ADTDK — Chapter 2

Chapter 2

1. The Playboy and the Prim One

“Hello, everyone. I’m Hyun Yoon-jo from PEC’s Education and Public Relations Department, and I’ll be leading today’s safety training. Thank you for making time to attend despite your busy schedules.”

The people gave a spiritless round of applause at Yoon-jo’s greeting. He wasn’t surprised—this was always how office workers responded.

“Well then, let’s skip the preamble and get right to it. What are abilities? Most of you would probably answer like this: ‘You don’t know? They’re superpowers, obviously.’”

When Yoon-jo said it with mock seriousness, the audience finally cracked a few smiles.

“Exactly. Abilities are basically superpowers—at least, from the perspective of people in the past.”

A graph popped up on the screen.

“It’s estimated that about one in ten people possess an ability. Surprising, right? Especially considering most of us have never actually met someone who has one.”

People nodded their heads.

“Okay, now take a look at this.”

Another graph appeared beside the first one.

“This shows the number of ability users. Notice how it’s way lower than the number of possessors? At PEC, this is what we define as an ‘ability user.’”

One in ten might possess an ability, but the number who actually use them is incredibly small. Like how anyone can sing or draw, but only a few can make money from it.

“You probably won’t run into ability users in daily life. Still, we need to understand them. Times change, and so should our common knowledge.”

The image on the screen changed.

“At PEC, we basically divide abilities into two categories: physical-type and mental-type. Anyone who’s read a fantasy novel back in the day probably already gets what that means.”

The audience laughed again at Yoon-jo’s joke. With a small smile, he continued.

“Most of the abilities you’ll encounter in your lifetime will be physical. The ones who end up in the news for causing trouble? All physical-type users. People who set things on fire or make ice out of thin air. And no, they’re not actually my friends, just to be clear.”

More laughter followed. Compared to the stiff start, the atmosphere had eased up considerably.

“How an ability manifests varies wildly between people. Someone with the same type of ability might only be able to light a cigarette, while another could burn down an entire forest. Well, you can burn a forest with a cigarette too, so everyone, please be careful about wildfires. Anyway, what I mean is that some abilities can cause massive fires.”

Images of destroyed buildings and crater-like sinkholes appeared on screen.

“Just like the saying ‘with great power comes great responsibility,’ abilities are the same. If you use power on that scale, there will definitely be side effects. For physical-type users, it usually shows up as high fevers or skin rashes. Fortunately, if you register with PEC, you can get side-effect suppressants prescribed.”

Yoon-jo added, “At a very affordable price.”

“So what about mental-type abilities? Compared to physical ones, mental-type powers are a bit more unfamiliar, right?”

A new graph appeared on screen, comparing the number of physical- and mental-type ability holders. Physical was overwhelmingly more common.

Then came another graph—this time comparing actual users. The gap widened dramatically. The bar for mental-type users was barely above zero.

“It makes sense. They’re so rare that the odds of bumping into one on the street are basically nonexistent.”

Even physical abilities aren’t something you see every day, and mental ones are even rarer. Some people don’t even know they exist.

“But still, it’s good to be aware. Let’s stay informed and up-to-date.”

The graphs disappeared, and an image came up—a campaign rally from last year’s presidential election.

“When people hear ‘mental-type ability,’ they probably think of comic book mind control or something like that, but they’re not that all-powerful. Most of them are incredibly subtle.”

Every time Yoon-jo pressed the pointer, the image changed.

A UN climate change summit, a nonprofit convincing citizens to donate, activists marching with signs saying ‘Legalize Same-Sex Marriage.’

Standing by the screen, Yoon-jo continued.

“Have you ever listened to someone’s heartfelt speech and found yourself moved without even realizing it? Even something you thought you were completely against starts to make you waver.”

He paused and made eye contact with a few people sitting in the front row. They nodded reflexively in agreement.

“That’s how mental-type abilities manifest. They sway people to their side. As a result, you might end up doing something impulsive—something you’d never normally do.”

A faint trace of fear flickered across the audience’s faces.

“They can also induce light hypnosis. Like, say, depositing my salary twice and then forgetting about it.”

The room erupted in laughter. Yoon-jo waited for it to settle down before continuing.

“Sounds useful, right? But in practice, they’re really not. They’re harder to control than physical abilities, and more importantly, the side effects are severe.”

A new graph appeared on the screen.

“The more frequently and intensely a mental-type ability is used, the more exponentially it increases the likelihood of developing depression. Just like with physical-type abilities, there are stronger and weaker mental-type abilities. Let me give you an example.”

Yoon-jo turned to someone sitting near the front.

“Which do you think is easier—convincing someone to give you ten thousand won, or convincing them to give you their entire fortune?”

“Uh… ten thousand won.”

“Exactly. A strong mental-type ability is like trying to force a hard persuasion. The harder the persuasion, the worse the side effects. That’s why you don’t hear much about mental-type abilities. Even being a villain takes energy, you know. A classic example of a villain who failed because of depression would be the Mansegyo incident seven years ago.”

The graph disappeared, and a picture of a cute cat popped up on the screen. A few murmurs rippled through the room. Yoon-jo glanced at the screen and clicked his tongue.

“Oops, wrong photo. That’s a cat from my neighborhood. Pretty cute, huh? Though he’s neutered.”

Laughter followed. While the crowd was still chuckling, the next graph appeared.

“That’s enough about abilities for now. I’m sure everyone knows about the Mansegyo incident anyway. Now we’re getting to the important part, so if anyone wants to take notes, now’s the time.”

It was a joke. Nobody actually took notes. Yoon-jo pointed at the graph with his laser pointer and continued.

“Most ability holders live their whole lives without realizing they have one. Only those who reach the level of actual users go through an awakening process, usually between the ages of fifteen and thirty-five. And freshly awakened abilities are hard to control. That’s why stronger abilities are more likely to lead to a rampage. You all know what a rampage is, right?”

A soft murmur passed through the crowd. Even people who didn’t know much about abilities knew about rampages. Foreign rampage cases sometimes made the news.

No matter how unlikely, the idea of a major disaster is always scary. More people die in traffic accidents than in terror attacks, but everyone’s more afraid of terrorism. Likewise, people feared rampage incidents by ability users, even though they were rare.

Yoon-jo waited for the murmur to settle before continuing.

“Fortunately, technology has improved, and PEC can now detect people who are at risk of rampaging in advance. Korea’s a small country, so technically we can prevent 99% of cases. Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Um, I have a question.”

Someone in the front row suddenly raised their hand. It wasn’t time for Q&A, but Yoon-jo gave a nod of permission. Every time he gave these lectures, someone asked a question right around this point. It was always the same.

The person asked, “Then why do incidents keep happening? Shouldn’t we be able to stop them before they cause trouble?”

The tone was a little snide, but it was a predictable question, and Yoon-jo answered calmly.

“That’s because PEC’s method of tracking ability users isn’t perfect.”

“What do you mean? Are you saying the technology’s lacking?”

“Do you know how PEC detects potential rampagers? It’s not like we slap ankle monitors on ability users. And if someone’s in the middle of an awakening and rampaging, they probably don’t even know they have an ability yet.”

“Well…”

The questioner blinked and didn’t say anything else. Clearly, they didn’t have an answer. Yoon-jo smiled slightly, and the person’s face turned red.

“PEC doesn’t monitor people, it monitors energy. The name stands for Psychic Energy Control Center, right? If there’s a sudden spike in energy somewhere, we can guess someone’s about to rampage.”

“Ah… I see.”

“But there are people who awaken without ever rampaging. You could call them ability prodigies. They’ve been using their powers since they were kids, as naturally as breathing, so they never go through a formal awakening. PEC can’t detect those people. The only way to find them would be to monitor individuals one by one—which would be a massive violation of human rights. Don’t you agree?”

The questioner furrowed their brow, maybe already regretting speaking up. Yoon-jo deliberately looked right at them as he continued.

“Most people report themselves. But a tiny few don’t disclose their abilities—usually because they plan to exploit them. And most of the incidents you hear about happen because of those people. Technically, they’re not even ‘incidents’—they’re crimes.”

“Yes, thank you for the detailed answer.”

The questioner replied hastily, probably afraid Yoon-jo would keep going.

Yoon-jo chuckled and turned his gaze back to the room.

“Our society’s systems weren’t built to nurture criminals. And yet, crime always happens.”

A few people nodded in agreement.

“It’s the same with crimes involving ability users. The police and PEC do their best to prevent them, but total prevention is impossible. Just like with traffic accidents.”

The somber outlook dampened the mood, so Yoon-jo smoothly changed gears.

“You’re probably wondering what kind of safety training this is, right? ‘It’s neither safe nor educational.’”

A few people laughed.

“Still, knowing this stuff will help. Even if an accident’s statistically rare, if it happens to you, it’s a hundred percent real. Common sense might just save your life.”

The image on the screen changed. Large-font safety instructions appeared, and Yoon-jo pointed at them with the laser.

“For ability-related emergencies, don’t call 112. It’s 1172. Repeat after me—report to 1172.”