The Corpse That Defies the Natural Order - 3
The great and noble Golden Empire of Apels — a beautiful realm that stood alone in command of the vast continent. As the third empire to reign over these lands, Apels was truly magnificent.
The lights of Apels’s Imperial Capital never went out, and every resource across the continent flowed into it. Solemn gentlemen and beautiful ladies strolled through the capital that the entire continent revered, leading its culture. The nobility, truly lofty, guided the foolish commoners — an ideal world.
Every nation on the continent bowed its head. That was Apels, the Golden Empire. Yet there was a sinner who dared to covet that gold and raise his head. His cursed, despicable name was Kfelopen.
The traitor who toppled the Golden Empire. The thief who stole the Mandate of Heaven. A self-proclaimed empire stuffed full of lies. Anyone who followed the natural order ought to tear down that false nation and restore Apels. The Third Glory that once shone so brilliantly over this continent had to be set right again.
"We will smash Kfelopen, built on deceit and pretense, and return to that glorious age."
Those words the Director had shouted on the day we founded the Third Glory still thundered in my chest. How could a country that let itself be held down for two whole years by mere nomads call itself an empire? Apels. Only Apels was a true empire.
Believing that with all my heart, I set out for the Academy with my comrades. The brilliant legacy Apels itself had built, once the very heart of its capital. We would seize it back, slaughter the Kfelopen sinners who had dared trample Apels’s heritage, and declare the empire’s rebirth.
We could do it. With our own hands we would raise Apels again. Surely we would.
Surely… we would, and yet…
Enen, Enen, Enen, Enen…!
What in the world had gone wrong?
Our march toward glorious resurrection had somehow become a frantic scramble for the gods while we fled. This couldn’t be. I was the hero who would restore Apels. I was not the sort of man who turned his back on mere dogs of Kfelopen.
"Aaaagh!"
The comrade beside me snagged on a grappling hook and was hauled up into the trees. He screamed and thrashed, but no one could approach. Several others had already been caught by those hooks and never seen again.
Countless comrades had already fallen. The heroes of Apels’s restoration had crumbled into nothing. This could not be. The righteous cause was ours; we had to win for the sake of a proper continent.
"Bugs that only know how to run fast."
A spine-chilling voice sounded right behind me, and my body pitched forward. I tried to rise again, but the sight before my eyes shattered whatever resolve I had left.
"A leg or two shouldn’t matter, right?"
"Depends on the First Section Chief’s mood."
Two men had somehow surrounded me. Wearing plain gray masks without a single pattern, they spoke as casually as if they were strolling through a market. My gaze, however, stayed locked on the thing in front of me.
"Aaaagh! M-my leg…! My leg…!"
Pain arrived late. I writhed, but a boot slammed down on my back and pinned me flat.
"The head?"
"The Director’s still being chased."
"Then it’s over."
Before long I saw the Director being dragged by the hair by a witch with long gray locks. Dead or unconscious, he didn’t so much as twitch.
It was finished. Our righteous cause had ended in hollow nothing.
It was about time to head into the forest, so the First Section Chief and I slipped away. Our excuse — that we had someone to meet and would be right back — was both true and flimsy, so we needed to finish quickly and return.
Matching the First Section Chief’s pace would have slowed us down, so I carried her on my back for a short stretch until we reached the woods where we had arranged to rendezvous with Mukgwangdae.
"We got here first."
"We did. That’s odd."
The appointed time hadn’t passed yet, but the Fourth Section Chief was an absurdly diligent sort. He often arrived far ahead of schedule and waited. I still remembered how moved I’d been when he showed up to Audit Department meetings before me and polished my desk. I’d told him it wasn’t necessary, yet he had stubbornly insisted on doing it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"No reason. Nothing."
For a split second I wondered whether the Minister of Special Affairs would accept a trade of the First Section Chief for the Fourth. My eyes drifted toward her. I shook the thought away. As much as the First Section Chief felt like a personal enemy, finding a replacement for her would be impossible.
The Fourth Section Chief’s temperament was truly irreplaceable, but his actual duties could be split between the Third and Fifth Section Chiefs without leaving a crippling gap. Of course the Audit Department had always been better as a complete set than with work merely divided up.
"We’ll wait. He’s not the type to be late."
I shaped a stump big enough for the two of us and checked the dagger the First Section Chief had lent me. It had cut cleanly through a tree just now — solid quality. Naturally. She wasn’t the sort to carry junk. At this level it wouldn’t break even if it hit bone. Satisfying.
"Ah, Chief. Looks like they’re coming."
The First Section Chief, who had casually turned my back into a chair rest, pointed. See? He wasn’t the type to be late. Here already.
"What is that?"
"Huh?"
Both of us muttered the same question as Mukgwangdae approached. Something was slung over their shoulders or being dragged along by the hand.
"People… I think?"
"…"
True enough. A few limbs seemed to be missing here and there, but they were people. At first I wondered if an accident had produced casualties on the way, but no one hauled the wounded around like baggage. Besides, those weren’t Mukgwangdae uniforms.
I stared, trying to figure it out, until the Fourth Section Chief at the front stepped up and saluted.
"Reporting to the Chief."
The operators behind him dumped whatever they had been carrying or dragging onto the ground and snapped to attention as one. Were they really allowed to just throw them like that?
"Good work getting here."
I couldn’t very well start scolding people who had come all this way to help. If they had lugged those things this far, they must have needed them. I rose and returned the Fourth Section Chief’s salute; only then did he stand at ease.
Noticing my gaze on the bodies sprawled across the ground, he spoke at once.
"Third Glory. Encountered them en route. All captured alive."
"Whoa…"
The First Section Chief let out a small sound of admiration. I lost my words for a moment. Captured them? All of them? I had just been sitting here resting and it was already over?
"Truly excellent work."
I still wondered what exactly had happened, but the faint, expectant light in the Fourth Section Chief’s otherwise expressionless eyes killed any urge to press for details. Process could be a little weird as long as the result was good.
I clapped his shoulder in praise. His eyes sparkled; the dagger at my waist glinted forlornly in sympathy. I had gone to the trouble of borrowing it only to chop a tree. If this was how things went, next time I should just bring an axe.
With every member of Third Glory captured, my role and Mukgwangdae’s were finished. I felt a little embarrassed even saying “role,” given that I had basically just been breathing.
With nothing left to do, Mukgwangdae set up a temporary camp in the forest where the fight should have taken place. Weak opponents or not, they had still expended energy in the skirmish and needed rest. Watching them sit in a close circle and pass around water looked almost cozy.
"Chief, water for me too."
I tossed a canteen toward the First Section Chief. She caught it lightly, then poured it over someone’s face. She hadn’t asked for a drink for herself; she was offering it to someone else. She had even draped a cloth over the face so he wouldn’t choke if he gulped too fast.
"—! —!!"
"Hehe. Thirsty, aren’t you?"
The Director of Third Glory — arms pinned by Mukgwangdae operators, head yanked back by the hair. He thrashed as if moved by the First Section Chief’s kindness, but she only seemed more touched by his gratitude and kept pouring.
"Tilt him a little farther, would you?"
"Yes, Section Chief."
At her words the operator gripping the hair of the so-called Director — calling him that felt generous — pulled harder. Satisfied, the First Section Chief nodded. I looked away.
She’ll handle it.
For someone who usually started by ripping out fingernails, this was a surprisingly gentle opening. Leave it to the professional and the information would come out on its own.
I waited, trading idle talk with the Fourth Section Chief, but the head’s mouth proved sturdier than expected. When the First Section Chief got serious, most people lasted less than ten minutes. Even a rebel leader apparently had enough pride not to talk lightly.
We walked over together to check on the interrogation. The hands and feet were already unrecognizable. She hadn’t touched anything else yet.
What?
He hadn’t held out because his lips were sealed. The process was simply slower than usual, so he could still endure. I had expected something like this the moment I heard “Apels restoration army” and her achievement instinct flared, but seeing it in person still irritated me.
"Why so slow? Hurry it up."
"I’m doing this alone outdoors. If I rush, he might die. We need the information first."
She grinned while saying it, and unfortunately she wasn’t wrong, so I couldn’t even scold her. Dying of shock mid-torture would be a problem. Out here she had neither other First Section personnel nor proper equipment to help.
The real issue was that she was using that excuse to take her time, even though she was not the sort to make such a stupid mistake when she got serious.
This bastard’s only gotten craftier with seniority.
I scowled. The First Section Chief glanced away, looking sheepish. So she still had a conscience left, at least.
"Keep this up and we move on to the next person. If you don’t like that idea, start talking. You should value your comrades."
Under my pointed stare she offered that bizarre compromise. If the head cracked and spilled, we would ship him to the Audit Department for later entertainment. If he kept quiet, then the real work would begin. She really did have the strangest hobbies.
The head of Third Glory neither flew into a rage nor ignored her. He simply laughed low in his throat.
"Keh-heh-heh…"
"What. Did you mess with his head too?"
"No. You don’t casually touch the head outdoors — too risky."
If it wasn’t her doing, then the shock of torture had driven him mad on his own. Losing his mind this early would be inconvenient. While I fretted, the head chuckled for a long while, then suddenly whipped his bloodshot eyes toward me.
"Comrades? There’s a guy right there who climbed the ranks on his comrades’ blood money, and you’re talking sh—"
—Thud!
Before the sentence finished, the Fourth Section Chief was already there. He kicked the man square in the jaw. The head snapped back and toppled; it had been a solid hit.
An awkward silence settled. The Fourth Section Chief who had lunged forward, the First Section Chief who had been watching for the next words, the operators holding the arms — all of them stayed quiet and watched my face.
"Hah."
I let out a short breath and raked my fingers through my hair in irritation. How far had that story spread, for even a maggot like this to spit it out?
That piece of shit.
Information be damned. Maybe I should just kill them all.