Chapter 3
Standing at the Threshold of Magic
Passion is often rewarded.
My desire to become a wizard had, as a bonus, earned me an exemption from night watch duty.
But just before my consultation with Lieutenant Shin Hangi ended, I asked a question I simply couldn't ignore.
"So... is it really okay to just teach people magic like this?"
Just for the record, South Korea on January 6, 2028, was a perfectly normal and rational place.
There were no traditional witches flying around on broomsticks.
Shamans didn't suddenly become spirit-possessed and turn into some kind of Shaman King.
There weren't any lunatics grinding people up with magic circles or alchemy.
Nor had aliens or beings from another world invaded and awakened hunters like in web novels and anime.
At least, not as far as I knew.
And finally, through Lieutenant Shin's mouth, the truth of the world began to reveal itself.
"Mr. Baek Jemin. What do you think magic is?"
"Huh? Well..."
"If you're imagining things like flying through the sky or shooting fire from your hands, I suggest lowering your expectations."
Lieutenant Shin handed me another booklet with a serious expression.
I accepted it reflexively and immediately frowned at the title.
Limited Linguistic Knowledge Sharing Pursuant to the 2028 Reservist Mobilization Declaration
"...What?"
"For convenience, we call it magic because it's easier to understand. However, within the military and public institutions, it's officially referred to as Localized Intrusive Alteration Activity. And this was hastily distributed by higher authorities following the mobilization order."
"So there really is some secret society of wizards hiding in the world?"
Countless conspiracy theories flashed through my mind.
But Lieutenant Shin immediately shook his head.
"Everything from this point onward is classified. Not the highest level of classified, but still important. You read the engagement rules, right? Rule Five: Acquire any knowledge obtainable on-site as the highest priority. Turn the page."
With a doubtful expression, I opened the booklet.
Each page contained a large, crooked symbol.
Beside it was a dense block of text.
The symbol looked as if someone had overlapped a triangle and a square, kneaded them together like dough, and then smashed the result into a vaguely geometric shape.
Since it was made from a triangle and a square, I mentally named it a tri-square.
Nothing about it was symmetrical.
Even the lengths of the lines varied wildly.
As I stared at the crude character, Lieutenant Shin kindly pointed to the adjacent page.
A page so densely packed with text it looked like punishment writing.
"This symbol was discovered inside Seoul's restricted zones. We believe it's a form of writing."
"How do you know it's writing?"
"Because some people have seen these symbols and read them. The text on the opposite page records what they claimed the symbol meant."
The tiny font already annoyed me because it looked like someone was trying to save money on paper.
The contents annoyed me even more.
"These are all different."
They were.
The page listed interpretations offered by different individuals who had viewed the same symbol.
The problem was that none of the meanings matched.
[Original Discoverer: Restoration]
[Sergeant Kim ○○: Integrity]
[Shaman: Despair]
[Twelve-Year-Old Child: Growth]
If there had at least been some overlap, I could have guessed they were describing the same thing.
But everyone had interpreted it completely differently.
"Isn't this just a doodle?"
"It's not. We've confirmed that it has real effects. We believe it may be one of the most important factors behind the current disturbances. That's why it was downgraded from top-secret status despite the confusion and panic it might cause."
Lieutenant Shin sighed heavily.
His lips looked painfully dry as he continued.
Only then did I realize what the dense text beside the symbol actually was.
"You need to keep this to yourself, Reservist Baek Jemin."
A shadow crossed his face.
"The government doesn't even know whether a secret society exists. Every instance of this writing has only been found inside restricted zones. After it was confirmed to cause negative psychological effects, it was classified as a top-secret matter for two months. Then someone proposed the possibility that there might be people outside the government who already understand it, so it was downgraded and distributed. We're releasing it in hopes of finding those people."
"So, basically..."
"The reason we're deliberately calling it magic is to attract anyone who might know something. This part isn't classified, but there's no benefit in spreading it around, so please keep quiet."
***
Despite the mobilization order, not everyone had arrived yet.
Most people still hadn't fully processed the situation.
An ominous silence settled over the auditorium for roughly two hours.
When I checked my phone, it was already 3:58 PM.
Aside from ten more men in combat uniforms arriving to collect weapons and gear before collapsing into chairs, nothing had changed.
Nobody was really making calls anymore.
Even Kang Daniel, the lovestruck man with horn-rimmed glasses, merely hammered away at his phone with desperate intensity.
Back in the auditorium, I absentmindedly flipped through the booklet.
The waiting was endless.
I wasn't exactly calm either.
Lieutenant Shin's words still echoed in my head.
I'd been too stunned to respond properly at the time, but the conclusion was essentially this:
- Localized Intrusive Alteration Activity—so-called magic—really exists.
- Nobody knows when it first appeared or where it came from.
- The South Korean government is sharing information with the United States and using data centers and AI language models to decipher the symbols, but every attempt causes unexplained computational overloads in both the language models and the hardware running them.
But the most important part came afterward.
Or rather—
It didn't.
"Mr. Baek Jemin, this request is being made on the off chance that you truly understand these symbols. The situation is dire. Approximately forty percent of the military units deployed in Seoul are isolated or have lost contact. Even the units stationed around the outskirts have failed to properly contain the civilian unrest. If you possess even the slightest sense of altruism or patriotism, please cooperate."
Knowing the weight of those words only made me feel guilty.
Baek Jemin.
Twenty-eight years old.
Unemployed.
The only things I really knew were a handful of shallow facts and the fact that my company had gone bankrupt two months ago.
I wasn't interested in politics.
I didn't possess any specialized expertise.
I'd practically wasted my life.
Hearing such earnest words from a competent-looking officer felt embarrassing.
And yet all this heavy information and hidden truth had suddenly been dumped into my lap.
The moment I heard that forty percent of Seoul's military units were isolated or missing, one thought immediately occurred to me:
Surely there are other people who can look at these symbols without suffering side effects, right?
As if proving the point—
A scruffy-bearded reservist who had been staring at his phone suddenly shouted.
"What the hell? Thirty percent of Seoul's military units have already been wiped out?"
This was not the moment to scream.
Nor was it the moment to join in.
Every reservist buried in their phones.
The unit commander.
Everyone in the auditorium.
They all turned simultaneously toward the bearded man.
Realizing his mistake, he quickly bowed his head and shut up.
But his single sentence left deep ripples in everyone's mind.
The details differed from what I'd been told.
Yet the core message was the same.
I simply couldn't process it.
Fog began appearing in Seoul in late November 2027.
Then the moment the new year arrived, a mobilization order was declared.
Magic existed.
And forty percent of the military forces deployed in Seoul—practically half, if you rounded up—were already in serious trouble.
Anyone capable of calmly digesting all that information at once was insane.
Besides, I hadn't seen any of it myself.
For the first time, I understood conspiracy theorists.
If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it either.
Hell, I still don't believe it.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—the ominous silence didn't last long.
The droopy-eyed unit commander apparently decided no more reservists were coming.
Or perhaps he realized escaping reality was no longer possible.
Either way, he finally began organizing squads.
"Forty-three personnel on the roster. Twenty-five actually reported after the mobilization order. The country's doing great, isn't it?"
Sighing heavily, the commander called over his active-duty soldiers and began distributing armbands and identification bands.
The twenty-five unlucky souls who had ended up carrying the burden could only wait with dark expressions.
That was when the reserve unit commander revealed his surprise New Year's gift.
"We'll split the twenty-five of you into four squads of roughly six men each. Two squads will guard the community center and nearby roads. The other two are going to track down the comrades who still haven't reported despite the mobilization order. You'll be issued live ammunition, but don't load your weapons. Take two magazines each."
At that, Kim Myungshin—the narrow-eyed man who had voluntarily put on an armband—lit up.
"Commander, I'm pretty good at that kind of thing. Can I go drag them back?"
"'Drag them back' is a bit much... Just persuade them to come in. If they report today, we can keep them from being prosecuted or getting a black mark on their records. They need to show up before the military police do."
"Tch. Yeah, yeah."
"Alright, alright. We'll explain each squad's duties, so get yourselves ready. From this point forward, we're operating under mobilization conditions, which means wartime procedures. I'll drop the formalities, so don't take it personally. Now then... split up by squad!"
Whether by luck or misfortune, I ended up in a road-security squad rather than a deserter-hunting squad.
The good news was that I wouldn't have to spend the day chasing people down.
The bad news was that I had to personally haul roadblocks into place.
The truly strange part, however, was that our squad leader turned out to be Kang Daniel—the horn-rimmed-glasses romantic.
The moment he put on his armband, he clasped his hands together, bowed his head, and began muttering earnestly.
Every member of the road-security squad—a mixture of Army, Navy, and Air Force veterans—seemed to be thinking the exact same thing.
Some frowned.
Others looked utterly unenthused.
"Our Almighty Father in Heaven, unto You belong the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever... Keep us from the temptations of Satan and his demons... Deliver us from the grasp of evil and guide us only to follow You..."
I quietly glanced around at the other squad members.
Since I was standing closest, it seemed best if I spoke.
"Uh, Squad Leader?"
"...May Your authority remain upon this land..."
"Mr. Kang Daniel. We need to block the road."
"Yes, yes. Let's pray first. Pray."
"No. Let's block the road and then pray. Okay? We need to go now."
If he had been a true fanatic, this would've been the point where he'd shouted:
"How dare a servant of Satan interrupt this sacred testimony being offered unto the Lord!"
Fortunately, Kang Daniel was a perfectly normal person with exceptionally deep faith.
Noticing the unimpressed looks directed at him, he adjusted his glasses, hurriedly checked his rifle and gear, and took the lead.
"Let's go install the sandbags and vehicle barriers. One person handles traffic. One person rests while keeping watch on the surroundings. The remaining four move equipment. Switch every fifteen minutes. Once installation is complete, we'll assign positions properly."
It turned out Kang Daniel was surprisingly competent once given authority.
"Father God, grant me the strength to fulfill my role in this tribulation..."
Aside from periodically clasping his hands together and seemingly maintaining direct communications with God, he was actually an excellent squad leader.
***
The road-security squad was assigned to an intersection in town.
Our objective was to strengthen security around one of the roads leading toward the community center.
A truck that was normally used by the community center for volunteer work and garbage collection among elderly residents kept bringing sandbags and vehicle obstacles.
We unloaded them and spread them across the roadway.
Even though mobilization had been declared, the local residents still didn't seem to fully grasp the situation.
That gradually changed when they saw soldiers in combat uniforms setting up roadblocks.
Of course, there were also drivers who noticed us only after stepping on the gas and then poked their heads out their windows.
"What the hell? Why's the road blocked?"
One of our squad members, a friendly-looking man who had just set down a steel barrier resembling welded rebar, answered.
"Mobilization order. We've been told to close this route. Please turn around."
"Hey! Are you paying for my gas? Move it. I'll drive right through. What are you going to do, stop me?"
"Sir, we're not doing this because we want to."
"If you don't want to do it, then don't! What kind of excuse is that?"
The squad member sighed.
The driver complained.
It was one of those moments.
People standing nearby pretending not to watch were very obviously watching.
One squad member, his collar raised against the cold, looked toward Kang Daniel.
"Squad Leader, what do we do?"
"Persuasion is best, but... hold on. Let's call the commander and get instructions."
That was when I stepped forward.
"Wait. I have a good idea."
"Huh? Mr... Baek Jemin?"
Twenty-eight-year-old unemployed youth Baek Jemin.
I could see Kang Daniel struggling for an answer, yet clearly hoping someone else would solve the problem for him.
And if someone had expectations of me, it was only polite to meet them.
"Mister."
"Hey. With that face, who are you calling mister? If I went to a club, I'd pull more women than you."
"Take a look at this."
"What the hell is th—"
A life without effort was my dream.
A life without suffering was my definition of rationality.
And in that moment, I found the golden path to solving the problem perfectly.
I pulled out the booklet I'd been given.
The actual title was too long, so I'd mentally renamed it Magic Crash Course.
Then I flipped it open and shoved the crooked symbol directly in front of the driver's face.
At first, he seemed completely unaffected.
For about one second.
"Urgh... wai—"
"Mister, look carefully."
"You little—! Ugh—!"
The driver tried to endure it.
Failed.
And immediately slammed his face against the steering wheel.
"Bleeeeargh!"
A spectacular stream of vomit followed.
Judging by the sour smell and the alarming variety of chunks emerging from his body, he'd apparently been suffering from indigestion.
I proudly tucked the Magic Crash Course back into my inner pocket and returned to the squad.
"He's parking the car."
People who couldn't read the symbols and therefore couldn't use magic were amateurs.
My very first spell in life had been:
Induced Vomiting.