Faded Old Memories
A faded old memory.
I am the mother of Private Choi Il-hoon, who participated in this operation. In these hard times, he joined the army to at least feed his mom, enduring all that hardship. But he said they didn't even give him proper training, let alone weapons.
In that situation, the army drove our sons into the jaws of death and forced them to fight. That reckless operation led them all to their deaths.
This isn't an accident or a defeat. It's murder by the government and the commanders who killed our sons. I accuse the government. Please understand the resentment of our dead boys.
The post went up in the gallery a day after news of the operation's failure. A complaint filed by the mother of a son who took part. Other bereaved families piled on with testimonies. Even though the institutions that could punish them were long gone, public outrage was boiling over.
The post hit the recommended board, drawing a historic number of comments. Incompetent government. Reckless operations forced for political gain. Commanders who followed orders. The kids who got sacrificed. And the higher-ups staying silent to dodge blame.
'Feels like a scene I've seen before.'
People were already wrapped in anger. This incident made it all explode at once.
Some even analyzed it seriously.
With the apocalypse, the population's already plummeted. Meanwhile, the army's a total mess with deserters everywhere. No way to stop them, no manpower to manage.
Finally got some new recruits lately, but most were starving and joined out of desperation. And they threw those kids into the meat grinder? Who's gonna enlist and fight now? The military's basically done for.
All sorts of talk poured out about the incident. The core was criticism of this government—and that the army was finished.
'Wonder how it'll play out.'
Anger doesn't solve anything, really. No matter how much they rant, that's it. They can't even get to Jeju Island. In a world where surviving's tough enough, it'll die down if ignored.
'But not from the president's perspective.'
The current president's approval was in the toilet. Probably no different on Jeju. The regime would want to scapegoat someone. His ousting was basically set in stone now.
The question was who held the key.
'Not my problem.'
I couldn't do shit anyway, didn't wanna think about it. Just chilling solo in my bunker—that's me. If I gave a damn about bossing the government around, I'd have done it ages ago.
The world's always been rotten. Too tired to call it out every time.
'Something more annoying, though.'
I slowly scrolled the gallery. Looking for certain comments.
Specifically, ones supporting the president.
You could tell the type just from the posts. Kept going even amid curses and criticism.
I first thought it was astroturfing for the president. But no.
Surprisingly, the poster was an old man in Korea. One with zero power.
'Damn. If he'd taken bribes, at least it'd make sense.'
This op was a clear fuckup by the commanders and president. Why cheer it on? And only comments, no posts—means low points. Must be scraping by.
'...Maybe check him out.'
Curious what kind of life this guy's led. Just a bit.
That's all.
That one especially grated.
I found the old man easily. In shabby clothes, in a rundown house. Frowning as he shuffled along.
Surprisingly, a face I knew.
'Seen him a ton in old records.'
This country had a dictatorship era. A long one. Plenty beat people back then. Made up crimes for innocent folks.
This geezer was one of 'em.
"Hmph."
Didn't expect him to still be kicking. At his age, death wouldn't surprise.
"Guy like this should have dementia."
I muttered bitterly without thinking. Made me think of my late fishing buddy for no reason.
World's fucked. The ones you want to live leave, the ones who should die cling on.
"What're you staring at, you old fuck?!"
Lost in memories, he yelled at me. Stomped over.
Up close, dirty skin and weird stink hit me.
"What're you looking at, punk! Elder in front of you!"
"What the hell?"
Die already? Probably never been hit.
Thought that seeing him.
"You clueless shit! Back in my army days, I was a big deal!"
"What does that matter now?"
"The hell! Ungrateful brats living fat off what we gave 'em, calling it dictatorship... Don't know respect! You serve?"
"......"
No logic, no order. Mind's a bit off. Age'll do that.
"That's why you young shits are the problem. Serving's an honor! See this? President gave it to me himself!"
I knew. Medal from the dictator who seized power via military.
"But you old fucks don't know... Tch! Ungrateful! If I was young, I'd say thanks and fight. You just whine!"
"......Don't curse at a stranger."
"What, punk? I'm way older! Back then, scum like you crawled at my feet!"
Types who think loud wins. Avoid 'cause gross, not scared—they think they're tough.
Normal world, I'd dodge. But not now.
"......Hey, gramps."
"What? Gramps? You rude shit!"
He swung his sickle. No killing intent, no threat. Just flailing. No guts to stab.
"Know why I'm letting you slide?"
"Wh-what, punk?"
He panicked seeing me unfazed. Supposed to cower and run. Staring made him flinch.
Get it now? Who he picked a fight with.
"Not worth killing."
"You rude... Graaaah!"
"I hate politics."
Crushed his wrist lightly. Dropped the sickle, couldn't hold.
"But you yapping fucks up the gallery. World's got nothing else good."
"Urk... Guh..."
"Got it?"
He nodded frantically. Knows only force. No spine when threatened.
"Yap again... and that sickle ends up in your neck."
Said that and left.
Next day, gallery was spotless. Worth it.
Ah, clean internet life. Trolls gotta go.
What happened after was much later. Coups, ops, monsters. Lots of commotion.
"Could use more farm tools."
World in chaos, but my life's more stable. Thinking of real farming soon.
Looking around with that in mind.
"Gah! Soldiers! Sp-spare me! Please! I served too back in the day!"
Familiar yet not voice. Turned— that troll geezer. Surrounded by soldiers, getting kicked on the ground.
'What now.'
Thought he'd croaked early. Tough bastard. But looking beat to shit, not long now.
Face a bloody mess, limbs twisted. Dead in days.
He spotted me.
"S-save me! Help! Soldiers beating citizens!"
......What?
I knew his past. Absurd. Beating's patriotic, getting beat's illegal?
"...What're you looking at. Keep walking."
A soldier said.
Thought a sec, replied.
"That geezer's got farm tools. Mind if I take some?"
Soldier looked dumbfounded. Fair, wrong context.
"......No. We're confiscating anything useful."
"C'mon. Army'd just scrap 'em anyway."
"N-no... What the—! Ahem!"
Slipped him a chocolate bar. I got crates; rare for others.
"Why's he getting this?"
"Dunno."
Soldier chuckled wryly.
"Passing by, he demands food, calls himself senior."
"Straight robbery."
"Right? Not even begging proper. Swings sickle in our face... Sigh! World's ended ages ago, still acts like that."
"Huh. Gotcha."
Nodded, went on. Kicks echoed behind.
Not my business.
Said it before. Politics ain't me. Solo thriving's best.
"Time to farm."
They say hoes till great. Excited to test new gear. Sun warm today.