Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Shin, Please
* * *
It was barbaric, but without such measures, one couldn't even claim their own rights in the current age. Arnold looked at me with anxious eyes, as if asking whether I truly agreed with this, but my resolve didn’t change.
“Strange. You and Winter both.”
Arnold, rubbing his face dryly over and over, turned to look at Winter. Dozens of ideas were already swirling in his head—revenge only brought more revenge, and this path could make him no different from Gerald.
But it wasn't as if Winter didn’t understand that. Still, would enduring it solve anything? If Gerald had truly reflected on his wrongdoing, things wouldn’t have become this complicated in the first place.
The school had already decided to cover up the incident. The students, though sensing something was off, just let it go. In the end, it wasn’t their problem.
There was video footage recorded on a device, but the Public Enforcement Corps, who handled such evidence, were on Gerald’s side.
Winter had nothing he could do.
Just like back at the factory.
“I’m sorry, Uncle. But I can’t just stand by and watch. Maybe I’ll regret this decision later. But this kind of chance won’t come again. I’d rather act and regret it than regret not doing anything.”
A single sentence filled with unwavering resolve.
Arnold had to admit he had been treating Winter as a child all this time.
Just because the words were spoken casually didn’t mean the process behind them was shallow. If anything, he had probably gone over it countless times in his heart before saying it aloud.
“Do you think I’m wrong for feeling this way?”
That sudden question left his mind blank.
No—this wasn’t the time to consider such things.
“No, you’ve done nothing wrong.”
Arnold realized then that what had been holding him back all along was pretense and hypocrisy.
A mature response? Careful and deep consideration?
All meaningless. When nothing ran according to reason, to demand exemplary conduct was nothing short of cruel.
Arnold silently patted Winter on the back and lowered his head.
“Shin, please.”
* * *
Though it had been a while since I’d received a request, the heavy feeling in my chest didn’t go away. I felt it every time—being good, being upright, didn’t necessarily lead to a fitting outcome.
Even more so in the dome.
Since the Third World War, humanity had been enjoying its greatest golden age. The basic income system and the neatly maintained streets were proof of that.
It wasn’t as if politicians had suddenly awakened to altruism. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they had done practically nothing.
Then how had these results come to be?
There was no need to even ask.
It was, quite simply, the fruit of endlessly advancing technology.
No matter how carelessly one built, an apartment would never turn into a mud hut. That was how this standard of living had become the norm.
Right—while the privileged class feasted on flesh, what remained was merely the bone.
Naturally, the insides had festered, teetering on the verge of rot.
The unjust incident Winter had endured was a fitting example.
The Public Enforcement Corps, who were supposed to be the people's shield, had long since lost their original function. Instead of seeing citizens as individuals to protect, they regarded them as subjects to discipline.
Scandals related to them had surfaced multiple times before.
The most damning case was the ‘Millennium Code Gate’ that occurred in 2302 in Dome No.1.
It all started with a report that patrol drones were reducing the severity of penalties or even dismissing charges altogether based on the target’s status.
Since it was dismissed as a conspiracy theory, hardly anyone took it seriously. Aside from major crimes, most of the petty offenses encountered in daily life were handled exclusively by patrol drones.
They were functioning as legitimate tools for maintaining public order, so the idea that there might be flaws in the system came as a shock.
Citizens believed—without a shred of doubt—that no matter how corrupt the city governments managing the domes had become, they wouldn’t dare make decisions that would shake the foundations of the entire community.
But it didn’t take long for those hopes and expectations to be completely crushed, once the VIP list was revealed to be real.
The Public Enforcement Corps dismissed all suspicions as groundless, but when a whistleblower surfaced with proof of the algorithm in question, the situation became significantly more complex.
The company that had supplied the patrol drones, ‘Millennium Code’, was a megacorp spanning six domes.
One of the few entities capable of challenging the authority of the city governments ruling each dome. A group like that wouldn’t have released a product without proper contingency measures. It wasn’t the kind of issue they could have handled unilaterally in the first place.
Only then did people realize that there had been close negotiations between the two groups. And they finally recognized that the patrol drones were just the first warning shot.
With the rise of artificial intelligence, the value of labor had plummeted. Tasks that once required a human hand were now routinely carried out over the network.
Exploiting that fact, they had tried to build a foundation that could bypass even the law—and were caught in the act.
Perhaps they thought it could no longer be hidden.
A hastily assembled special investigation acknowledged the existence of the relevant algorithm. It also admitted there had been some sort of agreement. It seemed, at last, that justice would be served—but that turned out to be a complete illusion.
A fine of 5 billion Pia.
That was the amount imposed on Millennium Code, the company responsible for stirring such a social scandal. An amount so meager it was almost laughable.
A punishment that could only be described as a slap on the wrist.
Outraged by a verdict that bordered on mockery, the public naturally erupted in protests—many of which turned violent.
Accordingly, a storm broke out against Millennium Code—not just for colluding with the times, but for actively helping maintain the corrupt order.
Though it seemed to have settled for the moment, with the chairman stepping down and the vice-chairman taking over to contain the damage, that was merely the prelude.
It was soon revealed that the vice-chairman who had seized control of Millennium Code was the brother of the president representing the city government—and the very person who had ordered the creation of the VIP list.
Once it came to light that the chairman had been nothing more than a puppet—just a shield prepared in advance by the city government—the people flared up again at such brazen shamelessness.
But by then, the statute of limitations had already expired.
Neither the Public Enforcement Corps nor the prosecution made a move. Despite clear causality and undeniable guilt, nothing changed.
Faced with such a helpless reality, the people no longer backed down. When they realized they couldn’t rely on public authority, a new resolve took root—the will to impose justice themselves, even if by private means.
It didn’t take long for such radical ideology to spiral to the extreme.
Everyone became a vigilante—or someone acting on behalf of one.
What followed was a vortex of chaos.
The uncontainable chain of hatred finally calmed only after an unknown individual slaughtered all those connected to the incident.
They say the ground hardens after the rain.
As if waking from a spell, people gradually began to find common ground.
New laws were even enacted regarding self-defense and self-remedy.
In that process, the android investigators scheduled to be deployed alongside patrol drones were scrapped entirely, and the AI judge being prepared by the prosecution was also abandoned.
This case proved one thing: no matter how perfect artificial intelligence might be, the humans who handled it were not.
Technology had advanced, but morality and ethics had degenerated.
As a result, humanity failed to move forward and remained stuck in place.
It was around this time that the profession of "problem solver" surfaced publicly.
In truth, the history of mercenary services ran deep throughout modern history.
Gangsters stepping into the light to open private detective agencies, gathering under the name of neighborhood watch groups, then promoting themselves as professional specialists using the grand term “problem solver”—but the essence had never changed.
They were proxies, realizing wishes that couldn't be fulfilled within the framework of the law.
For an immortal who drifted through life without a legal identity, it was an irresistibly appealing job.
* * *
A rooftop of a deserted factory.
Whiiir!
As a patrol drone buzzed overhead, the group of students in uniform instinctively stepped back to create distance.
About the size of an adult man's upper torso.
Small in size, but thoroughly maintained to be deployable at any moment to a crime scene. It could begin suppression operations right now if needed.
Though it was equipped only with non-lethal armaments for subduing, one could never be too sure. At that speed, even a collision could pose a threat.
Frankly, it was absurd for patrol drones to fly that low. Accidental contact could always happen.
That was why, under normal conditions, they were programmed to ascend to altitudes where they wouldn't be easily seen.
Yet this particular patrol drone had strayed from its pre-set route—because of the controller clutched in Gerald’s hand.
“Once you get used to it, it’s no different from an RC car.”
Though it had scraped against things a few times in the process, Gerald didn’t care. He fiddled with the hologram, casually piloting the patrol drone.
“This won’t get caught by the Public Enforcement Corps, right?”
“Ha, look at you getting scared—it doesn’t suit you. It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s my brother’s.”
It had been issued to a Sheriff—
“Just borrowed it for a bit. Nothing to worry about.”
It wasn’t the first time. In fact, he’d even been caught last time. But it had ended with just a warning. Something about not touching it recklessly next time.
But that wasn’t enough to make Gerald stop.
Suddenly, the patrol drone clipped the wall of the factory.
Clang! A loud crash echoed as rebar and concrete came loose and fell.
“Dumber than I thought.”
One of the gang muttered that, and Gerald let out a small chuckle. Even to him, the patrol drone seemed sluggish. That something like this was guarding the dome—what a joke. But it wasn’t surprising.
“There’s no artificial intelligence in it.”
“There isn’t?”
Another guy asked, and Gerald shrugged.
“Think they’d install AI in hundreds of thousands of units? Just flying around for half a day costs tens of millions of Pia.”
The essential functions were handled by a large-scale cloud computing platform. In other words, a group of AIs remotely controlled the drones.
To cut costs, the drones only had recording devices inside—no onboard processors.
—That’s how his brother had explained it.
‘No, wait. Didn’t he say they switched to a system that made audits easier after some gate incident?’
He felt like he’d heard something like that, but the details were fuzzy.
It was then that a voice came from behind.
“More importantly, what are you gonna do about Winter? Heard he’s been kicking up a fuss, even talking about submitting a petition to the city government.”
“Waste of time.”
This wasn’t friction between corporations. Who would pay attention to the misfortune of a single student? Besides, any documents Winter submitted would be screened and deleted by the Public Enforcement Corps first.
“Just let him be. He’ll lower that stiff neck of his once he tastes some bitterness.”
“Can’t argue with that. You were amazing this time.”
“I want a Sheriff brother too. Can I be the youngest in your family?”
“Piss off.”
Even Gerald didn’t deny it had been a good experience. He’d gotten a clear understanding of the reach of his power. Even if he faced a real criminal one day, he wouldn’t tremble.
Truthfully, this case was beyond what even a Sheriff could handle easily. But his family had been part of the Public Enforcement Corps for generations, so he had all kinds of connections.
It was thanks to that that the wildfire had been extinguished in advance.
‘So this is the legacy I’m inheriting.’