Doomsday Countdown: Zero Seconds
I scrolled indifferently through my smartphone screen on the living room sofa. The grace period before the Osaka Gate break had crept up to just three days away.
The news articles filling the screen were all buzzing with coverage of Japan's pathetic downfall.
The desperate inferno across the sea was nothing more than a few flicks of the scroll—a distant country's problem far removed from me.
As I skimmed through the articles for a while, Ha-eun approached with a juice box she'd grabbed from the fridge.
"Oppa. Check this out."
Ha-eun thrust her smartphone right in front of my face. It was the real-time best posts on a major community site. The title alone was ominous.
The comments below were all vicious in their own way.
The entire nation was united in fierce opposition to my dispatch to Japan. Blind, tear-jerking shields against their national hero being sacrificed in another country's power struggle.
"The people are pretty sharp, huh."
I chuckled and pushed Ha-eun's phone away. She nodded with the juice pack still in her mouth.
"Of course. After all the hell you went through to protect our country. But the government's not calling anymore? That Choi Director guy earlier looked like he was shitting bricks."
"I told them flat-out I'm not going. They'll back off eventually."
I replied indifferently and was just about to lie back on the sofa when—
Ding-dong.
The penthouse doorbell rang insistently. Mother's face hardened as she checked the intercom screen. I sat up and peered at it myself. Two burly men in black suits—bodyguards. And in the middle, a middle-aged man with his hair slicked back with way too much oil. Not some low-level like Director Choi—this was the Foreign Minister, a top brass.
"I'll handle it."
I waved Mother aside and headed to the entrance. Unlocking the door, I swung it open. The minister forced a friendly smile and bowed his head.
"Sorry to drop by unannounced on a holiday, Hunter Kang. The matter is so urgent that..."
"I was told in no uncertain terms that we're done here."
I spat coldly, half-blocking the doorway. The minister hid his fluster and hastily pulled out the tablet tucked under his arm.
"Hunter Kang! Please reconsider just once more! Japan just sent their final negotiation proposal—impossible to refuse!"
He flicked on the screen and shoved it right in my face.
"If we deploy full S-rank power for this op, they'll lease Tsushima Island to Korea for a full 100 years—with official documents! Plus, they're offering to transfer their massive holdings of U.S. Treasury bonds for free..."
The minister's voice trembled with excitement. National territory and astronomical bonds. Beyond mere mercenary fees, this was a miraculous deal that could vault Korea's power up several levels in one go. He gazed up at me desperately, eyes bloodshot.
"This transcends personal gain—it's patriotism for the ages in Korea's history! With your devotion alone, our homeland could..."
"Shut it."
I cut off his emotional sales pitch with a single stroke. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him.
"Do you see me as some Jesus Christ carrying this nation on his back? Whether you get Tsushima or rip Japan apart whole, that's your politicians' business. I told you flat-out I have no intention of risking my neck to clean up another country's shit."
"H-Hunter Kang! Please think rationally..."
The minister desperately tried to step inside. These weren't people who listened to words anymore.
Whoosh—
A wave of blue mana swept through the entrance. The minister and his two bodyguards gasped and floated up off the floor, as if seized by an invisible giant hand by their collars. I flung them out the door with a flick.
"Wh-what?!"
The three grown men slid across the floor straight to the elevator doors. The tablet slipped from the sprawled minister's hand and clattered away.
"Don't dump trash at someone else's doorstep."
I toed the fallen tablet and kicked it toward the elevator. The minister scrambled on all fours, frantically mashing the elevator button in terror. I slammed the door shut on his pathetic sight.
Bang!
The entrance fell silent. Kicking off my shoes, I returned to the living room, where the family's gazes locked onto me. The air hung heavy, like wet cotton. Father, Mother, even snarky Ha-eun—all muted, watching my mood.
With the minister himself showing up to make a scene, they were clearly boiling inside, terrified that the weight of being the nation's hero would force me into that deadly pit despite the pressure.
I scratched my head and let out a long sigh.
"Sigh."
Mother flinched at the sound. I deliberately lightened my tone, tossing it out casually.
"I'm not going, not going. Don't worry. Even if they hold a knife to my throat, no dice."
Their stiff expressions eased ever so slightly.
"But those guys showing up killed my appetite. Mom, cooking dinner sounds like a hassle today, right? Let's eat out. Grill some meat."
I clapped to lighten the mood.
"Get dressed quick. My treat."
Unable to resist my urging, my parents and Ha-eun bundled up in their coats.
We ended up at our usual galbitang spot near home. As we pushed through the restaurant door, the owner spotted us from the counter, eyes widening, and came running barefoot.
"Aigoo! Our hero's here! This way, this way!"
The owner ushered our family to the spacious back room. Before we could even order, four massive bowls of galbitang—piled high with ribs like mountains—hit the table.
"Boss, that's way too much meat."
"Pssh, eat up! With the news lately, those Japanese punks acting up—gotta be stressing you out! Fuel up and stay strong! And don't you dare go to that dangerous place! We'll all block it!"
It was the offline version of the national sentiment I'd seen online. The owner pumped his fist with a fighting cheer and vanished into the kitchen. I chuckled at the mountain of meat.
We tore into the meat heartily with the family, slurping up every drop of broth. Bellies full, we patted them on the way out, strolling the path back to the penthouse. Cool night air brushed our cheeks, streetlights stretching our shadows long.
Father, walking beside me, suddenly reached out with his big hand and patted my small shoulder.
"Tae-ho."
"Yeah?"
Father looked up at the night sky with a warm smile.
"Dad doesn't need you to be some grand hero. Just don't get hurt, don't get sick. Spending our lives like this—eating galbitang evenings with the family, living ordinarily—that's the best."
The sincere heart from my usually sappy dad. Not as the nation's savior, but just as their ordinary son by their side. A strange itch tugged at my chest.
"What sappy crap out of nowhere. Even if I want ordinary, this body's in the way."
I fiddled with my silver hair and grumbled. Father chuckled heartily, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, while my sister jumped on my back from behind, teasing, "I'll buy galbitang too!"
Just the usual noisy stroll. Watching my family's backs as they scattered to their rooms after we got home, I shook off the itchy feeling and flopped onto my bed.
And three days passed.
The world's eyes turned to Osaka, Japan, across the sea. The internet and TV broadcast nonstop from the massive hole ripped in the heart of downtown Osaka. The time until gate break: mere seconds.
Sitting by my bedhead, I watched the live feed on my laptop. Osaka on screen was ghost-town silent. The faces of the Japanese Self-Defense Forces and hunters encircling the gate were etched with the thick dread of those facing death.
Finally, the clock hit zero.
The world held its breath. The gate's rim should shatter now, unleashing hundreds, thousands of monsters to turn the city into a bloodbath. That was the norm we'd endured for three years.
But even after zero seconds passed, no explosion came. The screen remained eerily still.
"......?"
I leaned in close to the laptop. No blast—not even a hairline crack on the gate's edge. If anything, the blue mana waves filling it rippled calm and stable, like a serene lake surface.
The surrounding Japanese troops looked baffled too, gripping weapons while eyeing each other. In that bizarre silence, chills raced up my spine. The hypothesis I'd shared with Association President Park Jin-cheol flashed through my mind.
My instincts screamed a warning. This wasn't a time bomb dungeon entrance set to blow. It wasn't mutating into some new form.
From the moment it first opened, it had always been like this. A massive, sturdy dimensional door permanently linking the elven ecosystem beyond to this world's city streets.
"Fuck."
I bolted up from the bed. For something I'd dismissed as another country's problem across the sea, the whole nature of the crisis had flipped upside down.