Chapter 223

He thought it was strange.

He could not quite remember from exactly what moment. And that part — the 'could not quite remember' — was strange too.

"Boss, take a look at this. It is an absolute uproar."

The reporters had dug for a month and come up with nothing, they said. Insisting that a delinquent face like that could not possibly have no past, they had combed his school years like nit-picking, and this was all that came out.

"Perfect attendance, commendations… and you packed your volunteer hours right full, too."

"……."

"When did you set all this up?"

Cha Do-hyeon did not answer.

'I never made this, though?'

That was not my work.

***

Cha Do-hyeon remembered his own childhood, at least dimly.

Was he a preschooler, or just a child? The Cha Do-hyeon of that time was a bastard who would grab a grown man by the collar. He never beat up a classmate, but he beat up thugs twice his own size.

But the 'Cha Do-hyeon' written in the school register was different.

"'Finds schoolwork tiresome yet is diligent; has a mischievous streak but is generally cheerful; and above all, gets on smoothly with his peers,' it says…."

A laugh escaped him.

"Like hell."

You could just say a person changed and be done with it. The creature called a human is, after all, born a beast and shaped into a human. A monkey coming to its senses with age is common enough.

And yet.

'There was no turning point in between that would have changed me like that.'

That was the problem.

Brow furrowed, Cha Do-hyeon felt back through his memories. Ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen. All of it there, without a gap. Not one corner that caught.

"The memories themselves seem ordinary enough…."

For a human child to change this much, there had to be at least one reason. He took a bad beating, or someone died, or he met someone. There are things like that, are there not.

But there was nothing. And yet only the outcome had changed.

"Did I erase it?"

No.

"If I'd erased it, at least the memory of erasing would have to remain."

And above all, when he considered whether the Cha Do-hyeon of that age was a bastard meticulous enough to pull something like this — well?

'He could not have managed it either, could he?'

No money, no connections, and a pathetic bastard who found even using his head a bother. And that one looked into the future and fixed up his school register?

He tapped the paper a couple of times with his fingertips.

"Just which bastard is this."

Normally, if something's empty, it shows, doesn't it.

But there was nothing like that inside this head. It was just… far too ordinary. Not one corner that snagged: what he had not cared about was hazy, and what had made his blood boil was vivid.

"Too intact to call it tampering, too off to call it anything else."

To look for what you have lost, you need at least the sense of having lost it, and even that was absent. There was no empty seat, so he could not get a feel for where to start.

"Crazy bastards."

Which made his skin crawl all the more.

'If they had stolen it, I would at least have gotten angry. If they had made my life hell, I would have gone and killed them.'

But this.

'They swapped it for something better?'

One beast of a bastard, without knowing when or how he had been shaped, had become a model student with a perfect-attendance award. It was not a loss. Reckon it up and it was a gain. Thanks to it he had smiled in front of the reporters, and his agency was thrilled.

"So somebody unidentified reached inside me, took something out… and slotted something better into that place before leaving. That's what this is."

And he had not known it until now.

"……."

Cha Do-hyeon looked in the mirror.

He tried making a startled face. It did not suit him. He tried an angry face. That was awkward too.

So he smiled.

"Ha."

It should have been the most comfortable face of all.

The hand of the man who was smiling trembled faintly.

***

That night Cha Do-hyeon worked out little of consequence.

That he had lost something. That he did not know the specifics of when, why, or what he had lost. And that he might never know, ever.

'And therefore that not even a lingering regret remained.'

You have to know a thing before you can regret it or not.

"Now that's a rare fucking bastard, isn't it…."

Someone had rewritten his life once, and he had acted out that revised script for decades. Brilliantly, at that. The audience had cheered, and even he himself had been satisfied.

And so nothing could have been more humiliating.

"……."

He folded the paper. It was the student record his agency had proudly printed out and handed him. He did not tear it. Tearing it would change nothing, and above all, this was evidence now.

He lit a cigarette, sat by the window, and for a very long time thought about nothing at all.

"Haa…."

Then he took out a fresh sheet of paper.

"For now, then. Right."

So that no one would ever rewrite my life again.

"I write my own script."

That was the first script the actor Cha Do-hyeon ever wrote.

There was one role. Cha Do-hyeon.

***

"Chief."

After a good long while of examining the village and the children one by one, the General Manager spoke.

"Under the persimmon tree on the west side of the yard there is a mark where someone sat for a long time."

"Under the persimmon tree… ah, ahh. That is."

The child put on a slightly sheepish expression.

"That is my spot. From there you can see the meeting hall door and the storehouse and the well all at once. Since a fox might bewitch someone, once everyone was asleep I sat there every day."

"A fox bewitches?"

"Um, I did not mean the god's honored foxes, I meant the Fox Den. The mountain plays tricks now and then and children get hurt, so at some point I just kept doing it…."

"I see."

The General Manager smiled a slow smile.

"It seems that is how you came to remember every child's condition. By paying that much attention."

He looked toward one of the fields.

It was a place where young trees grew, flowers bloomed, and a small pond fit in among them. To look at, it was nothing but peaceful and warm.

"About that field."

"Yes."

"I will build nothing there."

"……."

The child looked up at him.

"…How did you know?"

"A visitor who stops by my house told me."

"That is… yes, I see. A visitor."

A wind passed through once. Petals swayed over the tranquil field. It was the only thing in this village that grew well, and it was the one place no one ever spoke the reason for aloud.

Only after some time had passed like that did the Chief suddenly realize something.

"Build, you said?"

"Ah, dear me. That was a slip of the tongue."

The General Manager put on his characteristic smile.

"It is less building than overlaying, really."

Have you ever heard of a Mod?

***

Mod

: A modified creation made by a user by altering or extending the data or systems of an original game. Beyond bug fixes and quality-of-life improvements, it serves to broaden gameplay in diverse ways by adding new elements — characters, story, systems.

***

"I was able to finish it yesterday evening."

"I-I am sorry. I did not quite understand."

"I think of it as a kind of village repair."

"Village repair…?"

"May I show you an example?"

The General Manager's eyes curved a little more vividly.

"I stake everything on this: it can be returned to how it was at any time."

"……."

The young Chief nodded.

"Please show me."

"Of course."

Since it was only a matter of applying a Mod he had already made, the work was simple. The first to be applied was the 'Texture Pack & Reskin Mod.' It was the very one he had built with reference to fairy-tale books and children's educational texts.

[Zone designation complete. Target: 1 residential site inside the Fox Den]

[Applying texture overlay.]

[Application order: upper structures → boundary structures → ground surface]

Since it was not a method that deleted the original, the system load was not great either.

It merely left the original form beneath and laid one layer over the top. Strip it away and everything reverted. So it was more accurate to classify this as repair rather than modification.

'The ranking is clear.'

Risk factor number one was temperature; number two, contagion; number three, nutrition.

'So roofs and walls have to be considered first.'

[Upper structure replacement beginning.]

The meeting hall's rotted thatch scattered away, and new thatch settled in its place. The children screamed. But even as they screamed, they did not run.

"Kyaaah!"

"The roof! The roof!"

"It won't leak!"

Not a single child in this village had ever seen a roof go up new.

They were born to find it already rotted; when it rained they set out basins and used the water for drinking; when there were not enough basins they simply went to sleep wet. A roof was, by nature, a thing that leaked.

And such a thing had been done in front of their eyes, without a sound, in an instant.

"……."

He really is a god after all.

"It applied well."

"Ah…."

"The structure has not changed much, however."

[Upper structure replacement complete. Waterproofing and insulation criteria met.]

"Would you care to check it yourself?"

"Ah, ah, yes…!"

The young Chief examined every corner.

The wall stood straight, the door had been replaced with a new one, and the mire in the yard had been firmed and set in order. The well had gained a railing, and a generous new room had been attached beside the meeting hall.

"Um, a room has appeared. What is this?"

"It is a room to lay one apart in when one falls ill, so the rest do not catch it."

"……."

The Chief looked at that room for a long while. If a room that could be used this way had existed sooner, three children might have been saved last season.

'It has gotten better, so why does it feel unfamiliar?'

It was then.

"Huh? Huh?"

Behind the wall, one child shouted.

"Hey! Come here!"

"What!"

"The path! The path we always used is still here!"

The children swarmed over.

Everything in the village had been set in order, and yet beneath the wall behind the meeting hall, one narrow dirt path curving crookedly had been left exactly as it was. That path with the grass beaten flat and packed down, with the children's footprints in it.

[Exception-designated zone maintained.]

[Reason: traces of use confirmed.]

[Hehe?]

'Just as Mr. Hyeon Si-gyeong said.'

He had said that way was more worn than the front gate, so the path actually in use was that one. Erase a path people walk and lay a new one, and the number of users drops, and management costs rise accordingly.

'So leaving it is the efficient choice.'

"It's the same!"

"It really is the same!"

"I made this one!"

"You didn't make it, we all made it together!"

Wildly excited over a dirt path that was nothing at all, the children ran along it several times. Their laughter spread thinly through the air, and the Chief stood at the General Manager's side and watched it for a long while.

"……."

Watching houses go up new and roofs settle on, she had only been astonished. Something too large had come too fast, and she had not known whether it had come to us or come down on top of us.

But only after seeing that crooked path did the child know that this place was 'our village.'

That path was a path I knew.

'And the Fox God left it there.'

Though no one had told Him.

"…Thank you."

"Sorry?"

"Ah, it is nothing."

And out of nowhere, in the middle of the yard, one pitch-black and glossy thing had been set down.

"What is this?"

"It is a well cover."

"A… cover?"

"It is a well too contaminated to use, so I have sealed it."

Its maker had been so delighted that he had used it as it was.

[1 contaminated water source sealed (Other: made by business partner)]

The color stood out somewhat, but functionally there was no problem.

[Yes, Coco help.]

"……."

[Coco useful!]

"Haha."

The General Manager simply resolved to resign himself.

"Look at this, it's smooth."

"Pitch-black all over. Worse than a crock."

"Where did it come from…?"

One of the children ringed around the well cover carefully laid a hand on it.

"Oh, it's warm."

"Warm? Is that true?"

"Surely it isn't alive?"

"I want to touch it too!"

Everything else was a repaired form of what had been in the village. The roof, the wall, the path — all of them. But that one thing alone had not been here; it had come from outside. Therefore this belonged to the Fox God… so ran the judgment.

After a while, three handfuls of dried corn kernels had been set on top of it.

"……."

[Coco. Satisfied.]

Like some cult village's altar.

"……?"

[Hehe!]

The General Manager realized that this was not, in effect, an incorrect description.

***

The next thing the General Manager had prepared was the 'Shared Inventory Mod.'

The General Manager's knowledge base was 'Lee Yeon-woo,' and to 'Lee Yeon-woo,' a life-sciences graduate, coding was a high hurdle. Writing the code to link it to the hotel storeroom had meant tearing his hair out alongside Coco.

'Precisely speaking, only I did the tearing.'

Coco had only watched from beside him. The more he thought about it, the more dizzying the memory.

"……."

Of course, the General Manager was a professional, so he did not let it show.

"…I shall place one of these as well."

It was a clean box about the height of an adult's knee, with no pattern at all. It had taken a little time, going through a retexturing process so the children would be as unlikely as possible to be startled or unsettled by the sight of it.

'Because the hotel storeroom, used as is, would be a sight harmful to the children's mental health.'

[No?]

'I am no specialist in child psychology, but I do know that much — that it is a harmful sight for children. There is no need to go out of our way to build a horror attraction in this peaceful village.'

[Iiing.]

[Shared logistics warehouse linked.]

[Target coordinates: in front of the meeting hall.]

And so a wooden box was set down in front of the meeting hall.

"And what is this?"

"I have linked it to our storeroom."

"Storeroom… meaning?"

"Open the lid, think of what you need, and put your hand inside."

"And then?"

"That item will come to your fingertips."

"Sorry…?"

The children looked at one another. No one stepped forward first, so in the end the young Chief knelt and opened the lid.

And….

"?"

"??"

The inside was empty.

"Um…."

"Picture it in your head, then put your hand in."

"…Ah, yes. Th-then."

The child hesitated a moment. It was because she did not know what to picture.

Should she say grain, or should she say rice? Or would it be less of a breach of manners to wish for something smaller? Grace was not a thing one ought to ask for greatly and carelessly.

'…Corn?'

Something touched her fingertips.

"Ah."

The child drew it out.

'Corn.'

Not one spot of mold, the kernels yellow and evenly set — a whole, perfect ear of corn.

She could not remember when she had last seen sound corn. Such a thing did not exist in the world; it only came up in the old stories of the adults.

"May I try once more?"

"As much as you like."

"Then…."

Out it came again.

"Corn."

"Corn came out again."

Out it came again.

"It's incredibly clean."

"Would other things come out too…?"

"P-potatoes, maybe."

"Or beans."

The children crept up and clustered around the box.

One said rice, one said eggs, one said salt. They were materials the hotel had in stock, so the children were able to receive what they ordered.

The General Manager looked at the system window.

[Daily withdrawal cap: not set]

'Ordinarily, the standard practice with a benefit like this is to put a cap on it. Both in terms of resource management and in terms of habit formation. But considering this group's current indicators….'

For the coming two months or so, a limit would itself become the risk factor.

'I have already fixed when to strip it away, so leaving it like this for now is correct.'

He left the system as it was.

"Um, God. Fox God."

"I would be grateful if you would call me General Manager."

"General Man-god…?"

"Kindly go back to the original."

General Man-god. Now which cult village's founder was that meant to be? Unaware of the General Manager's inner thoughts, a boy with a slightly tense face asked what the other children had not.

"How long will this box be here?"

"Until the fields come back."

"The fields, you say."

"Yes. When the fields come back, I will take it away."

"When we can fill the storehouse…."

The children looked at one another and nodded.

"That's when He takes it back."

"Mm-hm."

The children understood what those words meant.

***

"I shall ask one thing."

The Chief spoke.

"Speak."

"Are you receiving us as visitors?"

"No."

"Ah…."

The child's face darkened a little. It was not that she wanted to live inside the Fox God's belly, but the very fact of being refused was, to a child long tormented by the Fox Den, a source of unease.

"If it is because we are lacking, then a little more…."

"To cross the threshold of the building you visited the other day, one must be at least fifteen years of age."

"Y-yes?"

"So all of you are not eligible users."

The General Manager added,

"If you are not users, the rules do not apply to you."

"……."

"That is safer."

Register as a user and you become an object of the system's processing. But the system never spares the objects inside it. Not the General Manager himself, and not even Coco.

So it was right to keep the children outside the Register.

"That house cannot touch a being outside the Register."

"Outside the Register…."

The child trailed off, then bit her lip hard. She had realized that this one had deliberately set them apart, outside the dangerous rules, to protect them.

"Even so, is it really all right?"

"You are not yet adults, are you?"

"That is true, but…."

But the child could not finish the sentence.

***

As the sun leaned low, the General Manager walked to the back of the village. The last thing he installed was the 'Save Point & Auto-Load Mod.'

Because when it came to survival, health was, after all, the most important thing.

'One cannot feed Velmareth's blood to injured children every single time. And hunting down or manufacturing yet another medicine would be inefficient. I know nothing whatever about the constitutions of young Mages.'

He operated the system.

[Restoration point created]

[Recording interval: 1-day units]

He had set the recording interval short because the children's current condition was so badly deteriorated.

'The more their bodies improve, the wider the restoration span becomes, and once the span widens, the figures they have gained in the meantime get erased along with it. So this is only a temporary measure; the interval will have to be lengthened by degrees.'

And so a clear pond was made.

"Oh, ohh…?"

"Water."

"God made water!"

He called the children together.

"Every morning, immerse yourselves in this pond once. This water remembers the body you have at that moment. If you are hurt later, get in again or pour this water over yourselves. You will return to the body it has remembered."

The young Chief asked,

"…Even if we die?"

"No."

He said it in his characteristically composed tone.

"One death is enough for each of you."

The yard went quiet. The children exchanged glances.

One child patted the baby in her arms; another looked toward the field where the children were buried. The boy who had been watching the General Manager nodded.

"That's right."

"Mm-hm…."

"Once is enough."

The boy came over and asked,

"May we get in now?"

"Yes. But there is one thing I must tell you."

"If you tell us, we will make sure not to get it wrong."

"Today you will be getting in while your bodies are unwell. That cannot be helped."

The General Manager went on in a calm tone.

"Tomorrow will be better than today. Then you get in again."

"……."

"And the day after that will be better still."

It was a sort of product specification briefing.

The record was updated daily, and with each update the baseline climbed. So today's sick state was not being fixed in place. This point needed to be made clear so there would be no misunderstanding.

'They look like children who grew up early, so rather than restraining them at every turn, better to give them the instruction manual. Teach them only the basic operation and they will use it well enough.'

The boy who had asked about the rules murmured blankly,

"Better, he says…."

Here nothing ever got better.

The grain had dwindled, the children had dwindled, and the adults had vanished. 'It gets better' was not a phrase in this village's language. No one spoke of hope like that.

And yet.

'Tomorrow will be better than today, he says.'

And the day after that better still. As though it were a settled matter.

"……."

"Wh-what do we do now…."

"What do you mean, what do we do."

The boy said to the frozen village children,

"What are you standing around for? Set an order and go in one at a time. The Chief and I go last."

"U-um, could the babies go in first…!"

"Yes, go bring all the babies from the houses first!"

"Mm-hm…! Got it!"

"And don't fall over on the way!"

To the young Chief, who was testing the surface of the water with a hand, the General Manager said,

"I have made it warm."

"Ah, then might it…."

"Whoever gets in will find it exactly the right temperature, so do not worry."

"…Thank you."

When the children came carrying the babies from the houses, the General Manager took the small lives into his own hands.

"I shall take charge of these ones, so shall we just set the order?"

"W-we could not put you to such trouble…!"

"It is no trouble."

Soothing the children, he helped each of the babies immerse safely, one at a time.

[Recording complete: no omissions]

[Complete!]

Having checked Coco's message, he moved on to the next step.

"Th-then…."

"Mm-hm, us too…."

Getting into the pond, the children all closed their eyes.

Without anyone telling them to, one child put both hands together; the next child saw it and copied; and from the third child on they began murmuring something under their breath.

"One who was lost has returned to god."

"Grant us the Grace of the Righteous Path."

"Fox God, one who was lost…."

He said this water would remember me. So getting into this water is writing my body down for Him, and once it is written, I go onto His ledger.

Such a thing could not be dared without a word.

"…??"

Unable to watch the spectacle of them going ahead and offering prayers, the General Manager stepped in.

"You may simply get in."

"Having reported to God…."

"You need not report."

The white owl, sitting at the water's edge watching the spectacle, had her beak slightly open. Roughly the expression of 'is this really happening.'

"Chief."

"Yes."

"Get in."

"I am fine."

"Get in."

"I have already…."

The child touched her chest.

"I have received something. For me to use this as well is excessive."

"Haha."

What utter nonsense. The General Manager gently picked the child up and carried her toward the pond.

"Uh, um, God, I—"

"Would it not be a problem if only one person were left out of an occasion everyone shares?"

"……."

The young Chief could not bring herself to argue with that, and quietly went into the water.

***

Before night fell, he gathered the children again.

"I shall tell you a few things."

Charcoal and a plank were readied at once. The General Manager watched that for a moment, then resigned himself with practiced ease and went on calmly.

"One. No price is taken."

"It is… not taken?"

"Two. If what I have given does not please you, tell the Chief. I do not withdraw it arbitrarily."

"Arbitrarily, He does not withdraw…."

"Three. What I am giving now will decrease by degrees."

"Uh…."

The charcoal stopped.

"It decreases?"

"Yes. As your bodies improve, the pond will drop to once every ten days, and after that to once a month."

The young Chief caught the meaning in those words, and the boy beside her nodded and held out a hand to the child holding the charcoal.

"Give that to me."

"Oh, uh? But…."

"I'll write it."

Having confirmed that, the General Manager went on.

"Four. A slight scratch or a bruise will not heal in the pond either. Leave those as they are."

"Light wounds do not heal in the pond."

"Five. A child who has already returned to nature cannot be given back."

"For everyone, death comes only once."

"Six."

He chose his words for a moment.

"There is one thing I cannot do."

The children held their breath.

"It is scolding you."

"……."

The boy who had taken up the charcoal frowned and lifted his head, as though he had heard something bizarre.

"…? Sorry?"

"If I scold you, you will come to fear me. That is a problem."

He did not say it aloud, but the General Manager's logic was clear.

'I am no more than an observer. I ought not to exert a large influence on this ecosystem.'

These children were not guests of the hotel, and therefore not users of the game either. They were under fifteen, so it followed naturally. Put differently, they were beings to be wholly protected and whose independence was to be respected.

He looked at the young Chief.

"So that role is one the Chief must take on."

"……."

"I am asking because it is something I cannot do. I am sorry."

"…No."

The charcoal moved again. The script used in the village was not the Hangul modern Koreans use. A cipher-like form situated somewhere between hanja and Hangul.

But the General Manager could read the meaning held inside it.

'Let me check….'

One: offer no price.

Two: He does not withdraw arbitrarily.

Three: the grace will decrease by degrees, so prepare for that day.

Four: He leaves small wounds be.

Five: death comes only once.

Six: He does not rebuke us.

"……."

…Is it just me, or does that look rather like a cult's articles of faith?

'Perhaps it is the archaic style. I am in the position of making use of the role of Fox God, granted, but it is odd.'

There was not one character wrong. From a business standpoint, that was all that needed checking. It was only that not one of the six lines written on the plank was in the form of a sentence he had actually uttered.

'But there is no need to make them rewrite it.'

He curved a fox's smile.

"Then I shall take my leave."

"Y-you are going? Then let us say our farewells…."

"Yes. I shall see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…?"

"I shall come every day."

Once you have built an installation, it naturally has to undergo regular inspection.

"Around when the sun climbs highest."

During a system's initial stabilization period it was common sense to set inspection intervals close together, and he had not applied an automated system because there remained areas that still required judgment.

'Because this, of all things, is a Mod applied to the real world.'

In a game, when a bug turns up in a hand-made Mod, you fix the source and that is that; but in reality a person can actually lose their life because of that bug.

'And on top of that, since these children are not users, not even the function that turns back time applies to them.'

[Regular inspection schedule registered (interval: 1-day units)]

[Assigned to: General Manager]

'Precisely, Coco.'

[Coco precise.]

That was all, but the children froze.

"You are coming every day?"

"Yes. Is there some problem?"

"Ah, no…."

The god of the Fox Den had always been gracious only while sleeping quietly, and when it opened its eyes it was a calamity that scrambled even paths and names. So the children had lived praying that the god would not come.

And yet this one said he would come every day. Every time the sun climbed highest.

"……."

"……."

Were the Fox God and the Fox Den truly… different beings?

Unable to judge whether this promise would be a blessing or a calamity, the children only exchanged glances. Yet there was no denying that inside those passing glances a sprout of hope was growing.

"It seems things are in order."

The General Manager watched the scene for a moment, then called the two foxes to a halt.

"Guard the village, the two of you, so that no dangerous being can enter."

"Kong."

"Kong-kong."

"Ah, and one more thing."

Before leaving the yard, the General Manager added,

"If something dangerous happens before the appointed hour comes, call me in your hearts. If the sound does not reach, you may tell the Chief. Then that call will reach me."

"Tell the Chief…."

"Have a good night."

With those words the General Manager withdrew without a sound.

There was no owl on his shoulder. The white owl had not come near him all day. The General Manager knew it, but did not bother to call her back.

"……."

"……."

"So, then…."

One of the children asked,

"He means to pray, right?"

"The Chief's prayers must work best."

"The Chief, as expected."

The children came to terms with it in their own way.

***

They took ingredients from the box that produced food and boiled porridge. The children, their bellies full, chattered and then dropped off to sleep one by one. There were four blankets, and that day no one quarreled over them.

Inside a room where warmth lingered thanks to the newly laid roof, only the young Chief lay awake.

"……."

She tried to do her reckoning, but there was little left to count.

She did not have to count the corn, did not have to decide who to feed first, did not have to keep track of who coughed in the night.

Probably tomorrow would be the same.

'And if tomorrow is like that too….'

The child did not hold that thought long. It was a good thing. Why sleep would not come at all when it was simply a good thing, she decided to worry about later.

Beside her came the rustle of a blanket.

"Chief."

"Mm, I am listening."

"I have something to ask."

"Say it."

"Who gets offered up this time…?"

Half asleep, the child mumbled on.

"When it was the adults, the adults went. Who goes this time?"

"Who goes, indeed. If anyone goes, I go."

"He keeps spitting the Chief back out, so I think another child has to go. Wouldn't it be good to decide in advance?"

"There's no such thing."

"There isn't?"

"No. There isn't."

The young Chief laid down the body that was smaller even than her own.

"The Fox God said He takes no price."

"That's true, but we don't know what that price is…."

"Sleep."

"Mm-hm."

The younger one soon fell asleep. The Chief patted the child's back for a long while, then looked at the white owl sitting like a gatekeeper at their meeting hall door.

"Are you not sleeping?"

"……."

"If you are sleepy, you may sleep."

The bird did not sleep.

***

An announcement rang out over a loudspeaker.

―Attention, please. The 17th labor call-up will be at six in the morning, the day after tomorrow. Those concerned are asked to gather in front of the Cooperative. Board and lodging are the Cooperative's responsibility, and the advance payment will be issued on the day of departure.

―Attention once more. The 17th labor call-up will be….

On the outer wall of the Cooperative building a roster was posted, written in untidy handwriting. Beside each name was an age, and beside that a red stamp.

A few people stood before it, looking for names they knew.

"My child's name is on it."

"That settles it. Congratulations."

"At least they won't go hungry there."

"Of course not."

Below the roster a somewhat shorter printed sheet had been attached.

― Roster of Returnees from the 16th ―

The names written on it came to only four.

"……."

Cha Do-hyeon walked straight past it.