The reunion was brief.
After exchanging nas, Gong Gyeong-min disappeared, surrounded by others in identical uniforms.
I waited for him in the eting room, but he never returned.
Instead, a man I didn’t recognize appeared.
I didn’t know him, but he knew .
"Ah, you’re Park Gyu, right?"
His tone was polite, but the way he chose his words clearly aid to draw a line—and his faintly smug expression wasn’t unfamiliar.
I instinctively guessed he belonged to a certain group connected to .
That assumption was right on the mark.
"I’m Jang Hyun-jin. I serve on the Jeju Committee."
A “lucky generation.”
Those who blood in a ti when Awakened were rare, who claid excessive positions simply because they awakened a little earlier than others.
That guy I once t at the Lighthouse was one of these types too.
He’s probably dead by now, but he had countless accomplices—and one of them was now in front of , smirking.
"I’ve heard the stories. That you’ve helped defend this place alongside Director Woo. Well, now that the Rift has changed its strategy, humanity must revise its own as well. Even the old Russia–Ukraine war was seen as a return to World War I, wasn’t it?"
I had no desire to engage in conversation, but there was one thing I wanted to know.
"Where did Gong Gyeong-min go?"
"The Chairman was only here briefly for confirmation. He left just now with his team."
Chairman.
So that’s his title now?
It sounded high, but in a world of cowards who shunned responsibility, being called “Chairman” didn’t necessarily an much.
I ended the empty conversation and sat alone until an administrator approached and whispered to .
"Excuse , Commander. There’s sothing I need to tell you."
What he said explained why those neatly uniford strangers had suddenly appeared.
And it was shocking.
"Is that really true?"
Of course, the content was far removed from hope or optimism.
"They’re sending people from Jeju back here?"
Those who could no longer live on Jeju were being sent back here.
The exact number was unclear, but already a fleet of 100,000 people had departed for New Seoul.
As far as I rember, Jeju had around 300,000 residents.
Maybe even 500,000.
Anyway, the reason Gong Gyeong-min and his Jeju entourage ca here was to inform us of this.
"Hunter Park..."
Kim Byeong-cheol greeted with a troubled expression.
Seeing his face, I understood.
There was no choice.
We had to accept it.
Even knowing that the number of people correlates directly to the size of the curse.
Handling the reality of accepting, reintegrating, and managing 100,000 people wasn’t my concern.
I was just looking for a sliver of hope.
"Did they promise to reinforce our forces?"
Reluctantly, Kim Byeong-cheol nodded.
"...Supposedly."
This was reality.
According to Kim, the Jeju governnt promised air support, new weapons and ammunition, and additional forces including Regular Awakened.
But they gave no tiline.
Even when reinforcents were urgently needed, they didn’t clarify when they’d actually arrive.
In situations like this, a vague promise was no different than not making one at all.
Kim sighed and painted a grim picture.
"Back when we held the frontlines, the governnt didn’t support us at all. We were struggling against leftover North Korean troops, and they didn’t give us a single round of ammo. All they did was talk. It’s the sa feeling now. They always promised, but never delivered. Eventually we ran out of food, and we couldn’t do anything."
Kim Byeong-cheol and the soldiers on the frontlines had already been betrayed by the governnt once.
And those shoving refugees into our laps now weren’t much different from those back then.
I didn’t know their exact nas, but there were rumors that many of Seoul’s forr top officials had fled to Jeju and found cushy positions there.
Maybe Jang Hyun-jin had been part of that shadowy “Chairman-less Committee” that ran Seoul at the ti.
"I understand that everyone is feeling uneasy. The optics of people returning from Jeju aren’t great. But the Hope Region, which many of you have settled, was originally prepared for this exact purpose—for people from Jeju to return soday."
Jang Hyun-jin casually explained when the reverse migrants from Jeju would arrive and how they would be settled.
"Even now, New Seoul is overflowing with refugees from all directions. We’re already hitting the limit of our heating capabilities. Only 3 out of 8 power generators are operating. And we don’t have much coal stockpiled either."
"Everyone knows that more people ans more monsters! Even children know that! And what about public safety? All able-bodied people have already been funneled into the military. We don’t have enough personnel to maintain order. Are you going to bring a police force along with your refugees?"
"We demand confird air support."
Protests were erupting from every direction.
But Jang Hyun-jin wasn’t interested in hearing us.
"We’ll inform you of the schedule later. For now, the Jeju immigration fleet is already in the West Sea."
He just kept talking.
Kim Byeong-cheol stared at with a frustrated expression.
He wanted to say sothing.
"..."
But I wasn’t sure anything I said would reach that cloud-dwelling friend of his.
This city needed a leader.
Not so driftwood from Jeju pretending to be in charge—but soone who would speak for us and represent us.
Only one person fit that bill.
Woo Min-hee.
We had to find her.
But how do you find soone who vanished so suddenly?
If the Academy still existed, I’d go there, but it had been reduced to rubble long ago.
I knew she was from Seoul, but not which neighborhood—and even her nesis, Kim Daram, didn’t know.
Judging by how tightly she kept her lips sealed, she was probably from a nice neighborhood.
But how did those fancy Seoul neighborhoods fare?
"Director Woo? Hard to say. She was always hard to read."
Desperate, I asked one of her forr subordinates, but got nowhere.
Then, unexpectedly, a clue to her whereabouts surfaced.
"Skelton, how’s it going? Got any good news?"
It started with Da-jeong.
She had called after the eting to ask about the results.
As part of the Hunter support team, there’s no way she didn’t sense the unease gripping the city.
"Not great. Let’s talk later."
I didn’t ntion the refugee situation.
Calls like this were always at risk of being tapped.
"Okay. You’re working hard, Skelton. I can tell—since you haven’t even logged into your favorite board."
"Yeah. It’s been a while."
"Oh, right! There’s been a bunch of fun posts lately."
"Really?"
"Yeah! Reporter Guy is on fire right now!"
"Reporter Guy?"
Woo Min-hee’s location was finally revealed.
No wonder we couldn’t find her.
She wasn’t in the real world—she was on the internet.
gijayangban: (Reporter Guy Report) Big Puppies (3)
gijayangban: (Reporter Guy Report) Big Puppy Babies
gijayangban: (Reporter Guy Report) Giant Puppy Babies (2)
...
Our dear Woo Min-hee was shitting out nonsense posts on the board.
To be more accurate, they were popular posts.
For so reason, Reporter Guy was posting a series called “Big Puppies,” with titles clearly influenced by Skelton, and getting a hot response.
Using the word "babies" twice in a title that already implies it is classic Woo Min-hee—less stupidity, more her trademark recklessness and indifference.
Woo Min-hee never showed even a hint of respect or interest in anything she wasn’t personally invested in.
From the titles, it was obvious she’d taken photos of mutated dogs.
At least twenty of them, captured close-up with light-boosted cara equipnt, showcasing these familiar yet alien creatures in striking detail.
And yet, in all those posts, she didn’t write a single word of comntary.
Not a word beyond the title.
She just took pictures. That’s it.
Where did she take them?
She had deliberately frad them to obscure the background, but so of it leaked through—and it suggested she wasn’t far from our territory.
Now that I think about it, there had been a report before she disappeared—mutated dogs were spotted at the eastern frontier developnt site.
We evacuated everyone from there.
We didn’t have the resources to deploy a team, and it was across the river.
Even if we chased them off, we’d just have to evacuate again if a battle broke out.
So we cleared the entire area—and apparently, she went there alone.
Woo Min-hee was a lonely person.
Unlike , she had many lovers, many relationships—but everyone knew her heart was empty.
Even her hater Kim Daram once said:
"A big hole's punched through her chest. She tries to fill it with love, but it’s a hole, not a jar. It all just leaks out. Like Sisyphus and his damn rock—that’s her heart."
That was her past.
Nowadays, Kim Daram puts it more bluntly:
"She never got married, has no husband, no kids. Just more wrinkles and hysteria."
A typical comnt from a junior who survives only by feeling superior to others—but I’ll give her the hysteria part.
Woo Min-hee’s hysteria was legendary.
Dealing with it took just as much nerve as fighting monsters.
Right now, I didn’t need an analysis to know she was more hysterical than ever.
The proof was in how she ditched her responsibilities and went off alone to photograph mutated dogs and play on ssage boards.
Still, even though I found her, persuading her was another matter.
Going in person wouldn’t end well.
But right now, we needed her.
She was the only one who could stand up to the Jeju governnt operatives who had suddenly appeared.
So even if I hated the idea, I had to reach out.
And of course, I would do it the way Skelton does.
tap tap tap
SKELTON: What’re you up to?
tap tap tap
SKELTON:
“...”
But even this familiar thod felt difficult now that I was about to face her hysteria head-on.
tap tap tap
SKELTON: Our cute little Minnie (20)~ Hellooo~ ^*^
tap tap tap
SKELTON:
Typed. Deleted.
How many ssages had I written and erased?
I wanted to say sothing—but as always, starting was the hardest part.
What should I say?
Just a casual greeting?
She’d ignore that.
Ask for help in a formal tone?
She’d dismiss that too.
What I needed was... resonance.
But how much resonance was there between us?
We shared so ti, a few incidents, but there wasn’t much left to bridge the cold distance now.
Sigh.
I checked the board again.
Woo Min-hee had posted another update.
Her dog photos had once gone viral, but even the most beautiful song gets boring after three days.
The likes and comnts were dwindling, and her latest post hadn’t even made it to the trending list.
Still, I clicked on it.
Sa as always.
Photos of mutated dogs, taken with a telephoto lens.
Dogs are deeply tied to many people’s mories.
But after the mutation disaster, they vanished from our lives.
The governnt recomnded culling them. Even if you didn’t obey, your neighbors would.
Plenty of people kept them secretly—but most were killed by their own dogs.
I didn’t have many dog mories.
My family preferred plants.
But I did have one connection.
After the war, I bonded with a dog.
Not a regular dog—a mutated one.
Gold.
Smart, dignified, and above all, unlucky.
He had a pup.
Sorry, Gold—but that pup was an idiot.
He left ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to find his pack, but I never expected him to stand out among them.
And then—
“Huh?”
I unconsciously leaned toward the monitor.
In the photo Woo Min-hee had just posted, among the many mutated dogs stood one very familiar figure.
I looked at the title.
gijayangban: (Reporter Guy Report) The Leader (1)
No doubt.
Those tall, pointed ears. The long, sharp snout. That intense, calm gaze.
It was exactly like the dog I once knew—Gold.
But this one had silver fur.
I started to think—no, I was sure.
That’s him.
Silver.
Yeah, Gold’s son.
But I was confused.
That dumb, clumsy pup... beca the leader of a pack?
Maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. Maybe it was confirmation bias.
Still, that dog looked far too much like Gold.
It made perfect sense that it might be Silver.
tap tap tap
I typed again.
This ti, instead of backspacing...
I hit Enter.
SKELTON: That’s a dog I know.
Unlike the dozens of ssages I’d written and erased earlier, this one stayed.
It appeared as a comnt beneath Woo Min-hee’s post.
A mont later—
ping
A reply notification.
gijayangban: Really?
She had taken my hand.
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