Editor’s Survival Guide - Chapter 150

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Editor’s Survival Manual Chapter 150
ep20. Editor’s Checklist (7)
“The operation date has been set for July 16th at ten a.m.”
“Wow, this is exciting!”
The Train Station members raise their arms and cheer at Cha Si-eon’s words.
And while people stir into chaos, Cha Si-eon glances back and forth between his smartphone and my face.
Cha Si-eon monitors my heart rate in real-time, and doesn’t even bother hiding it.
Once he’s satisfied there’s nothing amiss, Cha Si-eon tears his eyes from his smartphone and speaks to the group again.
“There are seven days left until the operation. We’ve exempted personnel on duty, so I ask that you focus on training from here on.”
“Wow, this is exciting!”
“Additionally, all Letters of Farewell must be submitted by July 13th.”
“Roger!”
They’re answering quite enthusiastically.
Ten men speaking in unison like kindergarteners heading off on a field trip.
With all this happening around me, my own sense of tension was slipping away in pieces.
They won’t give gravity a chance to settle in.
The operation preparations continued smoothly in this manner.
I was also planning to spend the remaining week synchronizing with Jeong Jin-u and Han Seung-yo, who were on my team.
But Jeong Jin-u, who should have been moving to the training ground with us, is nowhere to be seen.
He was beside me just a moment ago—where did he go?
As I look around searching for Jeong Jin-u, Han Seung-yo beside me speaks briefly.
“Over there.”
I look in the direction Han Seung-yo pointed.
Jeong Jin-u was conversing with members of the Exploration Team, including Baek Sa-ra, near the entrance to the Meeting Room.
“The Island hasn’t shown up yet?”
“No. The inmates deployed in the initial survey are coming back out from the entrance.”
I approach to join Jeong Jin-u, but then I catch wind of something unexpected.
“Oh, Otter.”
Baek Sa-ra notices me and greets me first with familiarity.
“Otter, she called you.”
And Jeong Jin-u laughs, repeating what Baek Sa-ra said.
Baek Sa-ra either doesn’t hear or chooses to ignore it, simply smiling at me.
Then she points over my shoulder with her hand.
Behind me?
I turn around without thinking.
Thud!
A dull sound rings out.
When I turn back, Baek Sa-ra is still smiling, while Jeong Jin-u is doubled over, clutching at his shin.
“Nothing happened.”
“I see.”
I decide to take Baek Sa-ra’s word for it gladly.
Jeong Jin-u looks up at me like a betrayed man, but since this is partly of his own making, I pretend not to notice.
It’s then that Han Seung-yo speaks up from behind me.
“Is there a problem with the Island?”
“Not a problem yet. It’s been fifty-three days since the Island was reset, but we haven’t been able to enter it.”
“Unable to enter?”
I ask, puzzled, and Jeong Jin-u—brushing off his shin—answers from beside me.
“Looks like the Special Zone hasn’t manifested yet. They’ve been trying to get in, but they keep getting bounced back at the entrance.”
“Does this normally happen?”
“No, it’s pretty rare. Could be that the Special Zone is gathering power to catch us.”
Jeong Jin-u speaks cheerfully, laughing.
Jeong Jin-u had an unblemished appearance, like a washed piece of daikon radish, and a fairly pleasant temperament.
So he seemed like someone who would fit in anywhere and be popular regardless of gender.
But regrettably, this cheerful man seemed unfamiliar with the proverb that words are seeds.
* * *
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■ Guidelines for Writing a Letter of Farewell
1. Write with utmost sincerity and gravity. This letter may become your final words to those you hold dear.
2. If psychological disturbance arises while writing, calm yourself through deep breathing, intentional delay, or redirecting your attention.
3. Pay particular attention to the following impulses, and do not act on them.
① Desertion
: Your sudden disappearance not only jeopardizes the operation but also puts your colleagues at risk.
② Quarreling
: Fighting with colleagues before an operation helps no one.
③ Impulse Purchasing
: The fact that you don’t normally purchase something means there’s good reason. Do not arbitrarily calculate the allowance you’ll receive from this operation and spend excessively. Even if you receive various compensations after successful operation completion, a large bill could leave you worse off than before.
④ Confessing One’s Feelings
: Your morale may be severely damaged.
: Interpersonal difficulties may arise upon returning after the operation.
: Should you fail to return after the operation, the person confessed to may suffer indirect trauma.
: We continue to receive complaints from other departments regarding the Field Team. We particularly request that you refrain from workplace confessions.
—
These guidelines for writing a Letter of Farewell don’t actually contain anything helpful for writing one at all.
I hold a blank page before me and tap the pen I received from Author for some time.
Right after I was hired, I didn’t know what was what, so I just dashed off my letter quickly.
This time I wanted to write one properly, but I can’t find the right approach.
First, a letter of farewell is read by the deceased’s family or those close to them.
In my situation, it would be the people at the Management Bureau.
Then what message should I leave for those at the Management Bureau who will receive word of my death?
After deliberation, I pick up the pen.
Then I write sentences as my hand moves.
—Thank you for everything so far.
A sentence as perfunctory as the text printed on wooden chopstick wrappers.
—I go first; everyone, keep your heads up.
As if that would lift anyone’s spirits.
—The culprit is the Raven.
That’s not a farewell letter—that’s a dying message.
What do I do? I have no idea what to write.
I can’t very well ask someone else to show me their farewell letter.
Hmm.
Hmmmm.
Did my father agonize this much when he wrote his letter of farewell?
A wry smile comes to my face at the thought that suddenly occurs to me.
These days I find myself thinking of my father rather unexpectedly.
Maybe it’s because I heard that the male figure on stage at the National Theater might not have been my father but me.
Or perhaps it’s because I’m writing a letter of farewell.
The only letter of farewell I’ve ever received was my father’s.
I set the pen down for a moment and lean back against the chair.
Dust-laden, long-buried thoughts surfaced.
It was early morning.
My father passed away when I was twenty years old.
A so-called “extreme choice,” and I was the first one to find him.
So I was shuttled back and forth to many places.
And soon after, I received what looked like an invoice—his will.
True to a man who had ordered people around his whole life, it was a will with clear instructions.
It was regrettable.
To speak more plainly, at that time it felt like the world was collapsing.
My father was such an enormous presence to me, and at twenty, I had never escaped the palm of his hand.
When such a father suddenly vanished, it felt as though I had been thrown onto the street overnight.
It was then I first realized my life was not my own.
I felt bewildered that the being who had controlled my life departed so easily.
So I felt like an existence worth less than dust.
It took an extraordinarily long time to climb out of that deep mire.
The one saving grace was that I encountered the sentences of a certain author there.
I became a fan of that author even before it was intentional.
I threw myself blindly into the books of that author I met by chance.
For me, crushed under the weight of my own insignificance, those sentences were a refuge.
A friend that showed me my misery was not mine alone, and a teacher that taught me how to breathe again.
And while I rose again, they were a curtain shielding me from the world.
In my most fragile season, I hid between those sentences like a dying bird.
But those sentences did not let me die; they continued to teach me.
How to live.
That I need only continue to exist.
“Sigh.”
I laugh like I’m breathing out, and pick up the pen I’d set aside.
So to be honest, things aren’t so bad now.
At twenty, I was young and ignorant, unable to do anything.
But now it’s different.
I know how to live.
Of course, when something enormous rushes toward me, I still stagger.
But I no longer despair for too long, swept away in it.
Because I know how to decide for myself what kind of person to become and what to do.
So I resolved to do what I want and what I can.
I stopped asking why this happened to me and decided to focus on the task at hand.
What I want to do now is just one thing.
I’ve grown quite fond of these people struggling to fulfill their roles in this darkness.
I wanted to see the stories they would eventually tell.
So I couldn’t afford to die.
After much deliberation, I accepted Cha Si-eon’s advice to “write the most embarrassing letter of farewell possible.”
So using the pen given to me by the author who saved my life, I began composing a letter so mortifying that I would scream upon reading it in the morning.
* * *
Time passes quickly until the day of the operation.
We gathered in front of the corridor leading into the Train Station.
There, in addition to personnel deployed to the Train Station, Response Team 1 and Team 2 were on standby.
The current time is 9:59 a.m.
Cha Si-eon, watching the clock, speaks to me, Jeong Jin-u, and Han Seung-yo.
“Then I wish you luck.”
We nod with the smiles wiped from our faces.
“Team 1, enter.”
“Let’s go.”
At Cha Si-eon’s command, Jeong Jin-u leads us toward the tunnel.
We walk through the long, dark tunnel for some time.
The surroundings brighten with a peculiar tremor.
Before we know it, we’ve entered a vast Waiting Hall.
The moment we realize we’ve entered the Train Station.
Wee-ooo-wee!
An earsplitting siren wails through the air.
“Spread out!”
Jeong Jin-u’s shout is swallowed by the siren, barely audible.
But we instinctively put distance between ourselves.
Some ten seconds after the siren cuts out.
Boom!
A violent pressure crashes down on me.
As expected, I’m the target first.
Crack!
The moment my helmet cracks, Han Seung-yo grabs my collar and yanks me out of that spot.
In the meantime, Jeong Jin-u shouts.
“First strike, Seo Do-un, evasion successful!”
Wee-ooo-wee!
And immediately, the siren sounds again.
Again it’s Han Seung-yo who saves me, and Jeong Jin-u relays the situation once more.
“Second strike, Seo Do-un, evasion successful!”
Wee-ooo-wee!
The same sequence repeats without giving me a moment to catch my breath.
“Third strike, Seo Do-un, evasion successful! Come in!”
After three confirmations, Jeong Jin-u shouts toward someone.
Right after.
Vroooom!
A jet-black motorcycle roars into the Waiting Hall with a thunderous engine sound.
Riding the motorcycle is none other than Baek Sa-ra.
Her spectacular entrance announced the true beginning of the Train Station operation.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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