After the Great Cataclysm, many countries reinstated conscription.

While most gates couldn’t be subdued by the military, they could still be monitored and managed.

South Korea was no exception.

The country already had mandatory conscription, so not much changed in that regard, but new exemption clauses were added to the existing system.

One such clause pertained to awakened individuals, effectively exempting them from military service.

“Awakened players might be deployed to gates at any time.”

Of course, it wasn’t an unconditional exemption.

The procedure was complex—they had to obtain a Hunter’s license, raise their level by at least two tiers, undergo a stats evaluation, and pass a final examination to qualify for complete exemption.

This exemption wasn’t an act of goodwill; it was about utilizing them as Hunter resources rather than regular soldiers.

“The problem is, this complex procedure was only introduced later.”

Currently, players were exempted from conscription as soon as they awakened and received their player certification.

It was a loophole that existed because society hadn’t stabilized long after the Cataclysm, leaving the system full of holes.

Hong Dong-seok, the elder brother of Hong Won-seok, exploited this loophole to commit draft-dodging fraud.

Upon hearing the full story, Hong Won-seok was too overwhelmed to say anything during their ride to the association.

“He’s probably dealing with a whirlwind of emotions.”

It was only natural.

Hong Won-seok had no idea his brother was a draft dodger.

Why?

There wasn’t a complicated reason.

It was simply the result of poor communication between two brothers who didn’t get along.

When they arrived at the association, chaos reigned. The department was in an uproar because of the draft-dodgers Su-ho had apprehended, along with their families.

“This is bullsh*t! I really did awaken!”

“Who the hell reported me?!”

“You’re the ones who issued my player ID! Why are you harassing me now?!”

The audacity was unreal.

The uproar was like nothing anyone had ever seen.

The department’s staff and clerks were sweating bullets, trying to handle the unprecedented mess.

Meanwhile, Su-ho leisurely observed the chaos.

As a mere trainee, he wasn’t obligated to take on active duties.

“It’d be overstepping to make a trainee handle frontline work.”

At that moment—

“You bastard!”

Suddenly, Hong Won-seok, who had been standing beside Su-ho, lunged at someone.

The target was none other than his brother, Hong Dong-seok.

BAM!

A punch landed squarely, sending Dong-seok sprawling to the floor. Won-seok climbed on top of him, grabbing him by the collar.

“You son of a b*tch! Because of you! Because of you!”

Overwhelmed by rage and sorrow, he shook his brother violently.

Eventually, the clerks intervened and separated the two. Watching the scene unfold, Su-ho shook his head and turned away.

But just as he was leaving, Jo Sung-gil, who had spotted him, called out urgently.

“Su-ho!”

“Yes?”

“Where are you going? Help us out here!”

“Me? Help?”

“Who else is going to help? Can’t you see how busy we are?”

“I can see that. But as a trainee, I’m not permitted to perform active duties. I’m also still under field evaluation.”

“What? Field evaluation? But you’re the one who caught all these people—what does some field evaluation even matter at this point?”

Jo Sung-gil trailed off, realizing that Su-ho wasn’t technically wrong.

As Sung-gil fell silent, Su-ho offered him a polite nod and left the department.

“Trying to boss me around, huh?”

Haven’t I done enough? What more do they want?

Su-ho left the department, got into his car, and drove off.

Now it was time to properly deal with the field evaluation.

Su-ho’s destination was a PC café in Incheon.

The café was located on the second floor, and as soon as he entered, a thick cloud of cigarette smoke greeted him.

“They still allow indoor smoking here?”

Well, it made sense.

In such a remote area, it wasn’t a Safe Zone, so the rules were lax.

Plus, who even uses PC cafés these days?

After the Cataclysm and the rise of virtual reality, PC cafés and online gaming industries had rapidly declined.

It was inevitable.

PC games, limited to monitor screens, couldn’t compete with the immersive experience of VR games.

Su-ho looked around the café.

There weren’t many customers—mostly middle-aged men playing old games they were familiar with.

Then, a young man sitting at a corner station caught Su-ho’s attention.

Quietly, Su-ho approached and observed the game he was playing.

The young man was engrossed in a game called Overstrike (often abbreviated as Ops), a legendary FPS that had captivated the world before the Cataclysm.

Su-ho had played it back in the day as well.

After watching the young man play for a while, Su-ho sat at a nearby station, logged into Ops, and entered the basic training mode to reacquaint himself with the game mechanics.

After some time, the young man glanced at Su-ho’s screen and struck up a conversation.

“You play Ops?”

“Yes.”

“Did you sit here on purpose?”

“Yes.”

The young man chuckled at Su-ho’s straightforward answer.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone play this game. Let’s play together. It’s rare to find someone else online.”

“Sure, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course. Add me as a friend—my ID is Railgun.”

“Railgun… Wait, are you the Railgun?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Who hasn’t? You were ranked number one for years before Ops shut down.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“It’s an honor. I never thought I’d get to play with the legendary Railgun.”

Railgun smiled sheepishly, clearly unused to being recognized.

The two of them played Ops together for a while. Their skill gap was significant, but in a game with so few players, skill didn’t really matter. Just having someone to play with was meaningful.

As they played, Su-ho struck up casual conversation.

“Do you work here?”

“Yeah, the owner lets me play games when there aren’t many customers.”

“Sounds like a good boss.”

“He’s great. Hey, are you hungry? Let me treat you to some instant ramen.”

“No, I should be the one treating you. Playing with Railgun is already a privilege.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Railgun smiled warmly and got up to head to the counter. Su-ho followed him.

As Railgun prepared the ramen, Su-ho leaned against the counter and asked casually:

“By the way, Railgun.”

“Yes?”

“Your real name is Kim Gwon, isn’t it?”

“…What?”

“I’m from the APA Non-Awakened Division. My name is An Su-ho. I’m here to see you. May I check your ID?”

“….”

Kim Gwon froze, the ramen seasoning packet still in his hand.

The two locked eyes for a moment before Kim Gwon finally spoke.

“How did you find out?”

“I can’t disclose that. Please show me your ID.”

“….”

Without a word, Kim Gwon nodded and moved toward the back storage room.

However, instead of retrieving his ID, he bolted out the rear exit, running as fast as he could.

Watching him flee, Su-ho sighed.

“Knew it.”

He gave chase.

Kim Gwon sprinted through alleys, zigzagging through the maze-like streets, his heart pounding in his chest.

Finally, he collapsed against a wall, gasping for breath.

“Dammit… How did they find me?”

Just as he was catching his breath, a calm voice rang out behind him.

“Done running?”

“Ah!”

Su-ho appeared out of nowhere and flicked Kim Gwon on the forehead with enough force to knock him flat.

“Argh…”

As Kim Gwon groaned in pain, Su-ho crouched down, meeting his eye level.

“Why run? You know that makes this an immediate arrest, right?”

“You bastard…”

Ignoring the insult, Su-ho smiled faintly.

“Let’s go. We need to sort this out.”

***

Su-ho and Kim Geon arrived at a villa situated on a steep hill, not far from the PC café.

Kim Geon’s residence was located in the semi-basement of the building.

Kim Geon unlocked the door and entered first, with Su-ho following close behind. Inside, Su-ho’s eyes immediately landed on the figure lying on a bed in the living room—this was the real Kim Geon.

Approaching the bed, Su-ho bent down and placed a finger under Kim Geon’s nose.

There was breath. His pulse was steady.

He wasn’t dead.

He was in a catatonic state.

Su-ho nodded slightly and spoke.

“Let me see your ID.”

“……”

At Su-ho’s request, Kim Geon glared at him momentarily before reluctantly retrieving two IDs and handing them over.

One was Kim Geon’s ID, and the other belonged to his younger brother, Kim Gwon.

After confirming both IDs, Su-ho addressed him.

“Mr. Kim Geon, when did your brother awaken?”

“Uh… yesterday.”

“Let’s not lie. You were working at the PC café earlier. A quick look at the work records will tell me exactly when you started. Your possession ability only works on other players, doesn’t it?”

“……!”

Kim Geon’s eyes widened in shock at the mention of possession.

It was just as Su-ho suspected.

Kim Geon’s special trait was Possession. He was one of the rare Possession Players in the country—an individual Su-ho had specifically been tasked to track down as part of this field evaluation.