Emergency Summons

I reached the protected zone near Headquarters.

From here to Headquarters was a safe zone. Clock-out Man couldn't enter the complex, so he'd agreed to wait around here.

"You'd better pick me something good."

The deal was simple. I'd find someone at Headquarters who needed a mercenary and put them in touch with Clock-out Man, and in return I'd take a set commission. A little pocket change wasn't the point, though. What I wanted was to make him come looking for me on a regular basis. From now on, whenever a job called for a mercenary, I'd use Clock-out Man—someone I could actually trust with it.

"If it isn't a good job, you're not taking it?"

"Um……."

"What even counts as a good job?"

"Pays a lot, easy, and I can clock out on the dot?"

"A free ride like that is practically looting."

"Work, by nature, is picking someone else's pocket. Legally and morally."

I meant to look after his convenience as far as I could, but landing a job that easy was another matter entirely.

"If you had to give up one of the three—pay, difficulty, or clocking out on time?"

"The pay, obviously."

"So you won't overdo it. Then the one thing you absolutely can't give up is clocking out on time?"

"Sure! Of course!"

Someone who could hand him the right kind of work came to mind.

"I'll be back. Stay put."

"How long?"

"A day if it's short. Three if it drags."

"Any support for the cost of sleeping rough, boss?"

"Benefits are for full-time staff only."

"You going to convert me to a regular employee later?"

"We'll talk about that when the contract's up."

"F***."

Headquarters looked the same as it always did, the white buildings standing exactly where they had always stood. Out in the world beyond, the last few days had seen major incidents flip several settlements on their heads—things that, until just recently, had been my reality. A few more steps, though, and the outside world would be someone else's problem for me as well. A world where nobody drew a gun at my back. Which meant that every time the other man looked away, I would have to keep my own hand in check: the one that reached, before I even noticed, for the Backscratcher.

Any moment now, Headquarters' daily life—safe to the point of tedium—

Hm.

Had the scanner broken?

F***.

The announcement sounded only inside Jo Yong-han's office.

"……."

Ordinarily he would have sent confirmation at once. All it took was the small button at the corner of his desk. He did not so much as twitch a finger.

In the end the announcement came again.

"Hoo……."

Only then did he reach out. A click.

Even then, he could not take his eyes off the few sheets of paper in his hand. He read them, and read them again, and still could not understand. To be precise, he could understand every line written there. What he could not understand was why a document like this existed at all.

A directive to send Headquarters' desk staff out into the outside world. Why should desk staff be thrown out there? That was the part he could not grasp. The reason was set out just below, and it explained nothing.

An absurd explanation. Ignorant in what respect, and what problems were supposedly coming of it?

The one mercy was that it did not mean driving them out for good. It specified, at least, that this was an "experience." A life-and-death experience. The end of the document kindly sorted those required to undergo it.

Some posts at least exempted the bureau chief, and the reason was obvious. It was a seat powerful enough that its holder could transfer to the Geofront whenever they pleased. What mattered was that Jo An-na belonged to mechanical repair. Now a bottom-rung employee, she had no hole to slip through. The same was true of Jo Shin-hye, the marksmanship instructor.

A place as insignificant as the post office was not even granted that much.

Even the physicians, nobility inside Headquarters, were exempt only at the very top, a handful of them. Myung Hwa-young, who treated him from time to time, was a skilled doctor in her own right, but she was A-rank, and that meant she would be sent outside. He could not speak for the others, but was there no way to pull his older sister and his younger sister clear of this? He belonged to the Future Technology Department, which carried a certain weight inside Headquarters. There might be a way. For that, though, he himself first had to be someone who was not about to be driven out. There was a thread of hope that the Future Technology Department might be excepted.

And yet—

For some reason the document did not explain that part. Worse, there was no way to obtain the detailed regulations supposedly attached. The merchant who had sold him this top-secret paper at a steep price had said even he could not get them. Jo Yong-han had already asked the man to try once more.

That merchant from the Geofront had dropped hints before, more than once. Someday, he had said, some of Headquarters' desk staff might have to go out into the outside world. Asked what kind of nonsense that was, the merchant had repeated what he had picked up. He had framed it as a kind of discipline. Jo Yong-han had taken it as a check. Either way, he still did not understand it.

"Ha……."

Above the operation's implementation date, two lines had been scratched hard across the page. The merchant had said he had heard the schedule was under revision. He did not know when it would be, only that it would be carried out before long. The drawer slid open. The floor of the compartment sat a little high, because there was a space hidden beneath it—a space he had not opened even once since he had first concealed something there. At last he broke the seal. Inside lay a top-grade cigar.

Thanks to the emergency summons, or whatever they were calling it, the body search and the rest of the entry process were kept as short as they could make them.

Dragging a busy man back and forth. I had a mountain of things to do. Clock-out Man was waiting outside, so I couldn't lounge around Headquarters the way I usually did.

First, leave the cores for appraisal. If Elder Heo's work happened to be backed up, the appraisal could take a long time, and I'd rest easier once they were already in his hands. I was especially counting on Postman Kim-ssi's core, a strong candidate for an Ability Core. If it really was one, it would be something I'd have to carry from then on—more of a help than anything, when the time came to use it, and the sort of thing that was best if that time never came at all.

The finger's rotting, too. The Special Forces Commander's finger, kept as my ticket into the Human Meat Factory. Better to get it to Myung Hwa-young before the damage went any further. A chemical treatment would stop the rot. Not that I had any idea when I'd have reason to go to the Human Meat Factory. If I ever did, I'd also find out what had become of Tofu's airplane. And while I was at it, I could finish delivering Gyeongsu's letter.

Since I'm seeing her anyway, I can sell the lipstick. Two lipsticks my own mouth would never have any use for. Myung Hwa-young would pay a fair price for them, provided the colors suited her.

Last, find a client with work for Clock-out Man. That looked like the easiest of the lot, so I'd save it for the end.

All of that waiting, and Jo Yong-han wanted me in front of him first thing. An emergency summons. He probably wanted the subway blueprints brought to him. As if I wouldn't have delivered them without being called in one errand at a time. Still—could they actually build the Subway with nothing but these plans?

Ah. I nearly forgot the real job. I still had to report the mail as delivered. Maybe it no longer even felt like work, since I did it every day. I'd become a terminal case of the office life.

Anyway, I'd heard this was also when I could collect the project-mission reward points Jo Yong-han had promised. That made it more important than anything else.

I have to bank the points and get to the Geofront. On ordinary postal work alone, those points wouldn't add up until I was old enough to be called an old man myself. Collect every point Jo Yong-han had promised, though, and the story changed. The missions would probably get harder the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠further along I went, and Jo Yong-han was a reasonable man. The points he handed out would rise with them.

Maybe, before too long, I'll be looking at the Old Man's face again. How was he living? Was he even alive? It was the Old Man, of all people. Of course he was alive.

News from the Geofront never reached the surface. An underground world where the president and every politician, businessman, and scholar had gathered. According to the lofty, elegant Miss Oh Jang-mi, who had once been Tofu's owner, it was an unhinged place where blue lipstick was in fashion. Someday I would go down into that underground, and the Old Man—

"Jungkook! Kuh!"

The most unpleasant voice in the world. Bae Guk-jang.

"Don't you have work, Director? Why are you always lurking in the hallway?"

"Exercise! Exercise! Sit still and your belly comes out. You've got to walk, and keep walking. That figure of yours is only good because you walk all day, Jungkook."

Bae Guk-jang, who burned the energy walking and still carried the belly to show for it.

"Truly impressive."

"Right?"

He laughed, a rough keh-keh, and mimed running in place. A fat raccoon dog who looked ready to go tumbling if you gave him a shove.

"Back from the special mission, eh? You really, really worked hard!"

Bae Guk-jang took a cut of the points I earned. He took them by ratio, so the enormous points I'd be getting through the special mission were a windfall for him as well.

"But why aren't you going straight to the report window? Delivery's done, you report first!"

"I got an emergency summons."

"Eh? You? I didn't hear anything about that."

Every official communication concerning a postman was also reported to the post office. This one, it seemed, was an exception.

"Maybe because it's tied to the special mission? Anyway, I'm busy."

"Ha! Standing there like that, you look just like a special agent!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"How about a meal together? It's been a while."

A while? We had no history of eating together.

"When was the last time, that it's been a while?"

"You don't remember? When you were first assigned and going through training."

I was the one in training. He ate by himself. Bae Guk-jang hadn't even needed to be there. He'd come to watch, and he couldn't even watch quietly, the way he smacked his lips through every bite.

"Didn't you eat alone, Director?"

"I ate alone, but we were together, weren't we?"

Exhausting.

"I'm good. The residential cafeteria is more comfortable."

"Listen to this guy joke!"

Bae Guk-jang ate at one of the more expensive restaurants inside Headquarters. Food was finished once you'd taken in the calories, and if this wasn't waste, nothing was. He always brought his family along, too, so the waste multiplied several times over.

Call it fine dining all you want. Once it passes the throat, it's all the same vomit.

Well, as far as Bae Guk-jang was concerned, that was love of family. He had a wife and a daughter, both doing administrative work at the post office—posts he'd surely secured by throwing his weight around. He'd said something like it once. He worked as hard as he did for his family's safety. If he could only make it so they lived their whole lives without ever learning there was such a thing as the outside world, he would do anything.

"Come on, don't be like that. I'll pay!"

"Mm."

"Gimbap Heaven! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠My treat!"

Ah. Come to think of it, Bae Guk-jang had helped on this delivery. The military survival kit he'd pressed on me right before I left had been useful. If you took help, you paid it back. That was the proper thing. Hearing out this request would square the debt. Not that I had any interest in that expensive gimbap—those seaweed-wrapped rice rolls—or whatever else they served. I'd heard it was a fussy dish, all kinds of ingredients, a lot of work for the hands. None of the ingredients were unfamiliar, though. I didn't need to eat it to know the taste. I wasn't curious. Some things you only knew by trying them, granted.

Not curious. Not even a little.

I was only granting Bae Guk-jang's request as a matter of doing right by him.

"If you're going to ask like that, then I suppose—"

There. One meal ticket with Woo Jungkook.

"That's the spirit! You said you got an emergency summons? Hurry and go! I'll wait right here!"

The fat raccoon dog grinned.

"Then I'll be back."

"I'll show you the true flavor of Headquarters!"

"I know."

"Gimbap, of all things!"

"I said I know."

Ah. But I had no idea how long the emergency summons would take.

"What time is Gimbap Heaven open until?"

"Hm? Why? Is the summons going to take a while?"

"How would I know. I've got a lot of other things to do, too."

"Tsk……. Is that so. Look at me. Some superior I am—a meal is all well and good, but I can't keep a busy man tied down. Well! If today doesn't work, next time—"

"Well, I'll try to get back as fast as I can."

"Eh? You sure that's all right?"

Might as well humor the one superior I had.

"I'll be back soon, so wait."

"Don't push yourself!"

Today, I was working myself to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bone for Bae Guk-jang.