Hollow Victory and the Pension's Strings
I'd preserved Peck-1. Seeing my ID pinned at the top—no, first and second—on the game ranking site brought a rush of accomplishment... followed by crushing emptiness.
What did it matter, stacking up one ID, two, three like this? They were all empty shells anyway. Everyone I'd gamed with back in the day? Dead.
Just in case, I ran searches on the old rankers' records. Nothing but games from years ago. During the war, I'd thought once it ended, I could do anything. But when it actually did, and society spat me out into its cold reality, I found I had more freedom than I'd imagined.
The house they'd given me was bigger than anything I'd dreamed of pre-war. The pension? Way more than enough for basics—it overflowed. I became a rich NEET, plain and simple.
But society didn't snap back to normal. At first, I blamed the ruins of bombed-out buildings, waiting for them to clear. Even after the rubble was gone and the scars faded, though, things never returned to how they were.
I scrolled through communities, but they felt... mushier, fuzzier than before. Sure, the boards overflowing with sex posts back then were gone—better, maybe—but it wasn't familiar.
I shuffled to the kitchen in a daze, filling a pot with hot water from the tap. I wasn't starving, but this void killed any urge to boot up another game. Dinner time anyway—might as well boil some ramen again.
While waiting for the water to boil, I checked my phone. A few missed calls. From "Assigned Civil Servant Park Si-young." Not spam, so I couldn't ignore it.
Luckily, she picked up quick on the callback.
"Hello, this is your assigned civil servant, Park Si-young! How can I help~?"
"You just called, so I called back."
"Ah~ Are you free today? It's important! If you haven't eaten, can we meet in front of your place in thirty minutes?"
"Yeah, that's fine, but..."
Normally, I'd scrape up any excuse to stay inside. But right now, even cooking felt like a chore. She usually respected my shut-in ways, so if she was calling me out, it wasn't trivial.
"Great, see you in thirty!"
I dragged myself to the shower, turning on the water. The spray stung just right against my skin, and the temperature snapped to my setting without a second's delay. Felt more like a hotel than home.
/////
Cleaned up and in loose clothes, I stepped into the BBQ joint by my house. A familiar face waved me over.
"Over here! Here!"
The bob-cut beauty in a suit shook her hand at me. She sat on a elegantly carved wooden chair, grilling meat like it was nothing.
"Did I keep you waiting?"
"No way! I timed it perfectly with big data—meat hits the table right on cue. Here, try a bite!"
No sooner had I sat than golden-brown slices landed on my plate. One bite? Perfection.
"Good, right? This place's meat is killer."
"Yeah... thanks."
A few stares prickled my skin—me drawing eyes, as usual. Men weren't common sights in modern society.
"Neighborhood's great overall, but no fine dining sucks. Love swiping the corporate card clean... though BBQ's plenty good!"
"We could hit one next time. Not a long drive..."
"No, no! You hate moving around, right? This counts as entertaining, so I'm basically freeloading. Can't burden Seongha with that!"
I pitched a few high-end spots and buffets, but she waved them off—entertaining was about the guest's comfort first. She had a light side usually, but yeah, pro working girl versus my NEET ass.
As the meal wound down, she hesitated, gauging my face.
"Spit it out."
"Ugh... Sorry to keep bringing this up—it's rude, I know..."
She glanced around, checking for listeners. Most lunch folks had cleared out—no eavesdroppers.
"You're not, like... uninterested in games or women... or impotent, right?"
"Nah, not anti-porn or anything."
"Knew it! You could threaten me over some eval metric right now, snap naughty pics, drag me somewhere shady for this and that!"
She popped up, leaning in seductively. But...
"Eh, that's... criminal."
"It's legal! Other handlers get treated like fucktoys. Land a creepy VIP, and it's 'crawl in naked like a crab, or no talk' every meet. Not my taste exactly, but better than virgin life forever, right?"
"Crawling like a crab?"
"Y'know, flower crab style! Claws up, scooting sideways..."
"World's full of weird kinks..."
Did that even turn anyone on? Whatever—men could demand that from randos these days. Well, VIPs—special priority targets. But living men were basically all VIPs now.
"Am I... not pretty?"
"You are. Cute face, killer figure."
"Then why not touch?! Is this that old bad-boy trope, fuck-and-chuck? At least they fuck first—I'm still dry!"
First meeting, her gripes flustered me. Now? Old hat—I munched leftovers, enjoying the meltdown.
More worryingly, the real topic loomed. She was sharp; this freakout was half-genuine, half-softener. What was she circling?
"Fish tank? You're one of tons I meet, never cared?"
"You're the one I see most. Others? Faces or names I don't know."
Delivery girls, restaurant staff—all women, mostly hotties post-war. But not known. She was my sole monthly chat buddy—only real-world tie.
"Tears won't stop... Anyway, main point. Your military pension? Got a tiny condition now?"
"What?"
I shot up, face twisting fiercest in months. Realized my rudeness, sat quick, smoothing out—but my brain raced.
Condition? Fuck, what're the military brass doing? Nah, ate too good. Last pension reform with cuts was right! Greedy pigs, stuffing faces till shit hits like this...
"C-calm down!"
"Yeah. Totally calm. Fine."
"You look not calm... Okay to talk?"
"Yes. Listening."
I breathed deep, shoving distractions. But why? nagged.
"Government sees guys like you as... regrettable? Wasted? Complicated feelings, anyway."
"Huh? Why?"
"For real?"
No anti-gov stuff, drafted but served full without deserting, pension big but not that big.
"Men are... kinda scarce now? War and all."
"Yeah."
One person knifed? Horror. Earth split? Too vast—fateful, hollow tragedy. This war was that: insane luck, enemy blunders, ally wins. Korea triumphed over dual fronts—Japan-China mess.
Japan hedged, got smashed trying Korea solo; China's virus backfired. Miracle of epic wins and blunders. Victor Korea? Men under 1% left.
"Gov stance: support men, pensions ten mil a month—no regrets. But spend it! You hoard like a miser."
"I spend plenty."
"Where?"
"AC on all night, blankets over."
Devil-level waste—even wasteful demons would flee. She just sighed.
"Even with heater? Anything else?"
"Buy every game skin I want."
She blinked. In reality, nowhere to flash cash—but games? No holds barred.
"This month?"
"Three hundred thou?"
"Nope!"
She yelped, then sighed deeper—false hope dashed.
"No new console season, no killer releases—this is big spending."
"Worse than I thought. Game cash isn't real spending—no reinvestment."
"Reinvested hard at first pension. Made bank—lucky."
Early post-war, ruins screamed hide your shit. Apocalypse vibes even in victory. But rebuild came; peace now. Early investors? Rich. Bought "for country" then—jackpot now.
"Anyway, that's the real talk—prior stuff's minor. Minor."
Made sense—nation hurting didn't mean hoarders pay more or lose pension. So, real condition?
"Bluntly? You don't fuck."
"What the—"
"How steep's pop decline?"
"Bad...?"
"Women sub construction, services, accounting—clumsy maybe, but doable. Sex? Babies? Nope."
War killed men, but not solo—China virus nuked most males, mild on females. Pop crash. Test-tubes fail; natural sex only counter still holds.
"Can't execute non-fuckers, but below quota concubines/slaves? Forced slave market."
"Civil servant as slave?"
"Voluntary sex servant? Euphemism for sex slave. We call 'em concubine-wife-slave in practice."
Korea short men; neighbors? Near-zero. Broke, poor overflowing, gov ghosts. Slavery bubbled underground, went legit.
Defeated hotties got food/shelter, family aid cash. Men sated warped lust/dom with ownership. Not my scene, but knew of it.
"Early noise on rights, but gov now: slaves whatever, just breed hard. Spending-wise, one guy hoarding vs. girls sharing? Money flows better..."
"So I gotta...?"
"Bit much on rights, so no must-buy or instant babies! Just peek at wares."
No slave urge, but pension terms? Store visit easy.
"Today work? No plans, right?"
"No plans, but..."
"Let's go! Seraglio style—girls lined up, 'You! You! You! Serve!' Pale beauties galore!"
She grabbed my arm cutely, tugging out. I stumbled along, ending in her backseat, off to the Slave Market.