Chapter 183
Chapter 183
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 183
Chapter Title: The Disaster Approaches Like a Tsunami (5)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Crazy, crazy. He’s really crazy. Han Seo-jun, that guy.”
Tokyo. Inside the Emperor’s Palace, in Princess Hina’s room.
Her room, filled with pink and the so-called girly-girl vibe. Princess Hina flopped her head onto the pillow and muttered something.
“How does he manage to pick the one spot like that, even when he’s just going to work? It’s insanely impressive.”
Was it because of the fondness she already had for him?
At any rate, she seemed genuinely worried. Her bag was clearly stuffed and unpacked repeatedly for no good reason.
Fortunately, the sight didn’t last long. An uninvited guest who couldn’t stand watching her like that spoke up.
“Princess Hina?”
“Oh, what is it, Head Butler.”
“Well… The earthquake hit the northeast region, so Tokyo should be fine.”
“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”
The sixty-something head butler rubbed his temples as if nursing a headache.
Suppressing his inner distrust of the Emperor’s family education with great effort, he pointed at the large travel backpack the princess was clutching.
“That’s why… You don’t need to pack evacuation supplies like that. Even if another quake hits Tokyo, we have the palace shelter…”
“Oh, this? It’s not for evacuation.”
Princess Hina blinked her eyes wide open with an utterly innocent expression.
At that moment, a single bead of cold sweat trickled down the head butler’s spine.
It was the kind of signal she’d given since babyhood—right before pulling off some massive stunt.
“P-Princess…?”
“It’s not for evacuation. It’s for a business trip. Sort of. At least on paper, he’s my fiancé. Chairman Han Seo-jun.”
The head butler’s eyes shook violently.
His desperate prayer that his suspicions were wrong went unanswered.
“The guy who’s supposed to be my husband is in mortal danger, and his future wife’s just lounging around? No way my pride allows that.”
“No, Princess! What do you…!”
With a hop like a mountain rabbit, she slung on her backpack and slipped out the window.
She’d parked a car right below—who knew when she’d prepped it—and fired up the engine. Waving goodbye, she scorched the butler’s insides black once more.
“Take care! Keep it secret from Dad for a while. Pretty please!”
“Princess! Princess Hina…!”
-Vroooom!
Her car blasted onto the highway, gleefully ignoring speed limits.
But Princess Hina didn’t know.
That reporters were tailing her.
“Step on it. Something big’s brewing with her.”
“Senior, looks like she’s heading north. If we’re lucky…”
Kaneyama, ex-yakuza turned model prisoner. Even among the media outlets under his wing, some couldn’t read the room.
The same went for those with a screw loose up top, obsessed solely with scoops.
“We snag one hell of a exclusive. Drive steady. Stick close—no letting her slip.”
Reporters who gave no damn about taboos like covering the Imperial Family, or natural disasters like quakes and tsunamis.
They chased after the princess’s sports car, cameras in tow. Unaware of what horrors awaited in Fukushima.
* * * *
“Forty thousand dollars a day more.”
“NO!”
“Then four million a day more.”
“Never! Even if you give me 40 million dollars, I won’t do it!”
He’d approached with textbook negotiation tactics, but the Western technician—aka Big-Nose Uncle—wouldn’t budge an inch.
No matter how much cash he dangled, even writing checks right in front of him, the guy sat like a stone statue, unmoving.
“Driving me nuts. Any other way with this guy?”
“He already pissed his pants at the airport during the quake. What more you want? Spraying air freshener so he doesn’t stink is the best we can do.”
Kim Won-cheol filled in the details: the guy had grabbed his pant leg, soaked in urine from the airport shake-up.
No dice like this. The only one who knew robot arm controls? Useless.
Kim Won-cheol seemed just as stumped, scratching his head and pitching an idea.
“For now, stuff Big-Nose Uncle in the trunk and… call President Michelle over?”
“President Michelle doesn’t know robot arm ops?”
“Not exactly, but… she’s an engineer.”
“Hmm.”
A rushed call to Korea.
But Kim Won-cheol’s face darkened after chatting with President Michelle.
“Uh… She says only folks trained by the U.S. firm with the core tech can handle it.”
“Sigh. Didn’t see that curveball coming.”
My watch ticked mercilessly, time slipping away.
This wouldn’t do. If we didn’t access the cooling system pronto, the reactor core would spew insane heat and melt everything down.
In the end, I opted for a bit of physical persuasion.
“Hey, listen. Nah, screw it—I’m pissed, so Korean it is. You understand anyway, right?”
“…I speak little Korean.”
“Looks like you do just fine.”
His mangled Korean somehow pissed me off more, but now wasn’t the time to nitpick.
Yoo Se-na aide arrived the instant I called. I took the service contract she’d grabbed—Ammunition Group and Big-Nose Uncle—and started reading aloud.
“Alright, listen up. I’m reading the contract now. Ears perked, eyes front, Big-Nose Uncle.”
“What…?”
“If Party B fails to perform the contract for reasons not listed above, Party A shall be compensated ten times the total contract amount.”
“…….”
“Secretary Kim, what was our original contract worth?”
Kim Won-cheol—whose motto was ‘others’ misery is my entertainment’—beamed like a kid at Christmas.
His answer snapped out on reflex.
“Five hundred million won. Heh, his daily rate beats most execs’ annual pay.”
“Right? Times ten’s five billion won. Big-Nose Uncle, you paying up? Bankruptcy city.”
Big-Nose Uncle grimaced, deep in thought, clutching his still-damp, urine-reeking pants.
He shook his head.
“…Still can’t do it. Bankruptcy beats death.”
“Who said anything about dying?”
“You die! It’s dangerous in there!”
He shrieked, refusing point-blank.
No good. Needed another way.
To use this coward’s skills without sending an armored vehicle inside with him.
There… was one way.
“So, you’re saying as long as you don’t go inside that mini-armored vehicle yourself?”
“Huh? Well… yeah.”
Big-Nose Uncle looked baffled.
I turned to Yoo Se-na aide.
“This situation-changer. Got it? The one from kendo with Princess Hina.”
“In my bag. Chairman, you don’t mean…?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not sending you to the reactor core.”
Yoo Se-na aide sighed in relief, clueless. No way I’d send a valued subordinate to her death.
“Heh, classic Chairman! Backup techie to pinch-hit!”
Kim Won-cheol whooped in joy. Well, outcome-wise, kinda. But.
“No such thing.”
“Huh? Wait. You can’t mean…?”
Just the process differed.
I pulled the headset from Yoo Se-na aide’s bag, slipped it on, and spoke.
Maybe even I thought it a tad reckless.
“Avatar time. I’ll do it myself. Hell, let’s bet my life on Big-Nose Uncle’s orders for real.”
* * * *
“Uh… hold up. So the Chairman’s going in himself? Into the reactor?”
“That’s right.”
“So, he’ll remote-control via comms, following Big-Nose Uncle’s instructions? In a hazmat suit?”
“That’s what I said.”
Kim Won-cheol looked addled, drooling a bit in panic—looking dumber than usual today.
“Er, uh…”
“Secretary Kim! Enough ‘uh’-ing! Obviously not!”
Yoo Se-na aide shattered the stunned silence.
“Chairman, you know how insanely dangerous this is, right?”
“I do.”
“Then why the hell…!”
I knew full well.
Radiation showers? No thanks. Got no fetish for that.
But.
“No one else fits the bill.”
“Why’s the Chairman the only one?!”
“Knows nuke plant internals. Can drive a mini-armored vehicle. Has solid grasp of robot arm tech.”
“…….”
“Anyone else?”
Yoo Se-na aide went mute, eyes misty.
As her emotions teetered on the edge, Kim Won-cheol raised a hand.
“Nah, hold on. I check all three.”
“Too damn tall. Way too much.”
“Shoot…!”
The mini-armored vehicle, wrapped in lead plating. Cockpit? Barely room for a prone 170cm frame.
Even folding legs and curling up, 180cm early was the limit.
“Be real, Secretary Kim—high school nickname ‘centipede,’ right? 186cm tall, but waist too long, legs too short.”
“Old wound. Confessed to first crush, got shot down.”
“Relatable. Every guy cradles that one romance shard in his heart.”
The guys’ sad first-love tales didn’t drag on.
Yoo Se-na aide, fuming, raised her voice.
“First-love talk now? Find another way! Troops from Tokyo could handle it!”
“Too many cooks spoil the broth.”
“Huh…?”
“Japan’s heavy on yes-man culture. Bureaucrats worse. Think Nakamua President as disaster control HQ.”
Nakamua President, still snoozing in dreamland at some hot spring.
From what I knew, firefighters and cops were cut from the same cloth here. Soaked in self-preservation.
“Sailors scared their clothes’ll get wet, won’t bail the boat. With those clowns, lucky if it doesn’t launch to space.”
-Rumble!
A massive roar cut me off. Sounded like the countdown to doom had kicked off.
“No time left, seriously. Gotta decide. Big-Nose Uncle?”
“I Korean good now.”
He’d eavesdropped the whole chat. Looked game for avatar duty, long as he skipped the vehicle.
He took the comms device I handed over.
“Anyway, we’ll use cell phones for comms. Radios if signal drops.”
“If that cuts too?”
“Fate takes the wheel.”
“God, damn it!”
Yeah. Truly goddamned.
I wasn’t thrilled either.
But in this nightmare, only path forward.
Suited in radiation shielding, crammed into the mini-armored vehicle, I gripped the wheel and turned the key.
“Let’s go. Director Watanabe, open all plant security. Heading in now.”
“Okay!”
-Clank!
The reactor entrance groaned open with mechanical whirs.
Scalding steam fogged the front glass. Moments later, the interior came into view.
A gut-wrenching hellscape—of what used to be a nuclear power plant.
“Oh, hell…”