Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Taxpayer I
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Shin Noah
1
While we're on the topic of civil servants, let me say this: in Korean modern fantasy, public officials show up with suspiciously high frequency.
“Hello—oh, you're here to enter the gate? Could you show me your hunter license?”
“Aigoo. Sir, your license has expired. We can't let you in like this. Please head over to the Hunter Management Bureau right away and renew it.”
“What? Could you let it slide just this once? Ha, what do you take us for?”
Take, for example, the “gate management official.”
East Asians have loved bureaucrats so much across generations that they've even applied bureaucracy to the underworld ruled by Yama, the King of Hell—true fetishists of civil servants.
A proper East Asian wouldn't fear a monster wave but instead lament, “Ah, these barbaric beasts are so foolish and unfortunate, still unenlightened to civilization!” and impart bureaucracy to create a national system of great king monster—mid-level management monster—low-level management monster.
How could the solemn exercise of national law make exceptions for end-of-the-world chaos?
Of course, our world had no gate managers, but other kinds of civil servants did exist in reality.
“Undertaker Awakener.”
“Yes?”
“It's almost June. Have you filed your comprehensive income tax with the National Tax Service...?”
“Ah.”
No Do-ha's words snapped me out of it with a jolt.
“Indeed. Time flies. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Hmph. Putting it off because it's a hassle will just give you a headache later. They come collecting however they please. Once you're done with today's work, head straight to the tax office...?”
“You're right. Though I doubt I could even pay taxes... I'll go take care of it quickly.”
That's right.
In an era where the fury of burning youth in the military was forgotten, a National Assembly member's gold badge was buried in the sand, nobody gave a damn about such things, and survival itself had become a vulgar joke—
The National Tax Service still existed.
Today, let's talk about the final legacy of the Republic of Korea government—a faint trace in the ruins of a collapsed building—the trivial oddity known as the “National Tax Service Tax Office.”
2
Ding—
The first time I ever heard that familiar yet unfamiliar KakaoTalk notification was in the 56th round. On a spring day, May 4th.
“...Hm?”
At first, I thought my ears were playing tricks on me.
After Earth's genre had spectacularly drifted into apocalypse territory, words like “phone,” “text,” and “communication” had been deleted from humanity's dictionaries.
‘Was that a KakaoTalk sound just now?’
With a sliver of doubt, I opened my smartphone.
But lo and behold. After nearly a year, a bold red [1] was emblazoned over the KakaoTalk app.
Like a kindergartener receiving their first-ever KakaoTalk, I hurriedly checked the message.
――――――――――
[Notification Message Received]
“Republic of Korea in Decline Again”
“A Nation Where the People Die Together”
An electronic document from the National Tax Service has arrived.
Hello. This is the National Tax Service.
Every May is the month for filing and paying comprehensive income tax.
We have pre-calculated your comprehensive income tax for you, so please review the notice below and conveniently file and pay via ARS call (☎4444-4444).
■ Filing Inquiries: ☎444
――――――――――
“......”
After reading the message, the pressure in my expression dropped compared to before.
In other words, the steam went out of me.
“Pfft, damn. What the hell. It's just a ghost text.”
Ghost text.
After the end of the world dawned, these kinds of oddities popped up now and then. It was also why cell phones and electronic devices were treated as top-tier hazardous materials.
It was an infinite competition era where even oddities thrashed to survive.
To stand out even a little, they couldn't stick to just ghost texts—they diversified into ghost calls, ghost websites, ghost radios, ghost TVs, and more.
In truth, the only safe network on the Korean Peninsula was SG Net, but even that had been tainted by “hero syndrome” at one point. The whole world was a blind spot for safety.
And the way to deal with ghost texts was surprisingly simple.
‘Ignore it.’
Just blow it off.
There's a proverb in English: Curiosity killed the cat. These days, curiosity has leveled up and casually hunts not just cats but humanity too.
At this point on the Korean Peninsula, forget the National Tax Service—there wasn't even a government organization to be found. Naturally, ignoring tax collection texts was the right answer.
But the very next day.
“Hey, bro. Did you get the text?”
“Huh? What text?”
“You know, the one from the National Tax Service demanding taxes. SG Net's blowing up about it right now.”
“...You got it too?”
The situation had changed.
“Oh, uh, me... I got one too. A letter.”
“What? A letter?”
“Y-Yes...”
Sim A-ryeon hesitantly handed over the letter. The envelope was already torn open. A quick skim showed it printed the exact same content as the notification message.
“...This is getting serious.”
An ominous feeling crept up my spine, like cold fingerprints toying with my vertebrae.
“R-Right? I thought the guild master was pranking me, but Seo-gyu got the same text, so...”
“Where did you find the letter?”
“W-When I woke up, it was on my bed. Right next to the pillow...”
No need to say it, but... my guild hideout's security was insanely tight. Sure, in the 89th round, Go Yo-ri smashed the whole guild in one go, but that was because Go Yo-ri was the weird one.
Even if it was Arsène Lupin himself—or his grandpa—no one could sneak past my surveillance, leave a letter in Sim A-ryeon's bedroom, and slip away.
Assuming the intruder was human, that is.
[I got the same message.]
The Saintess's testimony was the finishing blow.
[When I woke up this morning and opened the front door, there was a letter stuck in the crack.]
“What about other Awakeners?”
[The same thing is happening nationwide. People with smartphones got notification messages, and everyone else got letters.]
The Saintess's usually emotionless voice grew even more toneless and low.
[Undertaker. The more important fact is that no one witnessed the ‘moment the letters arrived.’]
“Yes?”
[In other words, no one saw the mail carrier delivering the letters.]
What the Saintess meant was this.
It happened this morning at a guild in Incheon that she was monitoring with “Clairvoyance.”
This guild's hideout was sturdy, if not as much as mine. It was underground, with multiple layers of steel doors and several guards.
Simply put in diagram form, it looked like this.
――――――――――――――――――
■ ♙ ■ ♙ ■ ♙ ■
Door Guard Door Guard Door Guard Door
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The guards took shifts for round-the-clock watch. In short, this guild always had “unsleeping personnel.”
Yet this morning, every guild member woke up to find mail without exception.
Under their pillows.
“......”
[The same message was sent not just to Awakeners but to ordinary people too. Undertaker. In my judgment, the ‘National Tax Service comprehensive income tax letter’ is...]
“No ordinary oddity.”
[Yes. It's definitely an oddity affecting the entire Korean Peninsula.]
I couldn't help but let out a hollow laugh.
...Some unidentified entity was hell-bent on collecting taxes, even if it had to become a ghost.
3
-Anonymous: Tried calling the National Tax Service lol.
If you had to pick the most important virtue for navigating this brutal end of the world, it'd be the caution to tap a stone bridge before crossing—and then not crossing at all.
But among Awakeners, there were occasional reckless fools who lived with their guts hanging out. Usually, they bought their ticket to the River of Three Roads early, but rare specimens survived unscathed.
The author of that day's verified post on SG Net was one such endangered species.
-Just called 4444-4444 like the notification said. Everyone around me said don't do it, but eh, what's the worst—death? lol
-Dialed the number and it actually rang? Rrring-rrring-rrring, connected after a few seconds. You know that mechanical voice? Yeah, that came on.
-Don't remember exactly, but probably something like ‘National Tax Service ARS Filing Center. Please select the service you want.’
-Then a weird screen popped up on my smartphone. Red background, white text. Here's the capture...
The post had an attached image file.
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National Tax Service
National Tax Service ARS Filing Center.
[1. Comprehensive Income Tax Filing]
[2. Value-Added Corpse Tax Filing]
[3. Slave Business No-Results Filing]
Data charges apply in 3G, LTE environments.
――――――――――
The image was grainy with noise in spots. The red background + white text stabbed at the eyes.
This was beyond a shaky stone bridge—it was doing tap dance. Yet astonishingly, the poster didn't stop.
-Saw “Value-Added Corpse Tax” and “Slave Business” and got a bit spooked lololol. First scare point.
-Anyway, clicked the most normal one, “Comprehensive Income Tax Filing.” That's what the notification was pushing too.
-Clicked and noise crackled with the guide voice telling me to enter my resident registration number? Almost forgot mine lol, been so long.
-It went like actual tax payment, but at the end, it said pay via account. But fuck, who has accounts these days? Even if you do, banks aren't operating—how do you send money? lol
-Luckily or not, said I could pay in person at the tax office. Told me to go to “Pocheon Tax Office.”
-Second scare point... I actually live in Pocheon lololol. How do these text bastards know where I live?? lol
-But afaik the local tax office collapsed ages ago. No idea why they're telling me to go. Gonna check it out soon and post verification...
The post ended there.
Naturally, the comments exploded—in a bad way.
-Anonymous: You lunatic, why'd you call??
-Goryeo Jang: One more heading up to heaven, Lord.
-[National Highway] Historian: Make sure to post verification.
-Anonymous: Pocheon Awakeners are all in the same guild anyway—your info's probably doxxed?
-Literary Girl: To think such a daredevil still lives...
-dolLHoUse: Foolish.
-[Satisfaction] Cooking Queen: Human life is precious. Desires are fleeting. Isn't there something more important in life than drawing attention?
└Anonymous: As expected of Cooking Queen, so kindㅠㅠ.
-[Baekhwa] High School 6th Year: Hooee. >_<;;
-Anonymous: 100% this retard dies—bet all my assets.
I didn't condemn the poster.
Instead, I decided to use the opportunity.
“Seo-gyu. I'm heading up to Pocheon and back real quick. Watch the house while I'm gone.”
“Huh? Pocheon? Suddenly why...? Oh, the verified post on SG Net, right?”
“Yeah. New nationwide oddity's appeared. Gotta check it out.”
“Wow... You're really diligent, bro.”
I packed lightly and headed north immediately. Felt like a stroll.
By my standards, Pocheon wasn't far from Seoul, and it was familiar—back in the 50th round, Sim A-ryeon had operated there as the “Angel of Healing.” All around, a neighborhood I knew well.
I arrived in Pocheon in under a few hours. On my way to the tax office, I ran into someone completely unexpected.
“Huh?”
“Hm?”
Sturdy build. Short-cropped sports haircut. Too healthy-looking for a post-apocalypse survivor.
A young man who perfectly embodied the ideal of a “properly raised youth.”
“Sorry. You seem to know me, but... I have a terrible memory for faces. Have we met?”
The young man didn't recognize me. He even eyed me warily as a stranger in his turf.
But I had “Perfect Memory,” making me a natural socialite. I could recognize most Awakeners. Especially this one—his face was very familiar.
‘This is Lee Joo-ho, isn't it?’
Lee Joo-ho.
In the 50th round, a victim whose father was humiliated by “Goryeo Jang villain” Sim A-ryeon. Yet he forgave her—a true magnanimous soul.
That magnanimous young man stood stock-still at the fork leading to the Pocheon Tax Office, backpack on, smartphone in right hand.
A quick sidelong glance showed the familiar SG Net homepage on his screen.
‘No way.’
A sudden realization struck my mind.
‘...You're the verified post guy?’
I always think this.
But damn, the world is small.