The soldier's condition was better than I had expected.
His body was covered in dirt, seeds, and vines from wherever he had crawled, but he had no major injuries or illnesses. Nor did he show any signs of the typical afflictions of alcoholism.
I waited for him to recover before beginning the interrogation.
Since I didn’t want my location to be exposed, I conducted the questioning by the stream where I had captured him.
"State your rank and na."
I had no formal training in interrogation.
We’re survivalists dealing with monsters, not soldiers. If the day cos when monsters are subjected to interrogations, maybe I’ll be more prepared.
Still, I’d seen Chinese soldiers and rcenaries interrogate civilians during my ti observing them. Drawing on those mories, I tried my best.
His na was impossible for to pronounce, thick with tones unfamiliar to . So, I decided to call him Ma.
Ma’s rank was "Xiaojiao"—equivalent to a major in Korea. He looked no older than his late twenties, but ranks in a fallen country hold as much value as the currency of a collapsing economy.
He confird my suspicions: he belonged to a Chinese landing force stationed near Dangjin.
He ntioned the complex chain of command within the "Liberation Army" of so obscure province, but I let it go in one ear and out the other. It wasn’t important.
What I cared about was what he had told earlier—Seoul and a nuclear explosion.
"Seoul is gone," I said. "So people may have survived, but there’s no one living there now."
Ma corrected himself.
"Not Seoul. Near it. A big port city where many people live."
"Incheon?"
He nodded emphatically.
"They’re planning to destroy it. Kill everyone there."
"And how exactly can we stop that?"
If a nuclear missile were launched now, what could we possibly do?
During the war, the U.S.-provided missile defense systems had worked well. But China had countered with an overwhelming number of ballistic missiles, so of which had hit Seoul and devastated the surrounding areas.
It’s been three years since the war began. Even if so defense systems remain, are they operational? Especially given the civil war with the Legion faction?
"We only have one left," Ma said. "If it’s intercepted, it’s over for us. That’s why we’ve planned this operation carefully."
Ma’s Korean, initially clumsy, beca increasingly fluent as he spoke. By the end, he sounded almost indistinguishable from a native speaker.
"There isn’t much ti. The contact in Incheon is already preparing to receive the nuclear warhead."
"A contact in Incheon?"
A collaborator. A traitor.
This was the mont when Ma’s story began to gain credibility.
"The contact holds a position that allows them to transport large cargo into Incheon without suspicion. They’ll receive the warhead, separated from the missile on a submarine, and detonate it in the city center."
I looked him straight in the eye and asked evenly: "Why is a soldier from the Chinese military telling this? You must have a motive."
Spreading false information is a common tactic. Even on PaleNet, governnt operatives often try to twist narratives, like turning Dongtanmom’s demise into a conspiracy.
"What’s your reason?"
Noticing the coldness in my gaze, Ma lowered his eyes and sighed.
"It may not an much, coming from a soldier of the nation that started this war, but I hate seeing people die. It’s all over—this war, my country. Everything is finished. Why should we wipe out the people of this land too?"
Anyone can say sothing like that.
I could easily spout the sa sentint to a Chinese person.
Ti to change the subject.
"Are you by any chance Korean-Chinese?"
His fluent Korean made it seem almost certain.
He shook his head. "I’m Han Chinese."
"You speak Korean well."
"I went to school here."
"Which school?"
"One of those ‘third-rate universities’ Koreans often mock. It was in Gyeongsangbuk-do. But I liked it. In spring, the cherry blossoms were beautiful, and people were kind. I made a lot of friends."
"How long were you there?"
"Five, maybe six years. I rember arguing with my father about coming ho after six years."
If what he said was true, he had studied diligently.
I’d spent a similar amount of ti in China, yet I couldn’t string together a proper sentence in Chinese.
"There’s no ti! The advance team is about to et the contact."
"What do you expect to do?"
"Connect to soone in the Korean military—soone with decision-making authority."
I could make introductions.
But would they believe him?
Even I found his story hard to swallow.
He had no proof. His overly fluent Korean and convincing backstory might persuade so, but to , it felt rehearsed—like a textbook case of espionage.
"By the way, where did you co from?"
Ma pointed southwest.
"Did you encounter anything on your way here?"
If he had co from the Chinese forces in that direction, he couldn’t have missed Gold, the ruler of those lands.
"No."
"I see."
I nodded and began to turn away when Ma blurted out:
"I avoided the dogs’ territory."
"A detour?"
I turned back to face him.
"Yes, I took a detour. That’s why my body is in such bad shape. I went through places no one would call a path, and it exhausted ."
He looked at with a despondent expression, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"The friends who deserted with were foolish. They went straight into the dogs’ territory. The noise was deafening. I doubt anyone survived."
"Are you transporting the warhead over land?"
Ma nodded.
"It has to be. The submarine can’t get close. Every ti it tries, depth charges rain down on it as if they knew exactly where it was."
"But what about the mutations on land?"
Transporting a nuclear warhead would require at least a 2.5-ton truck. Getting to Incheon from their base would an crossing Gold’s territory.
The mutated dogs were likely to attack anyone entering their domain.
"The mutations won’t be a problem."
"Why not?"
My skepticism was clear. Ma hesitated before answering, his voice subdued.
"A hunter from the mainland is coming. Soone incredibly skilled. They said he’s operating out of Hainan."
"Hainan?"
"An island at the southern tip of China. I’ve heard it hasn’t been eroded yet."
A place like Jeju, then.
It made sense. A country as large as China would have at least one or two such havens.
"When will the submarine arrive?"
"Yesterday, or maybe the day before."
I paused, thinking.
This man... I wasn’t sure.
But he didn’t seem to be lying.
His motivations were suspicious, but the fact remained: I’d heard the mutated dogs howling yesterday.
"Wait here."
If I were still a team leader, I wouldn’t report this to my superiors with such flimsy evidence.
There was no hard proof—only circumstantial claims and testimony.
Still, I reached out to Woo Min-hee.
She didn’t answer.
After two more attempts, one of her subordinates finally picked up.
"Sorry, Director Woo is in Jeju. I’ll relay your ssage when she’s back."
"This is urgent."
"Don’t tell . Tell her."
"The Chinese are planning a nuclear strike on Incheon—"
"I’m hanging up now."
The line went dead.
I tried calling again, but they had turned the device off.
What now?
Should I leave things as they are?
I felt I’d done all I could.
But even if I had gotten through, would Woo Min-hee have believed ?
While I contemplated my next move, Ma disappeared.
I could have tracked him, but I let it go.
*
In the middle of the night, I woke to the sudden sound of gunfire.
Southwest—Gold’s territory.
I thought I also heard dogs barking, but after I was fully awake, all sound ceased.
No more gunfire. No more howls from the mutated dogs.
“Hmm.”
Was I imagining things?
I don’t often have nightmares, but when I do, one recurring dream is of an unknown figure opening my bunker door and shooting .
The gunfire in those dreams feels so vivid that I often wake up with a strangled scream.
Was it sothing similar this ti?
But this didn’t even have any visuals—just the sound.
I was about to go back to sleep when Defender’s communicator buzzed.
“Did you hear that just now?”
It was Defender.
“Sounded like an explosion.”
“It ca from the direction of that mutation dog territory you’re so friendly with. If I’m not wrong, it sounded like one of those hunter weapons the Chinese use.”
“A Chinese hunter weapon?”
A bad feeling washed over as the image of the Chinese soldier I’d let walk away yesterday flashed in my mind.
“Chu-ko-nu.”
“What?”
“It’s a weapon called a ‘repeating crossbow.’ It’s a wrist-mounted, sight-guided, triple-bolt explosive launcher. The bolts hit wherever the user’s gaze lands. Each bolt acts like a mini-drone, so they’re guided as well.”
“I’ve never heard of that weapon before.”
“It was just starting to be deployed in real battles before Korea split from China. But I still rember the distinct sound it makes when fired—like the air itself is being ripped apart. That’s Chu-ko-nu.”
Chinese forces.
They were among the highest-ranking threats I’d anticipated before the war.
A scenario where Chinese troops occupied my entire territory, discovered , and executed a sweep was one of Park Gyu’s personal bad endings.
And now, that long-dormant threat had reawakened.
“I saw a Chinese soldier yesterday,” I confessed.
Defender might annoy lately with his over-the-top antics on the internet, but he’s still my neighbor.
I told him everything that had happened the day before.
“You’re serious? Especially about the contact in Incheon?”
“Yes.”
“...Shit.”
I was startled. Defender wasn’t soone who cursed, even when killing people.
But this ti, a genuine expletive slipped from his mouth.
“Sorry. That just ca out.”
“No need to apologize.”
“Did you get the na of the contact?”
“No.”
“Could you try finding it out? I’ll scout the area with my sister in the anti.”
“Understood.”
I washed up quickly and left my bunker.
For the first ti in a while, I brought out my bicycle.
It may have been sidelined by motorcycles, but in situations like this, a bike could be more useful.
Luckily, the sky was filled with countless stars, and a bright moon nearing full illuminated the dark earth.
Using the stars as a guide, I headed north for about 30 minutes before I found Ma.
He was groaning, his body battered and bruised.
His face was swollen beyond recognition. I helped him up to check if he was conscious.
“You… you’re…”
Thankfully, he recognized .
I didn’t ask who had done this to him.
He should consider himself lucky to have been left alive.
“Do you know the contact’s na?”
“The contact? I know the location, but… oh, wait…”
Ma opened his badly swollen eyes as wide as he could.
“Heo. The contact’s na was Heo.”
“Heo?”
Defender’s earlier curses flashed in my mind, along with soone I’d t before—soone connected to Defender.
“Heo Jong-chul?”
Ma nodded.
“Yes, that’s him!”
Heo Jong-chul.
A forr hunter and minor Awakened.
He hated this country and its people.
It was easy to imagine him conspiring with the Chinese to annihilate the citizens of Incheon with a nuclear bomb.
This man had allied himself with the Chinese—those in possession of a nuke.
Defender’s communicator buzzed faintly.
“Confird three mutated dog corpses.”
For a brief mont, my pupils trembled.
But the unease didn’t last long.
“Among the corpses, was Gold one of them?”
“Can’t tell. It’s night, and I observed from high altitude.”
That sealed it.
Ma’s story was true.
The Chinese had joined forces with Koreans, cleared a path through Gold’s territory with the help of a hunter, and were transporting a nuclear bomb to Incheon.
I took a mont to think.
I’m no savior.
I have no right to step onto a battlefield.
I’m just an old-school hunter who chose a life of isolation.
But I’m not so irresponsible as to ignore an impending catastrophe right in front of .
Not one or two lives.
Not even a thousand or ten thousand.
Three million people.
Maybe fewer, maybe more.
Their lives were now in my hands.
“Can you help?”
A heavy sigh ca through the communicator.
“...If I go, I might end up siding with him.”
His words didn’t shock or disappoint .
Instead, I asked a question.
“Were you on the sa team?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
If they’d been teammates, I could understand his hesitation.
Even if you dislike a teammate, instinct often overrides thought when they’re under attack.
That’s the way of us old-school hunters.
“Got it. Then I’ll go alone…”
Just as I resolved myself to act alone, Defender’s sister Da-jeong’s voice burst through the communicator.
“What are you doing?”
Her cheerful tone was entirely out of place for the situation.
While I fumbled for words, she scolded :
“Why aren’t you using the summoning ticket?”
“The what?”
“The ticket my dumb brother gave you—the one who’s never had a proper romance in his life.”
Ah, right.
Defender had once given a crudely drawn “Defender Summoning Ticket.”
I’d completely forgotten about it.
The mory brought a faint smile to my lips as I spoke into the communicator:
“Summoning ticket. Call.”
A resigned chuckle ca through the line.
Monts later, Defender appeared before , hauling a truck.
“Defender, reporting for duty.”
I stared at him, montarily at a loss for words. Then I blurted:
“...Are you a kid?”
“Better than trying to beatbox, don’t you think?”
He held out his fist.
Reluctantly, I bumped it with mine.
The reluctance shattered, replaced by determination.
“Let’s go.”
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