The Outlander – ⓒ Frost
I don’t want to work
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1. Burnout Syndrome (1)
“I don’t want to work. I’m going crazy because I’m bored. I wish I could work less and earn more. I guess I’m more suited to just having fun. Is there any way I can live without working?”
The man who spoke without even taking a breath, Ye Min-jun, sat awkwardly and looked at the other person.
There was a brief silence.
As is often the case with psychiatric consultations, the doctor’s response was like a flood of water.
“You seem very tired, Mr. Ye Min-jun.”
The doctor glanced at the data, then turned to the clock. Seven minutes had passed since Minjun had sat down, and all he had said in that time was that he didn’t want to work, that his current job was a mess, and that he was going crazy because he was bored.
There was only three minutes left to ramble on like that, since the allowed consultation time was only ten minutes.
“···Tired? Oh, right. I’m tired.”
Minjun rolled the word around in his mouth a few times as if he was savoring its texture before spitting it out.
“I’m tired. I guess that’s understandable. I’ve been doing the same thing for too long. I wonder if this is the right way to live.”
The doctor reads the interviewee’s profile, which he has memorized from seeing it so many times, once more for no reason. ‘Yes, the length of service is quite long.’ Minjun was complaining of extreme fatigue and exhaustion from doing the same thing over and over again for too long.
“It seems like you’re mentally drained. Just like a rubber band loses its elasticity and becomes loose when pulled for too long, your mind also needs time to regroup. But since you don’t have the time to recharge…”
The doctor diagnosed, prescribed, and dispensed medication all at the same time.
He takes the medicine bottle out of the drawer and hands it to Minjun.
“We need to restore the elasticity of the rubber band before it breaks completely. The method of taking it is the same as before.”
The pill bottle was slightly smaller than a pack of cigarettes. Minjun carefully looked inside and popped a blue pill into his palm.
“How long will it take to eat this?”
“My next appointment is scheduled for 23 years from now and unless something extraordinary happens, that won’t change. So of course, it’s 23 years’ worth of medication.”
Even if you take one pill a day, 23 years’ worth would be enough to fill a box. But the doctor only gave him a small bottle, and Minjun didn’t find fault with that fact.
After completing the medication instructions, the 10 minutes of the scheduled consultation time were filled.
The doctor blinked his eyelids back and forth without saying a word. As if pulling back a curtain, the mucous membranes on both sides of his eye sockets covered and revealed the white pupils.
“······.”
“······.”
When there was no response from Minjun, the doctor stroked his left mouth with his fin.
The Tudell tribe, who call themselves polite gentlemen and ladies and call themselves sly sluts, rely heavily on non-verbal language. Their diverse and complex gestures are difficult for other races to interpret, but Yeominjun is an exception.
As far as he knew, the gesture had two meanings. One, ‘Do you want to sleep over tonight?’ Two, the former with a paradoxical and sarcastic meaning, ‘I’m a little busy right now.’
Instead of judging that the Tudel doctor had a pan-racial tendency and was seducing him here and now, completely ignoring the work code and medical ethics, Minjun decided to interpret the gesture in the latter sense.
I thought that would be better for my mental health.
“Then I will go now.”
“See you in 23 years.”
As he left the examination room, the doctor turned his gaze back to the materials. Parts of the desk surface were shaking like liquefied light, illuminating letters, symbols, and images that only the doctor could see.
I habitually reread it from the beginning.
– Interviewee’s personal information.
1. Disguised identity (name/race): Ye Min-jun/human
2. Real Identity (Name/Race): To access this information, you need administrator approval and access code of ‘Evan Jul’ level.
3. Charges: Same as above
4. Punishment Type: Labor Reeducation
5. Workplace: Earth (Dimension #22-189, Extreme Territory Level 4)
Below that, I wrote down the contents of today’s interview, and then stopped the fin at the last item. There was an item there that I had to choose from.
Five check boxes.
-Comprehensive opinion of medical workers on the interviewee
□Retention
□Warning
□ Waiting
□Transfer
□Annihilation
The doctor checked the top box without much thought.
□Retention – The corresponding item has been selected.
After sending the report to the headquarters, the doctor felt tired and rubbed his eyes. The man had just finished his last visit to this dimension, but the doctor’s tour of duty was not over yet. As he packed his bags and prepared to head to the terminal, he recalled Minjun’s persistent words.
‘Isn’t there a way to live without working?’
His ramblings were not about how to ‘make a living’ without working.
This is a way to ‘survive’ without having to do the work assigned by the company.
Of course, the person who said that would know the answer. The doctor muttered bitterly about the answer he could not give in front of the interviewer.
“No, there is no such method.”
The saying, “If it’s dirty, just throw it away,” couldn’t be said to someone like Ye Min-jun.
If he doesn’t work, he dies.
***
After finishing the interview, Minjun opened the creaking iron door and came out. The place he had been in was a storage facility in the corner of Boramae Park. The temporary building, which looked to be less than 3 pyeong in size from the outside, had an appearance that made it impossible to squeeze into the wide space he had been in with the doctor.
People don’t pay attention to Minjun. He is the only one who can see the warehouse. Even a park ranger with 20 years of experience doesn’t know that there is such a building, and in the CCTV footage, he will be seen walking out of a blind spot.
‘The weather is quite warm.’
The gaze stops at people resting in the park.
‘It’s a good time.’
The cherry blossoms have begun to bloom. The sunlight is leisurely warming the bridge of the nose, indicating that spring is just around the corner. Spring visitors are lying under the shade of the flowers, giggling and whispering.
I turned my gaze and looked at the sky.
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Clean and blue.
‘These are good times.’
Back in the early 1980s, Seoul wasn’t like this. It looked like a city covered in a thin filter because of the smog and fine dust. At the time, people thought it was all yellow dust, and people either didn’t know how bad it was for their health or just lived without paying attention.
Things changed when the committee received compensation for the 7th batch of immigrants in 1982.
As if they had been watching the chaos during the previous oil shock closely, they gifted mankind with the long-term purchase right for magic stones, which could perfectly replace traditional fuels.
After the tedious struggle that followed, only a third of the oil industry’s powerhouses survived, and the coal companies were all but wiped out. In return, we get this clean air and blue sky.
-Beep!
Minjun’s thoughts were interrupted by a warning sound that rang out all around him. A cool tension spread among the people who were enjoying their leisure time. A murmur. The crying sound of a baby waking up. A bewildered sigh.
“I think I got a disaster text message!”
“Hey, where did I put my phone?!”
Someone read it.
“A hostage crisis has occurred at the Hanwha Bank Guro Digital Town branch. The suspect is believed to be a person with supernatural powers. Nearby citizens are requested to evacuate immediately···?”
Minjun heard everything, even the smallest voices from afar. Thanks to that, he realized the situation and clicked his tongue.
A bank robbery.
The world has improved, but there are also some things that are going backwards. Until 40 years ago, it was very rare for a Korean to have the ability to rob a bank. At least compared to now.
-Tantantantantant!
The symphony of fate rang out in a crude midi sound. Minjun took out his 2G phone that was not capable of receiving disaster text messages. He could tell who was on the other end by the ringtone. The caller was ‘Cassie.’
Tilt the folder aside and make a short vocal sound.
“uh.”
A young woman’s voice is heard on the other end of the phone.
“Minjun, I have some work to ask you.”
“Bank robber?”
“You know very well.”
She hung up the phone after explaining the details of the situation and where he needed to go.
Minjun grumbled and quickened his pace. It was time to start work.
“I’m so bored.”
He knows the exact terms to describe his current psychological state.
Minjun was suffering from burnout syndrome.
***
“Huh? Brother!”
The tight security blocking the scene was also a free pass if Minjun showed his ID. A familiar face was seen among the police and vigilantes surrounding the bank.
Police Inspector Park Jeong-pal. He is a police officer who often meets each other in the same line of work, gets to know each other, and even drinks with each other a few times, eventually becoming like brothers.
“There’s only one culprit, right?”
“Yes, it was a solo crime. According to the last person to escape, there were four hostages left… All but one were unconscious. Their life or death is unknown.”
“Okay. I’ll take care of it from here.”
Jeongpal tilts his head.
“But, aren’t you an immigration agent? Why did you send me from the immigration office instead of the police department? ······Oh, wait a minute! That’s right!”
Jeong-pal looked at the bank building with an unexpected look in his eyes. The suspect had lowered all the blinds, so he couldn’t see the inside.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Minjun nodded, took out a few talismans from his bosom, and scattered them in the air. Whoosh! Blue flames floated in the air, enveloping the area around the bank.
Exclamations can be heard from citizens who are watching fearlessly from beyond the barricade.
“Look at that, it’s a wizard!”
“I think the agent is here!”
Swish!
The bank building was instantly hidden in a misty mist.
Barrier.
Now no one can enter or leave without the sorcerer’s permission.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Minjun steps into the fog without hesitation. As his back disappears, Lieutenant Park Jeong-pal gives instructions.
“Okay! Stop holding each other here and disperse all the surrounding citizens. The operational control has already been transferred to the immigration office.”
From here on out, it’s Ye Min-jun’s responsibility whether he catches them or not, and the only thing the police need to worry about is preventing civilians from getting involved in the arrest process.
Most of them, accustomed to this situation, silently lowered their guns and focused on chasing the civilians away. After introducing the civilians, they reorganized their display from a further distance.
The vigilante standing next to Jeongpal asks curiously.
“Sir, that guy from earlier. The wizard.”
“uh.”
“Isn’t the immigration office supposed to catch kids who come in illegally and do odd jobs? But why did they come here? The suspect is Korean.”
The identity and photo of the robber had already been shared with even the lowest-ranking vigilantes. The person who caused this incident was a Korean national with supernatural powers in his early 20s.
However, Jeongpal clicked his tongue and scolded him.
“Anyway, these days, young people… What did they learn in school that they don’t even know the difference between the immigration office and the immigration office?”
Then the vigilante, who had just turned twenty, grumbled quietly.
“School? I was busy going to sleep and coming back. I worked until 5 in the morning every day, so how could I have held up?”
“······.”
Most of the vigilantes who are mobilized for dangerous work alongside the police, despite not being public servants and receiving poor pay, come from extremely poor families. Few people enjoy doing the work that is rumored to be a government measure to simultaneously reduce the youth unemployment rate, which is breaking records every year, and the explosive population growth rate that has turned existing sociological models into scraps of paper.
‘I misspoke,’ the vigilante continued to babble while he was lost in thought.
“My unlucky father was born human, not orc, and he has to be over 75 to receive a pension. It’s a joke to tell him to live off of poverty benefits, and in the end, the whole family will have to suck their thumbs for 20 years until that day comes. What can I do? I have to work. If I just hold out for another 5 years, I’ll be 50 years old, and my situation is different from that of the inspector who will retire and receive a pension.”
“This time, he’s making a slip of the tongue.” Police Officer Park Jeong-pal tapped his sharp molars protruding from his lips, expressing his discomfort. Then, the vigilante shrugged his shoulders, as if he realized that he had crossed the line.
“······sorry.”
“You, you’re fine in front of me, but don’t go out and say things like that in the Orc Village. You’ll get beaten up so badly that your backbone will be broken and you might end up in a wheelchair with a piss bucket attached to it.”
“Hey, I don’t talk like this anywhere else.”
The vigilante, noticing that Jeongpal was not angry, asked cautiously.
“But what’s the difference between the two?”
“The agency that does the work you mentioned is the Immigration Office. They handle civil affairs related to people from abroad and also enforce enforcement. But, that guy is an exclusive agent under contract with the Immigration Office, so…”
The middle-aged Park Jeong-pal calls the much younger looking man “hyung.” The vigilante’s curiosity grows even stronger.
“What does the immigration office do?”
“It is an organization that deals with authors from even further afield than foreign countries.”
Only then did the vigilantes seem to understand.
Aha! An exclamation mark appeared in both of his eyes, but his face quickly changed to one of bewilderment.
“Huh? Then, inside that bank right now···?”
Jeongpal nodded.
“Yes, it seems that the uninvited guests came from far away, contrary to our expectations.”
