Guest Ch 14

West Fort Owner, Blue Hawk (5)

When we returned to the mechanical room on the Times Square rooftop, the man sat me down on the sofa. Then, he brought over a rolled-up map that had been tucked away in a corner. The large paper showed the entire Yeongdeungpo area, down to the names of the commercial buildings. Pointing to the marked spots, the man spoke.

“Do you see the steel barriers? These are the protective walls we installed 5 years ago.”

5 years? Has it really been that long since the city was fortified?

“Has the world been like this for 5 years?”

“No, 6 years.”

“Ah…”

“The northern fortress was fortified earlier than us. It changed as soon as the world became like this. It’s the oldest fortress, built 6 years ago.”

“I understand.”

“We started installing devices to purify the polluted Han River water 5 years ago. It’s difficult to purify it enough to drink, but if you’re careful, it’s enough to wash your body.”

“Is there a separate public bath?”

“No, the best we have is a bathtub set up in one corner of the agricultural water management room.”

“Does everyone in the fort use that?”

“Most people don’t bother with baths. We’ve lived with dust and dirt for so long that it’s sometimes easier to just clean off with soil.”

“But if you don’t wash with water for too long… uh, not that you smell or anything…”

“When you promised to shut up and listen to me, was that just something you said?”

“I’m sorry.”

Faced with his menacing tone, I bowed my head. The man, seemingly reluctant to get into another pointless argument with me, only spoke again after confirming I’d quieted down.

“This is where we use the agricultural water.”

His finger pointed to Singildong, below Yeongdeungpo Station, marked on the map. He had highlighted the area around Times Square and Yeouido Broadcasting Station with a red pen and marked yellow points at roughly 4km intervals.

“This area is where food is grown. A major planting area for potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and a farm for raising chickens.”

I couldn’t just let it pass this time and asked.

“Do you only raise chickens?”

“At first, we tried raising pigs and cows. But feed supply was difficult, and the amount of meat we got was inefficient compared to the cost of raising them, so we gave up.”

“Hmm, so chickens were easier?”

“Chickens don’t need a lot of space to raise, and their eggs are useful, so it’s efficient. We don’t usually eat fresh chicken unless it’s a special occasion. We dry all our food to preserve it.”

“You dry it to preserve it for a long time, right?”

“Exactly. Drinking water is more valuable than food. Then comes salt and oil.”

Not only has the sea rotted like a river, making it impossible to eat fish, but it is also said that no new salt is being produced except for sea salt that has been stored for a long time. The only options are to barely procure or loot rock salt, which is traded at high prices from distant places.

“Oil is expensive too. If you were to determine social class in this world, water sellers, salt sellers, and oil sellers would be no different from high-ranking executives.”

I couldn’t bring myself to laugh at the man’s joke.

“It’s been two years since a child was born in our fortress. The youngest is ten years old, and they are good with a bow. Toya is teaching them.”

“Now that I think about it, I didn’t see any women.”

“Women who aren’t trained in combat or hunting live only in the safe houses and don’t go outside. Wild dogs will either rape them or take them hostage to trade for water or salt.”

As I listened to their survival strategies in detail, a question arose. Is this the result of people coming up with these ideas as the world began to deteriorate? Is this the only way they could find to survive?

“Was the fortification strategy the best option?”

Weren’t there any other ways?

“I’m curious if this was the best method after trying many others.”

“There was no need for other methods. This was the first and only way.”

Did they really choose the fortification strategy without trying anything else? Who came up with that idea, and who were the people who gathered in agreement? Normally, even if someone proposed such a strategy, people would be suspicious. They wouldn’t be easily swayed. As I blinked awkwardly, the man stared at me and added,

“It’s the method the Prophets spoke of.”

…Prophet.

To someone like me, who was used to civilization, the word sounded like the name of a cult leader, and I fell silent again. The man spoke as though he had anticipated my reaction.

“They prepared a water purification tank, solved the food problem, and built the walls. They were already preparing when the first signs of the world’s collapse appeared. They knew something this serious was going to happen.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m curious about.

“How did the Prophets know the future?”

Maybe they were a rabbi who found their way through the desert by reading the stars, or a mathematician who predicted future events through statistical analysis. I couldn’t understand how someone like me, just an ordinary college student, could be entrusted with such a unique role. I wondered if there was some kind of mark that set the Prophets apart, but the man’s answer was unexpected.

“Each Prophet sees the future in their own way. The Prophet just before you came could communicate with people from another time.”

“What? But you said the entire communication infrastructure has collapsed.”

“That’s why they’re called Prophets.”

…I didn’t really understand, but apparently, they were able to communicate with someone from another time. Does that mean they could predict future events through these communications and prepare for the risks in advance?

It wasn’t as if they were building a shrine and praying in some uncivilized ritual. It was something more transcendent than that—a special ability.

…Not even a superpower, huh.

Engulfed by the strangeness of it all, unsure of what to accept as reality or what to dismiss as a joke, I lifted my head. The man took out a notebook from the same place he had pulled out his calendar.

“These are examples of the most prominent precognitive abilities recorded.”

The notebook briefly described relatively recent Prophets.

One Prophet, a photographer, had the ability to take pictures of current locations and develop images of what they would look like in the future.

Another Prophet, a former novelist, could write a diary of the future.

A Prophet who had been a doctor could experience future events through bruises or radiation poisoning that appeared on his body for no apparent reason.

An ordinary real estate agent knew where sinkholes would form, and a man who had worked for a beer company could predict which areas would run out of groundwater, helping them prepare.

There were people who accessed the future through bizarre methods that couldn’t be explained scientifically or logically. By following their advice—building walls, maintaining food warehouses—the chances of survival were higher than if you faced disaster unprepared.

“One bad thing is, there’s never more than one Prophet at a time. At least, not in the past six years.”

Only one person at a time, huh. That means there’s a high possibility that no one else like me from another world exists here.

“So I came alone this time too?”

“I don’t know. There could be instances where previous Prophets stayed in this world without returning to their original one.”

“Oh, but I thought only one Prophet could be active at a time.”

“The ability transfers. When a new Prophet starts to act, the previous one loses their powers or disappears, becoming useless.”

So that means I’m the only outsider in this world with the ability to foresee things. Regardless of who came before me, I’m the only one who’s been updated as a Prophet.

I looked down at my palms. Ten fingers, ten toes, eyes, nose, and mouth—all functioning normally. Could I suddenly develop some strange ability to foresee the future? I couldn’t believe it, no matter how much I thought about it.

“Do I need training or preparation?”

When I asked, the man responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“There’s no need for that. I’ll be the first to notice when you start changing.”

I looked at him, wondering what he meant. His cold gaze remained fixed on me.

“Just act as you normally do. No need to force yourself to do anything. I’ll be the one to judge whether or not you’re ready as a Prophet.”

Was that why he had been staring at me so intently since the beginning, to catch the moment when I’d be ready?

“Haha…”

The more I learned, the more complicated my feelings became. A world where people wanted me to manifest the heroic qualities of a Prophet. I had no idea how I could meet the expectations of the man standing in front of me right now.

“Ha….”

As my empty laughter continued, the man narrowed his eyes

“Is it a habit of yours to laugh whenever you’re flustered?”

He slowly scanned me with a deep gaze that seemed capable of spotting prey from a great distance.

“That kind of habit isn’t very good. Think about whether it’s really in your best interest to smile at everyone and make light-hearted jokes. I wonder if this is a world where leisure and humor are still useful.”

He’s really beating around the bush on telling me not to smile in the future.

“It’s a good personality to get along well with everyone, but I don’t really want to see my Prophet smiling, opening up, and being comfortable with just anyone.”

I think I’m starting to get used to his unreasonable sense of ownership over me as ‘his Prophet.’

“If you keep doing that, people will take advantage of you, so start building a wall around yourself.”

“Should I start doing that now?”

If I put up walls, I can do it to you first. I said that with that intention, but the man retorted seriously.

“Not to me.”

“You seem like the person who has the least humor in this world.”

“You say such cute things. Do you want to fight again, like this morning?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You catch on quick.”

“I’m smarter than I look.”

“Use that smart head of yours in moderation. If you use it too much, you’ll make mistakes.”

“Don’t talk like you know everything about me. It makes me feel gross.”

“I think I do know everything. You’re pretty obvious. I can see the pattern.”

He really doesn’t lose a single argument.

As the conversation dragged on, I shut my mouth, fearing it might escalate into a collar-grabbing or button-tearing scene. I made sure to avoid his piercing gaze.

Just as I was about to take a closer look at the Prophets’ abilities noted down in the notebook.

Boom.

The ground beneath my feet shook. At first, I thought I was imagining things, but the table rattled. A strange noise came from somewhere far away.

Rumble.

The slight vibration reached the soles of my feet standing on the rooftop, and a loud sound echoed through the air. What is this?

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just the sound of the ground collapsing.”

“What?”

“It means a new sinkhole has formed.”

Is he really talking about a natural disaster with such a calm face?

“Where?”

“Somewhere.”

I was the one who was flustered by his constant nonchalance. I straightened my shoulders and asked as calmly as I could.

“Was there any sign that the world would change like this?”

“The sinkhole itself was the omen. At first, it was small, but eventually, massive sinkholes swallowed everything above ground.”

News reports of sinkholes all over the world came to mind. The expressions of the experts explaining that it was because the ground was weak didn’t look cheerful. It was as if there was another cause that they couldn’t find.

Thinking back on it gave me chills, goosebumps spreading across the back of my neck. Something I hadn’t noticed before, a flash of realization struck me, triggered by the sight of the dilapidated buildings and their desolate surroundings.

I thought this was a completely different version of Seoul. But now, I realized it might not be.

“Can I… ask just one more thing?”

My voice trembled strangely. I looked at the man, shocked, and asked.

“What year, month, and day is it now?”

The man didn’t answer for a long time. He finally spoke just when the wind began to feel a bit cold.

“September 22nd.”

It had been one day since the date on the last news I saw. Except for the year.

“It’s six years after the time you lived in.”

…The future.

…The future?

Seeing my frozen expression, the man said flatly,

“Our previous Prophet told me. When and where the new Prophet would appear.”

‘A sinkhole with a diameter of about 3m occurred near Jamsil, Seoul.’

‘Breaking News. A 2m diameter, 6m high sinkhole has occurred near the Euljiro shopping district.’

Was that a sign?

Those articles I saw, did they all come together to create this world six years later?

This isn’t some completely different Seoul, it’s the Seoul of the future!

“When a new Prophet arrives, the previous Prophet’s power ceases. That’s the rule. So, my Prophet.”

The possessiveness in his voice wrapped around me as I struggled to process the shock.

“If you find this world too hard to understand, think of it as a very long dream. When you wake up from the dream, you’ll open your eyes in the beautiful and harmonious world you originally lived in.”

To me, this world is a fleeting illusion, but to him, it’s a world he has to protect with his life. He whispered in a self-deprecating tone to safeguard a world that meant nothing to me.

“This nightmare will be over in a moment for you.”

*