Zero’s real name is Lee Geon-ung.

Someone who remembered him still remained in the newly restructured National Awakened Authority – specifically in the Integrated Hunter Division.

“Geon-ung? He was a good guy. Solid skills, strong mental game. Maybe not quite at ace level, but even Kang Han-min the Savior once personally picked him out for praise.”

A government clerk who’d worked in Paju remembered Lee Geon-ung before he took off his uniform.

What she remembered was from the time just before the Seoul administration withdrew from Incheon.

In other words, quite a while ago.

But it’s enough context to understand the present events.

“Awakened types usually have attitude problems and zero sense of propriety, but Geon-ung was different. He was polite, thoughtful. What sticks with me most is how he chose to stay in Paju for his family instead of going to Jeju.”

At the time, Awakened above level 5 going to Jeju was a national craze.

Even talentless children were sent to Woo Min-hee’s research lab by pushy parents and died there, but as long as you passed the exam, your entire family could escape Seoul—the land of endless despair—and move to the promised land of Jeju.

But the sharper kids already knew the double-edged truth of the Jeju migration.

While going with your family was guaranteed, once you got there you were separated, and there was no way to know what fate your family would meet on that island.

Forced to fight in closed-off cohorts of their own age, the Awakened would come to learn—coldly and indifferently—about the loss of their families.

Lee Geon-ung had such a good personality that even strangers were fond of him. Thanks to that, he learned the truth about Jeju through someone who had been there and come back.

“Going to Jeju doesn’t mean shit. If you’ve got a brain, think it through. Jeju wants you—not your useless family. This country throws away old people like trash. You think your family’s gonna be safe? In that Jeju?”

Lee Geon-ung, who was kind and considerate, chose to remain in Seoul.

In doing so, he apparently had a major falling out with his now-deceased father.

At the time, Lee Geon-ung was still okay.

Still a warmhearted youth who cared deeply for his family.

“When you spend enough time in that ashen space, everything goes numb.”

Kim Han-na understands the sorrows of those who operate within the rifts better than anyone.

She’s much more mature now than before. She still has few friends, but she's become a reliable senior who generously offers advice to her junior Awakened.

“There’s a reason the suicide rate is high. You start to think nothing has meaning. Even family. A lot of kids grew to resent their families. Some even clapped and laughed when they heard their family had died. Said, ‘Finally those cancerous leeches eating away at my credits are gone.’”

Kim Han-na doesn’t know Zero—Lee Geon-ung.

They’ve never even met or spoken once.

But she understood the agony of the man named Lee Geon-ung.

“Maybe it was for a similar reason that he started hating his family?”

These days, our very own Hong Da-jeong—now in her prime and stirring up the hearts of many men—gave a more grounded evaluation of Lee Geon-ung.

“Think about it, Skeleton. The family’s doing nothing, just sucking the kid dry. Back in the Joseon era, they’d at least praise you for being a filial son. Now? That era’s long gone. You ever seen a modern-day memorial gate for virtuous daughters-in-law?”

For just a moment, a majestic image of a “Skeleton Gate” flashed through my mind.

“You get tired, you know? Sick and tired. Maybe if he were some genius who could abandon his family and still live well on his own, fine. But if he keeps getting burdened, any person would burn out. I think the modern limit of familial responsibility is your spouse and kids, at most.”

I lost my family a long time ago, and I’ve grieved them so deeply that I can’t really relate to Hong Da-jeong’s view.

But many others seemed to share similar opinions.

“Yeah, it’s tough. If you’re the only one struggling and no one else pitches in, you just wear down.”

Even Seven, who still has family, offered a similar take.

“I think family should be about mutual support. If that breaks down, then it doesn’t work. I’ve had coworkers who said they hung on just for their kids, but... man. That’s not easy. They were the first to burn out, mentally and physically. The ones who managed were the ones who had blowouts with their wives and settled things.”

There were slight differences in the details and tone, but most agreed that Lee Geon-ung saw his family as a burden and was suffering severe stress because of it.

Because one of Lee Geon-ung’s neighbors was connected to a Citizens’ Council member I know—Minsik’s faction—I was able to obtain some information on his family.

A woman who seemed like the embodiment of rugged survival told me about them in a voice like a steam whistle.

“Their mom’s a bit off. Might be dementia. Even before coming here, her husband died, but she keeps looking for him. Always cooking weird food. You know that stuff not even dogs eat? Sea monkeys? She made soup out of that and the stench was unreal.”

“Sea monkeys?”

“Whatever that is. Oh, and the eldest kid—what do you call it? Hardcore? Haggis? What do you call a kid who never leaves the room and just plays games?”

“Hikikomori?”

“Yeah, that! Hikikomori. Fucking lazy-ass bastard. Oh, sorry. I just curse automatically when I talk about kids like that. Anyway, that little shit—the middle kid’s huge but has dead eyes. Heard he never even applied for a job, no citizen card, no nothing, just mooches at home playing games. The second son supports the whole family, and his face looked like hell.”

The woman turned her head slightly and muttered:

“Bet he wishes they’d all just die.”

The Defender who introduced me to Zero offered a slightly different view.

“Maybe it’s not what he really wants. Some people don’t know how to say ‘I don’t want to see them’ and instead say ‘kill them.’”

He’s someone who kills more easily than anyone—but perhaps because of that, he knows more about murder than most.

The Defender made a suggestion.

“Why not just kick that so-called ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) brother out of the house? Send him to a factory or something. I know a place where they gather antisocial types.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

The Defender grinned with a chilling smile and nodded.

“...Right.”

I got the idea.

One of those “family-like” workplaces run by the cult of the cudgel—where everything is corrected with a beating.

Or, better known as Camp XX Re-education Center.

Hong Da-jeong, who had been reading manga beside me, chimed in.

“Hey, that Zero kid—don’t you think he has a girl?”

“A girl?”

“Don’t you get that feeling? I mean, suddenly throwing a tantrum at the family he’s lived with—it’s a vibe.”

“Women’s intuition?”

“Veteran netizen’s hunch?”

I chuckled and shook my head.

Either way, I’d made up my mind.

I never intended to fulfill Zero’s request from the beginning.

Killing someone for another person?

We hunters aren’t killers.

But kicking Zero’s awful brother out of the house—that felt like a reasonable idea.

“What? You’re sending my brother to a factory?”

As soon as I told him, Zero let out a short laugh.

“I can’t even imagine that guy working in a factory. Look, that bastard’s just a complete failure. No perseverance, no willpower. You know the old men who got dragged into those public labor crews? Even they did their jobs. This guy gave up after one day. Just laid down and said he couldn’t do it.”

There wasn’t a shred of trust in his voice about his brother.

This wasn’t resentment built up over a few days.

It was like layers of limescale accumulated over more than five years since the war began.

Still, Zero agreed on the one point—that the brother should be kicked out.

“A dorm...?”

He looked at me directly.

“How are you gonna get him out?”

“I’ll try talking first.”

That would be the ideal approach.

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll call some friends. It might get noisy, but he’ll understand, right?”

This was the Defender’s method.

A bit rough, possibly violent—but Zero was someone who had seriously considered killing his brother.

“Let’s just see how it goes.”

I nodded and pointed at the tightly shut door.

“Let’s at least try to talk.”

“Go ahead.”

Just then, there was a loud crash from the kitchen.

“Ow!”

An elderly woman’s voice.

A foul fishy stench filled the room like bad seafood.

I opened the door.

And beyond it, I saw a narrow, trash-filled room.

In the corner, in front of a low desk by the wall, a hulking man sat hunched over, staring at something.

He didn’t flinch at my intrusion.

Soon I understood why.

He was wearing wired earphones.

The volume was so loud I could hear it from across the room.

I lightly tapped his back.

“Wh-who’s there?!”

Startled, the man jerked back against the wall and stared at me with trembling eyes.

I turned my head away.

I didn’t want to see his face.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

I’m not the type to corner people with words.

I don’t like yelling or using aggressive language.

When I have to say something unpleasant, I prefer calmly listing the facts.

“...That’s why I think you should go to the factory.”

In my experience, persuading people with words is mostly an illusion.

If they’re persuaded, it’s not because of your eloquence.

It’s because they were already ready to be persuaded.

If someone never intended to listen in the first place, no words will reach them.

That’s what I expected here too.

But people are unpredictable.

“...Really?”

The man spoke in a weak voice.

After hesitating, he looked at me and asked, his voice trembling,

“Did Geon-ung tell you to?”

I didn’t answer.

The man stood up.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

I looked at him.

Meeting my gaze, he stepped out of the room he’d been holed up in for so long.

He glanced back at the cramped room one last time with some regret, but then calmly entered the living room and said to the woman in the kitchen,

“Mom. I got a job.”

“Did you now?”

His mother didn’t react with surprise or joy.

She simply stirred her reeking pot with a ladle.

The dementia rumor appeared to be true. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

The man stared at her for a moment, then stepped outside.

“I’ll be back.”

I followed him out.

A group of rough-looking men stood outside, arms crossed.

The man flinched at the sight of them but pushed through without reacting.

One of the Defender’s men looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded.

A vehicle was waiting.

He climbed into it.

The rattling truck would take him to a leather factory on the outskirts.

The request was complete—but a question remained.

I asked him,

“Why did you agree so easily?”

Even I was surprised by my bluntness.

He didn’t look at me as he answered.

“I always figured this day would come.”

He smiled faintly.

“I knew I shouldn’t be like this. I wanted to step outside that little door and apologize to my brother for everything. But it’s hard, you know? There’s those things—you just have to close your eyes and do it once, but that chance never comes...”

I know the emotion, but I don’t fully understand it.

I’ve always been honest with my desires.

“In the end, the chance came. I figured it would come eventually. Honestly, it’s late. I thought I’d be left behind when they moved out.”

The men climbed into the vehicle.

It was about to leave.

The man, who had been avoiding my eyes, looked out the window.

His bloodshot eyes scanned the apartment and surrounding area.

“Looking for someone?”

“Geon-ung. Looks like he’s not here.”

“He’s probably out on a job.”

The driver gave me a signal.

Time to go.

I held them for a moment.

This man—Lee Jeong-ung—still had something to say.

For the first time, he looked me directly in the eyes and said,

“I don’t know who you are, but if you could pass this on, I’d be grateful. I really do feel sorry toward Geon-ung. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be a proper big brother. But you know what? We used to be close. When he was little—we used to sneak off to PC bangs and play Maple World together. We had those memories. He really used to follow me around...”

The driver looked at me again, urging.

I nodded.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.”

I tapped the side of the vehicle twice.

“Go.”

The vehicle pulled away.

Zero’s brother, Lee Jeong-ung, looked back at the home he was leaving behind—then vanished from view.

I looked at the house.

An old woman stood motionless in the open doorway.

Lee Jeong-ung and Lee Geon-ung’s mother.

*

“You’ll have to do some climbing. Because of the terrain. They say they installed elevators on Jeju, but there's no such thing over there. I haven’t been inside myself, so I don’t have any intel. But every kid who came out of there had a blank, dazed look on their face... and then they got summoned back.”

I got the information from Zero.

Unlike before, it was abstract, and even he was full of uncertainty, but to me, it was the most crucial intel I’d obtained so far.

Another path to Kang Han-min had opened.

In the room that Lee Jeong-ung had left behind, a stranger had moved in.

A woman. Her belly was swollen.

I didn’t ask for details, but she appeared to be Lee Geon-ung’s woman.

I stepped out of the house, hearing the sound of her openly snapping at Lee Geon-ung’s mother.

Lee Geon-ung came out to see me off.

I hesitated for a moment.

Before coming here, I’d heard the obituary for Lee Jeong-ung.

They said he got sucked into factory machinery, but according to people around him, it was more or less a suicide.

As for belongings, he left behind one set of men’s and women’s underwear each, and a note. In it, he apologized to his family—especially his younger brother—and asked that news of his death not be shared.

I could’ve just left, but I turned back and asked him:

“Do you feel a bit lighter now?”

I deliberately used formal speech to emphasize my disdain.

Lee Geon-ung’s pupils wavered slightly.

But only for a moment.

He smiled and replied.

“You saw her, right? My wife?”

“······.”

“Apparently it’s twins. I hope it’s boys.”

It’ll probably be girls.

I walked away.

I hope the sisters who are about to be born have more affection for each other than their parents' generation did.