November 4, 2030
“…Hey, you government folks got it all wrong. We don’t keep slaves or anything like that. We only hire hardworking family members. Who the hell reported this?” The village head, one of the managers of Taepyeong Salt Farm, dodged the accusations. The farm was staffed with his relatives, and the actual slave laborers were nowhere to be seen. “…Is that so? Then we’ll take a look around the village. That’s fine, right?” The village head nodded.
Jung Min-ju, heading toward Jeungdo Island’s village, whispered to Kim Min-seok. “…Are you sure it’s that place? Not in these houses?” Kim Min-seok nodded. “…Yes. According to the informant, whenever inspections come, the slaves are moved to the back mountain.” Jung Min-ju nodded, glancing at the village head’s group watching them. Suddenly, she clutched her stomach. “Oh… ha… ugh… I need a bathroom quick. Where’s the restroom around here?” One of the village head’s group led Jung Min-ju to an outhouse, while the rest followed Kim Min-seok. As she rounded the corner of a container house, Jung Min-ju swiftly flipped her escort over her shoulder, cuffing his hands. Before he could react, she gagged him. “Mmph! Mmph!”
Jung Min-ju hurriedly dashed around the corner toward the back mountain of Jeungdo Island. After running for a while, she heard the sound of shovels digging. Hiding behind a tree, she peered out. Robust men were shoving salt farm slaves into a pit and covering it with dirt. “Argh! Save us!” The slaves screamed in terror. Jung Min-ju leaped out, aiming her gun. “Freeze! Drop the shovels now!” Startled, the men raised their hands. Minutes later, they reluctantly pulled the slaves out. “Ha… ha… thank you. Thank you…” Five or six slaves expressed their gratitude. An elderly man approached her. “You’re from the NIS, right? I’m the informant. There are more victims elsewhere—hurry.”
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Park Sung-jae, disguised as an old man with sandbags tied to his legs to slow him down, ran under the scorching sun. Even with the weights, he was fast for an “old man,” but he successfully deceived Jung Min-ju. She frantically moved across the island, gun drawn, cuffing people. Hours later, the island’s slaves, armed with the shovels used to bury them, surrounded the village head and his group. Kim Min-seok was amazed. “Wow, I didn’t expect you to take control so quickly! I’ll call the police for more backup!” As Kim Min-seok left, Jung Min-ju turned to Park Sung-jae. “Thank you, sir. What’s your name?”
…
The Hiroshima University broadcasting team consisted of a professor and a few students on a field practicum. The professor, feeling the heat on the boat, fanned himself. His students were interviewing the fisherman ferrying them. “Well, lemme tell ya, our town’s real pretty, but nobody comes ‘round. If you got a fine lady, come visit. I’ll give ya a good deal,” the fisherman boasted about his hometown, Sinan County, in a thick, unfamiliar dialect. Hours later, as the sun sank below the sea, night fell. The reporters spotted land and noticed lights flickering on an unnamed island.
“What’s that place?” the Japanese students asked in fluent Korean. The fisherman, oddly distracted, didn’t seem to care. “Huh… why’s it lit up now? It shouldn’t be…” As he tried to steer around the island, a police boat approached from behind. The police blared a warning through a megaphone. “Ah~ ah~ Fisherman, sir? Everyone coming here needs to be investigated. Cooperate with the investigation.” Sensing his life was over, the fisherman dove into the sea to escape the police boat. Officers pursued him in the water. The Japanese students were baffled, questioned by the police and left dumbfounded. “…What’s happening?” they asked. The police reluctantly explained. “…There’s been a murder case here. It’s been going on for ten years, and dozens of bodies are buried.”
