WSRN 18

Chapter 18

Following President Jang Se-hee and Colonel Choi Gyu-seong, we arrived at the conference room.

A security officer in a black suit guarding the entrance stepped toward me, intending to search me.
But before he could, the senior officer who had escorted me here raised his hand to stop him.

President Jang Se-hee gave a small nod as if to say it was fine.

“Shall we go in?”

As I followed her into the conference room, I was momentarily blinded.

Because before me, it was as if the Milky Way itself was spread out.

‘Wow… every general in South Korea must be here.’

Starting with the Chiefs of Staff from all three branches, to the Marine Corps Commandant, Corps Commanders, and Operational Commanders—
Just counting the stars on their uniforms, there had to be over forty.

‘…I can’t breathe.’

Maybe it was because I’d once been in the military.
My body instinctively straightened up.

Only for a moment though—
I wasn’t a soldier anymore, just an ordinary middle-aged man now.

Still, it was suffocating. For a different reason.

‘To have gathered all these military titans and then called me here…’

It had to mean we were going to collaborate somehow.

‘Ugh, why am I so itchy all of a sudden?’

I’d never had pleasant memories working under “higher-ups” on joint operations,
so my body reacted almost allergic to the situation.

But I didn’t show it. I just followed Choi’s gesture toward an empty seat.

“Director Han, you can sit right up there.”

The seat was on the right side—closest to the President herself.

As I walked past the generals and went to sit down, my eyes widened.

‘Why… are those two here?’

I froze for a moment, staring at the unexpected faces across from me before finally sitting down.

“Are you Mr. Sun Woo-jin and Ms. Choi Kyung?”

When I recognized them, both looked even more surprised than I was.
Especially Woo-jin—his reaction was… intense.

“You… you know me?!”

In his videos, he’d seemed calm and rational.
But in person, he was much more expressive—almost animated.

He didn’t seem like a quiet type at all.

Then again, Hwang Hye-joo had once told me that streamers were often very different off-camera.

“I’ve seen the videos you posted, Mr. Sun. They helped me a lot. But…”

I leaned slightly toward him and whispered softly,

“Maybe keep your voice down a little. Not really the place to be loud.”

“Oh! Sorry. I’m just… a huge fan of yours, Mr. Se-hyun.”

A fan?

Since when—

Ah. Of course.

‘The P.U. Viewership Rankings.’

That meant Woo-jin was at least Level 7—
since that feature only unlocked at Level 7 and above.

“Alright then,” said President Jang Se-hee, “now that everyone’s gathered, I’ll explain why I invited Mr. Han Se-hyun.”

Her steady gaze turned toward Woo-jin.
A silent signal giving him the floor.

Woo-jin nodded and began to speak.

“The reason we’ve invited Mr. Han is because we’d like to form an Advance Team together.”

“Advance Team?” I asked.

“Yes. It’s probably an unfamiliar term. It’s from the RPG world…”

“RPG?”

“Yes. An Advance Team is a party that takes the lead—
breaking through quests and taking down boss monsters first.”

He explained that once the Advance Team cleared the way, others could follow and play more safely.

I understood immediately.

“Alright, I follow. But…”

I glanced around the room.
Some faces clearly didn’t understand what we were talking about.

Some even looked like they hadn’t been properly briefed about the meeting at all.

I turned back and finished my sentence.

“This meeting—it seems it was called because of Mr. Sun, am I right?”

Woo-jin looked startled, then nodded, explaining briefly.

He’d seen the footage of me single-handedly taking down an ogre.
He was convinced that I could be the key to humanity’s survival.

That belief grew into the concept of an Advance Team,
which he then proposed to his Defense Corps commander—
leading to this very meeting.

“I plan to recruit top players from every profession under Mr. Han’s lead.
But apparently, there’s already a group putting that idea into action.”

So before someone else “snatched me up,” he’d hurried to invite me.

‘Snatched me up,’ huh?

I wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or wary.

Then Colonel Choi spoke in a rare, serious tone.

“The Ilseong Group Strategic Division has begun pouring massive funds into recruiting players.”

Ilseong—one of the world’s largest conglomerates.
And its Strategic Division—an elite unit directly under the chairman.

“Officially, they say it’s to ‘protect Korean citizens from monsters threatening national security.’
But our intelligence suggests they’re forming a private army.”

Well, it made sense.

Even billionaires have only one life.
Building private protection forces was just self-preservation.

And besides, players could also help stabilize the volatile markets and plummeting stock prices.

‘They’re crafting an image—
“We’re not greedy corporations. We’re patriotic, leading companies helping the nation in crisis.”’

Even with new currencies like “coins,” traditional money still held value—
so the financial world couldn’t just sit back and watch.

“Not just Ilseong,” Choi continued,
“but other major firms are moving too.
The top five conglomerates already have active player recruitment projects.”

“That’s fine,” said President Jang, her voice sharpening.
“Enterprises want to help? Wonderful.
A strong nation benefits them too. However—”

Her final word cut through the room like a knife.
As she swept her gaze across the generals, her narrowed eyes carried a chill.

“Lately, I’ve heard reports of military officers defecting to corporate forces.
Some units are already being approached behind closed doors.
Are we just going to watch our key assets be stolen from under our noses?”

A ripple of discomfort spread among the brass.

‘Ah… now it makes sense.’

Now I understood why the President had gathered all these generals—
and why they looked so uneasy.

‘She’s warning them not to have “side deals.”’

She was telling them not to sell out their honor or duty
by cozying up to corporations when their mission was to defend the nation.

After a moment, Jang Se-hee shifted back to the main topic.

“So, Major Han Se-hyun… or, no—just Mr. Han now, right?”

“Haha, yes, just call me whatever’s comfortable.”

“Thank you. Anyway, Colonel Choi’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Oh? What did he say?”

“He said you’re… a free spirit.”

Free spirit, huh.

I could read between the lines.

‘So basically, he told her this—’

That I never took orders well,
hated having anyone above me,
but got results better than anyone else.

‘Which means the President probably plans to appoint me as the Advance Team’s commander.’

Fine. I’d just pretend to hesitate,
create some leverage for negotiation.

“Madam President, I…”

But before I could even start steering the conversation—

“I plan to let you act freely,” she said.

…Huh?

After the meeting with the President, I rode back with Colonel Choi driving.

As the car pulled out of the base, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.

Because of what she said at the end:

“If you accept, Mr. Han, and the Advance Team is formed…”

“It will be an independent unit—outside the jurisdiction of the Army, Navy, or Air Force.”

“You’ll receive full support but no direct orders. You’ll lead by your own judgment.”

‘…I read that completely wrong.’

I’d assumed the President wanted to re-enlist me.
Instead, she wanted to set me free—
with backing, but no leash.

‘President Jang Se-hee… she’s every bit the bold woman I’d heard about.’

I’d known she was firm and principled,
but she also seemed genuinely devoted to the nation.

I’d thought all politicians wore masks,
but after meeting her, I realized I’d been prejudiced.

‘Now I feel kind of embarrassed.’

I rolled down the window to cool my flushed face.
As the cold air hit, Colonel Choi spoke.

“Think it over seriously. We’ve already bent a lot to make this work.”

I nodded, watching the scenery pass.

‘It’s a good offer, no denying that.’

The past few battles had taught me plenty—
especially the limits of operating in small, improvised teams.

‘If I accept, that problem disappears.’

But still, I couldn’t decide so easily.

‘Advance Team…’

It sounded nice, but really, it was just diving headfirst into the unknown—
a team of moths charging into darkness.

Still, maybe I could live up to my old unit’s motto:

“Fight with honor, die with worth.”

Dying with worth, sure.
But stylishly? Probably not.

While I was lost in thought—

“Oh, right.”

A question popped into my head.

“Colonel, that clock in the command center—what’s up with it?”

“Clock?”

“The one on the ceiling. It said 29 days left, not 28. Was it broken?”

“Oh, that? I was going to ask Director Han about it myself.”

Choi turned the wheel smoothly, glancing at me.

“Didn’t you get a message after killing that Goblin Captain?”

“Which one? I get dozens of those.”

“Not the usual ones. Something like—
‘The appearance has been delayed by 24 hours. One day earned.’ That kind of message.”

“So you’re saying… by killing that Captain, I bought us a day?”

“That’s our working theory. We’ve cross-verified it through satellite and Gate observation reports. No error.”

He said it with absolute confidence, accelerating slightly.

“Hm… if we take down another boss-level one, we’ll know for sure…”

“You say that like it’s easy. Ever fought a boss-level goblin yourself?”

“Not couldn’t—just didn’t have the chance. You know how busy I am.”

He chuckled, his strong features hardening with pride.

I laughed. “Fair.”

For someone in his mid-fifties, he was built like a tank—almost 190 cm tall,
a master of several martial arts. He wouldn’t go down easy.

Then—

“…?”

I felt a strong stare from behind.

Glancing back, I met Sun Woo-jin’s eyes.
He was looking at me like a kid meeting his hero—bright-eyed, full of admiration.

‘God, that’s uncomfortable. Ever since the bunker he’s been calling me “hero,” “mentor,” saying he wants to learn from me. What’s with this kid? Also… wow, he sleeps well.’

Next to him, Choi Kyung sat slumped over, hood up, dozing.
Woo-jin’s pale complexion made her tanned skin stand out even more.

‘I thought she’d be cold and stoic like on camera… guess not.’

She hadn’t said a word since the bunker—
not cold, just shy, it seemed.

I figured we’d be dropping them off soon,
so I asked Woo-jin where he lived.

“I used to live near Chungjeongno Station,
but now I’m staying at Defense Corps quarters.”

“So, you’re with the Seoul Station Gate Defense Corps, then?”

“Yes. But I’ve been reassigned—Advance Team unit.”

“…?”

So it was already official.

And Colonel Choi didn’t look surprised—
he’d clearly known.

Which made me uneasy.

‘Woo-jin really thinks I’m going to lead this thing, doesn’t he?’

The way he talked and sat straight, like a soldier reporting to a superior—it irked me.

Before the misunderstanding grew, I decided to make things clear.

“Uh, Woo-jin?”

“Please, just call me comfortably.”

“Alright then. Anyway, I’ve been thinking. This whole Advance Team idea—it’s good.
You’ll collect monster data, get first dibs on loot, help humanity. Noble, right?”

I paused briefly to set the tone.

“But it’s going to be insanely dangerous.
We’ll be charting unknown territory—becoming the pathfinders.”

“I’m ready for that!” he said firmly.

“Preparation and reality are very different things.”

I was about to advise him to rethink it, to return to his old post, when—

“But someone has to go first.”

The words came quietly from the back seat.

“…Haah.”

All I could do was sigh.

When we crossed Seongsan Bridge, I broke the silence first.

“Tell me why, at least. I know a friend of mine’s a big fan of yours,
so I’ve seen your stuff. Do you think this is a game? Is that where the confidence comes from?”

“Mr. Han.”

Choi gently warned me, sensing the bite in my tone.

“Sorry if I’m being harsh, but this isn’t some adventure.
You’re treating it too lightly.”

“That’s not it,” Woo-jin said quietly.

“Then why? Why throw yourself into this?”

“…For my fans.”

“What?”

“Five years ago, I fell into depression. Had panic disorder too.”

He’d been scammed on a rental,
betrayed by a fellow streamer,
his channel declined, every project failed.

“I wanted to die. I even tried once.”

Then one day, he’d received a letter from a longtime fan.

“She said she was battling cancer.
But that my stream made her laugh—
and for the first time, she wanted to live.”

I could guess the rest.
He’d found his own will to live through that letter.

But, honestly?
Tragic backstories don’t work on me.
I’ve seen too many—lived through worse myself.

“I get it,” I said flatly. “I do, but…”

Woo-jin cut me off.

“This is something I can and must do.
And honestly, I thought you’d understand, sir.
Guess I was wrong. I won’t push further.”

“Hey, kid—”

“Colonel, stop the car. I’ll get off here.”

Choi glanced at me for permission.

I just gestured for him to keep driving.

“Where exactly are you going?” I asked.
“You don’t even have a home anymore.”

“I’ll find somewhere.”

“And what about your sleeping friend there? She going too?”

Choi Kyung stirred, pretending to wake.

“…Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“I just… go where they tell me to.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘just’ in this world.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation, do I?”

Even shy ones get feisty when cornered.

“Fine, don’t. Either way, both of you…”

I trailed off—no point arguing anymore.
Then I noticed something familiar out the window.

“Wait, Colonel… where are we even going?”

He stayed silent.

That’s when I realized.

We’d been played.

[Welcome to Goyang City.]

They’d never planned to drop me off.
They’d planned for me to go with them.