The Foreigner on the Periphery

  Without any hesitation, the doctor tapped on the check box located at the way top.

After sending the report to the headquarters, the tired doctor stroked his eyes. On this dimension, the man was the last. However, the doctor’s business trip wasn’t over yet. He remembered what Minjun said when I packed my luggage and prepared to head to the terminal.

‘Is there any way I can live without working?’

His whining wasn’t about how he could ‘make a living’ without having to work.

Instead, it referred to a way to a “survivable” solution without doing work that was assigned by the company. Knowing what the answer was, the doctor mumbles bitterly, which of course couldn’t be answered in front of the interviewer.

"No, there's no such way."

To someone like Ye Minjun, it was impossible telling him to quit if it was dirty.  

If he didn't work, the only option left for him was death.

***

After the counseling session was finished, Minjun opened the creaky iron door and came out. The place he had been to so far was the supply shed in the corner of Boramae Park and the pavilion, which seemed to be less than ten meters wide. It certainly looked impossible to cram the large space where the doctor was.

People don’t pay attention to Min-Joon. The supply shed can only be seen to himself.   Even a park keeper with 20 years of experience didn’t know the fact that there was such a temporary building, and that he would appear as if he walked out of a blind spot in the recorded footage in the CCTV.

“The weather is quite warm.’

Eyes stopped on people resting in the park.

“It’s such a good time.”

The blossoms were now starting to bloom. Spring had come to the threshold and the sun was gently warming up the bridge of my nose. The springtime picnickers laid under the shade of flowers, giggling and whispering.

It was all clean and green.

‘It’s a good year.’

Seoul was not like this until the 1980s. It looked like a city with a yellowish filter on it due to smog and tangled dust. At that time, it was thought to be all yellow dust and people just lived without knowing how bad it was in their body or looking away from it.

The situation has changed since 1982 when the committee obtained compensation for accepting the seventh round of mass immigration.

As if to watch the last oil shock, they gave the humans the right to buy long-term seats as a present that could completely replace traditional fuel.

After a series of tedious struggles, only a third of the oil industry’s strongmen survived and the coal industry was almost wiped out. In return, the clean air and blue sky were enjoyed.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.

What broke Minjun's imagination was a warning tone that rang out in unison around him. Cool tension spreads among people who used to enjoy leisure. Noisy speaking. The sound of a baby crying after waking up. An embarrassing sigh.

“I think I got a disaster text message!”

“Oh, where did I put my phone?!”

Someone read it.

“A hostage crisis occurred at the Guro Digital Town branch of Hana Bank. The suspect is presumed to be capable of this. “Citizens in the neighborhood need to evacuate urgently…?”

Minjun didn’t even miss a small voice from far away and heard everything. Thanks to that, he realized the situation and kicked his tongue.

Tsk. A bank robbery, really?

They say that today was a better world, but there were parts that usually went against it. Until 40 years ago, it was rare for a Korean to have the ability to rob banks. At least, compared to now.

-Dan-dan-dan-Dann!  

The fate symphony rang with a crude medium sound. Min-Joon took out a 2G phone that could not receive disaster text messages. The ringtone can also tell who the opponent is. Caller, ‘Cash.’

Pull back the folder and ring the vocal cords briefly.

A young woman’s voice heard over the sign language.

“Minjun, you’ve got work to do.”

“The bank robbery?”

“You sure know well.”

She described the place he’d have to go to with the detailed situation and then hung up the phone.

Minjun grumbled and moved quickly. It was now time to get to work.

“I’m getting sick of this.”

He knew the exact term to describe his current state of mind.

In short, Ye Minjun was suffering from burnout syndrome.

***

“Huh? Mr. Ye, you're back!"

The strict boundary that blocked the scene became a passable barrier for Minjun when he slightly showed his ID. A familiar face was seen among the police and vigilante groups surrounding the bank.

Lieutenant Park Jeongpal. In the industry, they often met each other, drank a few times, and eventually grew closer in a brotherly fashion.

“There’s only one criminal, right?”

“Yes, it’s a solo crime. According to the last person to escape, there’s a total of four hostages left. Everyone but one was unconscious. Life and death are unknown.”

“Okay, I’ll take care of it from here.”

At this, Jeongpal tilted his head.

“By the way, aren’t you an agent from the immigration agency? Why did the Immigration office send you here instead of the National Police station?…….oh, wait! That has to mean…?!"

Jeong Pal looked at the building of the bank with an unexpected look. The suspect had put down all the blinds, so the entire interior scenery proved to be invisible.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Minjun nodded and took some amulets out of his arms, spraying them into the air. Fluttering! Blue flames wrapped around the bank, floating in the air.

Beyond the barricade, exclamation came out from citizens who were watching fearlessly.

“Look over there, it’s a wizard!”

“An agent must be here!”

Swoosh!

The building of the bank was quickly buried through the glorious mist – a formidable barrier.

Now no one could go in or out of there without the permission of the spellcaster.

“I'll take it from here."

Minjun stepped into the fog without hesitation. When his back disappeared, Lieutenant Park Jeongpal made an order.

“Come on! Let’s stop here and disperse all the people around us. Operational control has already been transferred to the Department of Immigration."

From here on, it was now Ye Minjun's responsibility to catch or let go. All the police had to do was prevent the civilians from getting caught up in the arresting process.

Most of them who were familiar with this situation were focused on putting down their aimed guns without saying a word and sending citizens away far. After introducing the civilian, the exhibition was re-established at a longer distance.

One of the officers standing next to Jeong Pal asked him a question, as if he was curious.

“Lieutenant, that person from before. The wizard…"

“Yeah?”

“If he's from the immigration office, isn’t it a place where they catch people who come into the country illegally and do labor jobs? But why are they here? The suspect is a Korean.”

The robber’s identity and photographs were already shared with all the officers that had been involved with this operation. However, Jeongpal kicked his tongue and rebuked him.

“Anyway, young people these days… What did you guys even learned in school that you don’t even know the difference between the immigration office and the INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service)?

Then the officer, who had just turned over 20, grumbled quietly.

“School? I’ve been always busy sleeping there. I always had to go to work every day until 5 am in the early morning. Do you think I would still have lots of stamina left in my body?

“……”

The officer's position in the Civil-Military sector wasn't a governmental role, and the pay was minimal. Yet, they were still continuously being thrust into dangerous situations alongside the police. Thus, most applicants came from those with poverty-stricken backgrounds. There were rumors going around that the Civil-Military had been created to lower youth job percentages.

‘I made a mistake with my words.’ The vigilante kept on chattering while he was lost in his thoughts.

“My unlucky father was born as a human being and not an orc. He also has to be over 75 years of age to get the pension. It’s like a joke to make a living just on a poor allowance, and the whole family looks as if they’re going to be sucking their fingers for the next 20 years until that day comes. What should I do then? of course, I also have to work too. The situation is different from a lieutenant who’s going to retire and get the pension after holding on just for another 5 more years reaching 50 years of age.”

‘Ah, now he's making a mistake with his words.' Lieutenant Park Jeongpal expressed discomfort by tapping his pointed molars sticking out of his lips. Then, the officer also cringed as if he realized he had crossed the line.

“……I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine in front of me, but just don’t go anywhere near the Oak Village and start saying those kinds of stuff. You may get beaten with your backbone being shattered and might even have to hang a pee container in your wheelchair.”

“Ayy, I don’t even go to other places talking stuff like that.”

The officer, who noticed that Jeongpal did not really get angry, carefully asked.

“But what’s the difference between the two?”

“The agency that does stuff like that is the immigration office. They handle complaints related to people from foreign countries and enforces them. By the way, Mr. Ye is also an exclusive agent that signed a contract with the immigration office."

Park Jeongpal's admiration for the man was evident, even though Ye Minjun looked a lot younger than the Lieutenant. This only piqued the officer's curiosity even further.

“What does the immigration office do?”

“It’s an organization that deals with people who came further than the other foreign countries.”

Only then did the officer seem to understand.

Aha! An exclamation mark popped into his eyes and quickly turned into an embarrassed expression.

“Oh, so who’s in that bank right now is…”

Jeong Pal nodded.

“Yeah, he’s an uninvited guest, contrary to our expectations.”