Chapter 28

Fog Gacha

February 27, 2028 — 2:14 PM

The three of us Modified Magic users were in Yongin Central Market.

Alongside military police wearing armbands, we were combing through the marketplace.

Our rifles weren't even loaded and merely hung from our shoulders on their slings, yet the sense of intimidation was overwhelming.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The moment people heard the crisp sound of military boots, they quietly slipped away into side alleys.

It was like a game of whack-a-mole.

There were no greetings.

No vendors calling customers over like you'd expect in a traditional market.

Instead, Shin Na-in, humming hymns through his earphones, silently pointed with his finger.

Then all the military police would turn their attention toward whoever he'd indicated.

They tightened their grips on their rifles and approached the target with frightening seriousness.

"We're conducting a search. Hands where we can see them."

"W-What authority do you have to do that?"

"The entire Gyeonggi region is currently under emergency martial law. Refuse a search, and you'll be referred to a military tribunal."

"What? At least tell me what I supposedly did!"

Harsh words naturally created a tense atmosphere.

As the confrontation between the military police and the man escalated, people who had hidden or backed away began peeking out.

Some even raised their phones and started recording.

The military police paid them no attention.

"We received a report regarding illegal military-scrip transactions. We'd appreciate your cooperation."

The suspect—believed to be a military-scrip black-market dealer—appeared to be a man in his mid-thirties wearing a beanie and a long padded coat.

He glanced between the military police and us.

Then, with visible irritation, he raised his hands without resistance.

I'd expected him to run or try something.

Instead, he was surprisingly cooperative.

Just as I was feeling mildly impressed by his civic-mindedness, Shin Na-in placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered:

"I think he has connections inside a military unit in Yongin. He already knows he'll be released."

"So this is basically WWE?"

When I looked over at Shin Na-in and Lee Se-jun, they seemed to share the same conclusion.

Apparently Shin Na-in had already told Lee Se-jun.

The latter narrowed his eyes, arms crossed, before letting out a sigh.

Meanwhile, Shin Na-in simply increased the volume of his hymns and continued humming.

Regardless, we'd accomplished our objective.

The black-market dealer had been caught.

As we followed the military police, I found myself doing mental calculations.

Twenty military scrip reserved as emergency funds.

Fifteen earned over the past five days of standby duty.

Subtract meal expenses.

That left roughly thirty.

Add maybe fifteen more as mission rewards...

Honestly, risking your life on major operations paid better.

But for consistent and safe income, these small jobs seemed superior.

I was still thinking about that when we reached the market entrance.

The military police sat the suspect down at a nearby street-food table, checked their watches, and looked toward us.

"The transport vehicle won't arrive for about thirty minutes. Operators, you're free to do as you please until then."

I wasn't sure whether that was really allowed.

Then Shin Na-in tapped my shoulder.

When I turned around, both he and Lee Se-jun were pointing deeper into the market with their thumbs.

Without really thinking, I followed them back inside.

"Mr. Baek Jemin," Lee Se-jun said, "you really lock yourself indoors and ignore all outside news, don't you?"

"Outside news? What is there besides the Seoul containment line?"

The rumors coming from the front were all grim.

Even someone like me, who didn't care about gossip, couldn't avoid hearing them.

According to the rumors, they'd successfully turned Seoul's outskirts into a wasteland of shattered concrete.

Monster numbers had dropped significantly.

But in exchange, the creatures now used collapsed buildings, ruined infrastructure, and sealed-off sewer systems to ambush troops.

Supposedly, casualties had already reached several thousand over the past month.

But that wasn't what Lee Se-jun meant.

Behind his awkward expression, Shin Na-in removed one earbud and shrugged.

"That's not the rumor he's talking about."

"The black market."

Shin Na-in launched into one of his usual self-important explanations.

Boiled down, however, his point was simple.

"The military isn't interested in strangling the civilian economy. They're only concerned with preventing firearms from leaking out, controlling medical supplies, and maintaining the value of military scrip."

"Even in a wartime economy, things fall apart if you don't let people trade. Besides, the military already monopolizes the most valuable commodity."

His argument went like this:

Whether civilians traded with Korean won, which had likely become worthless, or U.S. dollars, which remained valuable worldwide, the military didn't care.

The military controlled something far more important.

Evacuation priority.

The right to legally relocate to a safer rear area.

As long as the military maintained exclusive control over that privilege, military scrip would retain value among the people of Gyeonggi Province.

Through military scrip, the military gained indirect control over civilians.

At the same time, it could soften public resentment over requisitioned supplies by compensating people with currency.

According to Shin Na-in, this was also why civilian operators received larger rewards.

The military deliberately allowed us to purchase supplies through black-market channels.

By doing so, they ensured we enjoyed tangible economic benefits.

At the same time, because we remained civilians, they could delay our evacuation by encouraging us to spend our scrip rather than save it.

The fact that equipment and consumables required military scrip served the same purpose.

Keep operators tied to the secondary containment line.

Delay evacuation.

And if an operator somehow accumulated enough to buy evacuation priority?

The military would probably allow it once.

But after that, Shin Na-in believed they'd quietly raise the price under the pretext of inflation control.

"Which means," he concluded, "that us shopping in Yongin's black market is beneficial for both us and the military."

"Mr. Baek Jemin," said Lee Se-jun, "let's get some chicken. Think we can finish a whole bird in thirty minutes?"

That finally explained why both of them had brought enormous duffel bags.

I briefly lamented arriving empty-handed before lowering my voice.

"I'm planning to buy a mountain of Zero Coke. Mind carrying some in your bags?"

"If you buy some for me too."

"Deal."

Negotiating with Lee Se-jun was easy.

The problem, as always, was Shin Na-in.

"I want regular Coca-Cola. Zero is supposedly bad for your gut microbiome."

"You seriously want sugar water?"

"Cola without sugar is nothing more than flavored sewage. Whether it's delicious sugary water or merely sweet sewage is determined entirely by the sugar."

I didn't like it.

But I nodded anyway, feeling like some old landlord reluctantly taking care of his tenants.

And so our trio spent the next thirty minutes devouring market chicken, stuffing duffel bags with Coke and Zero Coke, and then returning to where the military police were waiting.

We'd purchased sixty-four cans of cola and eaten an entire chicken.

The total cost?

Only six military scrip.

And that included the extra scrip I'd voluntarily given to the elderly shopkeeper running the stall.

When I handed it over, the old man thanked me with tears in his deeply wrinkled eyes.

Because of that extra military scrip, he said, his grandchild would now have a chance at evacuation.

The feeling that left behind was difficult to describe.

Heavy.

Complicated.

Painful.

All at once.

Fog Gacha

Still, our duffel bags were packed full of sweet carbonated drinks, and thanks to finally eating some greasy fried chicken, the three of us felt thoroughly satisfied.

The old man's grandchild would get to evacuate.

We got a full stomach.

Wasn't this what real patriotism looked like?

When we returned, however, three military trucks had arrived and were parked in formation in front of the military police.

The suspected military-scrip broker, who had been sitting quietly until then, was trembling violently.

He glared at the MPs and demanded:

"Hey. Hey... what the hell is going on? My uncle's Lieutenant Colonel Baek Dae-san!"

"You are implicated in an illegal evacuation operation."

"Hey! What's so wrong about taking some money while helping people get out!?"

By the time the broker attempted to flee, it was already too late.

The military police were firmly pressing down on his shoulders.

Meanwhile, four more MPs had already climbed down from the trucks and were approaching.

Curious, I craned my neck and looked into the truck beds.

People.

All kinds of people.

A curly-haired middle-aged woman sitting with her hands clasped in prayer.

A monk with a shaved head and sharp lips dressed in full robes.

A man reading a book while handcuffed.

Despite their different appearances, they all shared the same atmosphere.

A kind of determination.

Or tension.

Even the handcuffed man reading his book clearly wasn't paying attention to the pages.

He kept turning the same page over and over.

Unable to figure out what was happening, our Modified Magic trio approached the one MP we were at least vaguely familiar with.

"What are those people doing?"

Only then did I get a proper look at him.

Beneath the intimidating helmet and military-police uniform was a surprisingly ordinary face.

He looked young.

Freckle-like marks dotted his cheeks.

While punching the military-scrip broker on the shoulder, he answered:

"You've played gacha games before, right?"

"...What?"

"The kind where you spend money on your phone and pull characters."

"I tried one years ago and quit. Why?"

I had asked who those people were.

Why was he suddenly talking about gacha games?

For a moment I wondered if this guy was some kind of hardcore nerd.

Then I saw his expression.

He looked betrayed.

Like Liu Bei finding out Guan Yu and Zhang Fei had abandoned him.

I had absolutely no idea why this baby-faced MP felt so personally wounded by my answer.

Meanwhile, Lee Se-jun suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.

"No way..."

"Why do only you understand?"

Shin Na-in and I both turned toward him.

Lee Se-jun stared at the trucks with a stiff expression.

"It's Fog Gacha."

"Fog... Gacha?"

Meanwhile, the military-scrip broker's resistance was becoming increasingly desperate.

The MPs responded by becoming even rougher.

His arms were pinned behind him as he was dragged toward the truck.

"Let go! Hey! Let me go! Aaaagh!"

Only when I watched him get thrown into the truck did I understand.

They were trying to create more magicians.

Whether criminals or volunteers.

As long as they filled the quota.

The military had already learned they couldn't rely solely on advanced technology and electronics against monsters like Amalgams and Devouring Spines.

The appearance of creatures that had survived the biological and chemical warfare used during the Suwon Station underground purge had likely played a major role.

Attacks using sound.

Unknown powers capable of disabling even military drones.

After witnessing things like that, the military no longer had the luxury of worrying about the dangers of magic itself.

The arrival of groups like the Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Academy Division suggested the situation was worse than I realized.

Somewhere beyond my awareness, humanity was being pushed into a corner.

Our trio climbed into the rear compartment of one of the trucks in noticeably subdued spirits.

One of the MPs nodded and spoke.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Operators."

Then he added:

"And this is personal."

His eyes were hidden beneath the shadow of his helmet.

Reaching into his jacket, he produced a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes.

One cigarette was already missing.

I accepted it reflexively and looked at him.

The MP adjusted his uniform.

"My younger brother participated in the Suwon Station underground-clearing operation."

I smiled and handed the cigarette pack to Lee Se-jun.

"We'll share it."

+Ten Light

February 28, 2028 — 8:06 AM

After checking the time on my cracked phone screen, I gathered the Modified Magic Trio and went looking for Captain Kim Ho-un and Lieutenant Shin Han-gi.

My enthusiasm for magic hadn't faded.

But South Korea was so catastrophically screwed that I felt obligated to perform another act of patriotism.

Of course, I also had a small personal wish.

I wanted to venture into the fog again.

More importantly, all three of us agreed on one thing:

Wasn't it about time we found out what was actually happening near the First Containment Line?

Life as mercenaries inside the Second Containment Line wasn't terrible.

But neither Lee Se-jun nor I—and certainly not even Shin Na-in—had become magicians just to live comfortably.

When we expressed our intentions, both officers looked visibly troubled.

Still, they contacted their superiors.

"Yes, sir. The situation around the First Containment Line..."

While they endured a long exchange of reports and communications, I absentmindedly rubbed the Special Magic Lecture booklet.

Frustration and excitement mixed together inside my head.

The frustration of chasing theories with no proof.

The excitement of abilities powerful enough to dispel that uncertainty.

Would I someday learn ear magic?

Heart magic?

Were there still more lineages?

Were there really twenty-five spells in total?

And if someone mastered all of them...

What then?

Lost in those thoughts, I waited.

Eventually, Lieutenant Shin Han-gi hurriedly pinned a freshly printed document onto the whiteboard.

"Honestly... I didn't think you'd volunteer for something this dangerous."

"That's a good sign, right?"

"From the military's perspective? Absolutely."

Lee Se-jun, Shin Na-in, and I narrowed our eyes.

Shin Na-in muttered "Amen" repeatedly.

Lee Se-jun fidgeted with his rifle sling.

The document's title read:

[Escort and Protection of Individuals Compatible with Localized Penetrative Modification Events]

The mission itself was simple.

Escort compatible candidates to the northern outskirts of Seongnam—the region closest to the fog covering Seoul.

Then I flipped the page.

The back was filled with warnings.

1. Follow Rules of Engagement at all times.

2. Based on testimony from field personnel, two unidentified species have been sighted within approximately 30 meters of visibility inside the fog. Avoid all contact under any circumstances.

3. Entering unauthorized buildings is strictly prohibited.

And so on.

I pulled the document off the board and felt a thrill run through me.

Fear.

The fear of not knowing what lurked inside.

The fear that I might finally see the source of the catastrophe that had destroyed the nation.

The exhilaration of approaching something so dangerous that people were seriously discussing the use of at least three hydrogen bombs against it.

And...

The countless mysteries and truths hidden within.

If I wanted to discover whether Modified Magic was truly some kind of occult secret art—or whether it operated according to an entirely different principle—I would have to accept the risk.

"We're really going..."

Lee Se-jun muttered, his voice trembling despite himself.

"Lord, your son now marches toward the holy battlefield."

Shin Na-in quietly prayed with folded hands.

They were both insane in their own ways.

But fighting monsters required a certain amount of madness.

Waving the document, I looked at Lieutenant Shin Han-gi.

"When do we leave?"

And then completely unexpected people appeared.

A middle-aged man wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a fluttering Korean-flag cape adjusted his spectacles and noticed the document in my hand.

"Lieutenant, did I hear correctly? You're saying this mission is that dangerous?"

The members of the Taegeuk Jesus Advent Eastern Academy Division were staring at him with solemn expressions.

"Yes. However, combat may occur, and experienced Aphorism personnel will be—"

"Aphorism?!"

The protest came from me.

Not them.

"They're Supreme Wizards."

"...The Supreme Wizards of Aphorism have volunteered, so everything should be fine."

"Hah..."

The flag-caped man turned toward us.

Crosses densely embroidered across his flag glimmered as he spoke.

"Lieutenant. Can you really entrust something so important to children like these?"

Then he puffed out his chest.

"We shall accompany them as well.

Great power demands great responsibility.

And exceptional talent requires proper guidance.

As shepherds chosen by the Lord, it is our duty to guide those who may one day become shepherds themselves."

Uh.

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh!