Chapter 89: In My Day, There Wasn't Even Time to Grieve (1)
Chapter 89: In My Day, There Wasn't Even Time to Grieve (1)
—Next, we have more on the recent Hokkaido Incident.
The voice of a news anchor flowed through the earphones plugged into my ears.
—The Management Bureau has officially decided to abandon the Hokkaido region. The Japanese government has protested strongly, but...
Tap.
Someone struck my shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned my head to see a Western woman sitting next to me, tapping her own ear pointedly.
“....”
I nodded to show I understood and fumbled with my phone to lower the volume. Satisfied, she turned back to look out the window.
I must have been unusually focused, uncharacteristic as it was. To think I’d turned the volume up high enough for someone to complain about the sound leaking.
I closed my eyes again and listened to the news.
—In response, the Management Bureau has promised the Japanese government an increase in the number of Defense Force personnel, priority in Hero deployment, and the construction of a new branch in Aomori Prefecture.
A new branch, huh? The Bureau is being quite generous for once. That geezer, the Lord of Infinite Castles, must be feeling the pressure by now.
—While there has been criticism within Japan that the lack of a Great Barrier remains unaddressed, they have ultimately decided to accept the terms due to a lack of alternatives...
Political talk continued to drone on, but that wasn't what I was interested in.
For about ten minutes, the broadcast dragged on with tedious details about the entangled interests of Japan, the Bureau, and various other nations.
By the time the foreigner who had complained about my earphones got off at her stop...
—There’s been a lot of talk within the Bureau regarding this incident, hasn't there?
The words I had been waiting for finally came from the anchor, who had been discussing the responses of different countries.
—Talk? What do you mean by that?
—Voices of concern, wondering if the era of peace has ended and if we are returning to a time when Otherworldly beings swarm us as they did in the past.
It seems Chong So-rim and Yumil are doing their jobs well.
I had skimmed through their interviews, but I hadn't gone out of my way to gather information on the Bureau’s internal affairs.
If I were to defend that choice, it was simply because, for some reason, I didn't feel like I needed to.
It wasn't that I thought I had done something wrong. I was just... afraid to ask the Bureau about the consequences of my actions. Perhaps I was afraid to hear that my actions might have been a failure.
If the result I obtained by cutting someone away turned out to be wrong, what then?
—That’s nonsense. The invasion of Otherworldly beings is essentially a natural phenomenon. This current era of peace exists because the Management Bureau has handled things so well...
—But didn't the Hokkaido Branch ultimately collapse?
—....
Normally, it wouldn't have collapsed. Things are moving exactly as intended.
—Because of that, there are reports that voices within the Bureau are calling for reflection on this situation.
—Reflection... meaning?
—Arguments that the Bureau needs internal restructuring. Claims that they must retrain the Heroes and staff to possess the rigorous discipline and sense of justice held by the Heroes who protected the world in the past...
It looks like Chong So-rim spread my ideology without distorting it. I was worried she might spout some fascist nonsense about how "a Hero must act like a Hero" to oppress individuals, but it seems my fears were unfounded.
—That sounds remarkably like the manifesto a certain Mutant released recently. Do you happen to agree with the statement that a Hero must act like a Hero?
—But isn't it understandable? The Bureau hasn't revealed the exact cause of this incident, and citizens' frustrations are mounting...
The voices were getting heated.
—Isn't that because this is an unprecedented disaster? That Great Barrier was supposed to be impenetrable even against O-Rank Monsters. Isn't it natural that they might not know the cause yet? And what does a Hero acting like a Hero have to do with this incident anyway—
He hit the nail on the head.
Chong So-rim and her faction were the ones who planted that ideology within the Bureau; in reality, that ideology has nothing to do with this incident. However...
—Does it make sense that they "don't know"? Haven't there been numerous whistleblowers? Stories that Hokkaido could have actually been held, but they fled using civilians as an excuse? Or that the Hokkaido Branch was actually a place for veterans to pad the resumes of those with the right connections? There are so many allegations...
Octopus Head did a good job. I thought he was just recording me to mock me later, but to think he’d use it for internal whistleblowing.
Thanks to that, the public response has been great. Of course, there were also voluntary reports from insiders triggered by this situation. Through them, I could see just how much the Bureau had been rotting in the luxury of peace.
—How can you say that—
—Yes! I am saying exactly that!
It’s a total mess.
I was only listening to the audio without watching the screen, but I could clearly feel the chaos in the news studio.
Shouting at each other during a live broadcast. I didn't hear the sound of anyone getting hit, but even so, they were incredibly agitated.
Is the controversy really that big, and I just didn't know?
It seemed things were working out better than I had imagined. Feeling a weight lift off my chest, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, swiped away the video of the shouting anchors, and opened a browser.
A warning popped up saying that roaming through the Bureau might incur additional charges, but I didn't care.
It’s not like I’m the one paying. Even if a bill bombshell drops, it’ll hit the Octopus, not me.
I typed a few words into the white search bar.
Management Bureau. Factions. Hokkaido.
This was my first time searching for it since the incident.
I scrolled through the results and clicked on a portal site that caught my eye. A post with hundreds of comments appeared on the screen.
The post was a few days old and was no longer being updated, but I could feel the heat of the debate just by the sheer number of replies.
—Terminal 35.
The last stop.
Listening to the onboard announcement in French, I slowly stepped off the subway, phone in hand.
Without looking ahead, I wove through the crowd, scrolling down my screen.
Stupid arguments about how a certain Hero supports it so it must be right or wrong.
Strange people spreading Hero-hate just because they didn't like something.
From opinions about how this restricts the freedom of Heroes to productive suggestions that some restrictions are necessary to protect people.
A vast array of opinions was circulating—so many that it was hard to believe that unconditional support for Heroes had been the mainstream view until just recently.
After browsing a few news sites, I saw reports that these new opinions were still a minority and not the official stance of the Bureau, but that didn't matter to the people, nor to me.
The only thing that mattered was the fact that people had recognized a new direction.
That alone made me feel slightly better. As I continued to browse the site, my vision shifting toward the back alleys of Paris, one particular reply caught my eye.
The original poster started being treated as a liar or a troll, and it looked like the post would be buried. But then...
The poster uploaded a short video that looked like it had been filmed in the dead of night.
A humanoid figure with black clothes fluttering, jumping between soldiers and monsters, swinging a Pry Bar.
The video quality was poor and the camera shook violently; it was likely a recording from a soldier's personal body cam.
There were no more replies after that. Checking the timestamp, it seemed the post had just been uploaded, considering the time difference.
I refreshed the page.
Surprisingly, some replies were hitting the mark. I pressed refresh again to see more.
‘This post has been deleted.’
The human-scented words and replies were gone, replaced by that cold, mechanical message.
“....”
I doubt the poster, who was busy writing replies just a moment ago, deleted it voluntarily.
Information control by the Bureau.
It was expected. This incident was a blunder unlike any other in the Bureau’s history.
For a Bureau that prided itself on perfectionism, this was an event that should never have happened.
And a Mutant appeared at such a scene to help them?
Even if it were a Mutant under the Bureau’s unofficial control, it would cause a scandal. But a hostile Mutant? Of course the Bureau would move to suppress the information. However...
“There’s no way there’s only one piece of video evidence like that.”
Now that it had been posted once, the questions would spread uncontrollably.
Even if they deleted the data, they would eventually have to wave the white flag. The more they hid the truth, the more the Bureau would lose its credibility. And Black Marauder’s stock would only rise further.
This is an unexpected gain.
I finally relaxed my focus and looked up. A dark alleyway stretched out before me.
It was a narrow, gloomy alley where even the sunlight seemed unable to reach.
“Is it here?”
The place where a sighting had been reported to the Bureau.
And simultaneously, the place where a Free Subjugation License for a certain Mutant had been issued.
“I had to pull some strings to snatch that license away, though.”
On top of that, I used The Society’s help to ensure the information was delayed.
Because of that, I ended up having to rush all the way from Seoul to Paris.
“Can’t be helped.”
I justified my entry into this disgusting place with a mutter and threw myself into the darkness.
As soon as I entered, I was greeted by the pungent smell of urine, the sensation of rats scurrying underfoot, and the buzzing of flies.
It’s gotten worse than before.
Every country has at least one slum like this.
It was unusual for France to have one so close to the capital, but otherwise, it had the typical smell of any common slum.
The entrance was a mess because no one managed it, but as I moved further in, the scent of human habitation began to drift through the air.
Street stalls selling Otherworld-contaminated goods lined the main path. At a glance, they were all prohibited items.
Turning my head, I saw a Mutant acting like a thug, shaking someone down for money.
This place really never changes.
Ah. He got stabbed.
The Mutant who was shaking someone down was suddenly pierced through the stomach by a sword of light and collapsed.
I guess there are runaway Heroes here too.
I continued walking, watching scenes that were perfectly ordinary for a slum.
There were those who approached me after seeing my appearance, but each time, I harvested their teeth with a punch to the face before stuffing them upside down into a sewer and moving on.
I must have delivered justice several more times. Just as I was about to start complaining about this hopeless place...
Crackle.
The short sound of a lightning spark.
That small sound was completely different from the usual electrical leaks or sparks heard in this unstable slum.
Having found what I was looking for, I immediately threw myself toward the source of the sound. This sound was the reason I had come to France.
Crackle.
“Aaaagh! Gaaah!”
Along with the spark, I heard someone’s scream.
I had hoped it wasn't the case.
Crackle.
The sound of lightning grew louder.
It was coming from around the corner. As I rounded it in a hurry...
“Aaaaaagh!”
I saw someone burning in black lightning.
The electricity was being manipulated with such precision that the man’s body below the neck was frozen stiff, while only his head convulsed violently.
“Tsk.”
I really hoped it wasn't her.
I rushed in and kicked the man being tortured to separate him from the source, then looked at the woman who was staring back with a bewildered expression.
The face from my memories, smiling brightly—the black version of her.
“Thunder God.”
“It’s been a while, Lee Ha-ram.”