The Nation's First Official Purge Day: Enter the Rice-Blackmailing Terrorist!
Who could've imagined anyone pulling off something this massive in modern Korea by messing with rice? Back in the days of the rice standard system when rice was basically currency, sure, you'd get hauled off for currency manipulation. But now?
"...The problem is the time it took him to suck dry an entire mountain."
Congress, the government... sadly, the era had arrived where they had to worry about that too.
"A guy who devours a mountain over 600 meters high in minutes and runs faster than your average car?"
The ability system wasn't even properly established yet—no rankings, no guidelines on how abilities developed or were used. So if he wasn't even at 100% enhancement right now? The possibility he could reach even higher levels by absorbing more wasn't zero. Factoring in logarithmic growth, he'd have insane intensity combined with the raw destructive power of a body that could deliver those blows.
"In the worst-case scenario, his movement speed and range could rival a fighter jet."
If he went all-out in true berserk mode, all the rice paddies could be wiped out in under ten days. That was the nightmare scenario on the table.
"Ugh... as much as it pisses me off, if that's what he wants, we have no choice but to give it."
It wasn't even real negotiation—just a trash-tier ultimatum close to a declaration. Imagine crashing into a car with a bull logo on it, then having them say, "Let's call it even, you dog bastards." Would you complain about the insults? No, you'd be grateful they let it slide.
The issue was that the people who rarely wielded hard power had made the rational call... but
"Is it really okay for him to act like this? Is this how the country should run?!"
Those in the soft power camp apparently thought otherwise.
"You think a punk like you can shake the foundations of society and still live comfortably in this country?!"
"Is threatening national security all by yourself really justified?!"
They were all getting roasted 100% live on broadcast, their meeting spots fully exposed. A few principled reporters, champions of the public's right to know, rushed to the scene.
"Yeah, no way a law like that holds up. Traffic's gonna pour in sweet!"
"Insider tip from some execs: injuries but no deaths yet... jackpot, let's scoop it!"
Then came the money-hungry hacks with their own "beliefs," following suit. Major newspaper buildings were clustered right near the incident sites anyway.
Real footage hit, and everyone went, "Agh, these assholes again," recognizing faces quick.
"...My god, an entire mountain just... dead."
"From there to there, it was all rock or trees... now it's just rock or some gray crap."
Soon enough, they reached the foothills of Bukhansan, where every last green had vanished.
"Camera-toting vultures—reporters! Hey, surround 'em!"
"Wha—what?! These ajummas, what the hell are they—"
What awaited wasn't sweet scoops, but...
"Who told you to come poking around here?! Get out now!"
"If my kid gets hurt because of scum like you, who's taking responsibility?!"
...a barrage of steel switches from moms who'd sent their own kids to the army, fuming mad.
"Seoul's packed with people, huh? Soldiers from Seoul, their moms from Seoul... and communication's top-notch these days."
From a parent's view, hearing on the news their kid was trapped with a terrorist—would they buy the "negotiations going smoothly" bullshit? Or rush to Seoul themselves to check?
They'd sped over by car, subway... frantic moms stamping their feet in worry. And now they'd found their kids.
"You filthy bastard! Using the monopoly power card like that?! You traitor!!"
"Heard of 'no eternal allies, no eternal enemies'? You're the loser! Ten thousand won, cha-ching—Mom?"
After a belly-busting Chinese feast, yanking collars in PX 10K board games. Pitiful but peaceful kids whose issues were personality, not physical.
"...Weren't they holding the kids hostage? That... terrorist guy."
"Yeah, but they're blocking them from leaving by force, so isn't it hostage-taking?"
Smacking their sons' backs in stunned fury at the pathetic scene, but by now the vibe was clear.
"Moms, grab a meal, help out so the kids can rest easy?"
--I'll hook you up with some sweet mental trauma compensation!
To turn these kids chilling and eating well into "victims," how to handle the unwanted guests inbound?
Whish! Smack!!
"Ow!! It hurts! Stings!! What the hell, ajumma... aaak!!"
"Don't go there?! They're already holding hostages—why stir shit and make it worse!!"
If Kim Chomo swung himself, it'd be a direct media showdown, breaking pens with fists like a villain. But arming moms with steel switches? That's "maternal love vs. trash reporters" meta.
"Nothing bigger than parents thinking of their kids in this Korea, right?"
In these unstable times, who believes the army when they whine, "Those bastards got the honey!"?
"Hope the politicians bring the amnesty quick, uncles..."
Whistling, Kim Chomo finished perfect info lockdown.
"...You made a whole bed now? Didn't peg your dream job as junkyard dealer."
"Hey, tons of time, sore back—what else am I gonna do!"
He flopped onto his side onto the makeshift car-seat bed.
Whether for Kim Chomo's back health or prepped ahead, three official signatures stamped the amnesty papers surprisingly fast.
Congress had been on standby since the hostage stunt began. The president could sign off solo, no need to drag feet.
All they needed was someone to run dog-like buying time.
"...Got it."
"Mm, you really hustled. Impressive."
"...Feels like backhanded praise, heh. But honestly, feels good."
The moment he realized it was all live-streamed online, Jeong Sumyeong became that dog. Collapsing onto the temp seat after a month's workout in one day.
Hair sweat-matted, morning gel ruined like a drowned mutt. Suit too hot, soaked dress shirt made him look pathetic.
'This seals it. After this blows over, I'm the lone youth who worked while others yapped.'
The briefcase in the arms of today's real winner. Kim Chomo popped the case, pulling out the papers.
"Alright, everyone. See this? Official amnesty from the nation's legislative and executive branches."
"Then the legislative and executive lied, right? Meaning 'Fake Government', 'Fake Congress'."
Once the flashy amnesty was public to the few around and the online ocean, Korea officially recognized Kim Chomo as a civilian, not a criminal!
"You guys are my witnesses, right? Wow, tens of thousands... no, over a hundred thousand watching. I'm free--!!"
The chat crowd clapped tepidly, "congrats," expecting Kim Chomo's exit. But
"Hold up, surprisingly, we're not done! Let's keep going a bit!"
"...What?! What the hell—it's over!!"
Ass planted, Kim Chomo requested 30 minutes of karaoke service.
"Look at the amnesty: it voids crimes 'up to today.'"
But he wasn't the one granting service.
"Meaning, until 23:59 tomorrow... I can pull any crazy shit in this country scot-free, right?"
Store owners had all agreed by consensus to let him sing his heart out freely. Sure, anything bigger might void the amnesty...
"But smaller scale than before? No voiding needed."
Already itching to head home, but with reporters swarming, house raid risk?
"Gotta wrap with one killer interview first."
His status: nationally approved Purge Day! Madness refilled Kim Chomo's eyes.
"...Your buddy always like this?"
"Mm, platoon leader. Honestly, count your blessings he discharged. That psycho."
Student council jacked extra fees without paying up. Padded him at drinks for it. What happened after...
'...Our department still has no student council-like thing...'
The high school-college buddy who'd seen it all shuddered, goosebumps full.
Click! Click!
Troops slowly dismantled the iron pipe barriers they hadn't even realized confined them.
"...Haa, if only the higher-ups were this competent elsewhere."
"Hey, you canceling that last bet? Double down at the end and bail? Bullshit."
Leaving the temp camp teardown behind, today's star finally faced the press properly.
Shutter frenzy hurt the eyes more than words, but
'Eh, pre-beat a few, so eye candy now.'
Regaining casual poise, Kim Chomo grinned at the live cams.
No knees left to bend now, right?
"Alright, teachers. What ya wanna hear?"
"...Pardon?"
"C'mon, you got questions. Why this, motives, future plans."
This month's worst criminal, who shook a nation, said casually while picking his ear.
"...First, official amnesty issued... congrats on societal return."
"Whoa, real congrats. You make it feel good."
A proper pen-wielder gave rare well-wishes.
Infinite army spin on ability users wasn't normal policy anyway.
From a critic's view, yeah, unforgivable heavy crime. But societal imbalance's twisted result—their fault too.
As societal elders and seniors in this weird era... amnesty was his right.
"So, what's next?"
Thus, one question mattered.
--Gonna keep acting wild, endangering citizens?
If 'YES,' unite public will to check the monster. No one above people, no one below in modern society... he was a dangerous variable.
Courtesy to serious questions: Kim Chomo answered politely.
"...Uh... part-time then reenroll? I'm sophomore now."
The dropout vowing to reenter the system earned relieved sighs from passionate reporters.
No smash-the-system intent, just exploded from injustice. Rational youth open to future talks, even if shit hits again.
Of course, world favors shake-ups over tame answers.
"Part-time? What kind? Power-immune illegal stuff..."
"Crushed army, so cops can't touch you in most crimes..."
Stimulus-hunters outnumbered.
Everyone wants cash, can't blame 'em...
"Do I gotta listen to these retard fucks one by one? Nah."
"......"
Reporters clutching faces at colleagues' muddied waters, self-own.
No need to foot that bill.
"Agh, no peddlers. Scram, shoo shoo!"
Shooing cams like no more talk.
"Interviews, public's right to know—what do you think that is?! Can't just end—"
One snapping habitually for exclusives.
BOOM!!
"Told ya no, asshole!! Deaf?!"
Instantly yeeted back into his own car—through the windshield. Dynamic entry woke all eyes.
"Uncles, per my amnesty, until 23:59 today, anything goes guilt-free?"
--Got spare power, wanna dump it on your asses?
World's law far, fist near. Face-to-face with the mad doc's fast-acting cure.
Terror-struck reporters scattered screaming.
"...You really going back to college, kid?"
Squinting at the decent reporter uncle's half-dubious face.
Sigh...
"Agh, whatever. Let's not meet over shit like this again, uncle."
Sighing, Kim Chomo trudged toward his room. Beat rush hour, hop public transit quick.