The Last Leaf
National emergency. ***
When I returned to the room, several more messages had arrived.
Like hell I know. …I wanted to say that, but the other person was far too famous. A national treasure praised not only for their ability and career, but for their character as well. When someone like that offered to help, who in their right mind would refuse? Unfortunately, I wasn’t in my right mind.
[I'm fine.]
I sent the reply and went back to web surfing. I wondered if I’d gathered enough information by now, but there were still too many things I didn’t fully understand. So today’s agenda was supplementary study. It was absolutely not internet addiction. If it were, I would’ve started with shorts. Right now I was browsing the Korean gallery of WAG, which could even be considered highly useful and educational. What I wanted to look up was someone called “Top,” but I decided to check the popular posts first. In the short time I’d been gone, five new ones had already been uploaded. Well, well. Wasn’t this the perfect amount to read right before starting my research? I’d just read these five and then look into Top. …That was what I’d told myself the morning of the day before yesterday.
I sat there blankly, staring at the window where moonlight poured in, and finally muttered, “Scheisse.”
Where the hell did my two days go? No, since I didn’t need sleep, those eight hours were saved. By that logic I’d wasted over forty-eight hours, so if we measured by a normal human’s biological clock, it was definitely more than two days. But anyway—where the hell did my day plus eight hours go?
I sat there with a vacant stare, trying to recall what I’d been doing, then stood up. Without realizing it, I started muttering excuses to myself.
“It was pretty informative, in its own way.”
The operating principles of a four-hundred-horsepower gate-entry motorcycle that I would never have glanced at in my entire life would surely come in handy someday. So it was fine. After comforting myself like that, I climbed up to the rooftop and sat down in front of the Divine Tree.
The moon was truly beautiful. Round and blue. Maybe I was too captivated by it, because the truth I’d been suppressing slipped out.
“I wasn’t this pathetic before…”
In my previous life, I had lived quite diligently. Especially after being dragged into the military and earning the position of squad leader in just one month—I’d been so devoted that I even felt proud of myself. But thinking about it now, maybe that hadn’t really been my choice. More like forced pretense. I pretended to be strong because I didn’t want to die, pretended to be kind because I didn’t want to lose anything, and pretended to be righteous because I didn’t want to let anyone go. This was my true nature. I didn’t want to become stronger. I didn’t want to be kind. I didn’t want to be righteous. I just wanted peace.
So why the hell did it have to be me who got resurrected? There must have been far better candidates.
The classic gesture of tragic protagonists lost in thought came to mind—gazing at their palm with misty eyes. I’d always wanted to try it. Should I?
I slowly raised my hand. …What the hell was this ridiculously cute little palm? I immediately regretted it. I lowered my hand and looked back up at the moon. It was just as round and plump as my palm.
“Haa—”
The moment I let out a sigh, the vines began to wriggle and stretch toward me. Was this Murphy’s Law too? One depressing thing after another. The tip of the vine extended right in front of my eyes. Hanging from its end was a single bright yellow leaf.
When I read The Last Leaf back in elementary school, I hadn’t felt any empathy—hell, I hadn’t even understood the story. But the last leaf I was seeing now felt unbearably sad. Why was that? Probably because the current situation resembled The Happy Prince far more than The Last Leaf. I’d cried the first time I read that one.
That was why it was so hard to accept the vine’s kindness. A vine that would squeeze out the last of its life force, refine it into an elixir, and give it to me? It was too heartbreaking.
“It’s okay.”
I shook my head and sent a wave of mana carrying my feelings of apology and gratitude toward the vine. The response that came back was essentially, Who gives a shit?
The instant I sensed that will, two vines shot forward, pinched my cheeks, and forced my mouth open.
“Huh?”
In my confusion, the leaf was shoved into my mouth.
“Ack?!”
The vine was kind enough to deliver the leaf straight down my esophagus. Gulp.
Even a spirit’s body reacted on the surface much like a human’s.
“Ugh.”
The moment the vine withdrew from my mouth, I gagged so hard my mind went fuzzy. I couldn’t even say a proper goodbye.
The vine’s leaves began to fall. Since we were on the rooftop of a skyscraper, the wind was chaotic. The leaves danced wildly in it, scattering moonlight in every direction like flower petals tossed during a festival. While I was lost in that beautiful sight—
Unique Trait: King
A change occurred that was difficult to comprehend even with a spirit’s senses, and then the vine died.
A sudden gale swept across the mountain ridges surrounding Yangmok City.
Hoooooooong—
Min Chul-hee, an A-class awakener who had sacrificed his day off at his superior’s command to join an exploration mission, flinched and quickly hid himself. He was stationed at a small outpost on a mid-slope overlooking the city. This place was like an oasis in the desert—a safe zone that only someone like him, the ace of the infiltration team, could reach by risking his life.
But the moment he arrived, an anomaly occurred.
What should have been a safe zone was suddenly swarming with an uncountable number of monsters. Min Chul-hee froze. He couldn’t move, could barely even breathe. Ironically, that was what saved him. The monsters weren’t targeting the human inside the outpost. They were simply passing through.
Rumble rumble rumble.
Three hundred? No… at least five hundred?
Even while panicking, Min Chul-hee was still counting the monsters. The title of “ace” wasn’t wasted on him. His ability to regain his composure was noticeably faster than most veterans. Two minutes after the horde had moved far enough away for him to be sure—
“Hup!”
Min Chul-hee let out the breath he’d been holding and crawled on all fours toward the window. He cautiously peeked out at the city the monsters were heading toward. They had already reached the outskirts; the edges of the city were turning pitch black. That alone was horrifying enough, but then—
BOOM—
A colossal monster came over the opposite ridge. It was a creature called a “Sergeant.” Normally it scattered in the form of bloody slime, but when it exerted full power, it fused into the grotesque shape of a giant. Min Chul-hee froze again. No matter how much of an infiltration ace he was, seeing a Sergeant made keeping his sanity nearly impossible. After all, the appearance of a Sergeant was the dividing line between a “Wave” and an “Apocalypse.” And an Apocalypse meant…
“Fuck.”
Even while half out of his mind from foreseeing the future, Min Chul-hee still carried out his duty. He immediately pulled out the mana communicator that was only supposed to be used as a last resort because of the monsters’ detection abilities, and contacted headquarters through an emergency channel that was normally forbidden. He judged the crisis level to be at least Apocalypse-class. And in an Apocalypse-class situation, the place that absolutely had to be contacted was the President’s personal awakener unit, the Chungmugun.
The communicator began emitting mana. If any monsters were nearby, they would sense his presence and come to attack. Hurry up and pick up…
The moment he bit his lip in anxiety, a blindingly bright light suddenly burst from the tall building standing alone in the center of the city—
WHOOM—
A massive beam of light blew a hole straight through the Sergeant’s chest. What followed was a change in the weather. Thunder rumbled across the clear sky, and then hail began to pour down. Thanks to his superior eyesight as the infiltration team’s ace, plus the ability to enhance his vision by manipulating mana inside his body, Min Chul-hee could tell. This wasn’t ordinary hail.
Crack. Thud.
The ice fell like spears, skewering and slaughtering the monsters. It was a massacre by Mother Nature itself. After witnessing such an overwhelming scene, how could he possibly respond to the communicator?
— Chungmugun connection confirmed.
A voice flowed from the device, but Min Chul-hee couldn’t answer.
— This is Chungmugun. 209 Special Infiltration Team, Min Chul-hee. Respond.
Overwhelmed by awe, reverence, and fear, Min Chul-hee would end up rambling about this scene for an entire week afterward. Inside a detention cell.
In any era, leaders require at least two qualities. The essential one is charisma. The rest vary by the times. In peaceful eras, entertainment skills are prized. In chaotic times, wisdom. In eras of war, raw power. Therefore, now that the functions of the Tower had been revealed and the world had entered an age of turmoil, the president of a nation had no choice but to be an awakener.
Lee Ah-ryun, the third S-class awakener in the country. Legends claimed that, like a certain vegetarian from ancient India, he had possessed wisdom, virtue, and physical prowess from the moment he was born. Since ascending to the presidency, he had never once lost his composure. At least, that was how it looked to others.
The Presidential Palace, which bore the strongest traces of the mad “Reconstruction Boom” from thirty-nine years ago, was more extravagant than any public building built during the imperialist era without regard for tax money. And in that place, he was always out in the backyard. Even when China and Japan were launching missiles at each other across the West Sea, even when American and Russian fleets were jostling shoulders in a contest of nerves across the East Sea, he would sip his green tea elegantly while gazing at the garden trees he had cultivated himself.
The current moment—receiving a report from his subordinate that was difficult to comprehend—was no different.
“This concludes the report from the 209 Special Infiltration Team.”
The president looked remarkably young. In reality he was in his mid-forties, which was young for a president, but his incredible baby face had sparked rumors that he was lying about his age. On top of that, he was strikingly handsome. His silver-streaked hair combed neatly back and the silver-rimmed glasses that didn’t quite match his youthful features created mixed opinions, but everyone agreed that his base appearance was exceptionally good-looking. When someone like that discussed state affairs with a gentle expression at all times, what else was there to say?
“How interesting.”
Not only the citizens watching from afar, but even the secretaries who saw him every day at close range felt their loyalty to the nation rise along with their admiration for his charm. Unfortunately, the president’s inner thoughts were vastly different from the image others saw.
An Apocalypse happened, but it didn’t? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s terrifying.
As always, fear came first. Then he began running his denial circuit.
How did this happen? They didn’t report it because they don’t know? Then isn’t that dangerous? Does that mean foreign troops have entered or a monster stronger than a Sergeant has appeared? So why is he speaking so calmly?
Ironically, it was precisely this sense of fear that had allowed him to reach the pinnacle of S-class. Swallowing the urge to order everyone into a bunker out of terror of losing power, he slowly walked up to his subordinate and spoke.
“The first Closer, Sir Park Seo-yul, once said that there is no existence more dangerous than ‘the unknown.’”
Then, with a faint smile, he commanded,
“Investigate this matter with absolute clarity. You may mobilize the entire Chungmugun if necessary.”