every loss.

I won't neglect my own people for strangers whose faces I don't even know.

He said it plainly.

"Please go back."

"...And the large dungeon we feared appeared today. 6:22 p.m. Downtown Seattle. There is an embargo on it for now, but it will be made public soon."

A dungeon had opened this close to home?

That was a different story.

The door banged open. He would hear the rest.

"I know why you hesitate, Mr. Shin. You gave your life to the military, so the sense of betrayal must run deep. But we are not the Korean army! Prove your ability this once, and you will be marked for special promotion at once—major, at the minimum—"

"No, no, no."

What was he saying? If that was what Shin Haneul had wanted, he would never have settled for nothing but a research contract with the AARC.

"I'll have to politely decline. I have not the slightest intention of belonging to a military again."

"And regardless of rank, a man of your caliber would be supplied mana stones every day, up to your absorption limit!"

Curtis had grabbed entirely the wrong end of it. That was not what Shin Haneul wanted.

"Mana stones. Promotions. I don't need any of that."

"Pardon?"

"For now, please guide me to the dungeon. Better to settle the account later."

"What do you—"

Colonel Curtis let out a blank, stunned sound. Being told the bill could wait was not a thing he found easy to understand.

It couldn't be helped. What Shin Haneul wanted was nothing that could be settled on Curtis's authority.

It's a dungeon that has to be cleared anyway.

A market with no substitute, and he held the monopoly. There was no reason to fear collecting afterward. If anything, waiting might be how he drew a higher price. And if they fell short of what he expected? He could always see what another country would offer.

So all he wanted from Curtis, here and now, was one thing. To be led to the stage where he would show everyone what he could do.

"As I said. Please guide me to the dungeon that opened downtown."