Maebang Mountain (2)
The ground was damp, as if an old cloth had been laid over it. Layers of ash and dust sent powder scattering with every step.
Without the cloth mask, the ash clinging in the air and clouding his vision would have made the entire walk miserable.
“Did Heeseok put you up to this?”
“Huh?”
“Today’s hike, I mean.”
“No. I came because I wanted to. Heeseok-hyung doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Is that so…. Not bad. Well done.”
“……?”
Choi Yeon glanced sideways at Jang Jinho. It was praise, so it didn’t feel bad—but it was sudden.
Jang Jinho laughed and explained.
“Jeokryeohui blew up this hideout to conceal information, right?”
“Yes.”
“But looking back on everything so far, the ones who handle things this way always leave something behind.”
“Ah. I see.”
Choi Yeon nodded, feeling better. He had been quietly worrying about what they would do if they found nothing at all; hearing the weight of decades of experience put him at ease. A positive thought rose—that they would find something after all.
“Of course….”
Jang Jinho’s feet stopped. Walking beside him at the same pace, Choi Yeon’s feet halted as well.
“Finding it among those ruins won’t be easy, though.”
As he spoke, a massive crater came into view below. It was far too deep to be natural. Blackened steel frames rose among the fallen trees. The remnants that declared this had once been a building settled over them like the teeth of some great beast, chilling the mood.
Here… how many….
Choi Yeon cut the thought short and stepped forward with his left foot. Almost at the same moment Jang Jinho stepped down into the maw as well. His feelings must have been the same.
Woo-oong….
They stood before the tangled steel frames and fragments of outer wall that creaked and groaned even at a single breath of wind.
“According to Noh Taegeon’s confession, the hideout was divided into three zones.”
Noh Taegeon was the Jeokryeohui executive Choi Heeseok had captured alive right in front of Maebang Mountain.
“The living quarters where the members stayed, the isolation zone where they kept the kidnapped children, and the experiment zone connected to it. And… originally there was a disposal zone as well, but….”
“…….”
“…They say it hadn’t been used at all for the past half year.”
“I… see.”
The mask wasn’t doing its job properly; his throat felt clogged and the words came out thick.
Had the experiments progressed so far that there was nothing left to dispose of? If so… was that something to call fortunate?
“…The blast point was the experiment zone. Of course it was. They were trying to erase the experiment data.”
“There probably won’t be anything left.”
“I stake my twenty-seven years of experience on it.”
“The isolation zone next to it would be the same.”
“Right. That’s why I planned to search the living quarters on the south side.”
“Is there information worth finding in the living quarters?”
“I think there’s a chance. Information turns up in the places you least expect.”
He added old stories as he spoke—past events he had thought unimportant and written down, grand plans for the future, things like that. With information found by chance he had wiped out more than one organization.
It made sense.
Choi Yeon thought so and stretched out his hands. The real reason Jang Jinho’s old stories felt entertaining was that they were in the middle of hard labor. They had to clear the collapsed outer walls before they could even think about going inside.
Still, it wasn’t particularly difficult. For every piece Choi Yeon moved, Jang Jinho shifted three or four at once. As expected of the tank for the city-hall hunter party, his strength was tremendous.
Not quite on Heeseok-hyung’s level, though.
“…Oh?”
After clearing for a long while they found a passage faintly revealing itself. The half-collapsed corridor was narrow and dark, yet it still fulfilled the purpose of its existence. Choi Yeon and Jang Jinho pushed their bodies in and helped each other along.
Rocks and concrete chunks mixed as if flung by a catapult filled a passage longer and more winding than expected. When the rocks that had occasionally announced their presence gradually disappeared, a narrow door appeared.
Creak, creak….
It looked intact, but it hadn’t escaped completely unscathed; the door opened with successive grinding collisions.
“Living quarters.”
“It’s extremely… messy.”
“Of course. There weren’t any decent people here.”
They muttered short impressions. Nature had already invaded the corridor; the living quarters themselves were artificially filthy on top of that. If the narrow desks and shelves hadn’t been jammed between the rows of old beds, they would have called it a pigsty without hesitation.
The two split left and right without another word and began searching. The square room would bring them face-to-face again at the iron door on the opposite side. Doors stood on both flanks as well; from the look of them, more passages continued the way they had just come.
Heading left, Choi Yeon picked up a notebook from a shelf. The one right beside the door was an entry log.
“They even recorded the date and time, for show?”
Men who couldn’t keep their dorms clean had left no gaps in this kind of record. Because they were meticulous? Hardly. The correct view was that Jeokryeohui members monitored one another. With an atmosphere like this, betrayal and abandonment were only natural.
Thud.
He tossed the log down and swept the desktop and drawers. He opened and shut them quickly. Notebooks, pens, clips—piles of useless things. If he had to pick anything remotely useful, there was a whetstone and a flint. Even those were basic blade-maintenance tools, low-powered and cheap.
There was also a notebook packed with meaningless symbols, but it looked like no clue at all—more like the random scribblings of a madman.
“…….”
Everywhere his hands reached, only meaningless objects continued. Well, that was only natural. This was the living quarters of Jeokryeohui underlings. How much valuable information could there be?
If one assumed there was any at all….
Choi Yeon’s gaze settled on the iron door opposite. Unlike the others it looked as though real care had gone into security; he guessed it was the executive’s quarters. He approached and checked. Locked, of course. The security wasn’t just for show.
An executive who couldn’t even trust his own men might well have placed a locking spell, but fortunately he hadn’t. He had probably trusted the entry log. Among men who suspected one another, no one would have been bold enough to walk into the executive’s room under their eyes.
Perhaps the iron door served as both security and a display of status.
Muttering to himself, Choi Yeon took out the thread he had brought from the workshop and poured mana into it. The tip wriggled at his will as he fed it into the keyhole.
Click, click. Clack!
The iron door opened without difficulty.
“Oh, it’s clean?”
The executive’s room was neat. Furniture and gear were arranged with enough order to contrast sharply with the mess outside; it felt as though something worthwhile might actually be here.
Choi Yeon searched thoroughly, expectation rising. In the bottom drawer of one desk he found a small metal box. The circular engraved pattern was elaborate enough to feel important.
Click.
He opened the heavy metal at once. Expectation went unanswered. Inside were only two orbs; neither looked like a clue.
However….
“Choi Yeon. Anything in the box?”
Jang Jinho’s voice came from behind. He too seemed to have found nothing of note in the living quarters and was only smacking his lips.
“These caught my eye.”
Choi Yeon took the orbs out. One was a Destiny Stone—any hunter who had cleared an Altar Dungeon would have obtained one at least once. Because of that, the other, a red orb, looked like nothing more than a smaller Wraith Fragment. Or a core for an altar.
“Show me that orb.”
“Yes, here.”
Jang Jinho took the red one. He showed little interest in the Destiny Stone. In twenty-seven years he had seen hundreds of them.
“…Not a Wraith Fragment.”
“No. Not an Altar core either.”
“Hmm. Shall we take it back for appraisal?”
“That seems best.”
Jang Jinho returned the red orb to the agreeing Choi Yeon and gave a small wink—meaning report it yourself. He seemed to want to give him the credit. Honestly Choi Yeon doubted something like this would raise anyone’s evaluation, but it was a senior’s kindness, so he accepted it as a junior should.
Still….
“The more I look at it, the more it reminds me of Altar Dungeons.”
“It does.”
“…Hmm.”
Choi Yeon poured mana into the orb. Looking at it kept bringing the thought, so he simply did it.
Wooong…!
The red orb that had been vibrating low floated into the air. Even that looked exactly like a Guidance Orb. No—it wouldn’t merely look like one.
“Oh? How did you know?”
“…I didn’t.”
Choi Yeon was just as startled as Jang Jinho, whose eyes had gone wide. He had only poured mana because the Altar Dungeon kept coming to mind….
When he confessed honestly while still dumbfounded, Jang Jinho still called it impressive and patted his shoulder.
“Connecting the two is skill too.”
“Is it?”
“Look at me. There’s a Destiny Stone sitting right next to it and I never noticed.”
“…Haha.”
At the senior’s self-deprecating joke Choi Yeon only gave a short laugh. He had no idea how to answer so that word would spread that he had done well.
…That was nonsense. He wished the rumors would stop already.
“Anyway, the place the Guidance Orb is pointing seems to be further inside.”
“Yeah. Looks that way to me too.”
“Um…. Then we can’t just turn around after coming this far, right?”
Choi Yeon proposed carefully, almost asking. By the book they should have left the mountain the moment they found the orb. It hadn’t been discovered in Choi Yeon’s own district, and Jeokryeohui had always been a matter for district-office hunters and above.
Jang Jinho grinned. The expression was familiar. As if determined not to be outdone by a peer, he wore exactly the same smile Choi Heeseok used to give Choi Yeon.
“Of course not.”
With that plain answer the two hunters continued on together.
“…This… there’s nothing?”
A damp smell poured from behind the door they had forced open. Then a wide empty space revealed itself. Old materials, broken machines, empty medicine bottles were visible, yet his words were correct—nothing that could help them was in sight.
Jang Jinho stepped into the disposal zone to follow the will of the Guidance Orb that had vanished upon reaching this place. Unlike the other zones where dirt still fell from collapsed walls, here only the thick smell of mold hung in the air.
“…….”
“Choi Yeon?”
From inside, Jang Jinho called him. Choi Yeon remained still, looking down at the red orb in his right hand. In truth Jang Jinho was no longer certain. Those thread-thin eyes looked as if they might be closed in sleep. Whether he sensed the uncertainty of the man who could not tell if they were open or shut, his voice trembled faintly.
“…It’s too clean.”
“Huh? Clean—what….”
Jang Jinho’s mouth stopped mid-question. Then, like Choi Yeon, he stood blankly and looked around.
As Choi Yeon had said, the disposal zone was intact. Not a single brick had fallen. There was no trace of the explosion—no influence at all. It felt abandoned by time itself. As if, from the beginning, someone had intended to leave only this place untouched.
Who? And why?
The natural questions followed.
“Whoever it was, they wanted this place found. After hiding something.”
“Your words seem right. But who?”
“I don’t know either.”
The orb had been found in the executive’s room, so the guess was that it was one of the Jeokryeohui executives. Yet no matter how far he stretched the thought, no one who would do something like this came to mind. The identity remained unknown, of course.
Jeokryeohui was on the verge of annihilation—wouldn’t it be fine to reveal oneself? Unless there was a separate reason they could not….
“Ah.”
Could it be that?