Every Step Kicks Up Sand
Sand flew up with every step. It was because he was kicking the barren sandy ground too hard. Or maybe it was the small bullets constantly landing near his feet. What had started as sporadic gunfire, like water droplets from a loosely closed faucet, now poured down like a torrential downpour. Even just rifles packed quite a punch when concentrated, and the back of his neck burned fiercely where the bullets had grazed him.
"At this point, can't you just figure it out already...!"
He'd thought they'd realize he was a man once the bullets stopped working, but the women showed no sign of stopping. As he reached the base of the mountain, the ground grew softer and more uneven. It wasn't a dry path, so his feet sank into broken branches and decaying leaves with sickening squelches. Yukiko's claim that they'd surrounded the area didn't seem like an empty threat—now anti-tank rounds were flying in from behind. Seeing a shell explode right where he'd been standing just a second ago made his heart pound even harder.
The anti-tank team whose position had first been exposed was now so close he could see their faces. He charged straight at the women frantically loading the final shell, stomped the ground hard, and leaped into the air. The woman hurriedly shoved the shell in and fired at him. It whistled past his head by a hair's breadth. Bursting through the thick white smoke from the backblast, he finally grabbed one of them.
"Hello?"
Perhaps touched by his polite greeting, the woman dropped the launcher from her hands.
"Kyaaack!"
"Calm down. Mind if we talk for a bit?"
"Please spare me. I was wrong. Hic... sob..."
The woman collapsed to the ground and scooted backward bit by bit. Eventually giving up on escaping, she covered her face and sobbed.
"No, what did I do wrong..."
While time dragged on, women with guns swarmed in and surrounded him. It was a relief they'd stopped shooting—firing recklessly in this situation could easily lead to friendly fire deaths. Looking at the women encircling him in loose clusters, he couldn't help but sigh. They weren't playing some kids' game like red light, green light, spreading out so wide like that...
"Hey, who's in charge here?"
The women chattered among themselves, and one stepped forward, aiming her gun at him as she spoke.
"W-We are slaves serving Master Kim Woo-jin!"
Good, he hadn't been off the mark. For now, at least. Externally, things like "hunting season" were supposed to be secret, so whispers arose among them: Is it okay to just say that outright?
"You can see I'm a man, right?"
The woman who'd stepped forward looked a bit older than the others. She wore glasses and had a somewhat dim-witted impression.
"Even if you're a man, you could be colluding with criminals or..."
His chest tightened. Still, positively speaking, the fact that dialogue was possible was a relief. Even if it was frustratingly slow, resolving things without bloodshed would be fortunate.
"One of my slaves was kidnapped by that organization, so I came to rescue her."
"Don't lie! We've already got all the info! The human trafficking group recruited through identity laundering or slave job placements. How could one of your slaves be a victim?"
It was ironic that the traffickers had used "slave job placement" to lure people. But he had no counterargument to her words. Next time I see Mikoto—no, after her body's healed a bit—I'm definitely gonna smack her.
"Well, my slave ran away, tried to get an identity wash through them, and got kidnapped instead..."
"And you dove into this dangerous zone alone to save her? You think that makes sense?"
Unable to retort, he awkwardly scratched his head. He could slowly convince them this wasn't a dangerous zone for him, but it didn't seem worthwhile.
"Anyway, I'm a man who underwent the physical enhancement procedure. You can suspect me, but do you have the authority to interrogate or punish me for it?"
He didn't like throwing his status around to pressure people. But he was reaching his limit now too. He'd seen too many awful things, and being surrounded by gun barrels wasn't pleasant.
"So you show your true colors! Girls, raise your guns!"
At her words, the women encircling him—half of them hesitantly—raised their weapons.
"You're really gonna do this... Hey. You're perfectly surrounding me right now, but every time one of you misses, someone dies, you know? I can take a few hits no problem?"
"B-But..."
They lacked combat experience to an almost excessive degree. Post-war, real combat vets were those who'd been shot at, but these women didn't even grasp the basics.
"Fine. Please, just call that Woo-jin guy or whatever quickly."
"B-But we can't let you meet our master defenselessly... At least your arms need to be tied..."
"Got any rope?"
"Pardon?"
"Regular rope won't do anything to me. You'd need super expensive special handcuffs or something to neutralize the enhancement itself."
Explaining this step by step was frustrating.
"Then we'll break your arms even if..."
"I guarantee you, with those guns, it'd take until dinner just to shatter one arm. Want me to take that anti-tank round earlier?"
Only then did she shut her mouth. Seeing them like this, he worried despite not knowing them. They were decently equipped with rifles and such, but their handling was so amateurish it was unbelievable.
Surrounded by the armed women as he walked the mountain path, what he was doing suddenly felt pathetic. His original plan had been simple: I'm a man, so I'm not the one you were targeting. Let's clear up the misunderstanding and go our ways. But things had gotten needlessly complicated.
"We're here."
Not far away was their master—a man wrestling with a phone that wouldn't connect and a dusty radio. He looked just like a kid. Visually, somewhere between middle and high school age.
"Why'd you shoot him? Even if you didn't know at first, you should've realized he was a man when he dodged the bullets and kept coming!"
The boy scolded the dim-witted woman who'd guided him the moment he saw them.
"S-Sorry. I didn't get an order to cease fire..."
"Ugh... I'm really sorry. The phone won't connect, and the radio I brought just in case is acting up too..."
He looked so pure it was hard to believe he'd come to Japan to hunt women for rape. His face was quite handsome too—pre-war standards, the type who'd have girls swarming him.
"Nah, it's fine. I just came to request a ceasefire, and now that the misunderstanding's cleared up, that's good enough."
"I'm truly sorry!"
He bolted toward him like a shot and bowed deeply. It somehow felt like there was more to it.
"No, the police must've messed up. If you spread the info, you should've managed it..."
"That's probably our fault too. We were originally targeting a different group, but I... I thought my slaves needed real combat experience, so I switched targets on short notice."
A bad premonition hit him. But no matter how he thought about it, he couldn't see how he'd be in danger. He worried briefly about Yukiko and Mikoto possibly inside the abandoned factory, but it was in plain view. He'd checked several times on the way, scanning for approaching threats, and seen nothing suspicious. Premonitions aren't always right, he reassured himself as he turned to leave.
Then a dizzying sensation hit his back. One he hadn't felt in ages—the feeling of flesh being pierced. The sticky, clammy warmth of blood soaking his clothes.
"Why?"
"I'm sorry..."
The innocent-looking pretty boy had stabbed him in the back with a dagger. The emotion that hit him first wasn't fear of death or pain, but bewilderment.
"You girls, shoot too!"
"B-But..."
"Shoot! It's too late now! We have to bury this guy here no matter what!"
"Why? What's the reason I need to be silenced?"
Before he could finish, bullets started flying at him. He was the clear target, yet some of the women screamed. Surprisingly, the dim-witted one he'd assumed would gleefully shoot him just stood there blankly, doing nothing. Their eyes met, but neither understood what was happening.
"You girls just shot at this man! Fired anti-tank rounds too! If we go back to Korea, we're one hundred percent dead! We have to kill him here and make it look like an accident, or you're all done for!"
Only then did the hesitating women start firing at him. The boy tried to drive the knife deeper into his back, but he forcibly shoved him away and yanked it out. Now it made sense. From his position, getting shot without fighting back felt unfair, but from the boy's perspective, this was probably the crisis of his life.
How much could he trust a casual "let's just go our ways"? Post-war Korea had grown casual about death, especially women's. If he could produce any evidence that the boy's slaves had attacked him, he could imprison or execute them anytime. I was too risky for the boy to let slide on words alone. Kill him now, and the living man could pull strings to protect them somehow.
It wasn't incomprehensible. If anything, the cold judgment and speed were impressive. He would've done everything possible too if there was even a slim chance Yukiko or Mikoto might die. Whether that included killing was another matter.
Even after being slammed to the ground once, the boy quickly regained his stance, glaring with fierce eyes. If this kid had been an adult during the war, he'd have outshone a half-baked guy like him. Realistically, the virus would've probably killed him first.
But he lacked experience. Lacked it way too much. This brat knew nothing about how fights between enhanced men went down.
He still had zero chance of losing.
"Girls, when you shoot, climb higher than here and fire downward."
He drew his own dagger and wiped the blood leaking from his back onto it.
"Please, let's end this without a single death. Okay?"