I will go inside contaminated zones, collect samples, and bring them back. In return, provide me with military equipment.
It was a straightforward deal, but just because the terms were straightforward did not mean it would be easy.
"Hey… do you really think a mere research center director can grant a request like that?"
"Yes."
He would have to be able to. I stared straight into Woo Gilyeong's eyes.
"Even now, Director, you're moving together with soldiers, aren't you?"
He could not approve it on the spot, but he could contact institutions with authority and make the request.
"If I succeed and collect samples, you'll continue supplying the equipment I need afterward."
"And if you fail to collect them?"
I shrugged. What else would I do?
"I'll return all the equipment I received and just work as an ordinary cleaner. Wouldn't that be enough?"
Any equipment given to me would be thoroughly recorded anyway.
"You plan to wipe your mouth and be done with just that?"
"Yes. What more do you need? Should I offer my neck?"
Woo Gilyeong fell silent at my counterquestion. In any case, a cleaner was valuable talent. He would not be able to simply cut my head off.
One of the two remaining glasses of whiskey flowed down into his stomach.
A brief silence.
"This will require discussion with other institutions."
"I'll wait while eating."
I finished speaking and slowly began my meal. Woo Gilyeong left his seat for a moment.
As I ate slowly, I gathered my thoughts.
I needed power. Until I was certain, I would wear a mask and push down, crumple up, and lock away the boiling vengeance and rage I carried deep in my heart.
I would only take it out at the right moment, before the appropriate target.
"..."
At the right moment, before the appropriate target.
That mindset somehow resembled the inventory. Was that why I had been given this ability?
By the time I finished my meal, Woo Gilyeong returned.
"I've been told that we can support up to personal firearms currently used by the Korean military."
A KM-77 rifle and three types of magic ammunition used with it, ten magazines each, plus a pistol and two corresponding magazines. That, he said, was the maximum support possible at the moment.
"If you confirm the feasibility of sample collection, you'll receive proper support. No one has ever succeeded at sample collection yet."
My current value was an unscratched lottery ticket.
"You might want to think carefully. What will you do if I really succeed in collecting samples?"
At my words, Woo Gilyeong shook his head.
"This is the limit. Once you enter a contaminated zone with military equipment and hide it using your ability, there's no way to find out."
After not firing any bullets, I could just say, 'I used them all.'
If they provided something like a one-man portable recoilless rifle, I could say, 'It broke while I was using it, so I threw it away.'
"Very well. But there won't be restrictions like that after my value is proven, right?"
After draining his final glass of whiskey, Woo Gilyeong lit a cigarette and replied.
"Young man, let me give you a piece of advice. If someone tells you they'll give you full support?"
Hoo. The smoke that flowed from Woo Gilyeong's mouth briefly obscured my vision.
"Most of the time, they're scammers. Still… I can guarantee that the range of support will become much broader."
"I understand."
Woo Gilyeong leaned back against the backrest and curled his lips upward.
"With the equipment you've been promised now, you won't have trouble keeping yourself alive in contaminated zones. Military gear performs excellently."
The reason the military, despite having such excellent equipment, could not wipe out contaminated zones was simple. Without being a stigmata manifester, entry itself was impossible.
"I understand. If proving my value is necessary, then so be it."
The first button seemed to have been fastened decently enough. Now, all I had to do was succeed at sample collection.
"What kinds would be good?"
"For now, soil from inside the contaminated zone and parts of monster bodies should suffice."
For the moment, this was merely about confirming feasibility. He did not seem inclined to make unreasonable demands.
"I understand. Where should the samples be stored?"
"This afternoon, you'll be issued a cleaner identification card. The storage containers and military equipment will be included then."
Tossing the cigarette butt he had been holding into a cup of water, Woo Gilyeong spoke.
"So, are you done eating?"
I nodded and stood up.
"Clean well. Don't end up dying with a squeak at your first site. Quite a lot of cleaners go that way."
I did not reply to that and left the room.
In the afternoon, a large box arrived containing an ID proving I was a cleaner, the military equipment I had requested, and sample collection containers sent by Dr. Woo Gilyeong.
"Do you know how to use firearms?"
Since the equipment inside was military gear, the person delivering it was also a military officer.
"Yes. I've already been discharged."
At my words, the officer nodded slightly.
"The physical exam for enlistment is quite strict. You must have been healthy to begin with."
Eyesight, physical strength, height and weight, and so on.
Only about 20 percent of men meet the conditions and can enlist as active-duty soldiers. I had always been physically robust.
"There's a shooting range at a nearby military base. It's free from 2 p.m. for about two hours. Would you like to use it?"
"Yes, please."
I had learned shooting in the military, but that was quite a long time ago. It was far better than knowing nothing at all, but I still needed practice.
In truth, the memories that remained vivid were mostly the time I spent with you in the visiting room.
I boarded a military vehicle with the officer and we set off.
"Normally, this is a place not open to civilians."
"I'm not a civilian."
A cleaner is not a civilian. That was decided the moment freedom of occupational choice was stripped away.
"Ah, that's true."
As the military vehicle began to move, cars parted to either side like the miracle of Moses.
Had they turned on the siren?
No. People simply did not want to get caught lingering around military brass and suffer collateral damage, so they moved aside on their own.
The officer driving chuckled and spoke.
"Did you know this? During the turbine era, training materials for soldiers were discovered that said if civilians picked a fight, soldiers were to avoid confrontation and run away."
I made a sound of surprise at that.
"Not the other way around? Soldiers running away?"
Civilians cannot even dare to look at soldiers. This was no exception even for conscripted enlisted men.
Training is extremely harsh and abuse by seniors is brutal, so cases of death or severe injury during service are not uncommon.
But when they are on leave or overnight pass, even a private becomes a god. The only ones who can control soldiers on leave are military police.
"So there wasn't anything like forcing people out of their homes either."
Soldiers on overnight leave would enter random houses and order the owners to vacate.
The owners would immediately leave, and the soldiers would use the house however they pleased during their leave.
Occasionally, soldiers on leave would target the homes of civil servants or police officers, but in those cases the owners would just say something like, 'Please look for another place,' and send them off amicably.
Sometimes police would show up out of formality, but all they would say was, 'Please refrain from serious damage or theft.'
They did not even say not to do it. Just to keep it reasonable.
"Wouldn't that be the case? Back then, public authority wasn't what it is now."
While exchanging idle chatter like that, we soon arrived at a shooting range located in a nearby wooded hill.
After a soldier armed with live ammunition, standard weapons, and grenades checked our identities, he opened the entrance.
"Live ammunition for practice has been approved."
As he said that, ammunition boxes and a military rifle were placed beside me. There was no separate shooting supervision.
"..."
The rifle was light. And the targets at 250 meters, rising and falling irregularly, were clearly visible.
I could even see the dirt splashes where bullets struck. Stigmata manifesters could no longer be called human in body.
I loaded quickly. My movements were fast and precise. I aimed and pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck the target and exploded in flames.
A 5.56 mm explosive round. One of the commonly used ammunition types. The magic-treated warhead creates flames and an explosion upon impact.
The lethal radius of the bullet's explosion is about three meters. You might say its power is low, but would you say the same if dozens of them were flying at you?
"Hitting the target isn't the main point anyway."
I wasn't here to earn a marksmanship badge. I continued firing while moving around, aiming at weeds and dirt mounds visible at the range.
I cleanly emptied the magazine and inserted a new one. The two-hour practice session ended.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
"No, thank you. I've heard many times that cleaners are superhuman, but seeing it firsthand truly lives up to the reputation."
After greeting the officer who came by afterward, I returned once more to the original facility.
And a few days later.
I finally met grade seven cleaner Yoo Sangcheol.
"What are you doing? Sit."
Besides me, two others were already seated. One woman and one man.
"...Would you like some?"
The woman who had been sitting absentmindedly offered me something. I could only make a similarly blank expression.
It was a pink drink bottle printed with a rabbit character. In large letters, it said 'Cotton Candy Flavor.'
In the distance, the sound of children laughing and playing in a ball pit echoed.
This was a kids' cafe.
Grade seven cleaner Yoo Sangcheol had called the apprentice cleaners who would be working with him to a kids' cafe.
What kind of person was this? Was he crazy?
"Nice to meet you. I'm Kim Sangseon."
"Yeah."
I couldn't very well ask if he was insane when he was going to be my senior, so I chose a simple greeting.
We ended up sitting in the area set aside for parents in the kids' cafe.
"Alright, introduce yourselves."
And so, with the sound of children playing happily as background noise, we began introductions.
"I'm Kim Sangseon."
A boy who looked to be around high school age slightly raised his hand.
Letters written in red flames appeared in midair.
[Oh Minhyeok]
I looked at it and let out a small laugh.
"No intention of talking?"
"I'm practicing. And it also introduces my ability."
He could convey both his ability and his name at the same time. In that sense, Oh Minhyeok's words had a point.
There was no need to think the young guy was rude. After all, both Oh Minhyeok and I were just apprentices. In organizations, tenure matters more than age.
Few things are uglier than bullying a peer over age.
"I'm Han Sehui. Nice to meet you."
She was a woman with a distinctive mole under her eye.
"I… eat concentration."
"Huh?"
When Han Sehui spoke of her ability, I did not immediately understand. After looking at me for a moment, she let out a small sigh and inhaled slightly.
At that moment, white smoke flowed out of my head and was sucked into her mouth.
Smoke came out of my mouth.
Ah, roasted marshmallows taste good. Who came up with the term fire gazing? Why do dogs bark woof woof. Cats are cute too.
Then, a sharp sensation on the back of my hand snapped me back to my senses.
Han Sehui was lightly poking the back of my hand with a fork.
"Got it now?"
"...Yes."
I clearly understood what it meant to eat concentration through that act just now. For an instant, all kinds of stray thoughts filled my head, and those thoughts gave rise to even more stray thoughts.
"I'm Kim Sangseon. My ability is like this."
Saying that, I put a glass of water into my inventory and took it back out.
"I look forward to working with you."
Both of them were apprentice cleaners like me. There was no reason to hold them responsible for your death, so there was no need to treat them with hostility.
But… grade seven cleaner Yoo Sangcheol.
My gaze shifted to him. What kind of guy would this one be?