—[We inform the coalition forces. Retreat is forbidden. Hold the area. Reinforcements will arrive within a week.]

—[The coalition forces are bravely fighting in America, and the so-called ‘immortal army’ has been proven false according to investigations. This is a minor confusion caused by the accumulated fatigue of front-line soldiers.]

—[Seattle and Vancouver are footholds to stranglehold America, and our allies are currently toppling the nefarious US military....]

"Such utter nonsense. What’s the current situation?"

"The Eastern Defense Commander, Heyrang, has pulled back forces and is moving north toward Vancouver. It appears to be an arbitrary action without consultation with us."

"I suspected as much."

A deep sigh escaped from the command and control room of the Eastern Defense Command on the Russian side. It wouldn’t have been surprising if there was a shout about needing to pull back troops, but instead of that, they merely muttered curses under their breath, showing no reaction whatsoever.

It was truly a dire situation. Meanwhile, the propaganda being churned out from the homeland, where they had no clue about the real situation, echoed the absurd claims reminiscent of the past WW2 Nazi Germany. Of course, none of it contained any truth—just a batting average lower than that of a broken clock.

But that wasn't the only problem. As the staff member pointed out, the word “alliance” was cracking—perhaps it was more accurate to say it had long since descended into disaster.

"Who even thought it was a good idea to give equal command authority to both sides?"

Russia and China. These were gang nations that, assuming they were holding the world’s hegemony, couldn’t see the poor situation unfolding. In reality, an alliance of these two countries was nothing but empty talk, as neither wanted to fall under the other’s dominion.

Thus, a bizarre conclusion was drawn. The nonsense of appointing one commander from each side emerged. Naturally, coordinating joint operations required 'cooperation' from the other country's commander, which only served to reduce command efficiency at a time when the front lines were beginning to crumble.

A hologram floated into view. A holographic arrow marked with the five-starred flag was moving north toward Seattle, while a red arrow indicating the enemy prepared to strike mercilessly at the eastern defense line. An offensive was expected to restart within a few hours at the earliest, or two days at the latest.

"Request support from the northern garrison. If the east falls, the center will be completely exposed."

"I’ve heard more than half of our forces have already been diverted to the southern defense line. Will they grant permission for that?"

"We need to buy time until the expeditionary forces retreat. If this area falls first, our flanks will be completely crushed, and our allies will be left in a state of utter despair."

"Cruise missile bombing warning!"

A dreadful noise echoed throughout the command center, yet no one bothered to take important documents and rush to the bomb shelter. They had heard it so many times that they deemed it better to continue their duties as long as it didn’t fall on them.

However, this time was different. The communications officer, who had been shouting into the radio, suddenly turned pale and spoke somberly.

"…Observations of a 5kt explosion in Issaquah and Redmond. Communication with the defending forces in that area has been cut off."

"Damn it."

The palpable sense of hostility grew stronger every second.

The United States vowed to drive enemy forces that invaded the land of freedom back into the Pacific Ocean, willing to tolerate even nuclear strikes on their own territory if it meant no civilians remained at the impact site.

Despite having an unwavering determination to incinerate all those who didn’t wear the same uniform, the upper echelons were oblivious to reality, babbling about strengthening negotiations, or even ceasefire talks if that wasn’t possible.

Damage estimates were automatically calculated. The bombing had likely taken out a significant portion of the enemy’s power. Of course, with the Chinese forces, who could hardly be labeled as allies, having defected, it was closer to saying both arms were already missing.

"Readjust the defense line. About 2 km back from the ground zero. I’ll leave the details to you. I have to go request the expeditionary headquarters for a retreat or, if that’s impossible, for reinforcements."

"Understood."

The Eastern Defense Commander said this with a rather unpleasant expression as he left the conference room, while the staff hurriedly rearranged the available forces into the newly adjusted defensive line.

Of course, unfortunate events were just beginning. Although it seemed the Commander’s proposal would conclude with ordering Heyrang to cancel his northward movement and return to the original defense point, mass troop movements always left many traces. It wouldn’t take long for the operational satellites of the U.S. military to pick this up.

And this incoming thunderbolt was expected not to come from the U.S. mainland but from across the Pacific.

"Biscuit released. Challenge code being transmitted... Kilo, Tango, 7, 1, 2, 0."

"Response code being sent... Romeo, Papa, 9, 5, 5, 5. November, Delta, 6, 2, 6, 1. Major attack option 1. Launching unit is the Third Fleet."

"November, Delta, 6, 2, 6, 1. Major attack option 1. Launch command transmission completed."

Having engaged in total warfare for quite some time, the advisory committee meetings had long been skipped, and the code, which exceeded 300 characters, had already been condensed. As a result, within less than three minutes, five missiles crossed the Pacific.

Just as the defense line was being adjusted, and through nearly insubordinate persuasion, the Eastern Defense Commander Heyrang was set to return to the defensive area.

—Boom!

The thunderbolt fell.

The fact that it was a laser hydrogen bomb with almost no radiation was the only consolation for the coalition forces, as that day, no fewer than seven mushroom clouds erupted in eastern Seattle.

Though Iskander missiles were hastily launched toward the south, the U.S. had long since installed five 260mm railguns at the Lewis-McChord Joint Base in less than a week—meaning the missiles crumbled into pieces and exploded into sparks as they flew through the air.

They had sharpened their blades for battle.

And nobody was unaware of that fact.

There was little time left.

The coalition forces remaining in Seattle had to choose whether they would become ashes or fish food.

Meanwhile.

"I just wanted to check out a house, and look at all this…."

Eugene stared at his bank account, which had a lot of zeros, wearing an expression that was impossible to describe.

It had only been 24 hours since he had set off to view potential homes.

"This place is nice; the corridors and passageways are wide. Other places were divided unnecessarily, making it inconvenient to move around."

"It was designed with the real residents' perspectives thoroughly considered. Additionally, all the glass is semi-transparent, so while you can see outside from inside, you cannot see inside from outside."

"Please continue guiding me."

Who am I? Where is this?

It felt like something was off, but the impressive high ceiling of the penthouse, which was so high that even a vertical jump wouldn’t let him touch the ceiling, was enough to melt his mind. Of course, he had been thinking about moving to a larger home since he had a decent number of visitors recently, but this was…

Anyway, a brief explanation is in order. I was currently down in Gangnam for a while. I was here to check out a new house—though this house was not your typical apartment but rather a penthouse that felt like it was forever out of reach for me.

The circumstances that led to this were a bit complicated and required a brief rewind.

"I’m planning to move; where do you think is good?"

A text message.

Below that, there were several detailed requests. For instance, since several people might be staying or sleeping at the house, it needed to be quite spacious, and a dining room with various facilities or an outdoor garden would be preferable—something along those lines.

However, the sender was a bit of an issue. In short, I had sent this message to a law firm that was always available due to inertia. Naturally, it was to be expected that the law firm could handle a wide range of matters, not only between individuals but also real estate matters without any significant issues.

And just like that, the situation ballooned.

—[The residence of your company’s chairman is about to be relocated. Please keep this in mind for future reference.]

Since this law firm was already dealing with various odds and ends related to the think tank, the news was immediately reported to the firm’s board, and upon hearing it, they reacted with, "Since we’re at it, shouldn’t we go for something good?" They unexpectedly allocated a portion of company profits for this purpose.

Thus, I suddenly received enough funds to buy 1.5 Leopard 2 tanks, and I was half-pushed into this situation, stepping foot into a penthouse at the top of Cheongdam-dong.

With Laurentina.

"It’s nice and spacious. If it were Vermont, I would have had the fun of hiding one or two guns all over the house."

"People here aren’t ignorant of the word ‘gun’ in English, you know."

"This is spacious and pleasant. If it were Vermont, it would be fun to hide one or two bags everywhere."

"That doesn’t mean you should speak in Russian…."

She was such a handful.

The guide’s pupils were shaking slightly. It was brief, but she quickly collected herself and asked if she should call a staff member who could speak Russian. I shook my head quickly. This is insane.

And so, I began to look around here and there.

"This is the bathroom and washroom."

"The wall tiles are a bit…."

"They look like fish scales."

"If you wish, I can connect you with renowned interior design firms such as Ishka Designs or Lucy Harris Studio. There are no waiting lists, and construction will begin within three days at the latest."

"I’ll decide after taking a closer look."

"Understood."

As Laurentina glanced around, she spoke up.

In Russian again.

"Wouldn’t it be better somewhere like Malibu than this tiny little place? In Norfolk, I could have built a mansion of several hundred pyeong for the same cost."

"That doesn’t mean I can move to the U.S."

"Just joking."

There was a hint of truth in that joke.

Originally, I hadn’t planned on coming to such a magnificent place. As mentioned, I was here due to an unexpectedly blown-up situation.

Of course, it wasn’t that this house was lacking. Quite the opposite. It was great for accommodating large numbers of people, and it was suitable for letting the likes of Logan or Laurentina stay at my house for extended periods. Additionally, this had been a recommendation from the think tank side as well.

Since it turned out this way, I had to decide how to use the indoor space.

"The living room can be appropriately made into a dining room with interior proposals, and for the master bedroom… I think just a bed will do since I’ll always be sleeping here. For the remaining rooms, I can fit in a couple of foldable beds or maybe four or five."

"That would certainly turn it into a lodging facility."

"Considering many of the rooms won’t even be used, it’s better to use them in that way."

As I determined the purpose of each room one by one, it started to become quite enjoyable.

The broadcasting studio would be set on the second floor, as it had ample space. Although the house itself was spacious, it was still quite empty without any furniture, and the guide staff eagerly projected a hologram into the air. A staggering amount of photos floated up. It turned out to be recommended interior designs.

I decided to look through them calmly later and also add this to the contract costs. Meanwhile, a room designated to house a projector for meetings—intended for discussions with the think tank and Icarus—was also selected. The remaining balcony garden was left for now.

The contract was finalized, and once I sent a detailed estimate, the renovations for the penthouse would commence. As soon as the essential conditions for living were met, I could move my belongings.

As I pondered various thoughts, the next words came.

"Anyway, we succeeded in this, didn’t we? Our youngest."

"…Indeed. It’s surreal seeing things happening that I couldn’t even have imagined just six months ago."

Then, as if luck had finally come through.

Laurentina plopped down heavily onto the couch and added.

"By the way, just like in America, there’s a housewarming party in Korea too. I’ve seen quite a few of your friends, but you’ve never brought your family, have you? Is there some not-so-great backstory?"

"Um…."

"Is it not a pleasant matter? Oh dear… I’ve been rude. How terribly impolite…."

"Ah, it’s not like that."

"Is it okay for me to hear this story?"

"Yes."

The words came in like a shock.

But my instinct told me this was the right time to reveal something I hadn’t known until just a few days ago, and I locked eyes with the internal guide staff for a moment. After a noise of footsteps closing the door behind me, only the two of us remained in the house.

Where should I start?

"Actually, I received some shocking news from my parents not long ago."

"I think I heard they were promoted to executive vice president and assigned to an overseas branch."

"That wasn’t the case."

At the same moment, an electronic business card floated up.

A few days earlier—on the day when the battle had officially broken out in downtown Seattle—my parents had called me to say they had something to discuss at dinner. I had dashed into another room during my streaming session.

What I saw was:

[Lee Hyun Jin / Lee So Yeon]

[Executive Vice President / Board Director]

[XXXXXXXX@XXX.XXXXXX]

[XXX-XXX-XXXX]

[ICARUS International]

"Wow."

"You just pinpointed exactly what I wanted to say."

Life is indeed this strange.

"Reality density is normal. No signs of world line vibrations. Synchronization with the second world line is nearly complete. You two should be able to return soon."

"Finally getting out of this place. You've worked hard."

"After five years and four months, I’m finally going back to see my son... no, daughter. Thank you for all your hard work up to now."

"We're even more grateful to the two of you for understanding and enduring."

In the basement of Two Bridges, Icarus International headquarters.

In that very location, where no one but Eugene could enter, there was a middle-aged couple.