ocean-life Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Seongho immediately focused on Im Chan.
He had planned to use the earlier treatment as an excuse to start a conversation once Im Chan sat down.
But instead, Im Chan took his food and left the cafeteria without a word.
As Seongho stared at him in confusion, Choi Ji-young stepped in to explain.
"Normally, we can’t take food out because of waste and sanitation issues, but... just ignore it. My daughter was bitten."
Apparently, a number of blood clumps had entered through the windows while they were barricading the front door.
In the chaos, Im Chan’s daughter had been bitten.
Seongho now understood why Im Chan had seemed so grim while treating him.
“They gave three days' worth of preserved food to those in the quarantine ward... They’ll probably eat outside the ward together,” Ji-young continued.
This background might have been better left unsaid.
The issue Seongho had been trying to ignore now gnawed at his mind again.
The reason this was bothering him so much was probably because of his own conscience.
He knew there was a solution to this problem, yet he remained silent.
Seongho wasn’t without guilt.
He felt suffocated as if something foreign had lodged in his chest.
But rushing in to solve the problem would be a foolish thing to do.
‘Using my power increases the Corruption Score.’
It would likely be the same for infected people who hadn’t mutated yet.
‘There must be around ten infected people.’
If he helped them, his score would spike again.
If the score increased by just 10 points per person, that would be 100 points.
His score, which had barely dropped to two digits, would climb right back up.
What exactly is the Corruption Score?
What does it do to me?
He still didn’t know what to do to reduce it.
Until the mystery was solved, he needed to be cautious.
Seongho chose not to intervene for now, pushing down the uneasy feeling in his chest as he reluctantly swallowed the food on his tray.
---
**Later...**
"Here we are."
After finishing his meal, Seongho followed Ji-young to the hospital's fourth floor.
Their walk stopped in front of room 402.
This would be the room Seongho would stay in during his time at the hospital camp.
"It’s perfect for staying alone."
According to Ji-young’s explanation, it had been the room of the person who died earlier that day.
It was likely the person who had been eaten alive.
Seongho had no complaints about being given the room of the deceased.
"Please don’t feel too upset. I know you’ve helped us, but we don’t really know who you are yet."
No one would want to sleep in the same room as a complete stranger.
They could be stabbed in their sleep.
Most importantly, Seongho didn’t want to share a room with anyone.
"I haven’t been able to sort through the belongings yet, so the person’s things are still here. The owner was part of the combat team, so the room and its facilities are in good condition. There’s even a kerosene heater, so it won’t be cold at night. If you need anything else, just let me know."
"It’s already enough."
"Alright then. I’ll leave you to it."
With that, Ji-young opened the door for Seongho and left.
Upon entering, Seongho found himself in a simple two-person room.
The door clicked shut behind him, and silence quickly enveloped the room.
Seongho, who had been tugging at his collar with rough hands, suddenly walked quickly to the window.
He wanted to get some fresh air to relieve the unexplained frustration he felt.
But, in the end, it wasn’t the best decision.
The cold wind greeted him, but what caught his attention was the unfamiliar view outside.
Normally, there would have been streetlights, traffic signals, and various signs glowing brightly.
Now, it seemed like everything had been submerged in ink, and there wasn’t a single spot of light to be seen.
"*Hah...*"
It felt like his future was just as dark, and a suffocating sensation closed in on him.
Was he thrown here on purpose because of the timing?
‘It’s not just a petty act.’
Seongho started to think about the events happening in Gangbuk, trying to remember if anything was going on there.
Thanks to this, he realized something important.
‘The early parts of the original novel barely mentioned Gangbuk.’
Gangbuk and its people weren’t mentioned until the later stages of the story.
And the events that occurred there were always closely tied to major shifts in the protagonist’s storyline.
‘There are at least three major events that come to mind.’
Drugs, cannibalism, and the rise of the New Human Society, who believed in the superiority of awakened individuals.
These troublesome events started in Gangbuk simply because there was no protagonist there.
At the start of the virus outbreak, the protagonist’s influence hadn’t yet reached Gangbuk.
As a result, the events in Gangbuk were only mentioned later when they had gained enough momentum to impact the southern areas where the protagonist was based.
‘Maybe this is why I ended up here?’
Perhaps the protagonist’s absence in Gangbuk meant more things needed to be addressed.
If this theory was true...
If it was his role to manage the events that happened here without the protagonist...
Seongho rubbed his forehead with a serious
expression.
‘I remember the events in Gangbuk quite clearly.’
He had witnessed the protagonist’s struggles with these events firsthand.
But the specific timing and origins of these events eluded him.
The original story never explained how, when, or where these incidents began.
‘All I saw were the events revolving around the protagonist.’
But how could he know what was happening in a place without him?
The road ahead was daunting.
‘Should I just go and investigate myself?’
If that’s the case, he might end up going in circles around Gangbuk.
In frustration, Seongho let out a long, deep sigh.
At that moment, a faint message that had been lingering in his vision flickered.
‘Pioneer’s Cradle.’
It was the same button that had appeared after he defeated the evolved zombie.
Seongho quickly waved his hand in the air, but he couldn’t press it.
After a brief moment of wondering how to interact with it, he focused on the button and thought about pressing it.
**“The first viewing requires 10 Contribution Points. Do you wish to proceed? (Y/N)”**
Without hesitation, he pressed "Yes."
**“10 Contribution Points will be used.”**
**“You are now viewing Pioneer’s Cradle, Chapter 1.”**
Immediately, a massive book, the size of an adult male torso, unfolded in front of him.
Frozen in surprise, Seongho reached out without thinking.
He expected it to be intangible, like the message window.
“...It’s real?”
The book was solid, with physical form.
Curious, he pulled on it, but it didn’t move as if it were stuck.
Not giving up, Seongho continued to inspect the book.
Then, he accidentally touched a tab that stuck out from the side.
**“You do not meet the qualifications.”**
A new system message appeared, blocking his view.
Only then did Seongho notice the number on the tab.
‘Chapter 2?’
Tabs for Chapters 3 and 4 displayed the same message about insufficient qualifications as soon as he touched them.
‘It seems I need Contribution Points to proceed to the next chapter.’
It seemed that Contribution Points worked as a form of currency in this *Pioneer’s Cradle.*
Realizing this, Seongho thought carefully about what to do next.
‘It seems I can use these points for various forms of assistance.’
Seongho stared at the message and then spoke aloud.
“...Of course, yes.”
The new answer appeared below the question.