NTN 13

A Personal Ritual

At that moment, one of Jin Hyun-oh’s subordinates came back from the staff cafeteria carrying his lunch box.

Seong Geon-woo watched silently as Jin took the box in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and began eating. Then he suddenly asked,
“Sir, do you know everyone who lives on this floor?”

Jin gave a vague reply.
“I can’t say I know every single person, but I’d say at least ninety-five percent.”

Geon-woo was about to keep the conversation going when a familiar silhouette caught his eye.

It was Lee Imo, the disciple of the Life Rite sect he had met earlier that dawn at Building A, Unit 35.

“Do you know her as well?” Geon-woo asked, pointing discreetly toward the striking woman.

Jin lifted his head, glanced at her, and spoke.
“That’s Lee Jeong-hyun. You might know her—you were neighbors once.
But it was when you were young, so maybe you don’t remember.

“She’s had a hard life. Married, had two children. Then she and her husband were transferred to another post and exposed to contamination, which left her unable to have more kids. And those two children… both died in an accident a few years back.”

Geon-woo said nothing, simply listening.

Geon-woo stayed a while longer in the activity center, then returned to his unit in Section B, Room 196. As usual, he half-reclined on the dim bed and waited for the evening radio broadcast.

Before long, a sweet, pleasant voice resonated through every floor of the residential zone.

“Good evening, everyone. This is newscaster Heo Jeong-min.
The current time is exactly 8 p.m.
…Due to this year’s abnormal weather, the monsters above Ashland have begun migrating.
…Traces of a monk order have been spotted in the wilderness near the company grounds.
…The livestock diarrhea outbreak at Internal Eco-Zone Ranch 59 has been resolved.
…And the Recreation Department will host an employee basketball tournament at the activity center this weekend.”

Two months flashed by.

Inside the elevator bound for the 647th floor, Yong Yeo-hong flexed his chest while studying his reflection in the metal wall, his terrylene shirt stretching over new muscle.

“All that intense training really worked. I could beat five of the college-graduation-day me—well, at least three.”

He had filled out noticeably, carrying a hint of ruggedness now.

Staring at the crack of the elevator doors, Geon-woo said,
“Still only 175 centimeters even after gene tweaks, not exactly handsome, grades just average…”

“…”

Yeo-hong was momentarily at a loss for words or even an expression. Finally he inhaled deeply and exhaled with weight.
“Seriously, I’ve eaten meat every day for two months—how have I not grown a single centimeter?”

The elevator doors slid open and the two stepped out, heading toward Room 14.

Not knowing what kind of training awaited them, they hadn’t decided whether to wear Security uniforms or clothes suited for sparring. They planned to ask Captain Jang Mok-hwa first, then change in the locker room.

Inside Room 14, Jang and Baek Sae-byeok were already there, studying something intently over a dark-brown office table.

“Hello, Captain!”
By now, loud greetings had become second nature to both men.

Jang looked up and beckoned them over.
“Come here, both of you. We need to talk.”

Glancing at each other in puzzlement, they approached and saw a low-accuracy map spread across the desk.

Jang tapped the map lightly with her fist, smiling.
“Today’s training is outdoor camping.”

“What?” Yeo-hong exclaimed, startled.
They’d expected a field exercise someday, but not without any warning or prep time.

Geon-woo said nothing, but a grin escaped him.

Jang scanned the room.
“I was planning this for a couple more days from now, but Headquarters just gave us a small mission: we’re to deliver a filter chip for a purification unit to a drifter outpost in the wilderness. So we’re leaving today.

“Sae-byeok, brief them on the destination and route.”

Still wearing her worn gray scarf, Baek Sae-byeok braced one hand on the desk and pointed at a spot on the map with the other.

“This is Harvest Town. It’s about two to three hundred kilometers from the company.
If the roads were fully restored and safe, we could reach it in a day by taking turns driving.
But the problem is the Black-Marsh Wasteland—there’s no proper road.
There might be short stretches of old-world highway in decent shape, but we can’t rely on that.”

Geon-woo and Yeo-hong knew the Black-Marsh Wasteland was a perilous zone outside company territory: vast, its far north frozen, its northeast touching Salvation Army lands, east under the White Knights, and far southeast leading toward First City. To the south lay more wilderness and mountain ranges.

Sae-byeok went on,
“You’ve probably noticed the map’s heavy danger markings across that giant swamp.
In my experience it’s either pure trackless bog, a nest of mutated beasts, or old-world ruins you’d never escape once inside.

“Excluding the most contaminated areas, we don’t have many options. And we can’t use the two company-patrolled routes with checkpoints—that would defeat the camping objective.

“Considering all that, I’ve planned two possible routes. Both zigzag across the great marsh and would take roughly one to two weeks depending on weather.

“Which route appeals to you? Or we could skirt the marsh entirely, but that would just take longer without really reducing the risk.

“I don’t know every detail of the marsh myself, so feel free to suggest alternatives.”

Before Jang could speak, Geon-woo stepped forward and pointed to one of the routes.
“This one.”

“Why?” Sae-byeok asked, then instantly regretted the question.

“The line flows beautifully. It’s elegant,” Geon-woo answered with perfect seriousness.

Sae-byeok turned to the captain for support.
Jang rubbed her chin.
“I agree with Geon-woo. If there’s no real difference, we might as well pick the prettier path.

“Decision made!”

She glanced at her electronic wristwatch.
“Fifteen minutes to get ready.”

“Only fifteen?” Yeo-hong grimaced.

“Fourteen minutes fifty-five,” Jang replied without looking up.

Yeo-hong spun around to chase after Geon-woo.
“Hey, wait for me!”

They hurried into the nearby bathhouse locker room and opened their lockers.

Because daily training left them drenched in sweat, they kept extra clothes stored here. With no sunlight and frigid nights inside the company complex, there was no natural way to dry garments. The Training Support Department collected, washed, and dried staff clothes in bulk; only underwear was hand-washed and hung over room sinks or basins.

Geon-woo pulled the standard-issue camouflage pack from his locker, unzipped it, and stuffed a set of uniform inside.
Next he slipped a yellow bar of soap into a plastic bag and tossed that in as well.
Toothpaste, toothbrush, underwear—everything carefully packed.

Stripping quickly, he shoved his street clothes into the locker and, wearing only briefs, donned the remaining gray uniform.
Belt fastened, boot laces tight, he stood straight before the half-length mirror, smoothing the outfit.

His brows were sharp, his dark-brown eyes clear. Black hair neatly in place, strong facial lines set.
In the sleek yet soldierly Security Division uniform, he looked even more striking and formidable.

From his pocket he slowly drew a badge and pinned it to his left chest: a red background with gold letters embossed—

BANCO BIO.

Geon-woo emerged to find Yeo-hong finally ready after two more minutes, and they headed back to Room 14 together.

Yeo-hong stole glances at him, then blurted,
“Don’t I look different somehow?”

Geon-woo gave him a quick once-over and said nothing.

“I’m not nervous at all! Can’t you tell?” Yeo-hong lifted his arms.
“Before, I’d have been a wreck, whining nonstop. Now I feel like I can handle outdoor training no problem.
These last two months really paid off.”

Geon-woo slowed, eyed him up and down, and chuckled.
“Your legs are shaking.”

“…”

Yeo-hong’s face fell.

Ignoring him, Geon-woo continued toward Room 14.

Trying to convince himself, Yeo-hong muttered while looking at his own legs,
“They’re not shaking. Not at all…”

After the brief commotion, he decided maybe he truly wasn’t nervous.

Back in Room 14, Jang studied them, her gaze landing on the badge on Geon-woo’s chest. She raised an eyebrow.

“No need for a badge. This isn’t a company-level operation.
With so few of us, that badge could actually be dangerous.
Ashland’s bandits and drifters don’t care if you belong to a big organization.
When survival depends on stealing whatever they can, worrying about the consequences of attacking a large faction means nothing to them.”

Geon-woo nodded slightly and replied loudly,
“It’s my own little ritual!”

“…Take it off once we leave company grounds. We’re heading out now,” Jang said, pressing her fingertips to her temples.