Sin Haeryang unilaterally threatened the Muhan Church and terminated the radio transmission.
Bluff. It was a bluff. Those words were lies beyond a shadow of a doubt. There had never once been a time when today’s memories accumulated for Sin Haeryang.
No one else had ever retained memories of previous loops either. If even one person remembered me, I probably wouldn’t be this lonely and miserable.
······But looking back on everything that had happened until now, not all of the memories were good ones, so I suddenly thought that maybe it was better they couldn’t remember. What good would it do for many people to remember terrible things? The fewer people who suffer trauma, the better.
When the Savior dies, everyone except the Savior is forced to the same starting line due to evaporating memories. Rich or poor, religious or not—it doesn’t matter. Everyone equally lacks memory of that day.
I want to save the people who died today, get one step ahead of others, and make more advantageous choices than everyone else. To do that, the Savior’s memories are essential.
The Muhan Church wouldn’t want someone hostile to their religion to possess more memories. And Sin Haeryang is skillfully exploiting that fear to pressure them.
Of the radio transmission, Kim Jaehui’s last words lingered particularly in my memory. I cautiously questioned Sin Haeryang as he set the radio on the floor. The people collapsed in the hallway and entrance probably couldn’t hear the conversation in the counseling room clearly, but I lowered my voice anyway.
“About the radio earlier.”
“Yes.”
Sin Haeryang answered as usual. His normal attitude was reassuring, but I was still anxious, so I asked.
“You aren’t thinking of suicide like Jaehui said, right?”
Please don’t. I’m dying of anxiety. Sin Haeryang glanced at me at my question, but without stopping his hands, inspected his gun and answered simply.
“In the current situation, my committing suicide would be inefficient.”
······Well, first of all, I’m truly grateful he doesn’t seem to be thinking that right now. But why does he live thinking like that? If he wants to see an efficient life, wouldn’t it be better to go observe a refrigerator working twenty-four hours a day? And if he thinks it over and decides suicide is efficient, does that mean he’ll do it? Is he trying to make my blood boil?
This guy is someone who absolutely shouldn’t have obtained this kind of miracle or curse. If the situation turns even slightly against him, people like this might decide it’s “efficient” and commit suicide. I reversed the question.
“If what they said is true, if I commit suicide, wouldn’t all of this disappear and I wake up again at dawn today?”
If we think through this one by one, me dying right now seems like it would be more efficient. Sin Haeryang looked at me silently and asked.
“Are you going to commit suicide?”
He asked expressionlessly while holding a gun. Conscious of the gun in Sin Haeryang’s hand, I answered.
“······No. I’m going to survive by any means necessary and get out of this mess.”
This damn undersea base! I die even when I desperately try to survive—why should I die by my own hand? I absolutely won’t commit suicide! He smiled faintly, nodded lightly, and said.
“I will support you as you said.”
Sin Haeryang pushed around a wooden desk that was on the verge of collapse. Then he placed the desk in the center of the counseling room, parallel to the wall. I really shouldn’t be curious about these kinds of things. ······But he’s making me curious. I sighed and asked Sin Haeryang again.
“I’m asking just in case, but if I had said I was going to commit suicide, what would you have answered?”
Even after asking, I was afraid of the answer. This isn’t the kind of question I should ask in the first place. However, Sin Haeryang answered like a sensible person, surprising me.
“I would have told you not to.”
“Why······is that?”
No, it’s right to stop someone from committing suicide. Sin Haeryang hesitated slightly and opened his mouth.
“······They didn’t mention Jihyeon or Team Leader Gangbu. Even though it would have been an excellent means to threaten me, the fact that they didn’t means one of three things: those two are well hidden on Daehan Island, they’ve escaped, or they’re already dead.”
What was that terrifying thought at the end? Let’s leave out the last possibility. I want to see Jihyeon searching frantically for a boat and Team Leader Gangbu cursing his managerial position while reluctantly steering it. I hope Syuran, Yugeum, and Henry, and even Emma whom they luckily met along the way, all escape safely.
“You are certain that those two escaped via the escape craft. Whatever method was used during the escape, there must have been your involvement. And you willingly remained here to become my hostage for the sake of my team members.”
Uh······.
“For a civilian with absolutely no training to make such a courageous decision in a situation where even saving one’s own life is difficult is an incredibly hard thing to do. ······Even beasts know gratitude.”
Somehow that last line sounded like “one who doesn’t know gratitude is worse than a beast.” I guess when he tried to shoot me earlier, it really was at a position that wouldn’t be fatal. Checking the large lump forming beside unconscious Joseph’s ear, I had nothing to say this time.
“Thank you.”
Exchanging these words is somehow terribly embarrassing. To say I merely did what had to be done—most of it were things I had no choice but to do because it was the best choice in that situation, or concessions I made while crying inwardly.
I’m a healthy adult male. It’s not like I couldn’t have made a fuss to board the escape craft before everyone else in that situation. I’d rather drink seawater and die.
Hearing such sudden, out-of-nowhere praise leaves me speechless. Sin Haeryang has an outstanding talent for flustering people. I tried to change the subject and asked something else.
“Is there a reason you kept the people in the hallway alive instead of killing them?”
Sin Haeryang answered without even looking at the carnage he had created.
“If they die, the enemy will likely use their corpses as bullet shields. They might use them alive as well, but they’d probably be uncooperative.”
Come on. No way. Even lunatic fanatics wouldn’t go that far. I tried my best to ignore Jeong Sanghyeon’s screams still lingering in my ears.
“If kept alive, they get in the way underfoot and make it difficult to advance. Moreover, it lowers the enemy’s morale, and like the guy who came in earlier, they might call out to their comrades.”
I think snipers from a certain country did something like this in the past. I really don’t want to know, but at this point, I had no choice but to ask.
“Where on earth did you learn such knowledge?”
Sin Haeryang said expressionlessly, in a businesslike manner:
“You pick it up naturally while working.”
He answered as if I was asking something obvious. What I picked up while working were things like making clean incisions without anesthesia, suturing with even spacing, and coaxing kids trying to run away at the dentist’s office.
I wanted to say that if the know-how you gain from work is like that, you’d be better off quitting for your mental health. The words rose to my throat. But what do I know about someone else’s profession in a field I completely don’t understand? Since Joseph had fainted, I lowered my voice further and asked Sin Haeryang.
“Haeryang, if you were a Muhan Church believer, how do you think you’d handle this situation?”
“If there was no need to worry about the believers’ lives, I would have them continue pressing forward without breaking the momentum, as before.”
A handling method implying it doesn’t matter how many casualties there are. I wish the Muhan Church believers wouldn’t treat their lives as cheaply as straw and would value them instead, but seeing how things are going, I’m only worried.
“And if it doesn’t matter if the Savior gets hurt.”
Sin Haeryang gestured with his chin toward the wall Joseph was leaning against and said.
“That wall is a partition wall. It can’t stop bullets and they’ll penetrate right through. If it were me, I’d fire at knee-level against that wall. Then, when the people inside the counseling room have fallen, I’d shoot again and enter.”
I should move Joseph from under that wall to somewhere else. No, wait. He’d die even if I moved him. There’s no decent furniture or cover that can stop bullets. Given the power of the bullets we’ve seen so far, the wooden desk wouldn’t block anything—it would just get pierced through.
Would it be better to hide in the treatment room? How is the treatment room built? If the treatment room were sturdier, wouldn’t Sin Haeryang already be hiding there? Are the walls of my workplace like styrofoam that can’t even stop bullets? No. Do people really need to individually know what the walls and ceilings of their workplace are made of!
······I guess I need to know if I don’t want to end up like this. Listening to Sin Haeryang, even if I escape from here safely and return to land, I feel like I’ll be asking whether the walls of my workplace or home are concrete or whatever.
I feel like I’ll develop OCD. Later on, I might rest only where I can see the door, memorize emergency exit locations, figure out the shortest routes to stairs and elevators, and automatically identify where the solid-looking walls and bathrooms are.
Now I understand why the Muhan Church hasn’t attempted the tactic Sin Haeryang described. The hostage—that’s me—usually sits on the floor or lies down to rest. If they shoot everything at knee-level, isn’t that basically telling me to die? With bad luck, everyone in this room would die.
“Depending on what equipment they have, the situation changes greatly. If they have something like a thermal scope, they could aim more precisely. But judging from the items and behavior of the Muhan Church believers so far, they don’t seem to have such things.”
I’m not sure whether it would be more advantageous or disadvantageous for us if the Muhan Church believers had such equipment. It’s probably better for us that they don’t. We don’t have them either.
Sin Haeryang was naturally preparing for the next battle. I couldn’t help but think that when the next radio transmission came, or if the Muhan Church believers attacked again, something even more terrible than now would happen. There wouldn’t be time left to ask questions like this, nor would the conditions allow it.
“If, if I may ask.”
“Yes.”
“If I wanted what I’m saying to sound more credible, what should I say?”
“Pardon?”
Sin Haeryang asked me back.
“When I explained to you, Haeryang, about dying every day and waking up that morning, and about becoming the savior of crazy fanatics, what should I say and how should I say it to make you think I’m not talking nonsense? Do you have some secret that no one knows?”
“Pardon? I don’t particularly have anything like that······.”
“An embarrassing past is fine too. If you have a secret that others don’t know well, or that only you know, tell me. Something that would make me think, ‘Ah, another Sin Haeryang told me to say this.’”
Sin Haeryang seemed slightly flustered and said.
“······Just. I think you should speak honestly. You aren’t very good at lying, sir.”