[At that moment, somewhere in Yeouido.]
“The era of Hunter Capitalism. In a world where Towers rise, how has the political landscape of South Korea changed?”
A young man, gripping a microphone, raised his voice with visible strain in his neck, speaking directly into the camera.
“If we were to compare it to China, it’s no different from the era of the Five Dynasties and Sixteen Kingdoms. The existing political map has been completely distorted. Minor parties began springing up one by one, each proposing different strategies for conquering the Towers. Since the first city council member with a Hunter background was elected 16 years ago, various small parties have started to gain seats, especially in regional areas.”
Behind the young man, light shimmered across a whiteboard, projecting a glowing map of the Korean Peninsula.
“This was the composition of the last National Assembly.”
The screen lit up brightly with a map of the peninsula—Seoul and Gyeonggi Province bathed in red and blue, with a diverse array of other colors scattered across the rest of the country.
Even at a glance, there were at least thirteen different colors visible.
“So, what will this year’s parliamentary election look like? There are two major issues. First, the candidacy of the S-rank Awakened known as Blue Lightning. These aren’t the traditional blue-colored party folk, but a new group using the national flag—the Taegeukgi—as their symbol. Known as the Conquest Faction, they led Tower raids even before the emergence of Master.”
A campaign scene appears, showing a young man dressed in a Taegeukgi-patterned suit touring Yeouido in a campaign vehicle.
“I thought this would be the biggest headline—but then came a story that flipped the nation on its head.”
Click.
The screen changed, revealing a face appearing across the entire Korean Peninsula.
“Master. The Master released a stimulant—the Awakening Agent. A chance to become an Awakened just by casting your vote. Compared to the million-strong Awakening event, this only applies to 300 people… but what does that really mean?”
The man with the mic raised three fingers and gestured across the map.
“That’s right! Anyone across the country has a chance—just by voting! Regardless of the party you support, all you have to do is step into the polling station and exercise your voting rights! Hell, even if you draw a heart on the ballot and spoil it, you still get a chance at the Awakening Agent!”
Bang, bang.
“Just vote, and you might awaken! Even if it’s a slim chance! Supernatural power awakening! The odds are better than the lottery!”
* * *
Here lies a single lottery ticket.
The odds? About 300 winners out of 35 million people.
If you’re selected, you awaken as a Hunter. If not… tough luck.
But how are those 35 million people selected?
“I may be raiding the Towers using my summons as a Summoner, but after entering both Babel and other Towers myself, I’ve realized something.”
“Minors shouldn’t enter the Towers?”
“Exactly. Unless you’re at least A-rank and can absolutely protect your own life—or a high schooler with the mental maturity of an adult—it’s too risky.”
“So the gacha is only for adults?”
“That’s right.”
The Awakening Agent lottery is strictly limited to adult citizens of South Korea, regardless of gender, region, ideology, education, wealth, criminal history, or even current awakened status.
Anyone can qualify under one condition.
“Commander, why did you make voting a requirement to be included in the draw?”
“It’s convenient.”
“…Huh?”
“If you’re thinking I did it because I hope higher voter turnout might push this country’s politics in a better direction—well, yeah, that’s true. But it’s not the main reason.”
High voter turnout doesn’t necessarily mean a fully democratic choice by the people—but it’s certainly better than low turnout.
“Later, we can cooperate with the government, pull a list from the National Election Commission of those who voted, and pick the awakeners from there, right?”
“What if the government refuses to cooperate?”
“If they don’t… then we just release 300 doses at random. I mean, it’s not like we can hack the election servers.”
“That’s a pretty dangerous thing to say.”
“Well, we do have a hacking expert android from the future, a stealth agent who can infiltrate physically without showing up on CCTV, a micro-sized super-agent who can crawl through electrical wiring, and even a cat. If we still can’t hack it, then that in itself is kinda impressive, right?”
“Fair point.”
The National Election Commission will hand over the list. If they don’t, they’ll be under pressure from 35 million hopeful awakeners.
“So, if you didn’t vote, you don’t get the Awakening Agent?”
“Of course not. With the stakes this high, how can someone who couldn’t even be bothered to vote hope to climb the Towers as a Hunter?”
Sure, going to the polls takes time. But one way or another, people can make time if they want to.
Those who truly couldn’t vote—who have legitimate reasons—will be given another chance through different channels.
So then, why tie it all to voting?
“It’s not about denying the Awakening Agent to those who didn’t vote. It’s about filtering out the people who won’t even take the easiest step to gain the chance to awaken.”
We’re not even talking about buying a 1,000-won lottery ticket.
Honestly, if I were told that there’s a lottery ticket that only 300 out of 35 million Korean adults would win—and it cost 1,000 won per ticket—I might think it’d be a better deal to just head to the nearest convenience store and buy a ChupaOus lollipop instead.
But voting doesn’t cost you money.
We don’t need to hire people or make special programs just to distribute Awakening Agents. No need to host something like a “1st National Hunter Awakening Festival” on the deck of Illinois, with banners, a lottery ceremony, or some kind of open-air show with guests.
“You know how in countries with low voter turnout, they sometimes hand out lottery tickets to encourage voting? This is the same idea.”
“Except we didn’t exactly coordinate with the government.”
“I’m saying we’re doing it, so they’ll just have to follow along. Don’t worry. They’re secretly hoping it’ll work anyway.”
Of course, we’re not just handing things out on a silver platter.
“Trial and error is fine. It’s okay if we stumble or screw up a little.”
And more importantly, even if things get a little rough around the edges or chaotic, it’s not a big deal.
“With the data we gather here, the U.S. will be able to implement a much more refined and stable system for Hunter Awakening.”
“So this is like live practice before deployment? Got it.”
That’s right.
This is a test run—a trial in Korea before implementation in the United States.
And if anyone asks, “Why test it in Korea?”
Well…
‘Because you can’t exactly test it in Japan or China, now can you?’
“Hey, Drei. Should we make this into a show? Like a dopamine festival program or something?”
“…That sounds terrifying. What kind of program are you talking about?”
“A live YouTube broadcast of the Awakening Agent lottery, so that everyone can see who receives my blessing. You just type in your name and birthdate, and boom—draw 10 at a time.”
“…”
“What?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Yup.”
Of course, it’s a joke.
“Even I wouldn’t mess with people’s fates like that.”
“Just had to make sure. I was starting to think you finally cracked under the stress of all those Tower and Babel raids. Because, you know…”
Drei lightly tapped her temple with a serious expression.
“That’s exactly the kind of thing we heard happened in another version of Earth inside Babel.”
“…Yeah.”
It was half a joke, but it turns out there is a Korea like that out there somewhere.
While riding inside Justice, we eavesdropped on conversations from those who had come from a different version of Earth inside Babel.
One of the stories they shared, laughing among themselves, was exactly that kind of insane tale.
A global gacha show for Awakening.
Some crazy S-rank Hunter used Tower Coins—about a million coins per draw, something you could buy in Babel—and descended to Earth to put on a miracle Awakening show for the masses, live-streamed to the entire world.
We only caught parts of it through surveillance, but apparently, they called it the last hope of their world.
There’s no need to dig deeper into it.
We don’t need to copy that spectacle, nor do we need to tailor it into something flashier or more refined for this world.
That was their Earth.
This is mine.
“Hey, Drei. About voting rights. Only Korean citizens can vote, right?”
“Of course. Even overseas Koreans can vote through embassies.”
“Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”
It might sound a little cold, especially to those who live and work hard in Korea but don’t have citizenship—but this is the bare minimum show of respect I can give to the people from my own country.
“And if undocumented immigrants or whoever want to complain… then maybe they should’ve naturalized already. Or just wait for the next opportunity.”
First step: 300 awakenings.
This is a festival, for Korea, by Koreans.
And then—
“I may have said only 300 people would awaken, but we both know that’s not the whole truth, right?”
While public attention is diverted by the flash of it all, while the world is distracted by the bait of political drama—
I will perform a miracle in this land that has no S-rank Tower.
“On the surface, it’ll look like only 300 people awakened… but in reality, we’ll suddenly see about 30,000 people wake up one morning and discover they’ve awakened, or had their bodies healed.”
After defeating the boss and descending from Babel, I left the escape to my summons and bought Awakening Agents, Mana Herbs, and Elixirs in bulk.
“Elaine.”
“Yes, Master.”
“From now on, we are… the Santa Claus of Spring.”
Miracle Santas, scattering Awakening Agents and Elixirs across the land.
“While everyone is distracted by the voting-based media frenzy, let’s go bring true miracles to those who’ve actually served this country.”
