Getting Cold Feet?

"Getting cold feet now that it's actually happening?"

I took my time looking through the Awakened Gallery.

Violence on a raid team, committed by an Awakened still on active duty. It was a far more provocative subject than trade posts or zombie extermination.

"The reaction's pretty decent."

Posts were going up, and the comments were coming in at a lively clip. A raid team laying hands on someone was that rare. At their core they were the ones who fought on the front line, receiving other people's respect and the Association's support. If only for that, they hated stirring up trouble.

...In that sense, Shin Wijun really is a proper lunatic.

He'd beaten a non-awakened teammate — a situation where both his morals and his qualifications would be called into question. People naturally took an interest and started writing, and thanks to that they pinned down who it was in no time.

Shin Wijun had made a name for himself, in his own way. That was thanks to my methods of promotion. Using fame had been my idea — the higher the reputation, the smoother the work would get.

I never imagined he'd spend that fame on corruption, and that I'd end up spending it like this.

Still, it wasn't bad. The more famous you are, the harder the backlash when you screw up. Same as a celebrity hitting the news over a single abuse-of-power scandal.

Little by little, public opinion was forming in the direction I wanted. Of course, it didn't stay entirely favorable.

My mouth itched. I wanted to write a post, or even just a comment, right then and there. That I was the victim. That he'd beaten me until my face was in this state. That the Association had ignored me and refused to even take the report.

...Times like this, I hate that I'm not Awakened.

There was a reason it was called the Awakened Gallery. Only the Awakened could write here. All a non-awakened was permitted was to read. Because of that, people even half-jokingly called the non-awakened untouchables. Humans like us were targets of discrimination even on the gallery.

Fortunately, opinion was still flowing in my favor. Raid teams saved people on the front line, and there wasn't a person alive who didn't know they received the Association's support.

Not just the Association. Plenty of them take help from civilian groups and private individuals, too.

Most Awakened held high positions, or otherwise moved through society as people of some standing. Even those who never fought directly were often eager to support a raid team, and news like this would sit poorly with them.

Given the nature of the gallery, there were plenty of people shielding the raid teams. Even so, the uproar alone was enough. The more posts piled up, the higher the view count would climb, and the more people it would reach. Then the Association wouldn't be able to ignore it forever.

...I should have expected it around there, though. Raid teams and the Awakened on one side, and a non-awakened who couldn't even write a post on the other. On this gallery, just how vast that difference really was.

Non-awakened. That single fact, and public opinion went quiet in an instant.

The Awakened who could write on the gallery — most of them shut their mouths. The reason was simple. They were Awakened too. Make noise here, let it become a problem, and their own benefits would shrink by exactly that much. An Awakened beating an ordinary person was, to them, already somebody else's story. None of their concern.

"...The reaction's gone."

It should have been the kind of story that shook the gallery. A few spin-off posts went up, and even those drew little response. Posts and comments dwindled away, and in that unspoken approval, opinion tilted completely.

It was fairly extreme language — the kind of talk that could become a problem. Knowing that, nobody left a comment. Only the recommendation count, climbing little by little, spoke for their opinion in their place. And so the post rose as a recommended thread. A little more time passed, and the topic slid back onto the next page. After that, no one brought the story up again.

"......"

I watched it happen, and I couldn't say a word. I was a powerless non-awakened — unable to post, unable to comment, unable even to press recommend. In their words, I was an untouchable leeching off them just to survive.

Not everyone would be like that. Considering most people were non-awakened, plenty would agree with me. Not every Awakened was like that, either. The ones who lived frantically busy and threw themselves into training barely set foot on the gallery at all.

Gather them all, and plenty of people would understand how wronged I am.

And what good would that do? Not one of them could write their opinion on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the gallery. They were only survivors of the apocalypse, struggling to live through one day and the next. Gather as many as you liked — they had no power, and they couldn't even gather.

"...You people are useless."

I'd thought others might be a little different. In the end, were all the Awakened gathered on the gallery like this? Little by little, my resolve hardened.

"...First, I need to meet other Awakened."

Not on an anonymous gallery like this. A real Awakened, out in the real world — someone who could actually help me.

"Huff! Huff!"

I started my drills in the practice hall. Calling it a practice hall was generous — a wooden sword from who knows where, and some exercise equipment. That was all of it. Few people trained seriously here. No matter how hard you drilled, you still couldn't match a single click from an Awakened.

But I'd rolled in the dirt of the actual field, and I thought differently. Not only the non-awakened — even the Awakened needed steady training. That slight difference had saved a life more times than I could count.

"Whew!"

I wiped the sweat away and set the wooden sword down. Exercise really did settle the mind. There'd been a time when even training together was fun. A past so faded now that the memory itself had gone faint.

...Now that I think about it, that bastard quit training, too.

As Shin Wijun grew famous, he grew lazy in reverse. I'd told him it was dangerous to keep on like that, and he hadn't even pretended to listen. At first I'd thought he'd simply gotten lazy. Maybe his heart had already turned by then.

After that, I came to the practice hall alone.

"Well, well~ knew you'd be here. Diligent. So diligent."

...This bastard's no gentleman, either.

And there was Shin Wijun, strolling into the practice hall with two of his female teammates hanging off him.

"What do you want? Looking at those clothes, you're not here to train."

"Do I need a reason to come see a teammate?"

"Teammate?"

"Our teammate, the non-awakened Lee Minhyung, is right here."

A complete lunatic. He beats a man like that, and the word teammate still comes out of his mouth.

"Didn't know you were the type to beat your teammates. You do that to your women, too?"

"Oh, come on~ what are you talking about? Once a teammate, always a teammate, no matter what happens."

"So the gentleman who beats his teammates came looking for what."

"You're joining the next raid too, right?"

Even after seeing me like this, he still meant to work me. Or he'd realized too late that he couldn't function without me.

Or he really does see me as nothing but an errand boy.

Either way, it wasn't something I'd welcome. I'd been ignored and beaten. And I was supposed to put my life on the line and fight zombies beside him?

"Hey, hey. Don't tell me you're still sulking because we scuffled a little?"

"Scuffled? I got beaten one-sided."

At my words, Choi Ari, standing beside him, let out a sneer.

"What~ you're actually sulking? A man, getting all petty over that."

"......"

"Eek! Wh-why are you looking at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me like that!"

The moment I glared, Choi Ari darted behind Shin Wijun. She only had any presence when she had him at her side. That woman was afraid of me. I'd run her ragged enough in actual combat. The only reason those people got treated like human beings at all was me.

"Hey, hey. You really gonna throw a teammate away? You're not that kind of guy."

"I'm also not the kind of person who keeps trusting someone after going through that."

"God, you're annoying. I'm the one coming in humble here."

What, exactly, had he humbled? He hadn't offered so much as a minimal apology, and even now he was smirking, grinning like it was funny.

"Oh, right. Then let's do it this way."

He picked up a wooden sword lying nearby.

"We used to do it all the time. Sparring. You win, we go together. You don't, I'll get lost. How's that?"

"You're telling me to fight an Awakened?"

"Obviously I'll ease off my strength and hold my abilities back. Then it's fair, right?"

Nonsense. An Awakened's body itself was enhanced. He wouldn't use his abilities? The physical specs were different from the start. The reality was that a non-awakened wasn't even a match.

He wants to beat me and look cool in front of the women.

An Awakened beating a non-awakened just to show off. A spectacularly stupid stunt. But that was exactly the sort of thing that worked on those empty-headed bitches. They already hated me, anyway. They'd want to watch me take the beating.

"Wanna get hit and then come along? Or just come? I'm good either way."

I knew all of that plainly, and still I didn't refuse his offer right away. Thinking of what came next, using this spar now might be worth it. He wouldn't dream of it. For me, this was an opportunity too.

"Hahaha! Well, if you're scared, that's fine. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Before you get hit, just—"

"Fine. Let's do it."

"Huh? What'd you say?"

He must never have imagined I'd accept. For a moment, he went rigid.

"One match. Wooden swords, and we do it properly."

Cold sweat traced down Shin Wijun's face. Hardly the look of the Awakened who'd been riding so high lately.

"Why? Getting cold feet now that it's actually happening?"