Chapter 269

## Chapter 269: The Price of Redemption

The data from the second deep-dive into Segwang Metropolitan City had finally been processed.

“The extraction… was a success.”

The Disaster Management Bureau released an official update: Deputy Lee Seong-hae had regained consciousness. It appeared the theoretical “gimmick”—that dying within the warped reality of the Segwang Special City Subway would trigger a wake-up call in the real world—had proven effective.

“Aside from some truly agonizing migraines from having their heads blown open, the group is holding up well. The government worker actually woke up with a grin on his face,” one of the observers noted.

One by one, the team members had perished in the order dictated by their grim game of Russian Roulette, only to reappear in the physical world.

“The smile didn’t last long, though. It vanished the second he realized where he was and what had happened.”

I was the outlier. I remained in a comatose state for over an hour after the others had returned. During that time, the rest of the party grew so frantic they were nearly at the point of physically threatening Ho Yuwon.

“If you hadn’t opened your eyes when you did, we were genuinely preparing to dive back into the Metropolitan City to get you. It’s a relief you made it back before we did something desperate…”

I took a breath. Looking down, I saw my current form: something distinctly non-human, clad in the stark black tactical gear of the Security Team. The room around me was bathed in a gentle, warm light—a soft, domestic atmosphere that felt jarringly disconnected from my monstrous appearance.

This was the Fox Counseling Room.

Ho Yuwon had stayed true to his word. He had intercepted the transit path through the Well that was supposed to lead back to the Disaster Management Bureau, rerouting it here. He had transformed a secret space, hidden behind a cabinet in the waiting area, into a makeshift infirmary and recovery ward. The beds were labeled with our names, resembling patient charts in a private clinic.

Nearby, the agents who had been hovering over me were now engaged in a sharp, tense exchange with Ho Yuwon.

“Explain how this is even possible,” one demanded.

“Oh, now you want to talk!” Ho Yuwon replied with an airy, dismissive tone. “A few minutes ago, you were all threats and violence. I was shaking in my boots…”

He clearly had no intention of giving the Bureau agents a straight answer. It wasn’t surprising. Ho Yuwon was singular in his focus; he would utilize every resource and exploit every loophole to ensure the Segwang Metropolitan City investigation continued, regardless of the ethical or logistical cost.

Once the agents saw I was coherent, they immediately shifted their focus to my actions within the city.

“What kind of suicidal stunt did you pull this time?”

[My friend, that sounds less like an inquiry and more like a guilty verdict!]

I moved quickly to clarify the events. Using a combination of conjured smoke and written messages, I laid out the details. The agents looked like they wanted to give me a piece of their mind for my recklessness, but their anger softened significantly when I mentioned that Ms. Go Young-eun had facilitated my escape. It was the shared silence of people who understood the weight of that kind of sacrifice.

“So… Agent Peppermint was the one who got you out?”

*Positive.*

Without the intervention of Ms. Go Young-eun, I likely would have been dismantled and forced into a permanent role as a dealer within that hellscape.

“Did she happen to mention why she was trapped in that disaster in the first place?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned my gaze toward Ho Yuwon. The others followed my lead, their eyes narrowing as they focused on him.

*Question: What were the criteria for selecting the undercover personnel?*

“I don’t see why that information is relevant to you,” Ho Yuwon said smoothly.

*Criteria for selection: Individuals with personal ties to Segwang Metropolitan City.*

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re implying.” He managed to look wounded, tilting his head and lowering his eyebrows in a performative display of pity. “It truly is a tragedy. It seems that poor soul is utterly bound to Segwang Metropolitan City. Not even the release of death can grant her an exit.”

He paused, letting the weight of that sink in.

“But there’s no need for gloom. You are all perfectly welcome to assist her while you work on my project.”

The audacity of the man was staggering.

Deputy Manager Eun Haje signaled for a private word, drawing myself and Manager Lee Jaheon into a corner.

“This feels like a setup,” she whispered, her voice tight. “He’s dangling her like bait to keep us anchored to his little project, isn’t he?”

I manipulated the black smoke, a chill settling over me.

*Agree.*

I wasn’t sure when he had started weaving this web, but I was certain Ho Yuwon knew about Ms. Go Young-eun’s history with the city long ago. A man that obsessed with Segwang wouldn’t miss a detail like that. Even his first words to me upon waking—*”Have you found a reason to go back in?”*—suggested he knew exactly who was trapped in there.

It was a pattern. He had recruited Mr. Jang Heo-un because of his connection to the Pleasant Research Institute. He had chosen me for reasons I was only beginning to grasp. He hadn’t just picked people who could pass a screening; he had picked people who were already compromised by the world he wanted to explore.

Eun Haje let out a long, weary sigh. “No wonder the goals for this investigation were so vague. He was just waiting for a reason to shove us back into the meat grinder.”

“I can hear you, Haje,” Ho Yuwon called out.

“Good. Keep listening. I’m talking about my cat,” she snapped back, her patience with the corporate hierarchy clearly exhausted.

Despite the refreshing nature of her defiance, I felt a lingering sense of dread. How much of this had he engineered? How many of our “choices” were actually just steps on his pre-determined path? It wouldn’t change my course—I needed to understand this world and my own existence—but the manipulation left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Watch your back,” she warned.

*Agree.*

There was, however, one genuine victory to hold onto: we had saved Deputy Manager Lee Seong-hae.

“They say she’s on her way,” someone mentioned.

The following day, Ho Yuwon escorted her into the Fox Counseling Room. She had undergone a grueling debriefing and “cleansing” process by the Disaster Management Bureau, but when she walked in, she looked remarkably like her old self. Her eyes still held that distinctive, vibrant green spark.

“Hello, Mr. Noru! It’s so good to see you!”

She showed no signs of the psychological trauma or PTSD one would expect. She was upbeat and articulate, though she occasionally slipped into the professional jargon of a casino dealer or shared an uncomfortably deep knowledge of high-stakes gambling.

“I think the containment field might have filtered out the worst of the corruption from the Body Casino,” she mused.

“Forget the corruption,” Eun Haje remarked, looking her over. “It’s a miracle you’re even talking, considering your body was literally in pieces.”

“Oh, that? The pain was only for a moment,” Lee Seong-hae said with a casual wave of her hand. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, so why dwell on it?”

Her nonchalance was unsettling. The rest of us had spent weeks reeling from the horrors of the first station, yet she seemed to have just brushed it off.

[Think of it as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Some people are simply built differently for these environments.]

But the reality of her ordeal wasn’t entirely absent.

“The only thing is… these won’t move.”

She gestured to her legs. The parts of herself she hadn’t been able to win back from the casino were completely paralyzed. She had arrived in a wheelchair.

“Can you feel anything?”

“A little bit? There’s a strange phantom sensation. ‘Held as collateral’ is the best way to describe it. It’s like my brain sends the signal, but the legs don’t recognize my authority.”

Physically, her legs looked perfect. A medical scan would likely show healthy tissue and bone. But the spiritual debt was real.

“And the eye I traded… I’m almost completely blind in it. Well, what can you do?”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. If I hadn’t managed to reclaim my own limbs from the rail… I could have been in the same position. Or worse.

“Hey, Grapes,” Agent Choi said, turning to me. “You mentioned Agent Peppermint carried you out? She’s barely five feet tall, and she hauled you the whole way?”

I felt a shift in the room’s energy.

“Actually, you’ve been sitting there for a long time. Why don’t you try standing up and stretching those legs, Grapes?”

…

*Legs non-functional.*
*Reason: Forfeited at the casino.*

“Wait…!”

It was true. My legs were as useless as Lee Seong-hae’s. It was a price I had known I’d have to pay.

“Mr. Roe Deer? You can’t walk?”

*Negative: Movement is possible.*

“Show us, then.”

I focused. Rather than trying to force my physical legs to move, I tapped into the essence of the smoke. In a swirl of dark mist, I vanished from my seat and reappeared in a chair across the room.

The agents stared. It was a spectral, unsettling sight—vanishing and reappearing like a ghost—but it gave me a form of mobility. I flickered around the room, manifesting in different spots through the smoke.

*Ta-da!*

I felt a brief flash of pride. It wasn’t human, but it was functional. It wasn’t so bad…

Wait.

Did I just think the word “Ta-da”?

A sudden, sharp coldness bloomed in my chest. I had just seen a friend crippled by a cosmic disaster, and I was performing magic tricks? My emotional responses were being dampened. The horror of Segwang Metropolitan City was already starting to feel distant and academic, just as it had for Lee Seong-hae before she woke up.

‘It’s happening again.’

I was worried about Ms. Go Young-eun, but it was a cold, calculated worry, devoid of the visceral panic I should have felt. I would have to be incredibly disciplined to maintain my humanity. I could still plan, I could still think, but the feeling was slipping away.

I stopped the display and returned to my original chair. Lee Seong-hae, who had been clapping for me, turned serious.

“I realized I haven’t said this yet, and I’m sorry I’m late with it.” She looked at each of us in turn. “Thank you. You saved my life. Especially you, Mr. Noru… you gave up your legs for me.”

She scanned our faces, her green eyes searching.

“No one here resents me for it. I can see that.” She nodded to herself. “You all… you are truly decent people. I won’t forget what you’ve done. I will find a way to pay you back.”

“Forget the repayment!” Eun Haje laughed. “If you want to do us a favor, just quit that creepy, cult-like company you work for.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Lee Seong-hae replied with a small smile.

“A shame. Truly.”

“But,” Lee Seong-hae continued, “if there’s ever a time I can help you, please ask. More importantly…” She looked at Eun Haje’s missing limb. “I think Assistant Manager Dolphin might need one of those—an assistive device.”

She was right.

*Recommendation: Acquire prosthetic/assistive equipment.*
*Usage: Required until original limbs are recovered from the casino.*

In this world, there were many ways to compensate for lost parts. I looked at Baek Saheon, who had remained silent the entire time, likely calculating the most profitable way to navigate this conversation. He had an artificial eye. I would need something for my legs.

‘If I go back into the city, I’ll be a liability without a way to move.’

There was also the promise from the “Reptilian Aliens”—the group Manager Lee Jaheon belonged to. They had promised me a way to take on a human appearance. But if that human form couldn’t walk, I’d still be stuck.

“I agree,” Lee Seong-hae said, her smile returning. “We have to go back for Ms. Goral, after all. We can’t leave someone that kind behind. She helped me more than I can say.”

She went quiet for a moment, thinking through the logistics. “I should probably head back to the office and see about manufacturing some gear.”

“If you’re talking about making equipment…”

“We’re talking about the Annex.”

The memories surfaced. The Annex housed several Twilight-grade entities that the Daydream employees used to craft specialized tools.

* [Pleasant Research Institute’s Toy Maker / Qterw-E-07]
* [Kind Seed Kit / Qterw-E-99]
* [Offering a Ritual / Qterw-E-404]

The Field Investigation Team usually stuck with the ‘Kind Seed Kit,’ but for this situation, the others—though more expensive—seemed far more appropriate.

“There’s a problem,” Ho Yuwon interrupted. “The company has officially suspended all equipment production involving the Annex entities.”

“Then we’ll just have to do it without permission,” Lee Seong-hae said simply.

Ho Yuwon blinked, caught off guard for a split second. “And what exactly is the reason for the suspension?”

“They said there was an ‘incident’ at the Annex. I haven’t seen the report yet, so I don’t have the details.”

“I see. Find out what happened.”

“Gah.” Agent Choi let out a muffled snort, trying to hide a laugh. Agent Bronze gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.

“Well,” Ho Yuwon said, recovering his composure. “If you’re willing to commit to my project, I suppose I should facilitate your needs. You need equipment, yes?”

“Exactly. Are you giving us the green light, Director?”

“Officially? Absolutely not.” Ho Yuwon’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “But I might be able to help you use the facilities… discreetly.”

“Really?”

“To pull it off…” Ho Yuwon turned his gaze to me. “We’re going to need some help from the inside.”

He was looking at my Security Team uniform. I already knew exactly who he had in mind.

—

Park Minseong let out a long breath as he unzipped his tactical jacket. It had been an exhausting shift. The Annex had been in a state of constant upheaval lately, and the workload for the Security Team had tripled.

Ever since Subject 130666 had been reassigned to Director Ho’s personal detail, the rest of the team had been stretched thin, constantly moving from one crisis to the next.

‘I hope he’s doing okay.’

He’d heard very little news. In this company, people vanished or died every day; he found himself oscillating between dark worries and desperate hopes. He was waiting for J3, the Security Chief, to arrive for the daily report, sitting slumped on a tattered sofa in the team’s quarters.

He was just about to drift off when a voice cut through the silence.

“Minseong.”

He bolted upright, his hand going to his side instinctively.

“Deputy Manager…?”

A familiar face stood before him. For a heartbeat, he thought it was a trick of the darkness, a hallucination brought on by exhaustion. But then a hand reached out and ruffled his hair—the touch was solid and real.

“It’s been a while, kid.”

Behind Eun Haje, two more figures emerged.

“Noru… Manager…”

It was an impossible reunion. Their circumstances were different, their appearances had changed, and the world felt like it was falling apart, but seeing them together like this made Park Minseong feel a sudden, sharp ache of nostalgia. For a brief second, it felt like the old Field Investigation Team D was back together.

*Question: Is the security detail for 130666 faring well?*

“We’re… we’re getting by,” Park Minseong managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. He watched as the remnants of his old team sat down on the worn sofa.

“Alright, listen up. We have something very important to discuss.”

Eun Haje draped an arm around his shoulders, a casual gesture she’d done a thousand times on the job.

“You remember how we used to operate, right?”

Minseong felt a genuine smile break across his face—the first one in a long time. “Yeah. What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to steal something from the company.”

Minseong’s smile froze. “Wait, what?”