It was nighttime, and a full moon was in the sky.
The full moon cast an eerie glow over the grayish hues surrounding the city.
It made the world look sick, as if it were suffering from some kind of illness.
Not the kind of contamination caused by humans, but something far more fundamental.
It felt like a malice beyond our understanding, one that sought to dismantle the world as we knew it.
The honeycomb-like structure of the building looked like a solid wall at first glance, but according to the blueprints I had acquired, each hexagonal section contained communal housing where multiple people lived.
Structurally, it wasn’t all that different from an apartment, except it lacked windows. True to the nature of this place, where privacy was a luxury, essential facilities like bathrooms, laundry rooms, and kitchens were shared among the residents.
The dining hall on each floor could accommodate about fifty people at once. Its location was the same as in both the Revolution District, where I lived, and Moran District, where Jeong Ho-kyung resided.
So, it didn’t take long to find the dining hall.
Inside, the clatter of utensils echoed.
People were eating.
Without hesitation, I stepped inside.
Rows of long, linear tables stretched across the hall, with dozens of students seated in perfect alignment. Each had a stainless-steel tray in front of them, quietly eating their meal.
Some turned their heads to look at me, but my attention was already on their trays.
"······."
It was just lumps of flour.
The same kind of food the kids in the Revolution District were eating.
So what Hong Jong-beom had told me was true.
The realization hit harder than expected. For a moment, I froze in place.
At the edge of my vision, I noticed movement.
Someone was waving at me.
Jeong Ho-kyung.
"Oh, Park Gyu!"
The moment I heard his voice, my stiffened body regained motion. I quickly turned my gaze toward his tray, scanning it hungrily.
"······."
The word failure burned itself into my mind.
If this were the internet, I might have seen this coming, but in real life?
It was an experience I had rarely encountered.
On his tray, just like the children's, sat a grotesque, deformed lump of flour—completely unseasoned, practically an edible failure.
And yet, Jeong Ho-kyung kept shoveling it into his mouth, chewing relentlessly as he gestured for me to come closer.
That confirmed it.
Jeong Ho-kyung was eating the same food as the children.
A meal so crude and lacking in dignity that even I, Park Gyu, could not accept it.
"Have you eaten?"
I shook my head and walked over to him.
He motioned for us to go somewhere else.
We climbed the stairs and stepped onto the rooftop.
The eerie harbor stretched out before us, bathed in the glow of the full moon.
He placed a cigarette between his lips and offered me one as well.
I waved it off and asked casually,
"We brought food supplies. What happened to them?"
From what I remembered, we had brought crude snacks, an assortment of canned goods, and several sacks of rice.
I wasn’t sure if flour was included, but there was no reason for them to be eating only flour.
"That’s for special meals."
Jeong Ho-kyung lit his cigarette and exhaled a plume of white smoke.
"Special meals?"
"Yeah. We distribute them the day after we light the beacon."
"Lighting the beacon...?"
"Yes. It lures the monsters. You probably won’t see it happen while you’re here, but it’s quite the spectacle."
Jeong Ho-kyung smirked, blowing smoke from his nose.
His half-lidded eyes, hazy like a drunkard’s, stared out at the sea, where countless stars and moonlight shimmered on the waves.
After a while, he spoke again.
"Do you think of this place as exile, Park Gyu?"
A sudden question.
"Do you see this lighthouse as nothing more than a sacrificial altar where abandoned children waste time until they die?"
Not only was the question unexpected, but the weight of it was so heavy that it felt entirely out of character for him.
I remained silent and simply watched him.
A faint smile lingered on Jeong Ho-kyung’s lips as he gazed down at the gray-hued harbor below.
"Absolutely not. Never. We are painting a vision of the future here. We are standing at the very site of history, a moment that will be remembered forever."
I had no way of knowing what he was planning or what thoughts filled his mind.
But one thing was clear.
"This ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) is a secret just between us," he said. "I've never experienced failure in my entire life."
Jeong Ho-kyung believed without a shred of doubt that he would succeed.
I didn’t ask him what kind of success he was talking about.
I already knew he wouldn’t tell me.
*
Three days had passed since I arrived at the Kaesong Lighthouse.
A message came through my K-Walkie from an unknown identification number.
Personal ID: LAB-0072.
When I answered, a familiar voice came through.
"How are you holding up?"
It was Lightning.
"I'm doing fine."
"How’s the place?"
"Aside from not having internet, it’s livable."
"There’s been a delay with the supply shipment from Jeju. You’ll have to wait a bit longer."
"A supply drop from Jeju?"
"Yeah."
That was different from what Woo Min-hee had told me.
Feigning ignorance, I continued the conversation.
"But there's no airport here."
"They drop the supplies from the sky with parachutes. It’s a hassle to find them, though."
"And the Legion faction lets you do that?"
"They don’t want monsters coming down with it, either."
"Got it."
"Hey."
Just as I was about to end the call, Lightning spoke up suddenly.
"Have you seen a kid named Jong-hyuk? Lee Jong-hyuk. He’s seventeen, from Pyongyang’s Ryomyong Street."
A family member?
Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.
Or an acquaintance?
Whoever it was, they must have been important.
Asking someone like me, a total stranger, to look for him—it had to be someone precious.
"I’ll look into it."
"Thanks."
Even through the radio, I could hear something in Lightning’s voice I hadn’t before—life.
For breakfast, we had a few potatoes and a soup made by mixing skim milk powder with hot water and some kind of unidentified grain.
My relationship with the kids was still awkward.
Part of it was because I maintained my distance, but they also weren’t making any effort to approach me.
At least I’d earned a corner of the dining hall to myself.
After spending a few days here, I started noticing the differences between the Revolution District and Moran District.
The Revolution District housed people from North Korea.
Moran District was where the kids from South Korea lived.
Same ethnicity. Same language.
And yet, they had been forced to live vastly different lives, separated by a gulf wider than any foreign country.
It was brutal, but necessary.
Kids will bully each other over the smallest differences.
If people from the same neighborhood can call each other beggars over which apartment they live in, imagine how much worse it would be when entire nations were involved.
The kids didn’t like me much.
But the moment I took out my phone, they swarmed me like bees.
"Is that an American phone?"
A kid who had never spoken to me before suddenly piped up.
"Yeah. American. Made in China, though."
"Can I hold it?"
"Sure."
I tossed him the phone and watched as the kids played with it.
Remembering my earlier radio call, I turned to them and asked,
"Hey. Anyone here know a guy named Lee Jong-hyuk? Seventeen years old, from Ryomyong Street?"
"Lee Jong-hyuk?"
The kids looked at each other.
Most of them seemed clueless.
But one older girl spoke up.
"Lee Jong-hyuk?"
But her expression wasn’t particularly friendly.
"You mean Ri Gwan-ju’s son? If that bastard’s kid were here, he wouldn’t survive."
"Did he commit a crime?"
"His father did. He threw gas canisters and fired machine guns at people trying to escape to the South. At least a few thousand must have died. My older brother was one of them."
After breakfast, I returned to work.
At some point, Hong Jong-beom, who hadn’t been at breakfast, managed to track me down at the worksite and handed me something.
It was a can.
A can of dog food.
"······."
"Aren’t you going to eat it?"
"How the hell am I supposed to eat this?"
"If you don’t want it, give it back to me."
He looked genuinely disappointed at my rejection.
The atmosphere between us was already awkward enough, and honestly, I was growing sick of the atrocious meals they served here. So, I pulled out a chocolate bar I had stashed away.
"This—this is?!"
I broke it in half and handed one piece to Hong Jong-beom.
"Something like this still exists?!"
"Those who prepare properly never go without."
"You’re amazing, Mr. Park!"
Mr. Park, huh?
An absurd nickname.
Still, better than being called old man.
I let it slide and asked him,
"Do you know a kid named Lee Jong-hyuk?"
"Lee Jong-hyuk?"
"Seventeen years old, from Ryomyong Street."
"Hmm. Doesn’t ring a bell."
Hong Jong-beom answered without much thought.
"Really?"
"Why are you looking for him?"
"Someone asked me to check on him."
Hong Jong-beom took another bite of the chocolate bar.
"Wow. This is amazing!"
He practically radiated joy as he savored the taste.
Was it really that good?
Crunch.
Well, it was edible, but there was no denying the stale aftertaste.
Still, it had to be better than the bland slop and the goddamn dog food they served here.
That reminded me—this place did have livestock.
"Over there. That’s the pasture."
Hong Jong-beom pointed toward one of the honeycomb structures visible from the wall.
I’d passed by that area a few times.
Sure enough, a small herd of dairy cows was grazing.
But they were in terrible shape.
Most of them were so emaciated their ribs were clearly visible, and one had already died, lying on its back, bloated like a balloon.
Just grazing in such a confined space clearly wasn’t enough to keep them nourished.
As for why the pasture had been abandoned... the answer wasn’t hard to figure out.
"······That’s a Beetle-Type, isn’t it?"
There was a monster in the pasture.
A Beetle-Type. A small species.
It was one of the so-called early model monsters, now rarely seen on the frontlines.
As expected of an early model, it was clearly inferior in combat compared to other monsters of its size. However, sightings of Beetle-Types were often followed by the appearance of capsules.
And sure enough, there were capsules.
About five.
The spherical, gray-white growths had grotesquely taken over parts of the pasture, looking more like tumors than anything else.
Hong Jong-beom stared at the monster with a glum expression.
"······Ever since that thing showed up, Jeong Ho-kyung banned anyone from going near the pasture."
So that was why Jeong Ho-kyung had been whining to Lightning.
Asking for help because a monster had taken over their food supply.
But why couldn’t he take care of it himself?
Beetle-Types were weak, aside from the force fields they deployed. They weren’t all that different from any other dimensionally displaced creature.
Even if there were stronger combat-types like Dancer-Types or mid-sized monsters, the kids here were all Awakened. They should have been able to wipe them out with brute force.
Given how terrible the conditions here were—considering they were handing out dog food as a special meal—securing the dairy cows should have been a priority.
***
"It’s not happening."
Jeong Ho-kyung’s expression hardened.
I hadn’t insulted him.
I hadn’t criticized him.
All I’d done was suggest reclaiming the pasture.
"Do you have any idea how precious every single one of these kids is? If we lose even one, this lighthouse might not be able to function. We don’t even know exactly how many Awakened we need to keep it operational."
"Isn't that still better than everyone losing their minds from eating nothing but flour?"
"The meals may seem unappetizing, but they’re nutritionally balanced. And we make sure to provide proper meals for special occasions. I appreciate the thought, but the way we run things here isn’t something you need to worry about, Mr. Park."
"I’ll help."
It was rare for me to offer my services.
I had my reasons.
There was my connection with Hong Jong-beom and the kids.
There was also the fact that the people here were sacrificing themselves to keep Seoul safe. I wanted to give them something, even if it was just slightly better conditions.
And according to Woo Min-hee, Jeong Ho-kyung was an Over-5 Level Awakened.
He lacked real combat experience, but he had been trained in the school system. At the very least, he knew basic combat techniques.
If he helped, I could clear out every monster in that damn honeycomb.
I was even considering the cleanup afterward.
But instead of accepting my offer—
"It’s not happening."
Jeong Ho-kyung rejected me without a moment’s hesitation.
I stared at him in silence.
He met my gaze without flinching.
"I know you were in China," he said. "I know you’ve fought monsters countless times."
So he finally acknowledged it.
"But what you did wasn’t monster hunting. Not in our eyes. Not in the eyes of the academic community. It was human sacrifice. Trading lives for kills."
"······Are you denying everything we went through?"
"I’m saying that’s the global standard now. And as someone educated under the reformed system, that’s what I have to believe."
"Then I’ll just handle it myself."
One monster.
Five capsules.
A bit of a hassle, but not difficult.
I turned to leave.
"You’re not doing this!"
Jeong Ho-kyung shouted firmly.
"Why not?"
I looked at him.
I wasn’t angry.
I wasn’t agitated.
But I could tell.
He saw something in me—something that reminded him of himself.
"······."
That feeling.
The time when I saw humans and monsters as no different.
"Because—"
Jeong Ho-kyung averted his gaze.
He clenched his teeth. He was angry, though he wasn’t showing it outright.
Instead, he spat out a flimsy excuse while still refusing to meet my eyes.
"You’re a guest here, Mr. Park. As the administrator, I can’t allow a guest to put themselves in danger. And if anything happens to you, how do you expect me to face Director Woo?"
"······."
"To be completely honest... Director Woo terrifies me."
Now that I could believe.
Just hearing him say Woo Min-hee’s name made his whole body tremble.
I didn’t say anything else.
I simply left the room.
As I walked down the hallway, I heard a loud thud.
A fist slamming against a wall.
Then—
"Ah... Ugh..."
That had to hurt.
This wasn’t some flimsy plywood. It was solid concrete.
I had no idea why he was so pissed off at me.
But I had a vague feeling.
Was it... inferiority?
The idea of an elite officer from Jeju—someone who had never known failure—feeling inferior to a doomsday survivalist like me was absurd.
And yet, that was how I interpreted it.
Well, whatever.
"Jong-beom."
"Yes, Mr. Park?"
"Can you open the gate to the pasture?"
I was a stubborn man.