DL Episode 82

#82

Baek Sa pondered whether he could frame the story as Representative Tak recognizing someone as wretched as himself—no different from Kang Ha-na or Kang Du-na—and choosing to “save” him by making him a confidant. After all, keeping powerful individuals close as a tool to maintain authority was a common practice among the representatives here.

‘You said you lost your memory. Who told you the name Baek Seung-woo?’

When Ha-gyeom had asked, Baek Sa hadn’t felt the need to walk a tightrope between truth and lies. That, in part, was thanks to Representative Tak. Baek Sa had told Ha-gyeom only the truth.

‘And who is that?’

‘A colleague of my parents.’

Was it luck or misfortune that Representative Tak had ties to Baek Sa’s now-deceased parents?

‘Wouldn’t he have been just a kid himself before the invasion?’

‘Fourteen years ago, I was seventeen. My face would’ve been recognizable enough.’

‘What kind of work did your parents do?’

‘They were members of parliament. You were too young to know them, even if I told you.’

Before the invasion, Representative Tak had been a parliamentarian in the same party as Baek Sa’s mother. Now, he had risen to become one of the central leaders of District 0.

When Tak had encountered the S-class Esper, who had allegedly lost his memory in a battle outside the district, he couldn’t hide his blatant joy. It was only natural. To an Esper who didn’t even know who he was, Tak was the only person who could provide the deeply desired ‘name’ they lacked. No leader would pass up the chance to recruit someone with such abilities into their fold.

In truth, whether that Esper had actually lost his memory or not was irrelevant. That’s why Baek Sa had taken their reunion as an opportunity. Through Tak, he had not only uncovered the existence of other representatives but also successfully established himself as a seemingly credible member of their ranks.

‘Then who is this so-called colleague of your parents?’

In terms of missions, this had been a clear success. However, in front of Ha-gyeom, Baek Sa chose not to disclose the name. Whether Ha-gyeom gained Tak’s favor or started showing interest in him was equally dangerous.

If Ha-gyeom had been sent back to the Center, none of this would have been an issue. But Tak’s sudden interest in him was proving to be a headache. It was unclear what his intentions were when he spoke so playfully, but his words were not to be trusted or dismissed outright. The goodwill Tak projected outwardly was just a facade. When dealing with a leader, it was more important than ever to discern the true intent lurking beneath the surface.

“Your silence suggests you want me to ramble on endlessly and shamelessly again,” Tak said, smiling with satisfaction.

Baek Sa merely frowned slightly, as if it were no big deal. Mistaking it for embarrassment, Tak flashed a broad grin, baring his teeth. The sight made nausea well up inside Baek Sa, but he masked it effortlessly, standing up to straighten his disheveled clothing.

“Maybe it’s because nightly affairs don’t mean much anymore, but my body feels sluggish.”

Under normal circumstances, Tak would have stayed a while longer, pacing back and forth along the metaphorical rails. But today, he seemed restless. As Tak climbed out of the pool with a splash, Baek Sa handed him a towel. Tak’s eyes gleamed like a snake’s as he whispered.

“They say guides are the best for nighttime pleasures. Guiding, or whatever it is, happens so often anyway. And Espers? Their lower halves couldn’t possibly be lacking…”

It was clear he was referring to someone in particular. If it was just a ploy to assert dominance, it didn’t faze Baek Sa. But there was no guarantee that it was an idle boast either. His gaze narrowed like a snake’s, giving neither affirmation nor denial. Tak scowled as if displeased by the lack of reaction.

“They may call them resources and worship them, but if they don’t fall in line, I’ll—”

“If you end up facing punishment, it wouldn’t reflect well on your status.”

The key was not to push too hard, nor to yield too much. The absurdity of having to play this back-and-forth game with a man well past fifty almost made Baek Sa laugh. Yet, even as he stood his ground right next to Tak, he noticed the older man’s shoulders, considerably broader than his own, tense and twitch.

“…With all I’ve built up, I suppose I can’t afford that.”

The snake-like glint in Tak’s eyes vanished in an instant. He was always careful not to provoke until the moment sparks might fly. As Baek Sa’s indifferent gaze revealed no particular reaction, Tak eventually backed off, walking away still drenched from the pool.

“How about accompanying me on an inspection?”

Following Tak’s retreating figure, Baek Sa’s shoes began to grow damp from the wet floor. With each step he took, his gaze hardened as he followed the trail of damp footprints. His sharp eyes fixated on the unnaturally broad and well-trained back of the man walking ahead of him.

* * *

By dusk, after enduring a full day of Representative Tak’s whims, only the final schedule remained. Following inspections of the power plant, the drug manufacturing facility, and the brothels under Tak’s control, the representative and Baek Sa arrived at a crematorium—a place whose chimneys had never ceased spewing black smoke since its construction.

Representative Tak, accompanied by Baek Sa and four mercenaries, revealed his irritation as soon as the black smoke reached his nostrils. He rubbed his nose as if he had just inhaled a dose of narcotic powder.

“This place has terrible energy. The air here is atrocious, too.”

The mercenaries exchanged knowing glances at his familiar complaint. Everyone standing at the crematorium’s entrance could predict what Tak would say next.

“I’m tired, so let’s call it a day. The rest…”

He spun around and pointed to Baek Sa.

“I’ll leave to Baek Sa.”

With that, Tak briskly organized the mercenaries and departed. Even after playing the role of Tak’s “face” all day only to be left behind as a sacrificial lamb, Baek Sa didn’t bother to laugh. He merely shook his head.

Left alone, Baek Sa stood for a while, staring at the chimney, which emitted smoke as thick as that of the power plant. Beyond the massive structure, the sky was painted red. Soon, most of District 0 would fall asleep, though not the places Baek Sa had visited today. Knowing that the lights inside this crematorium hadn’t gone out once in the past twelve years sent a chill down his spine.

Baek Sa pushed open the rusted iron door and stepped into the cold interior. After passing through three locked doors, the heat began to seep in. With numerous cremation furnaces blazing, it was no surprise that the heat reached outside.

He entered the office where workers were supposed to be stationed but found no one there. Choosing not to sit on the tattered, tear-marked sofa, Baek Sa crossed his arms and waited for someone to find him.

“So, the representative didn’t come today either?”

Before long, Nam Chang-hoon, who had managed the crematorium since its construction, appeared. Covered in soot as if he had just emerged from a coal mine, Nam wiped the dust—or ash—on his hands onto his shiny apron.

“At the door…”

“I saw you through the CCTV. Figured you’d wait, so I didn’t rush. Thought it’d be less hassle to finish up and report everything at once.”

Nam seemed reluctant to specify what he had been doing. Despite the nature of his work, which few criticized anymore, his reaction remained peculiar. Baek Sa didn’t dwell on it, instead watching silently as Nam opened a black file folder and licked his thumb to flip through the pages.

“Twelve bodies were received today.”

Nam reported this indifferently as he flipped through the records, which were brief given the circumstances.

“Five died of natural causes or illness.”

This category mainly included the elderly, irradiated workers, or those who succumbed to untreated illnesses.

“Three suicides.”

While not extraordinary, suicides had always been a grim reality. Even with differences from pre-invasion times, despair continued to drive people—those paralyzed by fear of monsters, dreading a hopeless future, crushed by harsh living conditions, or exposed to unpreventable crimes.

“Two deaths from accidents at the factory…”

Nam, who usually recited reports in a monotonous tone, hesitated and glanced up nervously.

“…two were children.”

“Children?”

“They were working in tight spaces when the machinery…”

Baek Sa shook his head, indicating he didn’t need to hear more. Among the laborers who worked tirelessly except when sleeping, there were children just entering puberty. Machines too small for even those children were entrusted to even younger ones under the excuse of their smaller hands. Baek Sa had already seen such scenes earlier at the drug factory, where young children handled chemicals in cramped spaces.

Nam, noticing Baek Sa’s visibly furrowed brow, cleared his throat awkwardly and flipped to the next page.

“One guide was killed by an Esper. There was a fight at the detention center.”

“What was the guide’s grade?”

“D.”

The loss wasn’t significant. Nam, aware of this, quickly moved to the last record.

“And one more was killed—also murder.”

The sparse details in the report prompted Baek Sa to meet Nam’s eyes. Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, Nam elaborated.

“It’s not unusual for the representative to leave abruptly, but today… well, considering the record is about someone he killed himself, it’s no wonder he didn’t want to stick around to hear it.”

Baek Sa’s temples throbbed. He thought of the man who had bled out on Tak’s bed. He hadn’t expected the wounds to be fatal. Suppressing his irritation, he managed to smooth his furrowed brow as Nam neatly closed the file and added matter-of-factly:

“And that makes twelve in total.”

The smoke in the area had reached where Baek Sa was standing, making his throat scratchy. As Nam tucked the file under his arm, Baek Sa asked without hesitation.

“What about punishment?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, the Esper who killed the guide has been detained.”

Aside from unavoidable deaths and perpetrators who were granted impunity, the only person likely to face punishment was the one Esper. While the deceased guide wasn’t particularly valuable, incidents like these served as cautionary tales in a place where resources were held in high regard.

“Excluding irradiated bodies, the rest…”

“You don’t have to say it. You want their ashes returned to their families, right?”

Without that, the remains would undoubtedly be treated no better than waste on the island. When Baek Sa nodded, Nam smiled and wiped his hands on his apron once more.

“Well, at least something good happens for those who died unjustly when you visit.”

“…”

“It’s not exactly a pleasant place, but please come more often.”