After that, over the course of several days, I underwent all kinds of tests.
I checked the results of the tests I had taken.
100-meter sprint: 4.32 seconds.
Standing long jump: 22.3 meters.
Sergeant jump: 3.9 meters.
And so on.
A feast of records that far surpassed the human realm lined up endlessly, like a well-laid buffet.
More than the strange pattern carved into my chest, these absurd records made me recognize far more clearly and intensely that I was a stigmata manifester.
However, it wasn't because of these physical abilities that the fact I was a stigmata manifester was confirmed.
I pushed the test results sheet I was holding into the empty air. The air rippled and swallowed my hand along with the sheet.
Leaving the test results beyond the empty space, I pulled my hand back out.
"This is...."
This is my ability. Every stigmata manifester has a unique ability, and as if it were only natural, they know how to use it.
Some abilities are shared by several people, and others are possessed by only a single individual.
"They called it an inventory, didn't they."
One of the researchers who confirmed my ability had said that with an expression of awe, explaining that it resembled a space used to store items in a game.
My ability had never been reported before. Afterward, several experiments were conducted to understand my ability.
The inventory is used by inserting a hand into empty space and taking things out. Accordingly, items whose weight I cannot lift cannot be put in or taken out. I do not forget the type or quantity of items inside the inventory.
Once it was confirmed that I was a stigmata manifester, people who looked like researchers spent several days force-feeding me all kinds of information about contaminated zones and the role of cleaners.
"Do you understand?"
Their tone was polite, and their attitude cautious. I had heard that the state's treatment of cleaners was exceptional, and just looking at their behavior made that obvious.
"Cleaners can enter contaminated zones, and once the sources of contamination inside are removed, the cleaning is complete."
The researcher who had been listening quietly to my words nodded.
"From now on, Kim Sangseon, you will be active as an apprentice cleaner. Thank you in advance for your future efforts."
I stared at the dried-out researcher. The scales in my head, caked with hatred and rage, placed this man onto a weighing pan.
Did this researcher have a price to pay for his sins?
That was an important question for me. Going mad with anger and hatred and beating anyone to death or crippling them instead would be,
Rather, an insult to your death.
This is not a cheap emotion that can be vented roughly on just anyone, in any way.
This researcher merely conducts training for stigmata manifesters here and runs various tests.
Therefore, there is no guilt to assign.
"I understand. I'll do my best."
I relaxed my expression and replied.
"Apprentice cleaners operate under the guidance of senior cleaners during their apprenticeship period."
By accumulating sufficient experience through this, they officially become cleaners and are assigned ranks.
Like civil servants, they start at grade nine and go up to grade one.
"Apprentice cleaner Kim Sangseon will be assigned under grade seven cleaner Yoo Sangcheol."
The explanation continued, saying that three other apprentices besides me would also undergo their apprenticeship under cleaner Yoo Sangcheol.
"I understand."
"The first meeting will be in three days, along with lunch. Until then, please rest within the facility. If you request anything you need, we will support you within what is possible."
With that, my tests were completely concluded.
"Excuse me."
I called out to the researcher who was about to leave.
"Yes?"
"Could I receive something like a laptop as well?"
The researcher nodded immediately.
"Of course. Ah, and here, a SIM card and a handset. Please use this phone from now on."
I nodded and took the phone, inserting the SIM card.
"That was fast."
When I returned to my quarters, a laptop was already prepared.
As I powered it on, I thought that without a doubt, this laptop would have some sort of means installed for the government to monitor it.
That was why I asked for it. I wanted them to know what I was searching for and what I was checking.
After your death, I had thought about many things inside this facility. More than I ever had in my entire life.
The conclusion itself was simple.
I needed an irreplaceable position and overwhelming power.
How to obtain that position.
"Cleaners can enter contaminated zones, but they can't take things out from inside."
Once the contamination source is removed, the contaminated zone disappears. In that process, everything that does not belong to Earth vanishes along with the zone.
Sampling from inside contaminated zones.
That was what I searched for on the laptop. It was to let them know that I had looked up such materials in the first place.
"They must've gone through hell."
Only tests using simple, portable equipment carried in by cleaners had succeeded.
Not a single sample had ever been taken out of a contaminated zone.
"This should be enough."
After searching through materials for a few hours, I checked the time and headed to the cafeteria for dinner.
Without samples, research and verification of hypotheses are practically impossible. My ability, inventory, which has never been reported before, can store objects by placing them into empty space. Humanity has never once succeeded in sampling from inside a contaminated zone.
What would the brainiacs, among the smartest of the smart, think when they saw my search history?
'If it's this guy, he might be able to bring something out from inside a contaminated zone.'
That conclusion would naturally follow. There's no way people with PhDs would be worse at thinking than me.
And if I can't bring anything out? Then so be it. I can think of another method.
"Jjimdak, huh."
The dinner menu today was a food you absolutely loved.
My appetite vanished instantly, but I ate anyway. It felt like swallowing bones.
The turbine era was a time difficult to understand by today's common sense.
Meanwhile, a documentary was playing on the cafeteria TV.
Since I had no appetite anyway, I half-heartedly ate while watching the TV.
The turbine era. A time when humanity generated power not with magic, but by boiling water to spin turbines.
They built enormous facilities that could explode at any moment, and used dangerous materials that leaked radiation, to boil water. They produced electricity by spinning turbines with that steam.
Compared to today, where magic is instantly converted into power, it was an absurdly inefficient method.
And that's not all. An MRI that costs 3,000 won today cost hundreds of thousands back then. The number one cause of death after one's forties was lung cancer. Can you believe it?
Lung cancer is a disease that can be treated within days by paying around 150,000 to 200,000 won.
Air pollution, water pollution, fine dust, and global warming.
The TV continued explaining how harsh life was in the turbine era, and how wonderful life is for humanity in the age of magic.
It conveniently left out any mention of contaminated zones and contamination sources, the biggest headaches of modern humanity.
I finished my meal.
There was one thing I wanted to check, so I put a still-warm piece of jjimdak into my inventory.
After that, I returned to my room, slept, and woke up the next morning.
"...It's still warm."
The piece of jjimdak I took back out was just as warm as when I put it in. Does time stop once something enters the inventory?
I heard a knock. When I opened the door, four armed men were standing there.
"Are you apprentice cleaner Kim Sangseon?"
"...Yes, that's me. What is this about?"
At my words, they immediately saluted. In modern Korea, it was extremely rare to see the military or police show courtesy to civilians. Beatings were common, and even shootings were not rare.
Was it because I was a cleaner that they were being so polite?
Somewhat flustered, I asked them.
"What is this about?"
"Someone wishes to meet you."
I immediately sensed that someone had taken the bait I had cast through the laptop yesterday.
"I understand."
I nodded and moved with them. The place we arrived at was a room that looked to be about five pyeong in size.
"Nice to meet you, apprentice cleaner Kim Sangseon."
As soon as I entered, a middle-aged man in a filthy lab coat and thick glasses stood up from his seat and greeted me.
"I am Woo Gilyeong, director of the Contamination Disaster Research Center."
When Woo Gilyeong grinned, yellowed teeth spilled into view. Did he not care much about hygiene? He reeked of the mad scientist vibe straight out of a comic.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Kim Sangseon."
"Come, sit. Have you eaten?"
Instead of answering, I checked the time. It was 6:30 in the morning.
"Ah, look at my mind."
Woo Gilyeong smacked his forehead and then spoke into his radio.
"What would you like to eat. Korean food? Japanese? Chinese or Western is fine too, and we even have Middle Eastern."
What even is Middle Eastern. Thinking that, I answered.
"Korean food, please."
"Ooh! A patriot, are you."
A short while later, the door opened and the meal came in. Dried pollock soup with tofu and bean sprouts, rice, kimchi, and quail egg jangjorim were set out.
"Is that enough for you?"
"Hm? It's my usual breakfast. Healthy, you see."
Unlike the meal placed in front of me, what sat before Woo Gilyeong could hardly be called breakfast.
Three glasses of whiskey and a cigarette. Could that really be called breakfast? I stared at him quietly.
What should I say here? Should I ask why he wanted to see me?
Or should I pretend to be cowed by the presence of the man in front of me?
I decided on a slightly different approach.
"Shall we make a deal?"
I had summoned Woo Gilyeong here, and he had responded. There was no reason to be intimidated by his position, and there was no need to test the waters anymore.
The corners of Woo Gilyeong's mouth split wide, revealing those yellow teeth once more.
One glass of whiskey was downed in a single gulp. Then came the clack of the glass hitting the table. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, Woo Gilyeong spoke.
"Kim Sangseon. Kim Sangseon, right? Very good."
"I might be able to collect samples from inside contaminated zones."
I couldn't definitively say that I could collect them. No one on Earth had ever attempted such a thing.
The value of the samples was also unknown. They could be enormously valuable, or surprisingly worthless.
But even this possibility alone made my current value quite rare. If I succeeded in collecting samples, and if those samples had value?
Then I would literally become an irreplaceable, unparalleled asset.
From behind thick glasses, Woo Gilyeong's triangular eyes scanned me up and down.
"If you're talking about a deal, you must want something."
"Military equipment. Not outdated junk from the turbine era, but what the current Korean military uses."
Inventory is not strong by itself. A warehouse only has value when it's filled.
"In Korea, the only firearms civilians can possess are older-generation items manufactured to turbine era standards, correct?"
"That's right. It's meant to be used as a minimum means of self-defense in case you get caught up in a contaminated zone."
Magic-treated ammunition like explosive rounds or electric shock rounds, and the wide array of equally advanced modern military equipment, are prohibited for civilian possession. This applies to cleaners as well.
The government wouldn't want to give wings to cleaners who already possess superhuman bodies and unknown abilities.
What I was asking for was precisely those threatening pieces of equipment.