Free Web NovelThere’s a saying that the position makes the person.
Usually, it’s meant positively—but I’m not so sure.
In the reality I’ve encountered, that proverb leans closer to a negative interpretation than a hopeful one.
Perhaps in a world where dignity and decorum are required to match one's role, that saying might hold true. But in this age, where all that remains is cynicism, a high position feels less like something that makes a person and more like something that creates a monster.
The so-called Jeju Committee monsters are a fitting example.
How they managed to seize control over the crumbling remains of South Korea’s power structure is anyone’s guess—there’s only speculation—but everyone who survived knows what they did to this land.
Abandoning the provinces. Deliberately concentrating the population in major cities. Reducing the number of people. Systematic massacres of the elderly.
The population of South Korea, once 50 million, has fallen below 5 million—not just because of the war.
We could have saved more. We could have built a stronger nation.
At the very least, we could have preserved the form of a functioning country, even if only in name, like the U.S. or Japan.
After dealing with several of these Jeju Committee types, what I’ve felt consistently is the grotesquely inflated ego they all share.
In every situation, they made it perfectly clear that they saw themselves as superior humans, above the rest of the lowly citizenry.
More than anything, they treat others—something as heavy as their own existence and just as serious—as if they were toys.
Well, I suppose it’s not too strange when you think about how many people they’ve condemned to death with a mere decision, then erased from the records.
Power may make a person—but it also makes a monster.
And it just so happens that I, Park Gyu, am someone who kills monsters.
*
In truth, I’d once tried to kill Pyo Won-sang.
I think I got pretty close.
If I had executed the plan that day, Pyo Won-sang would be dead.
But if I’d killed him then, the opportunity to erase the man known as Jeong Dae-kyung from the world might never have come.
So, to borrow the phrasing of the Jeju Committee, Pyo Won-sang had served his purpose.
There are many ways.
But the world isn’t a stage play.
One ending becomes another beginning. Comedies turn into tragedies. Youth dramas shift into documentaries.
Pyo Won-sang’s death isn’t the end.
It’s the beginning.
And to make that happen, I needed to lay some groundwork.
“Well, that’s beyond my authority. I’ll need consent from all the members of Jeokgodan.”
Securing allied forces.
Jeokgodan, the group Prophet belongs to, is the only local faction I know here—but since they also oppose Pyo Won-sang’s faction, we share a common interest.
After a brief delay, Prophet returned with the answer.
“······You’re really sure this will succeed? That you can definitely kill Pyo Won-sang?”
Prophet brought good news—not only from Jeokgodan, but also from nearby survivor groups, all supporting my plan.
Exactly as expected.
The cause wasn’t me—it was Pyo Won-sang himself.
In his efforts to eliminate Jeong Dae-kyung, he’d gone too far.
Just showing off overwhelming firepower was already enough to provoke the local survivors—but he didn’t stop there. He went further, committing a mass slaughter of the civilians who had followed Jeong Dae-kyung.
To Pyo Won-sang, it may have just been reenacting what he used to do in Jeju, only in a new location—but this isn’t Jeju.
These residents harbor a deeper hatred for the government than anyone else—and they possess serious firepower.
It’s been five years since the war began.
Power alone doesn’t guarantee survival.
After securing the first phase, I contacted Pyo Won-sang directly.
“Huh? Could it be... is this Captain Park Gyu?!”
It took over three minutes for my message to reach him through the K-WalkieTalkie’s unique ID channel.
It might just be my imagination—but I suspect that delay was because Pyo Won-sang saw my call sign and took time to consult with his aides before replying.
Whatever. Doesn’t matter.
Compared side-by-side, Pyo Won-sang might seem to have the upper hand—but if you look beneath the surface, it’s not that simple.
Above all, Pyo Won-sang needs me.
“Yes, it’s Park Gyu. I’d like a chance to explain myself first, if possible.”
“Explain?”
Exactly what I expected.
He kept a smooth tone, but that brief awkwardness revealed his true feelings.
If I were him, I’d be the same.
“For deserting my assigned mission zone without permission.”
“Ah, that. Of course I was worried. I feared something might’ve happened to you, Captain Park.”
After all, Jeong Dae-kyung—an over level 10 Awakened—is a serious threat, even for Pyo Won-sang.
Let’s push a little further.
“I’ve eliminated Jeong Dae-kyung.”
I could see my teammates giving me puzzled looks.
They were probably thinking I’d just burned through the ‘Jeong Dae-kyung’ card far too cheaply.
But I don’t care.
Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean we lose value.
“Excuse me? I don’t think I heard that correctly. You said... you eliminated General Jeong Dae-kyung?”
“Yes. I took members of Room 803 and left the combat zone to do it. I understand this is grounds for disciplinary action, but I had no choice. There were rumors of a mole on our side colluding with Jeong Dae-kyung—and I judged it was the best possible timing.”
“Ah... and where are you now?”
Even now, Pyo Won-sang needs us.
He once made his desires perfectly clear.
He planned to use us as sentries for the new kingdom he wanted to build here in Shangri-La.
He phrased it gently at the time—but people like Pyo Won-sang, who have spent their entire lives manipulating others, always believe the world will move as they wish.
We returned to the train just before sunset.
I intentionally delayed our return until Prophet reached out again.
“We’re ready, Skelton. Let’s take care of this before the shells start flying.”
I could see the train.
Soldiers were already preparing a grand welcome just for me.
Multiple armored vehicles, armed and tense soldiers, and Hunters led by Ha Tae-hoon.
Pyo Won-sang was nowhere in sight.
True to his cautious nature, he was apparently waiting inside the command vehicle.
Ha Tae-hoon approached to escort me there.
“Sunbae.”
Cheon Young-jae, who’d been eyeing me suspiciously, finally spoke up.
“Maybe it’s just me being off today, but...”
“What?”
“Nah, it’s nothing. Doesn’t feel like the right time to say it.”
Ha Tae-hoon arrived.
“Back in one piece?”
I nodded and handed him my weapon.
He looked briefly surprised at the unsolicited return, but accepted it without question—probably something they’d already decided internally.
With my rifle and sidearms in hand, I walked forward.
As I passed Ha Tae-hoon, he asked:
“The axe?”
I answered coldly:
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit uptight?”
“······We’ve got our reasons.”
To his stony reply, I responded frostily.
“Do ‘reasons’ justify slaughtering everyone here too?”
Ha Tae-hoon didn’t say another word.
Even he could feel it.
That he had done something unforgivable.
They say Defender was involved in the massacre—but what Defender killed were fanatics, and not that many of them.
But Pyo Won-sang?
He used chemical gas—an inhuman weapon—to wipe out tens of thousands, children and adults alike.
If you’re a Hunter, especially one trained at our academy, you should feel shame.
We boarded the train.
It was teeming with soldiers.
I walked past faces filled with emotions I couldn’t easily categorize and headed to the command car.
At the entrance stood Cha In-seop, the military commander.
He gave me a shallow nod, then glanced at Ha Tae-hoon, who followed behind me.
Whatever passed between their eyes—I couldn’t tell.
Beep—Beep—
A metal detector I’d never seen before had been installed.
“What’s this?”
I took out my axe.
Cha In-seop reached out his hand.
I glared at him.
“I killed Jeong Dae-kyung with this. And this isn’t just a weapon. It’s my symbol.”
“But surely you understand... the situation right now isn’t exactly a friendly one, Captain Park...”
Just as I was about to raise my voice, a bright voice called out from inside the vehicle.
“Let him in. It’s not like it’s that big a deal.”
Pyo Won-sang.
He’d probably been watching us through the cam feed at the door.
Cha In-seop clenched his jaw silently, then opened the door.
Click—
Of course, he was making his own preparations too.
The door opened.
At the far end of the vehicle, beside a long table, Pyo Won-sang stood, ready to welcome me.
“Oh! Captain Park Gyu!”
I found myself oddly impressed.
That he could smile so brightly, even while standing atop the corpses of so many.
I suppose that’s how he managed to climb that high.
More than anything, I could clearly see the glimmer in his eyes.
Limitless self-confidence.
A belief only those who’ve succeeded again and again can possess.
“Captain Park!”
He spread his arms wide.
I nodded and walked toward him.
As the distance closed, he reached out his hand.
I measured the distance.
Five—
Reaching out my hand, I casually pulled the axe from my belt and threw it at him.
Whoosh—
The axe drew a slightly comical arc through the air.
In that split second, Pyo Won-sang stared at the flying axe—unable to grasp what it meant.
Thunk!
The axe buried itself in the side of his head.
He froze on the spot, staring at me with eyes that didn’t understand—but by that point, his brain was no longer capable of processing thought.
He must have locked eyes with me from a command sent by his cerebrum just before the blade hit.
“······.”
With the axe lodged in his skull, Pyo Won-sang crumpled.
Click—
Someone aimed a rifle at my waist.
Cha In-seop.
At the same time, a shout rang out.
“What the hell are you doing, Park Gyu?!”
Ha Tae-hoon.
Without turning, I replied.
“Just killed the bastard who deserved to die.”
It was easier than expected.
A slim dagger hidden in my sleeve. A sharp shard tucked in my boot. And—
Ptuh!
Clink!
The razor blade hidden under my tongue never got its moment on stage.
A Jeju Committee staffer behind Pyo Won-sang finally raised a gun at me.
Multiple weapons were now aimed at me.
But outside the train, the planned show began.
BOOM!
Moon Yang-gyeong unleashed a shockwave.
Beside her, the ever-cynical Woo Min-hee approached like a queen, her smirk radiating disdain.
The soldiers stepped back.
So did the Hunters.
Even the gun aimed at me slowly lowered.
“Haa······.”
A deep sigh.
Cha In-seop.
I turned.
“Why did you do this?”
I walked over to Pyo Won-sang, pulled the axe from his head, and wiped the blood off on his pristine uniform.
“You know you’re in no position to be asking me that, right?”
I looked toward ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the city.
A city still overrun by monsters. In the blazing early summer sun, tens of thousands of corpses rotted in the streets—a city of death.
I let out a short laugh.
It felt like that city of death might soon be full of life.
Uuuuuu—
A gloomy chorus echoed from the city of death.
Zombies.
For some reason, the residents who had already been wiped out before the monsters arrived had become zombies.
It’s a major revelation that shatters existing paradigms—but not my problem right now.
I turned to Cha In-seop and said:
“Let’s be honest. Who the leader is doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“······.”
Cha In-seop is just as smart as Pyo Won-sang.
He immediately grasped the meaning of my words and fell silent, stunned.
I stared at him.
“You’re the king now. The master of Shangri-La. And—”
I lightly tapped the radio.
The signal produced an immediate effect.
One of the few remaining soldiers in the command center shouted:
“The armed groups stationed nearby just began moving all at once!”
Prophet had made his move.
The survivor factions he’d rallied were beginning to act—for the new era that would now open for them.
As Cha In-seop’s mental calculations grew more complicated, I held up the radio and fixed my eyes on him.
“If you want to negotiate with those people—talk to me.”
Cha In-seop, who had been frantically calculating, finally dropped his shoulders and slumped his arms.
Staring at me with a weary face, he protested:
“······This situation is royally fucked.”
I chuckled and turned around.
Our queen had arrived.
*
The negotiations began.
I don’t know the details, but as always, it would probably move toward a compromise—each side making concessions and aligning on whatever would best serve their survival.
“Anyway, Pyo Won-sang wouldn’t have lasted long.”
Ha Tae-hoon, now looking as though he’d aged ten years, finally spoke his true thoughts.
“He committed too great a sin. Not just here—word’s out he purged the entire Tunnel City too. His personal guard might be fine with that, but not every soldier on this train is used to massacring their own people. Sooner or later, there would’ve been defectors or a coup.”
He stared at the command vehicle with a meaningful look.
“Even if you hadn’t stepped in, a new king would’ve been born.”
He was talking about Cha In-seop.
But not only him.
Even in a crumbling world, there needs to be some foundation, some pillar to hold things up.
Unless there’s a strong gravitational force like the Jeju Committee, Pyo Won-sang’s seat—propped up by a military force that could betray him at any moment—was always going to be replaceable.
I merely hastened his exit.
In a way, Pyo Won-sang’s downfall was already a foregone conclusion.
“Ah, and if you ever go back to your bunker—”
Ha Tae-hoon smiled faintly.
“You’re going to be in for quite a surprise.”
“······Yeah?”
I didn’t know what he meant, but if there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that this sneaky bastard of a senior isn’t as simple as he looks.
Like the fact that he’s been riding this train with his wife all along—something I’m only now finding out.
Anyway, I’m certain this is our last conversation.
All kinds of things have happened, but I said this with genuine sincerity:
“Live well, sunbae. Have lots of kids.”
This is our final goodbye.
At the rear of the train, separation and relay work was underway to send a small group of people back to New Seoul.
My comrades were standing beneath the cars that would carry us.
Woo Min-hee waved.
I nodded and joined them.
It was time to go home.
*
On the returning train, I closed my eyes for a moment.
That brief nap took me into the world of dreams.
A bustling street from before the war. Crowds so dense there was barely room to walk.
It seemed to be Christmas, or some other major holiday.
People were walking in groups—couples, families—all moving in the same direction.
Except for one man, who was walking alone, in the opposite direction.
I saw his face.
And the moment I recognized him, he looked at me too.
I waved at him as hard as I could. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm
That man—Lee Haeng-taek—I don’t remember if he smiled at the end... or if he looked like he was about to cry.
I nearly drew my axe the moment I woke up.
Right in front of me, Cheon Young-jae was staring.
“What the hell are you doing? You’ve been acting like this for a while now.”
Ever since I met Lee Haeng-taek, Cheon Young-jae’s been eyeing me strangely, sneaking glances every so often.
I’d ignored it because there were more pressing matters, but now it was time to ask.
“Hey. Sunbae.”
Cheon Young-jae stared at me, eyes narrowing.
“I can’t sense you.”
“What?”
“I mean, I can’t feel you with my detection ability.”
