Chapter 33
I Wouldn’t Make a Mistake
***
“I thought you were staying sowhere a bit more respectable.”
“Sorry for failing to et your expectations. I’m a low-paid freelancer, after all. But what brings you here?”
As if answering the question, Sera spread her arms and lightly lifted the hem of her skirt.
“As of today, I’ve been assigned exclusively to Ga-on-nim.”
“?”
“And this is the remaining balance that Ga-on-nim left behind that day (Sol).”
A considerable amount of money flowed in again through my device.
“It’s not a commission fee or a down paynt, is it?”
“It’s the remaining amount after disposing of the slots and units belonging to those Ga-on-nim dealt with, including Sprinter. Of course, the commission has already been deducted.”
“You even provide that kind of service? You’re no different from a broker.”
“It’s all due to Chairman Koln’s goodwill, so you should be grateful.”
“Not because you want to keep an eye on ?”
“Specifically on Ga-on-nim?”
“You really don’t give an inch.”
This asure was probably both consideration and a warning from Koln, telling not to forget about ta-humans.
Well, setting aside my personal impressions, having the protection of a gacorp wasn’t a bad thing.
“This is my personal contact information. If you call when needed, I’ll help as much as ti allows.”
At the sa ti, Sera’s information ca in through my device.
No sooner had I saved her number as [Miss Siri] than a blunt voice rang in my ear.
“And please refrain from contacting outside of designated work hours. For now, my only wish is to attend to young master Dobby.”
“Do you know what an axe disease is?”
“Unfortunately, androids do not possess such a function. In other words, everything is just Ga-on-nim’s misunderstanding.”
“As if.”
As I said that, a single thought crossed my mind.
“Ah, since you’ve co all this way, there’s one thing I’d like to ask.”
“What is it?”
“Do you know how to look at houses?”
***
District 2 of Seed Colony was a strategic point where major infrastructure was concentrated. Not only did all Hyperloop lines intersect there, but the headquarters of various gacorps were also located there.
The most prosperous street on Mars.
In one corner of it, Jin Geon, who had set up a secret base, cast his gaze out the window.
In the distance, a pale bluish-white sunset was sinking.
Unlike Earth’s orange light.
Having been born after the Third World War, Jin Geon couldn’t tell which one was the true sunset.
To him, it rely served as an indicator that he was on a different planet.
It was then that Irai, a team mber standing beside him, opened her mouth.
“Do you think Yang Hu will be here, team leader?”
It was a plan she had long kept in her heart. Originally, she was in no position to raise objections to Jin Geon’s decisions, but even so, it was sothing that had to be addressed.
Jin Geon narrowed his eyes and asked quietly.
“Are you disobeying orders?”
“I was just worried. Unlike the Do, the support we can receive in the Colony is limited.”
The Mars Defense Force was a representative example.
When Mars was being pioneered, it was the one and only military organization that had been ford.
In order not to repeat the mistakes of the past, humanity recognized only them as the regular ard forces and restricted their scope of activity so that force would be deployed only when dealing with incidents that threatened the fate of Mars itself.
Although they were an independent force that did not belong to any Colony, their military budget was jointly funded by both the municipal governnt and the gacorps, with each side sharing the burden.
Military command lay with the municipal governnt, while personnel authority rested with the gacorps—a system of joint operation.
The Colonies were the sa.
The Do had been humanity’s last ark, so the municipal governnt, descendants of the old powers, had been able to seize authority there. But Mars was different. It was an unknown land over which no one could claim ownership.
Moreover, the cost required for pioneering was astronomical. It was not sothing the municipal governnt could handle alone, making cooperation with gacorps absolutely essential.
For that reason, an “Executive Board” composed of agents granted full authority by the municipal governnt and the heads of gacorps oversaw all major and minor affairs of the Colonies.
Structurally, it was inevitable that the influence of gacorps rooted on Mars would outweigh that of the municipal governnt still based on Earth.
Culture and customs born from physical distance.
It was an atmosphere Irai, who had been born and raised in Do No.1, could never quite get used to.
“Even if we succeed in tracking Yang Hu, I’m not sure we’ll be able to handle him with just us.”
To the Ergency Disaster Response Unit, Yang Hu was nothing short of a living nightmare. Normally, those infected who were detected by them were dealt with in the near future.
It was impossible to escape modern society, tangled like a net. No matter how secretly one moved, every action was bound to be exposed.
Yet Yang Hu had brazenly slipped through the surveillance network.
His skill far surpassed that of the special agents produced by the municipal governnt.
“Are you saying we might lose?”
“There’s no way. We have you, team leader.”
Jin Geon.
An agent who stood out even within the Ergency Disaster Response Unit. His competence was notable, but his true value lay elsewhere.
“Of course, regardless of that, if we don’t prepare thoroughly, we’ll miss him again this ti.”
Unlike Team 3, which absolutely had to hunt Yang Hu down, Yang Hu had no reason to play along with such circumstances.
“We’ve already received a promise regarding that matter. If we can just secure a solid lead, the squad leader said he’ll personally provide full support.”
“Then we can rest easy.”
It was then, as Irai nodded while standing, that she looked around.
“Co to think of it, I don’t see Hwirang.”
The only Diver on Team 3.
It felt rather strange without that always-lingering presence.
“He’s resting in a bathtub filled with ice.”
“I see.”
Since slots were chanical devices, excessive operation inevitably led to overheating. For Divers in particular, who often had chips implanted directly into their brains, it was an everyday occurrence.
Perhaps because of that, Hwirang did not enjoy swimming through the network.
Unless there was a single person’s command.
“You’ve been investigating sothing.”
Jin Geon nodded, and almost simultaneously, information poured into Irai’s device.
“I compiled every single disturbance and incident that occurred in Seed Colony after Yang Hu disappeared from Do No.3, without missing a single line.”
“Do you expect that there’s an incident among these that Yang Hu was involved in?”
“I don’t know that myself, but we should be able to grab at least a trail.”
Yang Hu had worked as a fixer called ‘Shin’ even in Do No.3.
Even after obtaining a device, the range in which he could actually use his abilities was limited anyway.
Then wouldn’t he do the sa under his next identity as well?
It was nothing more than basic reasoning, and an obvious conclusion.
Of course, there was also the option of going into hiding.
From Jin Geon’s perspective, that possibility was even more enticing. If there was soone among the passenger lists suitable to beco a Parasite, it would be updated imdiately.
“Is there a case you’ve been keeping an eye on in particular, team leader?”
“There’s no way there isn’t.”
When Jin Geon tapped the table, a hologram rose up.
The incident in which Sprinter and Norman Sanders died while carrying out a request.
Since the opponent had been identified as unknown, debates were raging in the industry as people argued back and forth trying to uncover the truth.
“We’ll start with this.”
***
Before the Third World War broke out, I was an ordinary college student. I traveled abroad whenever I could afford the ti and money.
Looking back now, it was a hobby born of wanderlust. Becoming a fixer was probably the result of that innate nature influencing in part.
You could say I craved new experiences.
After being discharged from the military, I visited the Potala Palace for that very reason.
The largest single building in Asia.
As the spiritual center of Tibetan Buddhism and the residence of the Dalai Lama, the place gave a great deal of inspiration. But that, too, lasted only a mont. The spaces controlled purely for display were nothing but tedious.
It was only natural that my steps drifted toward places other tourists didn’t go.
Just as I was about to lose my way back, I arrived at the edge of a sheer cliff, and there, I was able to encounter fate.
Unlike the other lama monks who were devoted to ntal cultivation, an old man wearing crimson robes was devoting himself to physical training that didn’t match his appearance at all.
Swish.
The mont the old man’s wooden sword accelerated, a falling leaf split cleanly in two.
And not vertically, but horizontally.
It almost looked as though it had divided into two separate leaves.
Even achieving it once would have been enough to call oneself a prodigy, yet the old man, as if it were only natural, cleanly bisected every single leaf fluttering in the wind.
To my untrained eyes, it was a level that was difficult to even put into words.
There was history embedded in the swordsmanship the old man displayed.
I wanted to learn it.
Moved by that instinctive stirring in my chest, I found myself stepping forward without realizing it.
There were many obstacles before any conversation with the old man could take place.
Since I knew neither Tibetan nor Chinese, I had no choice but to rely on my smartphone’s translation app.
Even so, the old man willingly bestowed his teachings upon an outsider.
Fortunately, I had the passion to live up to that kindness.
That strange cohabitation began in an instant.
Without exchanging words, one beca the master, and the other beca the disciple, and we spent our days that way.
However, the happy ti did not last long.
The old man had already shown clear signs of old age from the mont we t.
There was no way I wouldn’t notice his complexion worsening by the day.
Lifespan, and death.
No matter how high a realm one reached, they were fates that could not be avoided.
One day, the old man invited deep into the mountains, far removed even from the Potala Palace.
What lay in an empty clearing where no one ca was a single boulder as large as a house.
As usual, the old man raised his wooden sword and shattered the object with a single strike.
Before that sight, I could only widen my eyes in shock. A rock that looked as though it wouldn’t budge even if five or six strong n clung to it had yielded to nothing more than an old man’s skill.
“I’m sorry that after bringing you all this way, I can only show you sothing like this.”
The old man, leaving behind words that I could not understand at the ti—almost like a last testant—passed peacefully into the afterlife two days later.
The lama monks dispatched from the Potala Palace carried the old man away as if they had been waiting, and prepared the funeral rites.
Most funerals held in Tibet were sky burials. A funeral thod in which the body was entrusted to birds such as vultures or crows.
Depending on one’s perspective, it could be seen as extrely barbaric, but I did not leave and stayed to witness the old man’s final monts.
It was because I knew there was no one he could call family. Though we had spent only about half a month together, he no longer felt like a stranger to .
That was why I reflexively accepted it when a lama monk who had collected the remains approached and handed a tiny sphere no bigger than a walnut.
It was an object I had never seen before, but I could tell it had co from the old man’s body.
The faint warmth still lingering proved it.
A bodily organ that humans were not originally supposed to possess.
It was an inner core.
The crystallization of what the old man had refined and honed over his entire lifeti.
Looking at it, I discovered a certain possibility.
A branch of evolution that humanity, intoxicated by scientific technology, might have forgotten. The strength that life itself should rightfully possess.
Before humanity truly understood itself, it made a great discovery.
It abandoned anguish and chose convenience.
But I—no, I would not—
“I wouldn’t make a mistake.”
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