ep4. Welcome to the Special Management Bureau (2)

"It seems you'll keep getting dragged into Special Zones going forward, too."

This sentence is an informal, colloquial expression.

'Going forward, too' is a synthetic compound expressing temporal repetition.

'Keep' is an adverb denoting the persistence of an action.

The two meanings overlap, so deleting one of them would be advantageous for concision.

'It seems you'll...' is a sentence-final ending carrying conjecture.

It carries a tendency to evade responsibility for the claim, making it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unsuitable for official expression.

Furthermore, specifying the subject would allow more intuitive information delivery and minimize confusion.

Taking all of this into account, the sentence should be revised as follows:

"Seo Do-woon will continue to be dragged into Special Zones."

...And once I fix it, it comes out sounding exactly like Cha Si-eon. Dammit.

"Hyung, are you okay?"

When I froze in place, Gwak Jae-gyeom asked.

But instead of answering, I thought about it calmly.

What did I do wrong?

These past few days I had talked a lot of trash while provisionally assuming God's existence—could it be because of that?

No way. If God exists, He wouldn't be that petty.

Then was it because I'd survived against impossible odds but kept obsessing over Special Zones instead of my own life?

I did say I'd treasure my everyday life, didn't I...?

No, more importantly.

Why had Cha Si-eon and Gwak Jae-gyeom gone so far out of their way to dance around that one sentence?

Oh. They were building up to it so I'd understand.

You have to know what hell is before you can be scared of being dragged into it. Dammit. Dammit.

"Hyung? Do-woon hyung?"

When I kept my mouth shut, Gwak Jae-gyeom called me again.

So I cut off my brooding and asked, briefly.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"On what basis are you making such a definitive pronouncement about my future?"

"Ah, well. Your current state is really unusual, hyung. Your readings are clearly normal and there's no trait mutation, but you seem more contaminated than most Contaminated Persons—so, uh, you're presumed to be bonded to Special Zones through a pattern completely different from any established schema... would that make sense to you?"

"Think it will?"

I found myself countering with a contemptuous edge I hadn't entirely intended.

If someone dumps a bizarre setting only they know about on you and says 'understand this,' who could?

That's the kind of mistake rookie writers make, and I wasn't in any mood to grade it right now.

At my curt, dismissive reply, Gwak Jae-gyeom scratched his head.

"Then let me explain what contamination is first. Hyung, you remember the rulebook from the railway station, right? The precautions said that inside a Special Zone, you mustn't eat, drink, or read anything."

Of course I remembered.

I'd pointed out that exact section when I was chewing Cha Si-eon out for writing the rulebook badly in the first place.

"That warning was written because of contamination. If matter from a Special Zone gets injected into your body, or if your senses stay exposed too long to writing, images, sounds, and the like inside one, contamination can set in."

"And when you're contaminated, what happens?"

"It varies by situation. You remember the short, chubby guy we met in the hospital Special Zone this time?"

"You mean Orange?"

"Yes. Remember how he transformed into something... distinctive at the very end? That was a form of contamination too."

At those words, I stiffened involuntarily.

In his final moments, Orange had turned into something that could no longer be called human.

Was I going to end up like that?

When I went pale, Gwak Jae-gyeom hurried to clarify.

"But physical mutation like that is a really extreme case. That guy injected Special Zone matter directly into his body—it's not like everyone who gets contaminated turns into that."

"...Those injections were missions your people ordered, weren't they?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Hahaha, that's not on me. We're Response Team; that was the Exploration Team's doing."

Don't laugh, you devil's-next-door-neighbor bastard.

"So am I contaminated, then?"

"We don't know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yet."

"You don't know?"

"Contamination, as the Bureau defines it, is 'any kind of trait change caused by the influence of a Special Zone'—and we haven't seen any such change in you yet."

"Then aren't I normal?"

"Exactly. If you just hadn't gotten dragged in again this time, we'd have filed you under 'normal' and moved on."

What kind of nonsense is that...?

"Ah, hold on a sec. Do you know you're terrifying when you stare at someone stone-faced like that?"

Gwak Jae-gyeom protested with a strangely aggrieved face.

But I wasn't glaring, particularly.

I was just looking at him in the universal signal for say something that makes sense.

"There was a similar case before. Only one person, admittedly—normal contamination readings, no trait changes, and yet for some reason they kept getting pulled into Special Zones. At intervals of two days at the shortest, three months at the longest. More than twenty times."

"What happened to that person?"

"He devoted himself to the nation and its people and died in the line of duty. He was a Bureau agent."

At Gwak Jae-gyeom's flat delivery, I was struck speechless again.

Come to think of it, that was obvious.

Being dragged in more than twenty times meant escaping more than twenty times.

An achievement the average person could hardly manage.

And for an average person like me, a reality that was very hard to accept.

"So I'm going to keep getting dragged in like he did, is that it?"

"That's our working assumption."

"Isn't that a wild leap? This time might genuinely have been a coincidence."

"True. Which is why we'll be thrilled if you don't get pulled in—and since you might, we want you prepared."

Thrilled? I don't even know what's going to happen to me?

When I choked up, Gwak Jae-gyeom quickly tacked on.

"Also, it's Bureau policy to quarantine the contaminated and the suspected-contaminated. It's a measure for the safety and well-being of our society!"

...Put that way, I had no counterargument.

Forget everything else—if there was any chance I'd end up like Orange, staying here was the right call.

"Still, your case is a little different, so once the detailed test results come back, you should be able to visit home or go out from time to time."

"If I'm fine, you're supposed to send me home. What's with this charity-case 'visit from time to time' nonsense?"

"Ahaha, sharp as ever."

Gwak Jae-gyeom laughed cheerfully, and I could only exhale a long sigh.

Everything I'd heard added up to a seriously suffocating situation for yours truly.

Not confirmed, but I'd probably get dragged into a Special Zone again.

Not confirmed, but I might be contaminated.

Both were life-or-death matters I couldn't just wave off.

Dammit. Life's allowed to hand you trials, but this was excessive.

Pitying my thoroughly twisted future, I asked again.

"Then what am I supposed to prepare for, and how? If I really do keep getting dragged into Special Zones."

At my question, Cha Si-eon produced a small box as if he'd been waiting for exactly this moment.

I took it and opened it; inside lay a smartwatch, neatly set.

"It's a watch with communication functionality. Put it on now."

I strapped the smartwatch onto my wrist as instructed.

"Unlike ordinary communication devices, it can receive transmissions inside a Special Zone. Wear it at all times. Do not take it off when sleeping or bathing. When the battery needs replacing, we will provide a new one."

Even when bathing...

At those words, a shiver-inducing scenario flashed through my mind.

If I were stripped bare, mid-shower, and suddenly dropped into a Special Zone.

In that scenario, what exactly happens to my social standing?

I was sweating cold sweat in silence when Cha Si-eon continued.

"From now on, whenever Seo Do-woon is pulled into a Special Zone, survival instructions will be transmitted to him through that watch."

So basically, this is like the device the police hand out to people under protective detail.

But—is that where the explanation ends?

Just transmitting survival instructions, and that's it?

Half doubting, half dreading, I asked back.

"And after that, a rescue team comes, right?"

"No."

No?

"Due to circumstances internal to the Bureau, citizens who fall into Special Zones are advised to escape under their own power. Mobilizing a rescue team every time Seo Do-woon drops in is not realistically feasible."

"So I'm supposed to get out by myself?"

"For the moment, yes. However, the Bureau has a proposal to make in that regard."

You declare you're abandoning me, and then you have the nerve to offer something?

I glared at Cha Si-eon with open distaste.

And then, unexpectedly, words came out of the man's mouth that I hadn't seen coming.

"Would you be willing to serve as an agent of the Special Management Bureau?"

An agent of the Special Management Bureau?

Who? Me? A man so gloriously, bone-deep humanities-brained I can't change a tire?

"What is this, all of a sudden?"

"Then Seo Do-woon, when pulled into a Special Zone, can be classified as an agent isolated in the field during an expedition."

"And if I'm classified as that?"

"It becomes possible for us to mount a direct rescue."

Then obviously yes.

At the word rescue, an immediate yes nearly shot out of my mouth.

But I swallowed the answer that had surged up to my chin and asked instead.

"Why make me an offer like this out of nowhere?"

"The Bureau holds Seo Do-woon's capabilities in very high regard."

"I'm a glass-bodied man with a herniated disc, you know..."

"Seo Do-woon's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠memory, judgment, and decisiveness are objectively excellent. Abysmal stamina is something that can be improved without limit."

Abysmal? I never graded myself that harshly.

Still, they're offering me a lifeline—what does my pride in phrasing matter?

Except the offer is so suspiciously ideal that it's suspicious instead.

Suspecting there was something Cha Si-eon wasn't saying, I probed.

"Is a manpower shortage the reason rescue teams can't extract civilians directly?"

"It is the primary reason, yes."

"Hence the talent recruitment?"

"Something like that."

"Having an agent in the organization who keeps getting dragged into Special Zones would increase the workload, not the workforce, though."

Cha Si-eon, who had been answering like a machine, gave me a sidelong glance.

"What's the real purpose of offering me agent status?"

When I looked him dead in the eye and asked, a brief smile flickered across his gloomy face.

Why is he smiling?

Did the sweet-talking fail and now he's flustered?

My guess must have been right, because Cha Si-eon laid it out plainly.

"The agent Jae-gyeom mentioned earlier exploited the phenomenon of being dragged into Special Zones—used it to explore them. As a result, he produced considerable achievements. The Bureau hopes Seo Do-woon will serve the same role."

"Didn't you say he died in the line of duty?"

A heavy silence fell.

But only for a moment.

Tap, tap, tap—!

Gwak Jae-gyeom unfolded a stack of documents with crisp military precision.

And Cha Si-eon intoned, with sacramental gravity:

"These are the Bureau's employment contract terms."

Ugh—hngh!

Looking at the contract, I groaned like a demon who'd just gulped down holy water.

No—is money what matters right now?

Those numbers are all hazard pay!

I knew that in my head, but to a dirt-poor editor on starvation wages, those contract terms were blindingly, dazzlingly bright.

No, no! Pull yourself together.

This is a life-or-death decision, so think it through calmly.

Both options genuinely suck.

Still, if I had to choose, "becoming an agent" was the marginally less terrible one.

But there was a problem with this side, too—one that bothered me a great deal.

"What is there to think about, Hyung! The Save-the-Otter Campaign Headquarters hereby welcomes Seo Do-woon with open arms!"

Don't need it.

I ignored the banal enticement and looked at Cha Si-eon.

Then asked point-blank.