NoveLight ™
When we consume news or official announcements, we often see evidence of manipulation—exaggeration or omission. This isn’t just about misinformation; it’s a method of conveying intent.
One such method is to avoid mentioning a subject entirely.
Anonymous848: Damn it. How many people died?
Dolsingnam: I’ve lost contact with my friend living on the outskirts of Seoul. He survived the war, but now...
Anonymous458: I heard the Legion faction evacuated most of their people before the monsters arrived.
Keystone: Weren’t there at least a million people living there?
Dies_irae69: Probably not a million. At most, maybe 300,000. Still, why isn’t the government saying anything about it?
The government had issued warnings about the monsters’ approach but remained silent about the aftermath. No casualty reports, no damage assessments—nothing.
Even Failnet had gone down.
Worried about the safety of Jon Nae-non, I messaged one of his subordinates.
183cm88kg18cm: I’m alive. The colossal-class monster moved toward the National Assembly faction’s controlled area, not the Legion’s. But lots of people lived there. The death toll must be enormous.
Failnet’s outage, it turned out, wasn’t due to the monster attack but a network issue.
The real problem came later.
Static—
The government broadcasted an emergency radio message.
“This Wednesday, we will conduct the national representative elections. Voting stations will be set up in each shelter. All citizens intending to vote must bring their old IDs or shelter registration documents to the polling place. I repeat…”
That was it.
No mention of the potentially catastrophic casualties. Instead, they focused on announcing elections.
Unsurprisingly, outrage erupted online.
Dentist_Kim: This is ridiculous.
tntn_Orthopedics: Thousands of people died, and they’re holding elections? Are they insane?
Berkut_Break: Should’ve known when they extended their terms indefinitely.
Denis_Oldman: Why don’t these bastards ever die?
Even the usual lurkers—those who rarely posted—were speaking up. Many usernames were unfamiliar, even to me.
Defender: I just want to kill them all.
Defender’s post, venting frustration, shot to the top of the trending list.
For the first time, Defender broke his record for the number of likes received. Even people who usually disapproved of his rants were rallying behind him now.
Perhaps feeling the weight of their expectations, Defender posted something uncharacteristically hesitant.
Defender: Stop putting me on a pedestal. Even I can’t storm a military-guarded National Assembly building and start shooting.
Shortly after, Failnet came back online.
Failnet users, though different in tone from us, shared the same outrage. On Failnet’s popular “Hot Topics” section, the criticisms were even harsher than ours.
The highlight was a post on Failnet’s “Roasting Board,” its most infamous thread for heated debates.
Anonymous: I’m going to kill those National Assembly bastards. (23,123 replies)
The post featured a masked man openly brandishing weapons, threatening to kill the election committee and candidates.
23,000 comments.
I gulped.
“Wow.”
The sheer number of replies was staggering.
They had 10,000 more than my most popular post...
For a brief moment, I considered posting something similar to gain attention. But seeing the flood of similar posts beneath it, I reconsidered.
PropoFol: I’m an ex-hunter. Starting the hunt today. (19,839 replies)
Anonymous: I’m from North Korea. These southern bastards are doomed. (13,234 replies)
ImHyoChang: This is Hyo-chang from Busan. (11,320 replies)
Monster: Hello? I’m a monster. (10,232 replies)
KILLER: See you on election day. (9,327 replies)
Anonymous: I’m an awakened, hiding my power. (8,234 replies)
The number of posts promising to kill the representatives was absurd.
But I doubted most were serious. Many were clearly jokes.
Speaking of jokes, what was that “Monster” post? A monster using the internet?
“…That’s clever.”
Their ability to turn even this chaos into humor was impressive. Yet, it also reflected the bitterness of nameless people who had no other outlet for their anger.
Amid the confusion and rage, another day passed.
Jon Nae-non’s masterpiece worked as intended.
Failnet users swarmed the ruined streets of Seoul, investigating and reporting on the damage.
Within hours, dozens of posts flooded in. Our Journalist Comrade sifted through them, compiling and editing the best information for our board.
Journalist_Comrade: Summary of Seoul Damage from the Recent Eruption.txt
No one likes long reports, so here’s the gist:
No exact death toll was mentioned.
Not because they were hiding it, but because it was impossible to count. Every number was just an estimate.
Most believe at least 500,000 people died.
We can only guess because there are no bodies.
Anyone exposed to the colossal-class Kraken’s devastating beam is reduced to ash, leaving no trace.
“Phew.”
I sipped coffee left behind by DragonC, leaning back in my chair and staring into the dim bunker.
The only light came from the open door, casting long shadows that stretched deeper into the bunker as the sun set.
When the shadows finally reached the raised platform where my throne-like toilet stood, the K-Walkie emitted its distinctive tone.
Personal ID: REDMASK
It was Woo Min-hee again.
Her messages were becoming frequent.
Did she suspect my identity?
Impossible.
Jon Nae-non’s subordinate assured me it was beyond her ability.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied my nerves and answered.
“Hey, Min-hee!”
“Senior! You’re alive!”
“Thanks to you. If it weren’t for your warning, I’d be dead. That Kraken came right to my doorstep…”
“Glad it helped. I knew you wouldn’t die to something like that, though.”
“Thanks.”
People say doing things out of character can kill you.
Was Min-hee dying soon?
Such a wild thought crossed my mind as I waited for her next words.
A soft, scattered laugh came through the speaker.
“I told you, didn’t I? I still hold you in high regard.”
She had said that before.
At the time, I took it as mockery.
That was her style.
Still, maybe I was getting soft in my old age.
“...Old-school, though.”
I couldn’t hold back my true thoughts anymore.
Was I tired?
Or maybe it was urgency.
In a world where everything was dying and collapsing, chances to speak your mind were rare.
When would I get another opportunity like this?
But I regretted my words immediately.
Min-hee had always dismissed old-school hunters like me as worthless relics of the past.
Let her laugh.
I wasn’t the proud Professor anymore.
I was Skelton, the internet’s favorite punching bag.
But instead of laughing, she said something unexpected.
“Is old-school really the wrong way?”
For a moment, I didn’t know if she was serious or joking.
Then she muttered softly, as if to herself.
“On second thought, it is a bit flawed…”
“...”
“Too many people die. I nearly died five times myself back then. Look, I still have a bullet scar on my side.”
Why was she even bringing this up?
“Anyway, Senior, can you help me out with something?”
Here it was—the real reason for her call.
"...What do you need me to help with?"
"Nothing much."
Through the speaker, Woo Min-hee’s distinctively high and annoyingly insincere laugh echoed faintly.
“Election campaigning.”
The moment she said those words, my mind was flooded with images of the murder threats that had decorated Failnet’s Roasting Board.
At the agreed meeting spot, a single armored vehicle stood waiting.
A group of uniformed soldiers waved at me with casual familiarity.
“Hunter Park! Long time no see! How have you been?”
The reason I decided to humor Woo Min-hee’s strange proposal was multifaceted, but the primary factor was Min-hee herself.
In the past, she was an uncontrollable lunatic.
Her personality had never been particularly good, but after awakening to her powers, she became someone almost impossible to deal with.
It was like she was wearing the face of a human but wasn’t one anymore.
There was even a time she sent a younger male colleague she had a crush on into a deadly situation. When he died, she lost it—screaming, taking psychiatric meds, the works. That was the incident that made me cut ties with her completely.
But as the years passed, it seemed like she had mellowed out.
Not that her core flaws had disappeared—she was still the same at her core—but it felt like she’d come back to being somewhat human, as if she’d moved from being something alien to at least brushing the edges of humanity again.
Then again, I had changed a lot, too.
I’d softened, far more than anyone who remembered the Professor from my heyday could imagine.
Maybe it was naïve, but I thought that if I had changed, maybe she had too. That hope was the first reason I decided to give her proposal a chance.
The second—and more decisive—reason was the act of goodwill Min-hee had shown me during the recent monster eruption.
Never in my wildest dreams had I expected her to personally contact me with a warning.
And it wasn’t just a gesture; the information she provided was precise and invaluable.
Even my most trusted junior, Kim Daram, hadn’t gone to such lengths.
At the very least, in front of Um Chang-yi, Min-hee could play the role of a regular older sister—albeit the kind of older sister with a bad temper that everyone knows.
"..."
I decided not to think too much about what Woo Min-hee was up to.
There was no need to know, and I wasn’t in a position to act picky like some finicky child who only eats what they want.
After Kim Daram disappeared, I learned the hard way how crucial it is to have powerful connections.
Without them, you’re blind.
If even Viva! Apocalypse! weren’t around, I would be living no differently than some primitive caveman.
Maybe I’d already be dead, swept away by a random storm I couldn’t predict, entirely cut off from the outside world.
I wouldn’t fully trust Woo Min-hee, but maintaining a modest connection with her didn’t seem like a bad idea.
It required a bit of work on my part, but it wasn’t really a loss.
In fact, it had its perks.
“So, Seoul, huh? What a tragedy. Mostly the elderly and the sick who died. No place to go, no will to leave. Even when the evacuation sirens sounded, they just stayed in their homes and chose to die there.”
I could glean some useful information.
“This is something Director Woo Min-hee asked me to deliver to you.”
I’d even score juicy cans of preserves that Sue enjoyed.
“Almost in Seoul now. Don’t expect anything too shocking—it’s just people who are gone, leaving everything else behind.”
And I got to visit the Seoul everyone talked about.
“We’re here now, Hunter Park.”
The desolation of Seoul unfolded before my eyes once more.
Two years and seven months into the war, Seoul had effectively fallen.
A handful of survivors wandered the empty streets.
“Hahaha…”
A crazed woman was wandering through the city.
Her hair was tangled, and her clothes were torn, exposing her chest, but she didn’t seem to care as she strolled through the empty streets.
The soldiers only watched her, making no move to intervene.
A shard of what looked like metal was embedded in the back of her head.
“This way, please.”
In my life, I’d never imagined I’d be involved in election campaigning.
Fortunately, the campaign Woo Min-hee asked me to assist with wasn’t a traditional one—it was something I was good at.
“Our candidate wants to hunt a monster to boost their campaign. Apparently, they feel they’ll lose otherwise.”
Of course, her request was to help with the campaign, not to ensure the candidate’s victory.
Just showing up and pretending to help was enough.
Whether it actually benefited the candidate or not didn’t matter.
“They’re blackmailing us over some dirt they have. There was no other choice. Seriously. Back in the day, Kim Daram handled things like this. Daram had some real nerve. If it were me, I’d have just killed them.”
The candidate in question stood with their hands behind their back, gazing blankly at the ruins of Seoul.
That back of the head… it was familiar.
When the man turned, I realized why. It was someone I knew.
“Ah, are you the Hunter introduced by the councilman?”
The man turned to face me.
“What?!”
His expression twisted as if it were rotting away.
It wasn’t surprising.
That man, Park Sang-min, and I had clashed during the Jaepung-ho Chairman incident.
I’d seen him once more during the school demolition, but for Park Sang-min, this was likely the first time seeing me since.
“Y-you! You’re that… that person from back then?!”
“If you don’t like it, feel free to send me back.”
That would be perfect.
I didn’t want to spend even a second getting involved with someone like him.
But it seemed our dear Representative Park had fallen on hard times compared to two years ago.
“Haha. What are you saying? Hunter, come on.”
Judging by his desperate attempts to read my mood, things weren’t going well for him.
“Let’s go! The vehicle is ready!”