Ep2. I Thought I'd Escaped (3)

Daa da-da-daa, daa—!

A familiar classical melody swelled as the screen brightened.

Then, right in the center of it, a snake wearing a scarf popped into view.

Not a real snake, of course — more like a cartoon character drawn in the shape of one.

The snake smacked its lips and spoke.

"Hello, citizens! I'm Agent Mumu, here to help you get back home."

"First of all, our sincerest congratulations on your survival, to everyone watching this video!"

The reptile who'd introduced itself as Agent Mumu whacked its own body with its tail.

Thwack thwack thwack—!

Wait. Is that thing clapping for us?

No, seriously — if you're going to make an animal mascot, at least pick something with front paws, like a tiger or a bear.

A snake? Really?

It was absurd from the very start, but I watched the video in silence.

"The Special Management Zone where you were briefly detained is a space still under active research — and one that the government of the Republic of Korea keeps safely under control!"

"That said, on rare occasions accidents occur in which ordinary citizens are drawn in. To all of you caught up in this disaster, we offer our deepest condolences."

Agent Mumu bowed its head solemnly.

Then it spun in a full circle, brightening the mood.

"Now then, let's go over a few precautions to help you, citizens, return to your daily lives!"

Hold on a second.

So what exactly is a Special Management Zone?

That's it? That's the whole explanation?

"First, all information regarding Special Management Zones — hereafter 'Special Zones' — is designated a state secret. For your own good, it's best to quickly forget ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everything you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠experienced here."

"Disclosing information about Special Zones to others may result in punishment for leaking national security secrets!"

"Furthermore, you must not leave any trace in any form whatsoever — writing, drawings, video, code — on paper, electronic devices, or any communication medium. Even creating or merely possessing records of a Special Zone for personal use is punishable, so please take care!"

"If a problem arises, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠compensation payment you received will also be recovered. Let's all be careful so that nothing unpleasant happens!"

That was blatant hush money, wasn't it…?

Don't ask what a Special Zone is. Don't tell anyone what you saw. Don't even write it in your diary. That was what it was saying.

And how would they even know if I'd secretly written in a diary, anyway?

As if answering my question, Agent Mumu added this:

"For confidentiality purposes, monitoring will be conducted for a certain period after you return home."

"This is a measure taken for the safety of our society, so we ask for your cooperation and understanding, citizens."

The reptile — Bam-bam? Mumu? whatever its name was — bowed its head yet again.

No, this is not okay!

This is openly announcing that they're going to spy on us, isn't it?

Is that the kind of thing you gloss over with an animal character bobbing and scraping?

And in the middle of it all, Agent Mumu suddenly flopped onto its back as if it had come down with an illness.

"After returning home, PTSD symptoms may appear."

"If new insomnia, auditory or visual hallucinations, panic, or suicidal urges persist for more than two weeks — or if you experience bodily transformation, an encounter with an anomalous creature, or supernatural abilities — do not go to a treatment facility. Instead, please write 'Agent Mumu, please help me!' in the memo app on your own personal phone."

"Then Mumu will hear your voice and come to your aid!"

From bad to worse.

Now they were going to peek into people's phones too?

No — before that, were those even normal PTSD symptoms it had just listed?

What on earth was "bodily transformation"? An "encounter with an anomalous creature"?

"Citizens, you've truly been through so much."

"So that all of you who overcame this disaster can return safely to your daily lives, Mumu and the Agents will continue to do our very best, today and every day!"

Agent Mumu saluted with its tail.

Daa da-da-daa, daa—!

The same classical music from the opening played once more, and Agent Mumu vanished into the darkness.

The screen went dark, and the room brightened again under the fluorescent lights.

But I just sat there, staring blankly at nothing.

What did I just watch?

It had been strange from the opening, but the ending especially…

As I sat frozen, the topknot man who'd been waiting beside me held out an approval board.

"This is a confidentiality agreement. Once you've signed, we'll process your release to go home."

I looked back and forth between the man and the board, feeling sick.

Several pages were clipped to the form spread out before me.

Skimming through, I found nearly everything Agent Mumu had said written there word for word.

I had zero desire to sign, so I asked the topknot man:

"Do I really have to do this?"

"You do."

"And if I don't?"

"We will arrange a space for you to stay until you do."

So he was saying "we'll lock you up," only dressed up in polite language.

I glowered at the paperwork, thoroughly disgruntled.

Then the topknot man remarked, as if in passing:

"On the back of the confidentiality agreement there's also a compensation payment confirmation, so please sign both together."

…This bastard. Bribing people with money again.

I narrowed my eyes at his transparent scheme.

And my hand signed quickly anyway.

Right — what good would dragging my feet here do? Let's just hurry home.

The moment I finished signing, the man collected the board and said:

"Thank you for your cooperation. Please rest assured — our monitoring agents take care never to intrude on the private lives of rescued individuals."

"Oh, of course you do."

When I answered halfheartedly, the man handed me a bottle of water.

Come to think of it, my throat had been dry for a while now.

Without a second thought, I took the bottle and drank it down.

As I quenched my thirst and set the bottle down, the man murmured again:

"I've emphasized this many times, but please keep this confidential. Even if you leak information about the Special Zone, you will be swiftly neutralized by our monitoring agents, so attempting anything of the sort would benefit no one. We also do not recommend opening a phone registered under a borrowed name to evade monitoring. Whether it's a borrowed name or a borrowed name on top of a borrowed name, any electronic device used by you, Mr. Seo Do-woon, falls within the scope of our monitoring. And lastly — if you have committed any crimes in the past six months, we advise you to turn yourself in before the police contact you. One or two petty misdemeanors we'll overlook, but if a serious criminal act is confirmed, we will be obliged to take lawful measures in accordance with our guidelines."

What the hell was this guy saying to an innocent, law-abiding citizen?

A get lost was crawling right up my throat.

But then… what…?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

I could feel my eyelids sinking lower and lower.

My body grew heavy as waterlogged cotton, and my mind went fuzzy.

What — why am I suddenly so sleepy…?

I stared at the man, barely able to stay upright.

Yet the expression of the man looking down at me was utterly indifferent.

A person suddenly swaying on their feet — shouldn't that at least startle someone…?

Wait. Don't tell me—

Struck by a suspicion flashing through my mind, I looked down at the water bottle I'd drained.

The empty bottle sat on the desk — with no cap.

The cap had already been off when he'd passed it to me.

The circumstantial evidence was damning, but still wanting to believe in people, I asked:

"You didn't… right?"

"It's a safe drug. Sleep soundly."

"You…!"

The guy who lectured me about crimes had drugged my water!

I wanted to denounce him with everything I had.

But no voice came out.

All I could do was let go of consciousness and fall into a comfortable dream.

The ceiling.

A very familiar ceiling….

Just woken, I gazed up at it through bleary eyes.

Then I bolted upright in shock.

"Gah!"

Where was I?

My room?

Against all expectation, I was lying in my own bed, in my own room.

What happened? Why was I lying here? Had it all been a dream?

I couldn't tell where reality ended and the dream began.

So I was looking around in a daze when the clothes I was wearing caught my eye.

A gray tracksuit.

Something I had never bought — the clothes I'd been given at that suspicious place.

It hadn't been a dream.

Feeling as if some spell had come over me, I got out of bed.

When I stepped out into the living room, an unfamiliar box sat on the floor.

Unwilling to touch it with my hands, I kicked it over to see what was inside.

A single note and a bundle of fifty-thousand-won bills came tumbling out.

I picked up the note first and read it.

I tossed the note aside and counted the cash scattered across the floor.

"Whoa…."

The sum spread out before me came to exactly one hundred million won.

"Assistant Manager Seo, you bought a new keyboard!?"

"What didn't Assistant Manager Seo buy?"

When the associate at the next desk made a racket, the manager in front of us poked his head over the partition too.

So I showed off my new purchase to them.

"Ooooh…."

"Ooooh…!"

Truly, slaves to the written word.

Not even a watch or a wallet — worshipping a keyboard like this.

The associate at the next desk inspected my shiny keyboard and asked:

"What's going on, Assistant Manager Seo? A new phone out of nowhere, a new tablet too… did almost dying set off an explosion of material desire?"

"Associate Yang, that's a bit much."

The manager in front cut in, taking my new keyboard for a closer look.

"No, this isn't about material desire, is it? Assistant Manager Seo got that this time. You know — the hush money."

"Manager Cho, 'hush money'?"

I corrected my teammates' vocabulary.

But they just snickered in stereo, and I ended up laughing along with them.

As far as my coworkers knew, I'd been in a car accident, spent three days in a coma, miraculously woken up perfectly fine, and walked away with a hefty settlement.

It was a colossal misunderstanding from start to finish.

But bound by the confidentiality agreement, I had no way to correct that fabrication.

Ten days had passed since that nightmare of an ordeal.

Today marked my fourth day back at work.

I was doing better than I'd expected.

First, I treated it like an unexpected vacation and rested up for several days.

A chunk of money had landed in my lap, so I'd bought the things I'd always wanted.

I'd also given thank-you gifts to the coworkers who'd covered my empty desk in the meantime.

Thankfully, no PTSD symptoms had appeared.

Every so often, the carnage I'd seen in the Special Zone flashed back and cold sweat ran down my back, but if I endured for a few seconds, it passed.

The real problem was the questions that kept looping through my head even while I laughed and chatted with my coworkers.

What on earth was a Special Management Zone?

How could a space like that even exist?

And the true identities of those people claiming to be from the government….

…and so on — questions and curiosity that simply would not settle down.

"Assistant Manager Seo, what time are you heading out today?"

I snapped back to attention at the associate's voice.

I checked the clock — it was already time to leave.

"Oh, right — I've got a lunch meeting, I need to head out now. Off on my errand!"

Having been lost in thought, I hurriedly gathered my things and stood.

So that was why that topknot bastard had kept hammering on about confidentiality.

I bet there were plenty of people who'd chew over this grotesque secret alone until they blurted it out to the world.

Frankly, I was one of them.

That was the kind of post I wanted to put up on the internet.

But if I did, I'd end up paying the price Agent Mumu had promised.

Ugh. Enough pointless daydreaming — time to work.

Today was the day of the author meeting that had been postponed.

At the author's request, we'd agreed to meet at Yongsan Station.

I had the company card in hand, so it had to be somewhere expensive and delicious — but I'd never been to that area and had no idea which places were any good.

While riding the subway, I searched for places worth trying nearby.

Soon I got off and headed up into the station building.

"…Huh?"

The moment I stepped up to street level, I froze solid.

The station I had gotten off at was unmistakably Yongsan Station.

But the place I had arrived at was the Railroad Station with a Blaring Siren.