NTN 09

Chapter 09

Assignment

After finishing breakfast, Seong Geon-woo and Yong Yeohong carried their lunchboxes into the activity center and sat in a corner of the hall, waiting for the job-assignment results to be announced.

The center was nearly empty. Only the staff, working under Jin Hyeon-oh’s supervision, bustled about sweeping, scrubbing, and tidying up.

Early-morning regulars—elderly folks who usually exercised or chatted here—were nowhere to be seen. They were likely escorting grandchildren to school or heading to their own work.

According to company policy, employees who reached sixty could switch to easier duties or have their workload cut in half. To stop working entirely, they had to wait until seventy-five, at which age they received a monthly stipend based on their employee grade.

But even at seventy-five, few people could simply drop by the activity center to relax. Among the previous generation—those without genetic enhancements—very few lived long enough, given the shortages of food and nutrients.

Yong Yeohong inhaled quietly, then made an effort to start a conversation.

“Yesterday I met my mother’s coworker’s daughter.
She’s eighteen, works at a radio station under the Entertainment Division, over 170 centimeters tall, and really pretty.
Do you think there’s any chance she’d like me? I mean, even with genetic enhancement I’m only 175 centimeters, not especially handsome, grades just average, and I don’t even have a department yet…”

Geon-woo lifted his right eyebrow slightly.
“What’s her name?”

“Pi Won-yeong. Ha-ha. Heo Jeong-min doesn’t know her—different team.”

Yong had guessed Geon-woo might ask about the well-known newscaster Heo Jeong-min, whose broadcasts many employees followed.

Without any sign of disappointment, Geon-woo continued his questions.
“Which floor and section does she live in? Room number?”

“Why would you ask that?” Yong’s voice held surprise and suspicion.

“So I can ask her directly if she might like you,” Geon-woo replied, glancing sideways at him.

“…Seriously?”
Even with no dating experience, Yong wasn’t so naïve as to think that wouldn’t kill a budding relationship.
“Ha-ha, good joke.”
But he had no desire to keep that topic going.

“Which department do you want to join, Geon-woo?”

“Security Division.”

Geon-woo answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“Are you crazy?” Yong yelped. “Do you know how dangerous that is? Are you letting the promise of extra meal rations seduce you? You’re joking, right?”

The Security Division was the most perilous department in the entire company. Each year its employee death rate dwarfed that of all other divisions combined.

They were tasked with external operations: large-scale supply transport across the wasteland, confronting hostile intruders or migrating monsters, guarding outposts beyond the underground complex, exploring ancient ruins deep in the wilds, and protecting scientific teams on special projects.

That meant constant exposure to contamination, disease, monsters, and the mindless infected. Bullets, injuries, infections, mutations, and death were everyday realities.

While Yong gaped at Geon-woo’s answer, others—including Jo Yeoreum—filed into the activity center, settling into their usual spots.

Yang Jin-won, fair-skinned and delicate-looking, lived on the same floor and had entered university with them in the same department, so the three were close. As soon as he entered, he scanned the room and walked over.

“Hey, you look a bit drained. Skip breakfast?” Yong asked with concern.

“I ate,” Jin-won replied, face flushed. “Just tired.”

“Why tired?” Yong asked blankly.

Unsure how to explain, Jin-won sighed and looked at Geon-woo.
“Marriage is a lot more work than I expected.
But it’s worth it. You two should find partners soon.”

A faint smile crept across his face.

Realizing the reason for Jin-won’s fatigue, Yong dropped the questioning and returned to the earlier subject.
“Jin-won, guess what joke Geon-woo just made? He says he wants the Security Division!”

Jin-won thought seriously before speaking.
“If it were strictly a desk job, I’d want that too. The benefits are great.”

Security staff received the standard company salary but also underwent intensive training and could eat meat every day. On duty and training days, they dined at the Security Division’s own cafeteria—cheap, plentiful portions, and even special side dishes.

That was tempting for many employees.

“Obviously,” Yong said dryly. “Aside from management or research types, who wouldn’t want in if it were desk work only?”

“Unfortunately,” Geon-woo added, “desk and field rotations alternate—unless you’re in the Big Boss’s personal guard, a management-level strike team, or an elite security squad for a major project.”

“I’d rather be field staff,” Geon-woo said suddenly.

“…What?”
Yong waved a hand in front of his face.
“Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous it is out there?”

Everyone knew at least vaguely how chaotic the Ashland outside remained. Compared to that, life inside the company complex—stable, orderly, with guaranteed basic supplies—was paradise.

That was why, even with hazard pay and the right to keep certain Ashland finds, few volunteered for Security.
To encourage applications, the board offered rapid promotions: ordinary employees might never rise above D3 in a lifetime, but Security staff could reach D4 in a year or even six months, and they moved a rank higher when transferring back to regular work.

Even so, Jin-won couldn’t understand Geon-woo’s mindset. He merely pointed out a fact.
“They mostly select people who are already married with children. It’s rare for someone single to get in.”

“Exactly,” Yong agreed, then eyed Geon-woo. “Why do you even want a field post?”

“To save humanity,” Geon-woo said with a perfectly straight face.

Both Yong and Jin-won choked in surprise.

Just then, two people in black uniforms entered and handed a sealed envelope to Jin Hyeon-oh, the center’s coordinator.

Everyone—including Yong, Jin-won, and Jo Yeoreum—rose, holding their breath.

Inside that envelope were today’s job assignments.

Unlike the public ceremony for collective marriages, job postings could involve security matters and were handed out individually, like letters. No one knew their result until they received it.

After checking the envelope for tampering and signing for it, the two board representatives stepped back to observe.

“That was fast. We must be first. Whew, which job will it be?” Yong muttered nervously.

Geon-woo glanced at him.
“Assume you’re assigned to Security. That way, whatever happens, you won’t be disappointed.”

“You have a point,” Yong admitted, with no better strategy.

Holding up the envelope for all to see, Jin Hyeon-oh broke the seal and drew out a stack of smaller envelopes.

He began calling names.
“Song Hyo-min.”
A woman stepped forward, took her envelope, and quickly moved aside to open it.

“Yang Jin-won.
Jo Yeoreum.
Yong Yeohong.
Seong Geon-woo.”

Each walked forward in turn to receive the envelope that would decide their fate.

None of them hid their reactions as they opened the letters right there.

Yong’s hands trembled as he read:

Yong Yeohong, Electronic Card No. 02511013768.
Report to Floor 647, Room 14 before noon.

“Six-four-seven…”
His mind buzzed. The letter slipped from his hands and fluttered to the floor.

He snatched it up, hoping he’d misread, but the words were clear.

“I’m doomed… doomed…” he whispered, his face ashen.

The underground complex had 650 floors; the top five closest to the surface belonged to the Security Division.

Reporting to Floor 647 meant only one thing: he’d been assigned to Security.

Geon-woo tapped him on the shoulder.

Yong turned slowly, eyes vacant.
“I’m doomed. Totally doomed…”

“I got Security too,” Geon-woo said with a bright grin.

“What?”
Yong snatched his letter.

Seong Geon-woo, Electronic Card No. 02509083626.
Report to Floor 647, Room 14 before noon.

“We’re in the same place?” Yong asked, a little calmer.

“Looks that way,” Geon-woo replied with a smile.

“At least we’re unlucky together,” Yong muttered, no longer quite so despondent now that he had a companion.

“I applied for it,” Geon-woo added lightly.

“…,” Yong said, speechless.

Around them, Jo Yeoreum, Jin-won, and Song Hyo-min reacted to their own assignments—excited, happy, disappointed, or sad—but none as dramatically as Yong.

“Geon-woo, where’d you get assigned? I’m headed to the research lab on Floor 36,” Jin-won said, approaching with his letter.

“Security Division,” Geon-woo answered with an easy smile.

The hall fell silent. Those who’d been upset suddenly realized their own results weren’t so bad.

Not wanting to linger, Yong tugged at Geon-woo and whispered, “Let’s go report in. No choice now.”

Refusing the posting wasn’t an option unless you wanted your entire family expelled from the company’s protection.

Even if someone had the right connections to request a transfer, they first had to report as ordered—and people with such influence were already slotted into preferred departments.

Geon-woo waved to Jin-won, grabbed his lunchbox, and left with Yong toward Section C.

Section C housed the elevators that led to the uppermost five underground floors.

END