Editor’s Survival Guide - Chapter 168

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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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Survival Rules for an Editor, Episode 168

ep23. Liberation (1)
Humans fear everything that causes them pain.
That’s why isolation always ranks among the highest of human fears.
Humans were not designed to live in isolation, and so they suffer greatly when it occurs.
And we are isolated now.
“How many different spaces have we encountered so far?”
“Sky: 4,071 times. Water: 1,911 times. Earth: 813 times. Stone wall: 705 times. Lava: 426 times. Muscle cross-section: 660 times. Darkness: 444 times. And fewer than 100 times each for vertically dropping corridors, rail-lined tunnels, stalactite caves, empty meadows, gaps between organs, and others.”
I answered Cha Si-eon’s question while scrolling through the photos saved on my tablet.
I’d already sorted through more than ten thousand photos.
Every one of them showed landscapes beyond the door.
This place was the Waiting Hall of the Train Station.
We were trapped here.
In a very bizarre way at that.
For some reason, whenever we opened a door, one of those spaces would appear.
Randomly, endlessly.
We’d been taking photos to identify any pattern.
But after ten thousand attempts, we’d discovered only one thing.
That we were trapped here.
“It’s probably not just a coincidence that this phenomenon started right after I joined up with Seo Do-un.”
“It probably isn’t.”
“Could the Big Cat’s sister be taking her frustrations out on us?”
“I don’t think so. She said this space belongs to the Big Cat’s territory.”
“Couldn’t she simply take her sister’s domain if she wanted?”
“In the human world, such violence happens often. But things seem different here. It appeared she couldn’t enter her sister’s space so freely.”
“Still, it seems less likely that the Big Cat is responsible for this.”
“I agree.”
If the Big Cat could isolate us like this, she would have done it long ago.
Rather than desperately buying time until the bombardment fell.
I was nodding along with this thought when Cha Si-eon added something.
“But we can’t say for certain if this phenomenon will persist indefinitely.”
“You’re saying this is temporary?”
“Yes. It could be another delaying tactic, like before.”
Like before.
He meant another bombardment could follow after the delay.
The reasoning was sound, but the implication was horrifying.
So I tried to quiet the Team Leader with a light complaint.
“Don’t speak it into existence.”
That was when it happened.
Boom—!
“…!”
A distant roar echoed, and vibrations traveled through the ground beneath our feet.
As if an explosion had occurred far away.
Cha Si-eon and I tensed immediately.
Wondering if the bombing was truly beginning.
About three minutes passed.
“…Seems to be a temporary phenomenon,” Cha Si-eon said, breaking the silence.

“Let’s rest for now. Just opening doors indiscriminately won’t lead anywhere. Going forward, we’ll check the doors once every hour.”
I nodded readily at Cha Si-eon’s suggestion.
We’d already spent three hours dashing around, frantically opening and closing doors.
The act itself wasn’t difficult, but the cumulative fatigue was considerable.
Especially given that the work seemed endless.
So setting limits like this—a beginning and an end—seemed wise.
To endure a crisis with no clear resolution.
I sat down on the floor, and Cha Si-eon handed me water and a protein bar.
I chewed slowly while looking up at the glass ceiling.
“Should we secure and keep open one of the doors that leads to a cave or tunnel?”
“Why?”
“In case the bombing starts. As an escape route.”
“You just told me not to speak things into existence.”
“Even so, we need contingencies.”
At my answer, Cha Si-eon let out an exasperated laugh.
Then he abruptly changed the subject.
“You said Seo Do-un has died and been revived multiple times, correct?”
“That’s what she said. I’ve had some suspicions myself.”
“….”
I answered matter-of-factly, then looked at Cha Si-eon.
For some reason, he was simply staring at me in silence.
Since he’d brought it up but now offered no response, I asked him back.
“Didn’t you notice something strange when you monitored my heart rate?”
“There were occasional irregularities. But before it could stop completely, it returned to normal. I suspected arrhythmia.”
Arrhythmia.
I took that to mean she’d revived me so quickly it didn’t even register on a heart rate monitor.
While I was mulling this over, Cha Si-eon said something unexpected.
“Actually, many field agents felt inadequate because of Seo Do-un.”
“Inadequate?”
“There was frequent talk like: ‘How has a civilian managed this when we haven’t?'”
Ah….
“So many agents debated whether it was luck, or whether luck counts as skill. But if Seo Do-un survived not through good fortune but by dying and being revived, in a way, it makes more sense.”
Cha Si-eon’s voice was neutral.
Not the tone of someone hiding relief or pleasure, but someone stating simple fact.
So I responded in kind.
“I’d also thought the luck was too convenient. Though it seems even that’s run out.”
“….”
His gaze lingered on me again after my response.
I wondered why he kept doing that.
“If you have something to say, just say it.”
“Does being dead bother you so little?”
Cha Si-eon cut right in the moment I spoke.
I found it rather absurd and laughed quietly before answering.
“It’s not pleasant.”
“Just unpleasant, and nothing more?”
“To be honest, it doesn’t feel real. If I’d seen hell or something on the other side, it’d be different. But I remember nothing.”
I answered calmly, then recalled what the woman had said.
—I know how much you fear death, even if you don’t.
…Certainly, it was not a situation to be dismissed as merely unpleasant.
But, well.
What good would worrying do now?
“Besides, I’m not the only one who died and came back. Since I wasn’t alone, I found courage.”
This time Cha Si-eon looked genuinely baffled.
But I nodded, affirming my own words.
“And it’s actually been good to learn I died and revived. I kept wondering why only I kept getting dragged to the Special Zone and could stop the Core. Now I think I’ve found a clue. So I’m better off now than when I knew nothing.”
“You believe your unique constitution stems from having died and been revived?”
“Doesn’t that seem most likely? I can’t explain it any other way.”
Besides, the woman had said something else.
—I don’t give my breath to just anyone. You don’t realize how precious it is and you’re squandering it.
Breath.
I think the answer lies in that word.
Even when God created humanity, He breathed life into them. That’s why major religions claim only humans have souls.
Thinking this explained enough, I looked at Cha Si-eon.
Then he said something unexpected again.
“The field agents’ inadequacy didn’t stem solely from Seo Do-un’s survival instinct.”
“…?”
“In fact, many agents questioned your mental state as well.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Seo Do-un has never wavered or broken down in the Special Zone.”
“Everyone must not realize how much pain I’ve been in.”
“I think so too. From watching you all this time, what I’ve felt is that Seo Do-un is not someone without fear.”
That’s obvious.
I feel fear.
So there’s never been a moment in the Special Zone when things felt remotely okay.
“Seo Do-un clearly understands terror. The difference from others is an almost eerie speed of Adaptation and Recovery. And that level is far removed from the norm.”
Suddenly I was being treated as an extraordinarily unusual person.
There are many kinds of isolation.
Physical isolation, social isolation, identity isolation.
So I’d prefer not to be called strange without rhyme or reason.
“Your typical phrase has always been ‘get your head on straight.’ ‘Panic later, observe the situation now’—that sort of thing. So I just did as you said.”
“I told you to calm down because the situation demanded it. But I didn’t have high expectations you’d actually manage it.”
Ah….
“Yet Seo Do-un organized emotions and disturbance far beyond my expectations. Almost like switching off a machine.”
“That….”
“We had a similar conversation before entering here. Back then, Seo Do-un said you ‘ended internal conflict through rational process and adapted to the situation.'”
That’s right.
When I stopped reacting to contamination, Cha Si-eon questioned why my heart rate was normal.
“I understood the process, but I still have doubts.”
“What doubts?”
“The primary cause of death for civilians isolated in the Special Zone is carelessness. People lose their lives despite reading the manual and being anxious. Those people surely thought about calming down too. But they couldn’t manage it and paid the price. Yet when Seo Do-un becomes disturbed, once the switch flips, she rarely becomes tense again. That applies now as well. Are you truly confronting the current situation head-on?”
“I believe so.”
“If so, you should be experiencing severe stress. Let me repeat: you’re not fearless. You’re not unaware of tension or anxiety. I can tell from your heart rate. But now, right after learning you’ve died multiple times, while we’re trapped in this space with no idea what comes next, you’ve already ‘ended internal conflict and adapted to the situation.’ Is that even possible?”
“How are you different, Team Leader….”
“I’ve said it before—don’t compare yourself to me.”
Cha Si-eon even clicked his tongue as he spoke.
Right, Cha Si-eon was the ace of the Management Bureau.
Not someone to be compared with me.
“So you’re saying I should be in distress….”
“There’s no need to manufacture something you don’t feel. What I’m curious about now is how it’s even possible.”
“That’s….”
Questioning someone else’s thought process like this felt unfair.
But after deliberating, I answered.
“Because I’m an editor…?”
Cha Si-eon’s expression, which had been serious, suddenly turned hazy.
It was the look of someone thinking I’d just said something stupid.

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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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