Searching the Records
The city that had once boasted a population nearing one million—and never dipped below nine hundred thousand even in harder times—now housed just under three hundred thousand residents.
Of those, roughly two hundred thousand were clustered in the central district known as Headquarters, centered around the old City Hall. The rest were scattered throughout the city in small groups of individuals, families, relatives, or acquaintances.
Information also indicated the presence of lawless bands roaming the streets, preying on these smaller groups or occasionally hunting monsters. It was easy to imagine the state of public security.
If you weren't affiliated with Headquarters, there was no capacity to protect you. But Headquarters didn't offer protection for free either. Residents there were conscripted for labor as needed. If that didn't suit you, your only option was to take your chances and survive outside its walls.
By the time faint dawn broke, they had crossed several checkpoints and reached the vicinity of Headquarters.
The sniper woman led the way without incident, though Kang Tae-sung suspected that traveling alone would have invited far more questions and procedures.
As they drew closer to the city center, he noticed more metal visible on buildings and surroundings. Abandoned, burned-out, and rusted car wrecks lined the roadsides. Streetlights were fewer than before, but most still functioned.
Perhaps to conserve power, all the lights along the streets went out simultaneously once visibility improved enough to navigate.
“How do you generate electricity? Generators?”
“Generators, yes, but nothing like the old noisy, fuel-guzzling kind. Some run on solar, others on monster cores.”
The sniper woman added that a single core, roughly one centimeter in diameter, could supply enough electricity for Headquarters to last five to seven days.
Since cores didn't drop from every monster, there were times when people had to live without electricity.
‘Come to think of it…’
Kang Tae-sung recalled that none of the five wolves had dropped a core. Was the automatic drop setting lowering the probability?
“Is it something that rarely appears?”
“Cores? Usually about one per ten monsters, from what I’ve seen. But probability’s a fickle thing—sometimes they pour out, sometimes they don’t no matter how hard you try.”
That was why cores commanded such high prices, she explained. Headquarters treated them as the most critical resource.
It made sense. In daily life, electricity was as essential as food, clothing, and shelter. Lighting, heating, and the water purification systems installed in communal areas all ran on electrically powered machinery.
If the power went out right now, anyone without personal purification tools or chemicals would struggle to find clean drinking water. Frequent rain might help, but that was unpredictable.
Headquarters and the residential zones occupied the former City Hall, surrounding office buildings, and a few apartment complexes. Two of the three adjacent schools had been converted into temporary schools—not so much for education as to keep wayward children in one manageable place. The remaining school had been repurposed, with minor modifications, into barracks and a training ground for the stationed hunter forces.
“Shall we head in, then?”
The sniper woman had advised that registering his presence at Headquarters would prevent future complications. Finding the suggestion reasonable, Kang Tae-sung followed her into the old City Hall building.
The structure wasn’t entirely intact; several walls had been repaired, the fresh patches left unpainted and plainly visible. Inside the entrance, however, the building maintained a reasonably clean atmosphere.
“Reporting back.”
The sniper woman spoke casually, positioning the sub-sniper girl beside her. As they entered what had once been a conference room, several people glanced their way before returning to their tasks. Among them were young men, older men, and women.
The women here no longer displayed the fragility or cosmetic concerns Kang Tae-sung remembered from the past. The one in the corner, fiddling with a personal tablet, looked as grimy and fierce as the sniper and her subordinate.
‘It can’t be helped.’
In a place where security, law, and morality had yet to be properly established, women had to make every effort to protect themselves. They could train their bodies or carry dangerous weapons, but the simplest and most effective method was to become unappealing.
It worked to some degree. Few men, unless they had peculiar tastes, wanted to touch a filthy woman. And with clean water already scarce, staying unwashed was inevitable anyway.
Kang Tae-sung scanned the room and spotted a man at the central desk in the back, reading a newspaper made of electronic paper. Judging by the seating arrangement, he was likely in charge. The sniper woman was heading straight toward him.
“I said I’m reporting back. Still reading yesterday’s paper?”
“It’s today’s.”
“Huh?”
“The internet’s been restored. Remarkable, isn’t it?”
The man spoke matter-of-factly.
“Humans adapt eventually. Seems some new technology’s been developed—I can’t even begin to guess what it is.”
From what Kang Tae-sung gathered, the man had been reading a newspaper that only powered on but never received updates, until yesterday’s edition finally appeared. Even from a distance, it was clear the paper contained a wealth of information alongside video footage.
“Magic, I suppose. Restoring the internet with magic… Should I laugh or cry?”
Apparently, attempts were underway to blend existing science with magic acquired through exchanges with newly appeared nations. Various machines and tools powered by monster cores had been created the same way; the generator supplying electricity to Headquarters was an early version of that technology.
These were difficult times, yet just as turmoil bred heroes, plenty of people were rising to claim wealth and fame. Companies were profiting from new technologies. Still, no one had uncovered why the world had become this way. They were simply adapting—and, being human, striving to live better than others if possible.
“I don’t recognize you. Here on business?”
Even with the population reduced to around two hundred thousand, remembering every face was impossible. The man—apparently the director—seemed to assume Kang Tae-sung was a local resident.
The sniper woman glanced back, wrinkling her nose and giving a subtle signal that clearly meant “just play along.”
“Do you have records on the residents?”
She asked the director on Kang Tae-sung’s behalf.
“About seventy percent. Why do you ask?”
“Looking for someone.”
“You? Or him?”
“Him.”
Kang Tae-sung walked forward as the sniper woman gestured with her chin. An officious-looking man wearing glasses sat at the indicated desk. He didn’t look like a hunter—more like an ordinary civilian, oddly frail at first glance.
“Could you tell me the name of the person you’re looking for?”
It was the first time since arriving here—aside from the sub-sniper girl—that he had heard polite speech. After witnessing everyone else speak casually, as if age-based respect had vanished, the formal tone felt strangely unfamiliar.
“Kang Su-hwan.”
Kang Tae-sung enunciated his father’s name clearly, one syllable at a time.
“One moment… Kang Su-hwan. Thirty-two matches.”
Many people shared the name. Adding gender and age narrowed it to three, but none of the ID photos matched his father. He checked the others with the same name just in case, but his father wasn’t among them either. Searching for his mother, Yun Seong-hui, and her age yielded the same disappointing result.
“Try Kang Han-sung. Age…”
His expression grew somber as he added five years to the age he remembered for his second-youngest brother.
“Twenty-five.”
“Male, correct?”
Kang Tae-sung nodded. The man searched without complaint and soon pointed at the monitor.
Twelve matches.
Still, none of the photos belonged to his brother Han-sung.
The same held true when he provided the name and age of his third sibling, Kang Yu-ri.
“Kang… Yeon-sung. Twenty years old.”
This was the last one.
After uttering his youngest sibling’s name, his lips felt parched. The man resumed searching with his usual professional demeanor.
Fifty-two results appeared.
Kang Tae-sung examined each photo—taken on the same day at the same location—displayed beside the list.
If even the youngest wasn’t here, he would have to add or subtract a year for the others and search again.
“I’ve already checked one year above and below as well.”
The bespectacled man added quietly, as if reading his thoughts. Kang Tae-sung had already reviewed more than half the list, and the weight of disappointment grew heavier with each passing face. Then, suddenly, he stopped the man’s scrolling.
“A moment ago.”
“This one? Ah.”
“Now.”
The man lifted his hands and looked at Kang Tae-sung, whose face had brightened noticeably as he stared at the monitor.
“……”
His youngest sibling’s face had changed considerably over the years, yet enough of the original features remained that he had nearly missed it. The burden of five years pressed down on his shoulders anew. Kang Tae-sung slowly read the details listed beside the photo.
‘Combat Support Division.’
“What is the Combat Support Division?”
He asked the bespectacled man, but the question drew the attention of everyone in the room. They all turned to stare at him with expressions that suggested he had said something absurd. The sniper woman sidled closer and gave him a discreet jab in the side.
“Enough joking around. If you’re done, let’s go.”
“……”
Kang Tae-sung committed his youngest sibling’s affiliation and residence to memory, then left the City Hall building with the two women.