NTN 10

Chapter 10

The Chosen Ones

Yong Yeohong walked in silence behind Seong Geon-woo, then suddenly stuck out her lower lip and muttered under her breath.

“At least… we’ll get to see the real sky.”

She half-expected him to offer a few words of comfort. But, to her surprise, he didn’t respond at all—didn’t even seem to have heard her. He simply kept walking.

Yeohong opened her mouth, tempted to repeat what she’d just said, but in the end she swallowed the words and let out a quiet sigh.

The two of them continued wordlessly until they reached the fourth elevator tucked into a far corner of Sector C.

For Yeohong, the wait for the car felt endless. Every second was a weight on her chest, stealing her breath.

At last the left-hand elevator arrived with a chime.

Geon-woo stepped in first, swiped his electronic card, and pressed the button for the 647th floor. The doors slid shut and the car began its climb.

Watching the floor numbers tick upward, Geon-woo suddenly spoke in a low voice.

“Everyone has a mission of their own.”

Yeohong gave a small, wry laugh.
“I just want to stay inside the company, meet a good wife, have a son and a daughter, and work hard enough that my family can afford meat three times a week.”

Her voice dropped even lower, as if she already knew such a life was out of reach.

Geon-woo said nothing more, and Yeohong found no words either. The elevator seemed to suspend time itself.

It was impossible to tell how long had passed when the car finally stopped at the 647th floor.

Lowering her head as they stepped out, Yeohong asked,
“What were you thinking about just now? I was thinking of my younger brother and sister.”

“Nothing,” Geon-woo replied, eyes fixed ahead. “Just zoning out.”

“…That’s a nice mindset,” she said in mild admiration.

“I volunteered for this,” he answered simply, glancing at the room numbers.

They searched silently for Room 14.

Unlike the 495th floor, the 647th wasn’t split into multiple streets, and the rooms were spaced far apart—at least two or three meters between doors. The entire level seemed built around a central training hall, with variously sized rooms surrounding it.

Before long they stood outside Door 14. There was no nameplate, nothing to show which operations team or unit it belonged to.

Yeohong drew a deep breath, steadying herself to face her fate. Geon-woo, unfazed, rapped on the door with bent knuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

The sudden sound made Yeohong gasp. She was about to scold him when a slightly rough female voice called from inside.

“Come in.”

Geon-woo turned the knob and stepped through, Yeohong following close behind.

The room was at least three times larger than her own home. At the far end stood a dark-brown office desk and two big bookcases. Three battered black tables lined the left wall, while the center and right side felt almost like a lounge, with worn cloth sofas, a tea table, four chairs with backs, two benches, and several low stools.

A woman seated in a single armchair rose to greet them.

She looked to be in her twenties, tall—about 180 cm—with striking proportions. Her skin was a warm bronze, and her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Unlike most women in the residential sector, she wore a Security Division uniform: gray with a camouflage pattern that gave her a commanding air. Strong brows and large eyes sharpened her determined expression.

“New teammates?” she asked brightly.

“Y-yes,” Yeohong replied, a little awkward before the impressive woman.

The stranger frowned slightly. “Louder.”

Her voice was clear, but Yeohong suddenly realized the earlier “come in” hadn’t been hers.

Startled, Yeohong stiffened, worried she’d offended her new superior. Geon-woo stepped forward and barked out,
“Yes!”

His voice boomed through the room and into the hall.

The woman smiled again and pointed to her ear. “No need to shout that loud. My hearing’s not great, but I’m not deaf.”

Following her gesture, Yeohong noticed a silvery device fitted in her ear.

“Cochlear implant,” the woman said matter-of-factly. Then, in a voice larger than most people’s normal speaking tone, she introduced herself.
“I’m Jang Mok-hwa, your team leader. Technically still D6 rank, not D7 yet.”

“Yes, Team Leader!” Yeohong answered loudly.

“Hello, Team Leader!” Geon-woo added with an eager grin.

Mok-hwa gestured toward a sofa.
“And this is another teammate—Baek Sae-byeok.”

Baek Sae-byeok was much shorter, barely 160 cm. Though she wore the same uniform, her presence was quieter. A faded gray scarf wrapped her neck, and her black hair was cropped just to her ears. Her features were pretty, though her skin was rough, as if weathered by harsh winds. Her eyes shone a tawny gold, unlike Mok-hwa’s deep brown.

“Hi,” Sae-byeok greeted in a husky voice.

“Hi,” Yeohong replied, still slightly tense.

“Hi!” Geon-woo boomed again.

Mok-hwa waved them toward the tea table. “Take a seat. First, introductions.”

“Seong Geon-woo!” he shouted, closing the door and setting down his lunchbox before dropping into a chair.

“I’m Yong Yeohong. My name combines my father’s family name and a character from my mother’s,” she explained unconsciously as she sat beside him.

Mok-hwa looked around with a smile.
“Now that we’re all here, let me explain our team.”

“All… here?” Yeohong asked, startled.
Only four people? Shouldn’t a Security Division team have at least twenty?

“What was that?” Mok-hwa tilted her head.

“She says there are too few of us!” Geon-woo relayed.

Mok-hwa’s frown eased into a grin. “We’re not a combat unit.”

Not a combat unit? Relief fluttered in Yeohong’s chest.

“Our team is officially the Old World Destruction Investigation Unit—short name, Reconstruction Team,” Mok-hwa continued. “We’re not the only one. Other investigation teams exist in the Security Division and the Council. Secrecy is everything. We don’t know about them, and they don’t know about us. But headquarters shares the most valuable leads with all teams, so there’s no need to worry about overlap.”

Her expression turned solemn.
“But understand this: our work can be even more dangerous than combat. Do you know why there are so many small teams now? In the past, there was one large, unified group. They went out to investigate… and failed completely. Every single member was lost. The cost was unimaginable.”

Yeohong’s face drained of color.
“S-so dangerous…?”

“What?” Mok-hwa hadn’t caught the words.

Yeohong instinctively glanced at Geon-woo, but he remained silent, expression grave. She had no choice but to draw a deep breath and shout,
“Is it really that dangerous?”

Mok-hwa nodded.
“The Reconstruction Team may travel deep into the wastelands, explore ruined cities, or cross into rival territories to hunt for clues. We’ll face all kinds of situations—and all kinds of enemies. Even veteran Security Division staff avoid assignments like ours.”

Yeohong grew even paler.
“Why are we so unlucky?” she muttered, then raised her voice:
“Why are we this unlucky?”

Mok-hwa glanced around in mild confusion.
“I don’t feel unlucky at all. I wasn’t assigned here—I requested it. I petitioned the Security Division leadership to create a new investigation team.”

She smiled.
“I’ve always believed we must learn the true cause of the Old World’s destruction. Only then can we avoid repeating the same mistakes, understand the root of the Great Numbness, and free humanity from this fear.

“And you’ve heard the stories—deep in the ruins of a city above Ashland there’s said to be a gate to the New World. If we never find it, we’ll remain forever with hunger, infection, mutations, and monsters.

“This has been my dream. I love digging through the ruins of old cities, observing the societies of other factions, and meeting the many kinds of people and things out there.”

From the long sofa, Baek Sae-byeok finally spoke.
“I once heard someone call the team leader a sociologist—and his goddess.”

Mok-hwa snorted a laugh.
“What? Didn’t catch the last part, but never mind. Your turn.”

“I volunteered too,” Sae-byeok said. “As you might guess, I wasn’t born inside the company. I was a wasteland drifter before joining. I’m not a full employee yet, but I heard that serving on the Reconstruction Team can fast-track that status—and a higher rank means I can apply for genetic modification.”

Mok-hwa tilted her head, smiling.
“Not bad. And we’ll need someone who knows the wasteland and its factions. Don’t underestimate her—she’s young but very experienced.”

Her gaze shifted to Geon-woo.
“I’ve read your file. I know why you volunteered… but is there another reason?”

“To save humanity!” Geon-woo declared, voice ringing through the room.

END