NTN 12

A Satisfying Day

Jang Mok-hwa flexed her left hand open and closed as she continued her explanation.
“Today in the morning, we’ll practice handling guns—learning to disassemble and reassemble them.”

“We already learned all that, didn’t we?” Yong Yeo-hong asked.

He was right: firearm handling was part of the basic training program, and combat and shooting had even been required courses at university.

Mok-hwa smiled.
“You’ve only handled the official company-issued weapons.
Next, I—well, Sae-byeok and I—will show you weapons produced by various factions and ones scavenged from ruins in the Wasteland.
Remember, during outside missions it’s easy to lose a weapon or miss a resupply. In those cases you must be able to pick up any gun, repair it, and fit whatever caliber of bullet you can find. The better you are at that, the higher your chances of survival.”

She clapped her hands.
“Good. First, change into uniform in the small bathhouse changing room next door and meet at Room 15.”
Her finger pointed to several sets of clothes laid out on the tea table.

647th Floor, Room 15

Seong Geon-woo entered in a gray uniform. Yong Yeo-hong followed closely, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

What filled his sight were weapons of every kind—long and short, silver and black, laid on tables or hanging on the walls. It felt like a weapons expo.

Yeo-hong had only read about such exhibitions or heard teachers describe them; the only similar experience he’d ever had was a “new experimental species” display held years ago in the internal ecological zone.
Now, faced with this spectacle, he thought: This must be what a real expo feels like.

From the doorway, Jang Mok-hwa gave Geon-woo an approving once-over.
“You look sharp in that uniform.”

The Security Division uniforms were stylish to begin with, and the tall, well-built Geon-woo looked even better in them.

“I don’t think so,” Geon-woo muttered, frowning slightly.

“Why not?” asked Baek Sae-byeok beside him.

Mok-hwa interjected, half-teasing, “Best to ignore comments like that…”

But Geon-woo grinned and answered Sae-byeok anyway.
“You can’t do the Gold Coast hula dance in this get-up.”

“…” Sae-byeok was speechless.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking or just not right in the head,” Mok-hwa said, laughing. Then she turned to Yeo-hong.
“Stop daydreaming and get over here—we’re starting class!”

Her eyes swept him up and down, then she smiled.
“You look much smarter and cooler than before.”

Bolstered after feeling overlooked earlier, Yeo-hong straightened his back.
“Yes, team leader!”

At the long table, Sae-byeok picked up a silver-bodied pistol with a black, non-slip grip.
“This is a gun that wasteland scavengers and raiders both love and hate.
See the thick, long barrel? It fires 11.18 mm rounds—powerful enough for large beasts. These here are similar types; some are nicknamed Python.
The recoil is fierce, so you need real strength to use it. But you’ve all had genetic modifications, so you’ll be fine.

This model is based on an old-world relic and is the latest product of Union Industries. Model number 202. Downside: it misfires more easily than other pistols, so be careful.”

She went on to give a vivid rundown of the Union 202’s structure and her own experience with it. Then she picked up a black pistol from another table.

“This one uses 7.62 mm rounds—strong but compact, comfortable to hold, and accurate. Easy to carry and maintain. Might feel small for big hands, but it’s perfect for me.
In the Wasteland you often see Salvation Army-made Ubei-6 and Ubei-7 models; the former has a design flaw, so its misfire rate is similar to the Union 202. And…

…this gun fires monstrous 14.5 mm rounds. Originally found in the ruins of Iron-Mountain City, it’s now copied by Orange Company. We usually call it the Fatty. Not the best sniper rifle, though—I prefer the Hawkeye or God’s Eye. Ah, there they are…

…The best sniper rifles are really the Gauss and Plasma rifles. But you won’t find those unless you run into elite troops from places like First City or Union Industries.

…And this is my favorite submachine gun, nicknamed Long Neck…”

While Sae-byeok described each weapon, Geon-woo and Yeo-hong listened closely, gripping different guns to get a feel for them.

When Sae-byeok finally paused to sip some water, Mok-hwa pointed to a thick metal tube on a nearby table.
“Anyone want to guess what that weapon is?”

Yeo-hong read the Ashland letters stamped on it.
“Imnam Steel Pipe Factory.”

Mok-hwa chuckled.
“It’s actually a personal-use bazooka. Its main parts are made at the Salvation Army’s seamless steel pipe plant. All right, Sae-byeok, keep going.”

6:20 p.m.

After showering and changing back into everyday clothes, Geon-woo and Yeo-hong carried their lunchboxes to the cafeteria of Room 2 on the 647th floor. Security Division cafeterias opened twenty minutes earlier than the residential ones.

“My whole body aches. Team leader hit way too hard,” Yeo-hong grumbled as he sat, wincing at his bruises.

During the afternoon sparring session, Jang Mok-hwa hadn’t held back.
Geon-woo had managed to last a little longer, but Yeo-hong was flattened every time within thirty seconds.

“Your genetic modifications must be amazing—look at that strength, that reaction speed, that coordination! Total monster. Ha, you’re a little monster too,” he said, realizing only today that his best friend had never shown full ability in previous combat classes.

Geon-woo had at least traded a few blows with their “monster” team leader.
Though he hadn’t lasted long either, he’d still exchanged some real attacks.

“You couldn’t even beat Sae-byeok,” Geon-woo teased with a smile.

Flushing red, Yeo-hong protested after a pause,
“She broke the rules! And you didn’t win that many times yourself.”

He had assumed that with his larger build, superior strength, and faster reactions—enhanced since the womb—he would easily beat the smaller Sae-byeok. Yet he lost repeatedly despite years of combat training.

“In the Wasteland, there are no rules—only life or death,” Geon-woo replied calmly.

“True… her fighting techniques were incredibly practical,” Yeo-hong muttered, staring down at his lunchbox.

On top of rice mixed with potatoes lay dark dried greens that had already flavored the grains.
Resting on the greens was pork with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, its juices mouthwatering.

It was a meat side dish he’d bought for one contribution point. He’d spent another point at lunch for a similar pork-and-greens meal.

“Smells amazing,” Yeo-hong said dreamily.
“If I didn’t have to go on field missions, this would be my dream job.”

“There’s more sparring tomorrow,” Geon-woo warned, glancing at him as he ate the same pork and greens.

“…Just eat quietly,” Yeo-hong muttered, his mood darkening—though he realized he’d grown used to shouting throughout the day with the team leader.

Geon-woo simply bowed his head and focused on his potato rice and pork.

After dinner they rode the elevator back to Sector C on the 495th floor.

Inside the activity center, a tall, pretty woman in a simple dress approached, giving off a fresh, graceful air.

“Pi Won-young, you came to see me?”
Yeo-hong forgot Geon-woo was even there as he stepped forward, smiling openly.

Surprised, she asked,
“Done eating already? I came to return a friend’s things.”

“Had dinner at a small cafeteria,” Yeo-hong said, still beaming.

“A small cafeteria? Which department are you assigned to?” she asked, tilting her head.
Ordinary staff couldn’t use those cafeterias—only the Radio Station of the Entertainment Division had one.

Realizing his slip, Yeo-hong forced a smile.
“Security Division.”

Won-young blinked, then said mildly,
“Then be careful.”

While they talked, Geon-woo walked over to Jin Hyun-oh, the center’s supervisor, and sat on a stool nearby.

“So, where were you assigned? Want me to tell someone I know to look out for you?” Jin asked casually, examining the goods spread on the counter.

“That’s classified,” Geon-woo replied curtly.

“Ha…” Jin turned his head and, instead of pressing further, patted Geon-woo’s shoulder.
“Stay safe.”