REDMASK: So, Um-chang, let me ask you a few things. Did you personally test that Litzy?

엄창11: ㅇ

REDMASK: ?

엄창11: Why?

REDMASK: Um-chang, are your parents around?

엄창11: They're at work.

REDMASK: Even if you're anonymous, you should maintain basic manners. We're humans, not animals. ;;

엄창11: Yes, ma'am.

REDMASK: Sigh...

엄창11: ??

REDMASK: Alright, where are you right now?

엄창11: In Incheon.

REDMASK: I see... When you tested the Litzy, did you experience any hallucinations? Like strong imagery, something vivid that came to mind, or maybe light radiating from around you that surprised others?

"Imagery..."

I recalled something: the phenomenon commonly experienced during an Awakening, often referred to as the Awakening Moment.

Woo Min-hee listed examples of these phenomena: pathological hallucinations, intense afterimages that linger with closed eyes, or symbolic visions.

For lower-ranked Awakened individuals, these are the typical signs.

For truly powerful Awakened, the Awakening can manifest as a dramatic sensory event that radiates a noticeable impact on their surroundings.

I’ve seen it before.

I remember how Kang Han-min and Na Hye-in awakened in that hopeless battlefield and obtained their true strength.

It felt like the world itself was shifting around them.

Understandable—two of the strongest Awakened of the era had awakened simultaneously.

Then, my mentor came to mind.

Had he experienced any visible Awakening phenomena?

His white Litzy suggested he might have shown signs so vivid that anyone could recognize them.

REDMASK: Um-chang? Why aren’t you responding?

Lost in thought, I didn’t realize I’d left Woo Min-hee waiting.

Her tone betrayed her usual impatience, restrained only because she believed I was a child.

If we’d been face-to-face, I might have gotten a smack upside the head.

엄창11: I saw a big axe.

REDMASK: An axe?

엄창11: Yes, it was burning on the blade, and, uh, the handle looked like water.

I loosely based the description on something I’d read in accounts of Awakening experiences.

Why do I know this? I once participated in an Awakening trial myself.

Barely survived it.

Others didn’t.

Stronger tests can literally pulverize a person’s soul.

REDMASK: I see. Um-chang, do you realize what an extraordinary thing you’ve done?

엄창11: No. Some older guy lent me his phone and told me to post it here.

REDMASK: I-I see.

REDMASK: Are you eating well? And you’re only able to use the phone near a military base, right?

엄창11: Not really eating well. My dad brings back these weird nutrition bars, and we just scrape by.

REDMASK: We can send your whole family to Jeju Island.

There it was: Jeju Island.

엄창11: Jeju Island? But we’re taking a ship there. The schedule’s already set.

REDMASK: When? On which fleet?

엄창11: Not sure. But we’re leaving soon.

REDMASK: The first fleet? Hmm, you shouldn’t board that one.

엄창11: Why not?

REDMASK: Rumor has it that Chinese submarines are prowling around. If you're unlucky, you and your family might end up sinking to the bottom of the sea.

엄창11: Then how do we get to Jeju Island?

REDMASK: By plane, of course.

엄창11: Are planes even flying right now?

REDMASK: Yes, if you know the right people. Don’t worry. If you come here and pass a simple test, we can certify your eligibility for school, and your whole family can move to Jeju. On Jeju, you’ll have electricity, houses, and even games. Do you like League of Legends? I do. You can even play ranked games there.

She sent a picture.

The image showed a picturesque row of townhouses against a backdrop of Jeju’s stunning sunset, families enjoying a peaceful life reminiscent of pre-war times.

"..."

I had suspected this.

The Jeju evacuation fleets were a lie, a ruse.

The truly capable Awakened candidates were flown out separately.

It made sense in a brutal, utilitarian way.

Younger candidates—those with a higher Awakening success rate and who could be indoctrinated—were handpicked for Jeju.

Veterans like Kim Daram, who had already been through hell, were left to fend for themselves.

I had heard all I needed to.

I even took screenshots of the entire conversation.

I could have ended it there, but since I had my dear junior alone in a one-on-one chat, I decided to push further.

엄창11: Can zombies become Awakened?

REDMASK: Zombies?

REDMASK: That’s an odd question. Zombies are dead people.

엄창11: But what if a dead person comes back to life?

REDMASK: Hmm. Wouldn’t that be a pointless experiment?

Pointless experiment?

Did she not know my mentor’s current state?

One last question.

엄창11: If I’m white-ranked, how strong am I? Can I beat you?

REDMASK: Probably not.

REDMASK: I’m really strong, you know.

엄창11: Wow...

REDMASK: But if you go to Jeju, learn to control your psychic abilities, and refine your talents, you might someday outshine me.

엄창11: I see.

REDMASK: Anyway, where are you? Incheon, right? Can you come to Pier 8?

엄창11: Yes.

REDMASK: Um-chang ^^

“?”

REDMASK: You’re not in the capital region, are you?

엄창11: What?

REDMASK: Oh~ The network ID you’re using isn’t registered in our government network database. Where are you, Um-chang? Are you in the countryside? Hmm? Big sis doesn’t have a great temper, so be honest~

No way.

Was she tracking my IP address?

It made sense. Most Failnet users piggybacked on government or military communication networks, making it possible—especially on a site they controlled.

This meant our conversation was nearing its end.

But I wasn’t done yet.

엄창11: Big sis, what’s your name and age?

REDMASK: Min-hee.

엄창11: Mini? Are you short? Or is it your chest?

REDMASK: Stop joking around. ^^

엄창11: How old are you?

REDMASK: Thirty.

엄창11: Wow, you’re an auntie!

REDMASK: Um-chang? ^^ I’m tracing your IQ... I mean, IP address. ^^

Would you like to leave the chat room?

I immediately exited.

“...So it really was you.”

I had learned everything I wanted.

Woo Min-hee, once my adorable junior, was now in the business of taking children away from their parents.

Redmask—a fitting name.

Perhaps she chose it because she knew her role from the start.

I saved screenshots of our entire conversation, especially the parts about Jeju Island.

Sure, I may be powerless in this world, just an ordinary individual.

But as a fellow human, I reserve the right to screw over someone like her.

Suddenly, a message popped up:

183cm88kg18cm: “Tracing your IQ? You mean your IP. On Failnet, maybe, but not on Viva! Apocalypse! Even though its board security sucks, the satellite signals bounce back from the sky, making it hard to trace. You’re safe. Keep using it!”

Woo Min-hee’s threat was a bluff.

Still, I had Defender double-check for peace of mind.

Once I confirmed my safety, I moved to the next step.

“Wait, that was your post? Why’d you lie to me? What about trust, Skelton?”

“Skelton, you can’t treat friends like this.”

I reached out to the Defender siblings via communicator.

“...Anyway, I need your help with something.”

What I asked of them was to edit the screenshots I’d taken.

I had the tools but lacked the skill to create images that would resonate with Failnet’s users.

Defender’s sister, on the other hand, was an expert.

“This should work. Compressed for the Failnet crowd, and the text is sharpened. But when you post it, include the originals for credibility.”

“Thanks.”

"Thanks! You’re so thoughtful. Invite me over sometime, Skelton. I’d love to see your place."

Da-jeong was full of energy over the communicator.

In person, her voice was always quieter, her confidence only surfacing when her brother was around. Still, I could see her changing gradually. That was good—our alliance with the Defender siblings was likely to last a while.

With help from several people, I refined my plan: expose Woo Min-hee and the disgusting figures behind her schemes.

I’m no John_nenon, a creator of worlds.

But at the very least, I can sound the alarm to keep others from willingly walking into the jaws of death.

ㅇㅇ: "Caught REDMASK in the act (Shocking Details Inside)"

I uploaded a post to the Guard Applicants Board.

The post contained my chat logs with Woo Min-hee, formatted to be easily readable for Failnet users.

The key focus was on Jeju Island.

The truth: those evacuation ships weren’t heading to Jeju—they were a one-way ticket to death.

This would be a more efficient and massive purge than the Pioneers ever achieved. A single container ship could hold tens of thousands of people.

The eye-catching title quickly drew attention, garnering a flood of views and comments.

ㅇㅇ: "Caught REDMASK in the act (Shocking Details Inside)" (1,132)

ㅇㅇ: Is this real?

ㅇㅇ: I knew there was something off about those Jeju ships.

ㅇㅇ: It’s just like the Pioneers, isn’t it? Just a fancier version.

ㅇㅇ: What do we do now?

Young-min’s Dad: This is fake. Lies. Total nonsense.

ㅇㅇ: Honestly, isn’t the scale too big to believe?

ㅇㅇ: No way this counts as proof.

ㅇㅇ: But if it’s true, this is terrifying.

ㅇㅇ: That interface looks just like when I talked to REDMASK...

My post turned into a battlefield.

There were those who believed me, those who used my words to attack the government, and those who dismissed me as a liar or fraud.

The Guard Applicants Board was ablaze, and soon my post spread to the Failnet Hot Topics List, where it burned even hotter.

ㅇㅇ: "Caught REDMASK in the act (Shocking Details Inside)" (10,001)

Ten thousand comments.

The entirety of Failnet had descended on my post.

“Wow, Skelton~!”

Da-jeong contacted me again.

“You’re basically a god over there! A god! Ten thousand comments! Amazing!”

“Sk—Skelton-sama!”

As my heart inexplicably fluttered at their reactions, I watched the situation unfold.

“Skelton-sama. Looks like they’ve deployed trolls.”

Sure enough, Defender chimed in.

Imitation posts mocking mine began flooding the Applicants Board.

It wasn’t Woo Min-hee’s style, but it was clear some department handling online narratives had been activated.

ㅇㅇ: Nice bait, loser~

ㅇㅇ: Typical Koreans, always jumping on the bandwagon.

ㅇㅇ: Just some idiot making stuff up about Jeju ships, lol.

The flames I’d lit were extinguished.

There was nothing I could do about it.

I’d started the fire, but it was too small, and the people tasked with putting it out were too skilled.

I watched, half-disappointed, as Failnet’s attention shifted to another topic.

But it wasn’t all meaningless.

That night, I received a message.

John_nenon: (Thumbs up emoji)

That alone was enough.

No, it was the best reward I could’ve hoped for.

gijayangban: Is there someone messing around on Failnet?

gijayangban: That “Um-chang” or whatever, they’re not here, right?

Even the journalists seemed unusually tense.

gijayangban: If you keep stirring the pot on Failnet, don’t be surprised if all our buddies on this board get killed. Watch yourselves.

Why was he so agitated?

It was out of character.

“...Could it be?”

No. That’s impossible.

Was gijayangban actually Woo Min-hee?

I mean, she had been in the school newspaper club back in the day...

No way.

It couldn’t be.

gijayangban was a revered figure on our board, a shining savior in the darkness.

The idea of Woo Min-hee, someone so vile, hiding behind his mask felt wrong.

I wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

“...”

Of course, I had worn the mask of Um-chang11 myself.

I guess none of us are above deception.