Chapter 76

The Red Pill We Took

The first ten minutes after sending the transmission were utterly meaningless.

It got to the point where Hamza, who had been eyeing Lee Sejun suspiciously, cautiously asked:

"Mr. Sejun. They're not responding."

"Radio doesn't work very well underground in the first place. Uh, Ms. Ryeoha. You did leave the antenna extension cable connected, right?"

"Yes! Trying to communicate from the surface is far too dangerous. But the fog is so dense that both the cables and the antenna deteriorate quickly, so maintenance hasn't exactly been ideal."

"Then underground is probably hopeless. We may need to move this to the rooftop."

For once, even Lee Sejun was remarkably composed.

Normally, everything about him was disgusting, but as a former career NCO, he still remembered how to operate that tin-can piece of equipment called the 999K.

Since he'd essentially been transferred out into a civilian operator role after failing to secure long-term service, his military experience and knowledge were apparently still fresh.

After setting the handset down, Lee Sejun scratched his head and turned toward us.

"And if I remember correctly, the 999K's battery drains fast. We should probably check the batteries while moving it to the roof. The blockade line is probably using 999Ks too, so we'll need to keep trying. This could take a while."

"Why's it so complicated? Can't you just use it?"

The Pastor frowned, but Lee Sejun remained firm.

Examining the radio, he let out a sigh.

"Honestly, we're lucky it's still working. Keeping it underground where there's less fog probably saved it. These things were notorious. There's a reason soldiers used KakaoTalk for training notifications. Nobody used these unless they were checking radio networks. They're inconvenient as hell. Most people just used wired lines or KakaoTalk."

Unfortunately, this was about the limit of Lee Sejun's military expertise.

As expected from a combat specialist, he knew little beyond occasionally helping communications personnel.

Even so, it was more knowledge than the rest of us possessed.

As a result, the moment when the Supreme Mages would reconnect with the outside military was pushed back a little.

After stroking his chin and thinking things over, the Pastor finally gave orders.

"Jemin's mobility is limited right now, so this is awkward. Sejun. Do you need anything else for the rooftop setup?"

"Not really. I think we have everything. I'll try once we get it upstairs."

"Good. Then Baek Jemin, Lee Sejun, and Hamza will take the radio to the roof and try from there. Nain and I will stay here with Ms. Ryeoha, check the equipment, and run the generator."

The Pastor was clearly far too happy about having a cute girl around.

I chose not to comment.

Dividing into two teams, we carried the radio toward the roof of the New Engineering Building.

Normally we'd have wasted time chatting, but nobody felt like relaxing when our connection to the outside world depended on this.

The moment we left the laboratory, we simply put on our gas masks.

Fortunately, the building itself had mostly escaped the bombardment.

Aside from overturned furniture and scattered equipment, it remained structurally intact.

Naturally, there wasn't enough electricity to operate the elevators, so Lee Sejun had to haul the heavy radio up ten flights of emergency stairs.

"Mr. Jemin. Ms. Hamza. I'm clearly the one carrying this thing up ten floors. Why does this feel so unfair?"

"It's normal to feel good when you're around pretty women. You're just not normal."

"Are you saying I'm abnormal?"

"Mr. Sejun, 'abnormal' isn't the right word. You're disgusting."

Even Hamza couldn't resist adding her own comment.

Well, Lee Sejun definitely wasn't normal.

Ignoring his complaints, we eventually reached the rooftop door.

A rusty padlock hung there, but one kick from Lee Sejun shattered it.

CRASH!

With a metallic explosion, we stepped into fog with visibility of roughly one hundred meters.

And almost immediately, I realized the New Engineering Building wasn't a bad base at all.

The rooftop was covered with large solar panels.

Without the fog, power would've been far less of a concern.

The three of us moved to a corner free of solar panels and set the radio down.

After that came a stretch of time that seemed utterly meaningless.

Lee Sejun wasn't constantly transmitting.

Each time he picked up the handset, he'd wait several minutes before trying again.

Every ten minutes or so, he adjusted the dial and attempted contact.

Nothing came back except static.

[Krrrsh... zzzzt...]

"Maybe it's broken?"

"There are too many skyscrapers in Seoul. Radio waves travel in straight lines and keep hitting things. Plus, whatever effect the fog has, it's still moisture. We have to keep wiping the radio down so humidity doesn't ruin it. And our batteries aren't exactly in great shape, so we can't transmit continuously."

According to Lee Sejun, the equipment had spent months operating in fog-ravaged Seoul.

No matter how durable it was, failures were inevitable.

Especially since battery charging had been limited to conserve power.

Now I understood why he only picked up the handset every ten minutes.

He was trying to preserve battery life.

After hearing all that, Hamza clicked her tongue.

"I wish we'd found a Starlink terminal."

"Even if they blocked it, it'd feel different just knowing one existed."

The three of us loitered around the radio, letting time drift by.

Eventually, someone climbed the stairs toward us.

We instinctively reached for weapons.

Fortunately, it was only Shin Nain.

Breathing heavily through her gas mask from the climb, she spoke irritably.

"What have you been doing? It's been over an hour."

"Radio reception is terrible."

"Tsk."

As Shin Nain stepped beside us, another ten minutes happened to pass.

Lee Sejun picked up the handset again.

This time, amid the static, actual words emerged.

[... Seongnam... ...]

The instant I heard it, I drew my greatsword and slashed my left hand.

Blood splattered across the radio.

Hand Stage 2.

[Left-Hand Blood].

I needed a word.

What should I write?

The first thing that came to mind was:

[Supreme].

Perhaps because phrases like "supreme quality" and "supreme reception" floated through my thoughts.

The moment I inscribed [Supreme] onto the radio, the terrible signal quality visibly improved.

[This is Seongnam. Any radio users within Seoul, respond. Over.]

"It's safe."

Even Hamza agreed.

This was our chance.

Yet as Lee Sejun prepared to answer, he looked back at us and whispered:

"Shouldn't we get the Pastor first?"

Apparently he was finally thinking.

The Pastor's Doctrine-Type magic, [Soteriological Conviction], wasn't flashy.

It wasn't useful in combat.

But it specialized in making events unfold favorably.

Battle-obsessed idiots might mock it.

But from the perspective of the Great Archmage Baek Jemin, few magics were more valuable.

Still, Lee Sejun's thinking remained shallow.

To my annoyance, Shin Nain—easily the second-smartest Supreme Mage after me—stopped him first.

"The fact that we established contact while the Pastor wasn't here means this is more advantageous for us."

"...Huh?"

"The Pastor's Sacred Technique works like that. It's the Lord's protection. Proceed."

Lee Sejun still looked confused.

But he followed orders anyway.

For once, that thick-headed obedience was actually appealing.

The military conditioning hadn't entirely left him.

In a stiff, professional voice, he transmitted:

"Seongnam. This is Konkuk. Signal received. Transmission quality good. Over."

[Konkuk. This is Seongnam. State identity. Over.]

At that moment, a strange sensation crawled up my spine.

Like a cat feeling a delicate hand stroke along its back.

Goosebumps.

Yet pleasant ones.

A familiar intuition settled gently upon my shoulders.

A sensation I hadn't felt since entering Seoul.

Digging through my memories, I finally remembered the greatest moment of my life.

The day the Supreme Mages marched proudly through the military cafeteria at the Suwon City Hall CP.

The looks.

The whispers.

The astonishment from every soldier and officer.

That intoxicating feeling of standing somewhere far above ordinary people.

That warm satisfaction swelling from deep inside my chest.

And now—

that feeling had returned through the radio handset in Lee Sejun's hand.

"Seongnam. This is Konkuk. We are Aphorism, civilian operators who volunteered alongside the Republic of Korea military as the follow-up team to the First Vanguard Reconnaissance Force. Over."

Silence followed.

Only distant monster cries and the lonely wind moving through the fog.

All of us stood motionless, waiting.

Then—

Beep.

The signal indicating an incoming transmission sounded.

And the voice on the other end was unmistakably trembling with emotion.

[This is Seongnam... A-Aphorism. Message received. Confirmed. Report the number of survivors. Over.]

There it was.

I closed my eyes.

The pleasure flooding through me felt more exhilarating than pornography.

I wanted to savor every second of it.

Then Lee Sejun delivered the finishing blow.

"Seongnam. This is Konkuk. Five. All alive. Successfully contacted one friendly survivor. Over."

Silence again.

But this silence was far louder than the first.

Because before the microphone cut off, we heard it.

Cheers.

Actual cheers.

They vanished almost instantly.

Yet that brief moment was enough.

We could imagine exactly what was happening on the other side.

The receiver chirped again.

[This is Seongnam. Civilian Operator Aphorism. Describe the friendly survivor.]

"Female civilian. User of localized infiltration-type alteration phenomena. Mentally unstable. Confirmed the existence of groups within Seoul using localized infiltration-type alteration phenomena. No solution to the overall crisis yet. Successfully acquired information regarding unidentified species and magical systems. Over."

To his credit, Lee Sejun sounded perfectly professional over the radio.

I half expected his jealousy regarding Go Ryeoha to explode.

Apparently he still possessed the ability to separate personal feelings from official business.

Feeling mildly impressed, I opened my eyes—

Only to see Lee Sejun's face twisted like a vengeful demon.

The sheer ugliness of his jealousy whenever Go Ryeoha came up left me speechless.

Still.

More important than Lee Sejun's inferiority complex were the people listening from Seongnam.

Thinking about the military maintaining the First Blockade Line and hearing our transmission made the corners of my mouth twitch upward.

The responses remained restrained.

Professional.

Businesslike.

Yet there was a nuance hidden beneath that professionalism.

The sort of nuance people only reveal when they're desperately trying not to sound excited.

The person on the other end of the transmission sounded exhausted and worn down. Yet beneath that fatigue was something else—a muted emotion, a voice trembling slightly at the edges.

[This is Seongnam. The Republic of Korea military and... this officer would like to express our gratitude for the dedication and accomplishments of the civilian operators, Aphorism.]

At this point, I wasn't even sure whether "Republic of Korea military" was still the correct term.

But nobody challenged it.

Even Lee Sejun, whose face had been twisted into something resembling a vengeful demon, relaxed his expression.

Hamza closed her eyes and let out a long breath.

For once, Shin Nain removed her headset and smiled behind her gas mask.

After the emotional reunion came the practical discussion.

[The military promises airdropped supplies, close air support in areas where the fog occasionally clears, and drone support utilizing satellite communications. We will do everything possible. However, due to the conditions within Seoul, transport via aircraft or helicopters remains extremely limited.]

"Why?"

The moment Lee Sejun asked that, I nearly punched him.

This idiot would occasionally seem thoughtful and then immediately ask something unbelievably stupid.

Hadn't he seen the Olympic Bridge?

The sky was full of flying monsters.

Anyone suggesting helicopters in a place where you couldn't even see beyond your windshield deserved to have their brain removed.

The problem was that Lee Sejun seemed more interested in removing other body parts than his brain.

Fortunately, the person on the other end ignored him and continued.

[Therefore, civilian operators will need to move under their own power to a designated extraction zone. Within three days, we will conduct a supply drop near Konkuk University to ensure sufficient food, medical supplies, and ammunition. Your extraction route should proceed toward Guri City, where military drones can still operate. Travel along the eastern Han River whenever possible.]

"They're recommending the riverside because it's easier to track our location."

Shin Nain spoke while gripping the sling of her rifle.

Then Lee Sejun asked something that hadn't occurred to any of us.

"What about the special forces operating near Line 3?"

[They have already withdrawn. There are no remaining military personnel inside Seoul.]

The speaker deliberately avoided discussing casualty numbers.

But we had Shin Nain.

Even back at Suwon Station she had been capable of reading minds through electronic devices.

Once the transmission paused, she immediately spoke.

"Half losses. Fifty percent survival rate. Thirty-eight returned."

"Brutal."

The cursed phone had mentioned military operations before.

Had the military clashed with the 66 Society along Line 3?

American and Korean special forces conducting a joint operation and losing more than half their personnel...

I couldn't even imagine what happened.

In the end, the military's message boiled down to three points:

1. Supplies will be dropped within three days.

2. Move east toward Guri. The military will limit bombardment along the riverside for one week.

3. Escort the civilian female survivor and bring her out with you.

***

[This is the point where establishing friendly relations with local survivors becomes important. We understand this increases the burden placed upon the civilian operators, but the military desperately needs additional information. We respectfully ask for your cooperation.]

The words were polite.

Warm.

But I could hear the cold logic beneath them.

The Supreme Mages had gone into Seoul alongside military personnel.

Now suddenly we claimed to have found Go Ryeoha.

The military was helping us, yes.

But I could feel a tiny seed of suspicion wriggling beneath their enthusiasm.

Are they really still on our side?

There was a saying:

A gentleman doesn't adjust his shoes in a melon field.

A truly innocent person avoids suspicious behavior altogether.

Personally, I saw no downside.

Go Ryeoha was my magic teacher.

Taking her out of Seoul and legally sucking every bit of knowledge out of her sounded fantastic.

Ordinary fools might complain about bringing her along.

They might argue we should help her regain her sanity.

Idiotic thinking.

Why fix her?

When she was so easy to manipulate?

Why abandon her?

She was a powerful mage.

If a mentally unstable person who wasn't a Supreme Mage got hurt, what exactly was I supposed to lose?

Every bullet she spent fighting for us was a bullet we didn't have to spend ourselves.

Holding Go Ryeoha was dangerous.

Throwing her at enemies was effective.

***

While I smiled to myself at the thought of exploiting every drop of value she possessed, the transmission ended.

"Copy. We will rescue the civilian survivor and attempt evacuation toward Guri along the Han River. We will move after receiving supplies within three days. Over."

[Copy. The military and this officer wish the civilian operators good fortune. Loyalty! Over and out.]

When Lee Sejun finally set the handset down, everyone exhaled.

Thanks to my perfectly timed Hand Stage 2 technique, [Left-Hand Blood], the communication had gone remarkably smoothly.

"Whew. Thank goodness. It ended quickly."

"Good work, Mr. Sejun. It'd be nice if you behaved like that all the time."

"Mr. Jemin. Ms. Nain. Isn't it better if Ms. Go Ryeoha stays here to protect the survivors?"

"Sejun. That's pathetic."

I replied lazily.

Then a question occurred to me.

Everyone acknowledged the incredible effectiveness of the Pastor's [Soteriological Conviction].

So why had communication become so easy precisely when he wasn't here?

The answer came immediately.

Just as we prepared to pack up the radio, another signal sounded.

Beep.

"What now? Did the military forget something?"

"My throat hurts. Somebody else talk this time."

"Okay."

Worried Lee Sejun might cause another disaster, I grabbed the handset myself.

"Hello~"

"Ha. Mr. Jemin. Please... Who answers military communications like that?"

That was the exact moment a new voice emerged.

[This is Nowon District.]

The voice sounded like a university professor.

Intelligent.

Controlled.

Filled with suppressed anger.

[Civilian operator. Are you really civilians helping the military?]

The Nowon Professor.

Everyone who heard the voice immediately stiffened.

Even I hesitated.

Maybe I should just hang up.

But then I saw Hamza's pale face.

I remembered the Pastor wasn't here.

And I made a decision.

If you avoid all risks, you never accomplish anything.

This was my chance to learn more about the Nowon Professor.

"I am. We're civilians."

[Why? Has the country gone insane? They shot Seoul residents, and now they're handing guns to outsiders and pushing them inside? They even dressed you in uniforms?]

"Professor. What do we get if we answer your questions?"

[You seem smarter than most. Why walk willingly into a death trap?]

The frustration of a professor dealing with a hopeless student practically seeped through the radio.

A sigh.

The sound of papers rustling.

Dry lips being moistened.

Then the professor spoke again.

[Fine. If you're civilians, then I was rude. My apologies. Let me ask you something. Are you planning to return to Seoul?]

"Yes."

The answer was obvious.

We'd uncovered this much magic in a single expedition.

Who in their right mind would stop now?

Before anyone else discovered it, I intended to uncover everything.

Judging by the others, they probably felt the same.

Hamza began spinning in circles in visible distress, but I ignored him.

[The military's promises of supplies? Frankly, I don't trust them. They've earned that distrust. Still, supplies are useful.]

"You want us to deliver them?"

[Yes. The Society is currently preventing communication through cursed phones. But after seeing how the military operates, I suspect they'll rely heavily on civilian operators for future reconnaissance. The Society will eventually have to tolerate some degree of contact. The blockade isn't ending anytime soon, and any plans to break it remain hidden behind classified restrictions. We need a trade route with the outside world.]

"But we can't help you right now."

For the first time, the professor laughed warmly.

[You crossed the Han River on a fogless day. You've proven your courage and capability. The Society apparently believes you're all mages. To be honest, within fog-covered Seoul, my group is more reliable than the military.]

Interesting.

Everyone exchanged surprised looks.

Even Hamza.

Even Lee Sejun.

Even Shin Nain.

But Shin Nain and I focused on something else.

The phrase:

"A proper survivor group."

"Go on."

[First. I heard you're heading toward Guri. We'll make your breakthrough easier by hunting monsters along the riverside and drawing their attention elsewhere.]

"How will we know?"

[The flying ones will become noticeably fewer.]

Not bad.

"Second?"

[Go Ryeoha, the leader of the Konkuk group, is insane.]

"I already know that."

Who didn't?

My irritation surged.

Then the professor continued.

[She wasn't a bad person. But she broke.]

His tone changed.

[You don't have any other survivors with you, do you?]

[I'm gathering people myself for selfish reasons—survival. Surely you've seen enough of Seoul to understand? People who only live for others either die or go insane. Go Ryeoha chose the second option.]

A memory flashed through my mind.

Something the Pastor had once said.

The altruistic mages are already dead.

Or they killed themselves.

[Maintaining a group of 250 people from the beginning of the disaster—including non-mages—was impossible. Food and water disappeared too quickly.]

[Most Seoul mages eventually realize that. So they begin culling.]

"Culling..."

[They force ordinary people to learn magic. If they collapse from exhaustion, they die. If they refuse, they're expelled. Some groups even arrange attacks from other mages to disguise the process and avoid resentment. The soft-hearted ones break under the burden. Not everyone can bear the knowledge that ordinary people had to die so others could live.]

By now everyone understood where this was heading.

Hamza had gone pale.

Lee Sejun's eyes widened.

Even Shin Nain let out a rare groan.

Still.

Until the professor actually said it, it remained speculation.

Then he finally delivered the truth.

[Go Ryeoha personally requested the Society euthanize the non-mages at Konkuk University who failed to awaken magic.]

[Afterward, she couldn't accept what she'd done. That's why she went insane.]

[Be careful if you take her with you. Over. Until next time.]

***

Silence.

Only after lowering the handset did I realize my mouth was hanging open.

Even through the gas mask, my fist could've fit inside.

I stood there dumbly.

Then finally forced my jaw shut.

Turning toward the equally stunned Supreme Mages, I asked:

"What did the military say earlier?"

Hamza staggered backward and collapsed onto the rooftop.

"Bring... Ms. Go Ryeoha with us..."

"Oh my God."

Operation Blue Pill.

Looks like we'll need to keep it running until we leave Seoul.

Maybe...

Even after we leave.