NTN 02

Chapter 02

Spouse Information

Inside the activity center, the second hand of an ancient wall clock ticked around three and a half times—like it might stop at any moment—before words finally began to appear on the large screen, line by line.

Jo Yeoreum and the others exhaled in relief as they hurried to find their own names.

Most of them felt neither pleased nor excited by the results, but neither were they disappointed. The spouse assigned by the Company was much like a routine exam: as long as the outcome wasn’t disastrously bad, it hardly mattered. Their parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents had all lived this way.

Even if one couldn’t tell who their spouse was, which floor they were from, or which department their parents belonged to, the most anyone felt was mild curiosity. Everyone here had attended university and received higher education, but their circle of acquaintances was limited to classmates and neighbors from the same floor.

After scanning the screen repeatedly and carefully, Yong Yeo-hong muttered under his breath.

“Why isn’t my name there?”

“Because your name isn’t good,” replied Seong Geon-woo, his expression unchanged.

“⋯⋯.”

Yeo-hong wanted to argue but, sadly, couldn’t disagree with that conclusion.

Thousands of people who met the criteria were forcibly included in this round of the communal marriage, and among them, men only outnumbered women by two. Unless you were outrageously unlucky—or had a “bad” name—there was no reason to end up as one of the unlucky leftovers.

Still reeling, Yeo-hong suddenly burst out in a wounded voice.

“Your name isn’t there either!”

Indeed, Seong Geon-woo’s name was absent from the list.

Geon-woo raised an eyebrow slightly. “I told you. I already submitted a waiver for this communal marriage.”

“W-w-wait, really? How did the Company even approve that…?”

Shock and confusion washed over Yeo-hong. It felt as if the whole world had turned upside down.

In his twenty-one years, he’d heard of people who met the conditions but didn’t participate in the communal marriage. But those cases always involved someone bedridden and near death, or someone on a dangerous external mission for the Security Division, uncertain to return alive.

Anyone who was healthy and an internal employee—anyone who met the criteria—was bound by the rule.
It was one of the core obligations for Company staff.

Still stunned, Yeo-hong looked at Geon-woo and said, “Even if your energy ration is cut, you’re okay with that? That’s one thing, but the bigger issue is the contribution points—you’ll lose those. You won’t be able to eat your fill! For us D1s, we barely get 1,800 points a month. That’s just enough for meat once a week. Don’t you understand what losing a third of that means?”

“The Company agreed. My contribution points won’t be cut,” Geon-woo said with an easy smile.

“Th-that’s impossible… impossible…”

Muttering to himself, Yeo-hong suddenly remembered something.
If Geon-woo truly withdrew, that meant there was exactly one more man than woman among the candidates.

Just one.

I must be that single unlucky guy…

His mouth hung half-open as a heavy sorrow welled in his chest.

At that moment, the screen flipped to the next page, briefly showing the basic information of each assigned spouse on this floor. With that, residents could more easily locate their partners and head to their district’s Order Bureau office to register their marriage.

“Jo Yeoreum, your husband’s an outsider!”

The exclamation rang out among the girls who were all staring at the screen.

Yeoreum’s face darkened slightly as her eyes flicked across the display and she murmured softly,
“Jang I-gyeong, male, born a Wasteland Wanderer, age 25, recruited by the Company three years ago, consistently good record, no health issues, residence 622nd floor, A sector, unit 192, employee grade D4, electronic card number 04311029189…”

“He really is an outsider,” Yeo-hong said, turning toward the voice.

Everyone knew the Company regularly recruited wanderers from the Wasteland to reinforce its workforce and diversify genes. But for residents who had never worked with, much less married, an outsider, the situation was fascinating.

“Yeoreum, that’s actually good news. He might’ve been a wanderer, but he’s a D4 employee now. Only 25, too—impressive!” said a girl in a green top and navy pants, offering comfort.

D4 signified promotion from a regular employee to veteran or senior status. People of that grade could serve as assistants on small research projects, foremen on factory lines, deputy captains in the Security Division, or order supervisors for specific zones—and they earned at least 2,000 more contribution points per month than a D1.

“But genetic enhancement after adulthood doesn’t work that well…” murmured another young man standing beside Yeo-hong, while checking his own spouse’s details.

“Joo Seul-gi, female, internal employee, age 30, widowed five years ago, currently raising one child, voluntarily applied for this communal marriage, no health issues, residence 569th floor, B sector, unit 27, employee grade D4, electronic card number 01609052558.”

“Yang Jin-won, your wife is ten years older than you…” Yeo-hong must have glimpsed the man’s listing.

Jin-won, like most of their peers in the Company, had fair skin and a sturdy build. His features were good-looking but slightly androgynous, giving him a quiet, reserved air.

Face flushing crimson, Jin-won seemed on the verge of saying something but ultimately kept silent.

Soon, those who had memorized their spouse’s information began leaving the activity center to find their partners or to return home and wait.

“Yang Jin-won?”

Jin-won, chatting with Yeo-hong and Geon-woo, instinctively turned toward the voice that called his name.

“That’s me. Why?”

A woman stepped inside. She was strikingly beautiful and carried herself with calm maturity. Her simple, modest clothes did nothing to hide her graceful figure.

“I’m Joo Seul-gi.”

After a quick, appraising glance at Jin-won, Seul-gi nodded with apparent satisfaction.

“Shall we go to your place and talk?”

Startled, Jin-won quickly nodded. “Y-yes.”

“Is now okay?” Seul-gi asked, her smile blooming like a flower in full spring.

“Yes,” he replied, moving toward her.

Yeo-hong watched the pair leave, a sigh of mingled sadness escaping his lips.
“What am I supposed to do now?”

Geon-woo looked at him seriously. “A great mission awaits you.”

“⋯⋯”

Yeo-hong’s face twisted. “Speak so I can actually understand!”

A faint smile curved Geon-woo’s lips. “Just wait for next year’s communal marriage.”

“Yeah…” Yeo-hong let out another heavy sigh.

“Forget marriage. I just hope I’m assigned to a good post tomorrow. And you—honestly, you’re acting stranger by the day.” He tapped his temple pointedly.

The most important event ahead of them was job placement, which would directly determine their future. Unless someone had a particular skill and was already earmarked for a department, the remaining university graduates had to wait for the Company to assign them.

The activity center’s supervisor, Jin Hyeon-oh, turned off the screen and approached slowly, carrying a cylindrical metal cup excavated from some old-world ruin. Spotting him, Yeo-hong couldn’t hide his nervousness and asked before Geon-woo could speak.

“Sir, which department do you think we’ll be assigned to?”

Clearing his throat lightly, Hyeon-oh answered,
“From what I know, those who just married and will soon raise children are usually placed in relatively safe desk jobs. Those without spouses—and who won’t be having children for a while—are more likely to get riskier posts.”

Despair settled on Yeo-hong’s face.

“I should go home and tell my parents the marriage result,” he said, leaving the center with a miserable expression before Geon-woo could reply.

“They’re not even home from work yet…” Geon-woo murmured, following him into the corridor.

The 495th underground floor had no sky—only a ceiling about four meters high. Long tubular lamps set at regular intervals glowed with a steady, bright light.

For internal Company employees, lit lamps meant day, and darkness meant night.

Geon-woo looked up at the lights ahead, then turned toward Sector C.

The rooms along the corridor were packed tightly together, barely two meters apart, like a honeycomb laid flat. Compared to this, the activity center felt like a plaza.

After passing two streets, an open space appeared before him. Twelve elevators stood there in a row.

These led directly to the research sector.

In this subterranean complex inherited from the Old World, the elevators connecting the residential areas to the factory, research, and inner ecological zones were separated and placed in different sections of each floor to prevent congestion and accidents.

Meanwhile, the elevators to the management and energy sectors were combined with those to the research sector, requiring a card swipe for authorization.

After waiting briefly, Geon-woo stepped into the central elevator and pressed the button marked 21.

Since it was working hours, the elevator descended smoothly without stopping.

As it traveled, he pulled out his electronic card, swiped it at the reader, then pressed the metal button for the third sub-level.

END