Screening Out the Fakes (13)
Wiping the blood trickling from her nose with the back of her hand, Baek Sa-ra lowered her center of gravity. Across from her, "Delta" rose to its feet, straightening its broken neck. Despite the outward mismatch between a graceful woman and an armored man, a taut tension crackled between the two of them.
What kind of time had it taken, I wondered, for Baek Sa-ra to become what she was now?
In the midst of my pure, unadulterated awe, it was "Delta" who moved first. The thing that had come to eat me had apparently figured it out — that to achieve its objective, it needed to deal with that woman first.
"Delta" lunged at Baek Sa-ra.
Thud— thud-thud—!
And Baek Sa-ra parried with the precision of someone stitching a pattern.
She drove her knife twice into the shoulder of the charging "Delta" and fell back. Whether the tendons had been severed, both of its arms went limp and dangled useless at its sides.
But "Delta" knew no pain. Abandoning its ruined arms entirely, it swung a leg around and kicked at Baek Sa-ra.
WHAM—!
The blow caught her in the side — but she endured it. No, she deliberately absorbed part of the impact and seized "Delta's" leg.
Thud-thud-thud-thud—!
Her knife sank deep into the back of its knee. Releasing that leg, she slashed the blade across the very leg "Delta" was standing on.
Crash—
"Delta" collapsed in a graceless heap. But in the meantime its shoulder tendons had apparently regenerated, because it leveled the crossbow strapped to its wrist at Baek Sa-ra.
Twang—!
The bolt shot out with vicious speed. But Baek Sa-ra had already snapped her head away at the sound of the reload, and the bolt veered off through her hair. A failed attack.
It was, however, more than enough to make Baek Sa-ra considerably less gentle.
CRACK— thud—!
She seized "Delta" by the hair and drove her knee straight into its face.
Thud—! Thud! Crunch—!
And, well. How do I put this.
Suddenly I found myself worrying about Jaegyeom. Jaegyeom, buddy, you doing okay? Because I'm a little scared right now.
Is this what happens even to "a man of the field," someone who's already left the Bureau, when he gets his face stomped in?
Crash—!
"Delta," its face caved in, finally went down for good.
Baek Sa-ra pulled something out from under her skirt — not handcuffs, but some kind of steel clamp. Then, with the brisk efficiency of someone sorting recycling, she stomped on "Delta's" shoulder to dislocate it, and in that state bound both of its arms behind its back.
"Delta" was trussed up like a pheasant with its wings pinned, wriggling on the floor, unable to rise.
With the situation concluded, Baek Sa-ra caught her breath and reported, calm as ever. "Target 'Delta' secured."
"Ah... right. Good work."
Was it my imagination, or did Chief Kwon Mu-seop sound a little worn out too?
Baek Sa-ra flashed me a small smile. The kind of proud, satisfied smile that said, I really did let you live this time.
Thank you very much, for sparing my life. And you really don't have to return that book.
Standing with her foot planted on "Delta," Baek Sa-ra turned her question to Kwon Mu-seop. "Chief, where is 'Alpha' right now?"
So having successfully wrecked "Delta," it was "Alpha's" turn next.
"'Alpha' is currently on the run. And Si-eon is—"
Just then, movement stirred at the door. Baek Sa-ra and I turned our heads at the same moment, and we saw it — a massive silhouette blocking the doorway.
Is that... "Alpha"?
The peculiar pressure "Alpha" radiated squeezed the air out of my lungs. Baek Sa-ra, still riding the adrenaline of combat, charged straight at it — knife re-gripped, as if to finish things before it could even pass through the door.
"Sa-ra, stop!"
Kwon Mu-seop's urgent shout. For a moment, Baek Sa-ra's motion wavered — but it was too late to pull the strike. Her knife flew straight for "Alpha's" throat.
And then "Alpha" caught her wrist.
"Alpha" hauled Baek Sa-ra in without resistance. In that instant she was dragged helplessly forward, the blade's arc redirected far too easily, her body twisting until her back was exposed.
"...!"
I froze in horror, seeing the carnage to come. But then my eye caught long hair swaying rather unbecomingly.
Huh?
With swift, practiced movements, "Alpha" twisted Baek Sa-ra's wrist, wrapped an arm around her neck, and locked her down.
Wait. Is that... actually "Alpha"?
As I stared at the figure, only half convinced, a familiar voice came from behind me.
"Phew, this place is totally wrecked. Do-woon hyung, you all right?"
The one who emerged was a blond "Delta." It was Gwak Jae-gyeom.
"Ugh, I really hate seeing that."
Jaegyeom surveyed the wrecked dressing room, spotted "Delta," and went pale. Well, of course he would — seeing your own face trussed up in such a pitiful state would be horrifying for anyone.
"Is that really what I look like? Honestly, I think I'm better-looking than that thing."
And critiquing his own doppelgänger's face in the middle of all this, no less.
Yeah. That's Jaegyeom, all right. Which meant that guy standing over there looking so "Alpha"-like was surely—
"You recognized me, so would you kindly let go now, Team Leader Cha Si-eon?"
Baek Sa-ra spoke with visible discomfort, the thick forearm still coiled around her neck.
"Haah..."
A long, long sigh poured out of me.
That wasn't "Alpha." That was Cha Si-eon. The moment I realized it, all the tension drained away and my legs went weak.
When Baek Sa-ra tapped his arm, Cha Si-eon released her without protest. She lost her balance and dropped to the floor with a thump, and Cha Si-eon extended a hand to pull her back up.
Then, for some reason, his gaze was fixed not on Baek Sa-ra but on me. I stared back blankly, not following, and Cha Si-eon spoke in the same composed tone as always.
"The Response Teams also devote significant training to close-quarters combat tactics."
What is he on about all of a sudden?
"As you have just witnessed, we are not outmatched even compared to the Exploration Teams."
"...?"
I stood there baffled, wondering what exactly he wanted from me — and then it hit me. Jaegyeom had mentioned it before. That Cha Si-eon had been fairly bruised in the ego when I'd picked Baek Sa-ra as my training instructor.
So that's what he was pitching. But honestly — why would I care?
It wasn't even a question worth deliberating, so I answered firmly and without hesitation.
"I'll take Baek Sa-ra, as I said."
When I stepped out of the dressing room, the main theater had been reduced to rubble by Response Team 3. The half-finished "Fake Humans," massacred where they stood. The "Alpha" that had ultimately slipped away. Even so, the core of the "National Theater" remained unbroken, so I was told the zone would regenerate itself in time. It just couldn't produce "Fake Humans" anymore, not in this state.
And so the ones who came out early using a "Fake Human" were only me and Choi Sang-eun — we'd both lingered in the zone far too long — and Baek Sa-ra, who was injured. The rest of the survivors escaped under Response Team 3's command through the hidden exit route: the Circulating Library.
The time it took Response Team 3 to lead the civilians out through the Circulating Library was twenty-nine hours and eleven minutes. Because it took a full day and a half, Cha Si-eon and I only sat across from each other three days after I'd left the "National Theater."
"Regarding the excessive amount of time Seo Do-woon spent inside the Special Zone, the higher-ups have expressed concern."
Cha Si-eon said it the moment he took his seat.
"It falls within the safe line by regulation, but you are to refrain from all contact with Special Zones for the next two weeks."
Here's hoping that actually goes the way I want it to.
"And what happens if I do come into contact with one?"
"Feel free to find out for yourself."
And for some reason he was even more prickly than usual. Was this the fatigue of hauling civilians through a Special Zone, or the sting of getting passed over for the instructor spot twice in a row? It was probably the latter, but I decided I'd just think of it as the former.
"Additionally, the interpretation is that 'Delta' targeted you, Seo Do-woon, in order to acquire data."
"You don't mean it was trying to make a 'Fake Human' identical to me—"
"What the 'National Theater' wants is a strong entity. Ergo, you were never the objective. It was most likely an attempt to update its information on me or Gwak Jae-gyeom."
Just you watch. I'll only get stronger.
"For the record, the 'Delta' Baek Sa-ra captured has been destroyed. It appears the entity voluntarily ceased activity when it could not break its restraints. Once the 'National Theater' restores its functions, an entity cloned from Gwak Jae-gyeom is expected to be reborn."
This really is endless, isn't it. Since this one was "Delta," would the newly generated one be "Epsilon"? The mere thought made me weary. Worse, these things had reportedly been sighted in other Special Zones too — I was honestly scared of running into one again.
"And finally — the mastermind who was controlling the Contaminated Person Kim Hae-sung is currently being tracked."
Kim Hae-sung's mastermind.
My boss says he's going to kill you. He says he'll kill you no matter what it takes — that he'll never leave you alone...
The one who'd hurled that razor-sharp malice at me.
Hey, you don't remember your oppa's voice? Wow, you got your identity laundered real nice, and the most monstrous one of us all, at that.
The one who'd needled Baek Sa-ra so unpleasantly. The owner of that voice I'd heard through a phone receiver. The ringleader who'd built the auction house inside the "National Theater" and sent in the thugs.
"Do those Contaminated People operate like criminal organizations inside the Special Zones?"
A Contaminated Person was a human whose body had been warped by a zone's influence. I'd been thinking of it as something like radiation sickness — a disaster, pure and simple. But watching Kim Hae-sung had flipped that idea on its head. People who wielded their contaminated traits as weapons and used them to run power blocs inside the lawless territory of a zone. That was the new definition of "Contaminated Person" that Kim Hae-sung had taught me.
"There are people who adapt to the zone environment better than to reality itself. As such individuals gathered in the zones, their numbers grew, and factions and organizations formed. Kim Hae-sung's crowd was one such group."
"They live in the Special Zones?"
How was that even possible? Every zone I'd experienced so far had been a living hell where mere survival was a struggle.
"The places where Contaminated People gather are mostly Type 2 zones. Overt hostility toward humans is a defining feature of Type 1 zones; Type 2 zones are comparatively hospitable."
So Type 2 zones were... livable? Livable enough that people thought them better than the real world?
"Which is why a fair number of Contaminated People in Type 2 zones claim those zones as their own territory."
"Is that not a problem?"
"It is certainly not without problems."
"But you're leaving them alone because you're short-staffed?"
Cha Si-eon was silent for a moment. So I'd hit the nail on the head.
"There is, first of all, no legal grounds on which to order their eviction. A Special Zone is not, after all, territory of the Republic of Korea—"
Aha. Nice.
"—and the Contaminated People who have settled in the zones have already grown to a considerable scale, and there is a certain validity to the rights they claim. So we avoid unnecessary friction through an agreement."
"An agreement?"
"The Bureau has agreed not to arrest Contaminated People without clear evidence of criminal activity, and the Contaminated People have agreed never to disclose the existence of the Special Zones to the outside world."
Right. These were people who couldn't even rescue civilians wandering inside the zones. Of course they had no spare capacity to deal with the ones who'd actually moved in and set up camp. And it was in that neglected vacuum that figures outside all regulatory boundaries could grow unchecked.
My boss says he's going to kill you.
Kim Hae-sung's words surfaced again. The thought that some dangerously unhinged individual running operations inside a Special Zone had me in his sights left a sour weight in my chest. I'd picked up an unexpectedly troublesome enemy, I thought.
But no. That was my mistake.
And I had, it turned out, been severely underestimating the Bureau.
To state the conclusion first: the very next day.
I received that bastard's mugshot.