The Soldier and The Novelist

Unemployment

It was the worst.

Perhaps there were signs of it when I woke up this morning.

Come to think of it, the landlady didn’t return my greeting this morning, my fried egg yolk was the only one that was crushed, and the lace of my right shoe broke as I left the house. As if that wasn’t enough, I was barked at by a stray dog three times on my way to work.

In hindsight, there were plenty of clues. Indeed, today might have already been announced in various ways as a day that wasn’t going to be lucky.

I couldn’t help but look at the notice board in front of me once again.

“The mercenary guild ‘Sunset Union’ will be closed as of March 30. Thank you for your many years of patronage.”

I think I read that parchment posted in front of the gate ten times. However, no matter how many times I read it, the text displayed there didn’t change.

I had just returned from a two-week business trip and was completely blindsided to find my workplace shut down upon my arrival. It took a good three minutes for my brain to start functioning properly, to comprehend the situation.

Wait a minute, what is this?

I expressed my doubts in words, and it was quick. I went around the back of the building like a ricochet and ran towards the back door.

There’s no way a company could suddenly shut down like this. Surely this must be a joke by my colleagues to surprise me.

As I entered the office, I was struck once again by what I saw. The small room, which I had grown accustomed to visiting, was about ten meters away. The bright morning sun shone in through the window, just like always, casting light on the floating dust particles.

But that was where the familiarity ended. The chief’s desk, which was usually cluttered with documents, the bookshelf full of dusty customer registries, and the patched-up reception sofa were all gone. Except for a few wooden boxes scattered on the floor, the space was filled with a vacant and empty atmosphere.

I had never seen a scene that fit the phrase “an empty shell” so well.

Hey, colleagues, isn’t this joke too grandiose for you?

As I stood there in a daze, I heard the sound of the door behind me opening. When I turned around, I saw a familiar face carrying a wooden crate for packing as he entered the office.

The man looked surprised for a moment before calling out my name. “Hey, Sword!”

He was a middle-aged man with a muscular and rugged appearance, complete with a scruffy beard. “How was the trip? Did it get warmer down south?”

My boss, the top official of the union, Chief Han, spoke with a tone that was so casual it made me more angry than curious. “What the hell is going on here?!”

The chief seemed uneasy as I grabbed him by the collar, rubbing his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s just as you see. We’re finished. Disbanded. That’s it, we’re done,” he said with a smile, which conveyed neither despair nor hope.

This man was saying something so outrageous with such nonchalance. “Finished? Disbanded? WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE IS THIS?!” I shouted.

My cry was drowned out by his sigh, which was heavy with resignation, a stark contrast to the jovial tone he had used earlier.

“We received a notice from the church,” he said, taking a crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. Despite its wrinkles, it was quite high-quality paper, with the emblem of the Holy See watermark visible when held up to the light. “This is a recommendation letter directly from His Holiness himself, the final warning.”

“How dare they!” I said, grabbing the paper from Han’s hand. Although the words were a collection of complicated terms that I couldn’t fully understand, I had a vague sense of what the paper was saying: to disband the union.

I was so angry and confused that I couldn’t even speak. Han looked down at me with a gaze that reminded me of how a father would look at a son who was slow to understand, “Well, sit down then. Although, unfortunately, there are no more chairs available.”

I looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before reluctantly sitting down on the floor. Han sat on top of the crate he had finished packing and lit a cigarette, offering one to me.

I took one of the cigarettes he offered, but I couldn’t find my lighter in my own jacket pocket. Apparently, I had forgotten it. How unlucky could I be today?

“Here you go,” Han said, handing me his lighter that had already been lit. As I struggled to light the tip of my cigarette, Han relaxed and allowed a small smile to form around his eyes.

“Do you remember, Sword?”

“What?”

“Seven years ago, when you first came to this union, you forgot your lighter. I lit it for you like I’m doing now.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Is that so? I remember.”

“I’m not sentimental enough to get caught up in middle-aged nostalgia.”

“I see. That’s true.”

“Don’t act like you know everything.”

“Of course,” the chief replied, relaxing his lips. “We’ve been together for seven years.”

I clicked my tongue as I looked into his narrowed eyes. “So, are you going to explain what’s going on?”

Han answered my question while blowing purple smoke. “Well, we’ve received this notice several times before. Since the new pope took office in the capital a year ago, the administrative structure of the entire country has changed significantly. You know that, right?”

I nodded silently. It was a large-scale administrative reform in the capital. I didn’t understand the complicated details, but even I, who only skimmed through newspapers, had heard that the country’s structure had changed significantly.

“You mean the Utopian Policy?”

“Yes. And in order to create it, the church needs to exclude private armed organizations from this town.”

“Still, it’s too sudden. When did they send this notice?”

“Five days ago.”

I was stunned. It was too ridiculous. The church, which suddenly handed down such an order, was still a church, and the union that responded to it was still a union.

“What the hell, why all of a sudden like that?”

“It’s because of Cardinal James Malmsteen, who came to this town a month ago.”

Cardinal Malmsteen. I had never met him in person, but I had seen his picture in the newspaper several times. He was an old man with white and blond hair and a face that was difficult to grasp. Without his title as cardinal, he was a man so shadowy that I might have forgotten he even existed the moment I saw his face.

As a term-limited administrator who was dispatched from the capital to the local city every year, he had the power to interfere with the city’s administration, and as long as it was in line with the pope’s command, he could exercise any policy. The number of rights he had was higher than that of the state’s highest authority, the state chairman, and he was thus the de facto ruler of local administration.

“The old man was like a withered cucumber, wasn’t he?”

“Your comparisons are always quite interesting,” Chief Han laughed. But soon bitterness crept onto his face.

“However, despite his gentle appearance, the administrator this time is quite forceful. It’s not just us. Four mercenary unions in Ixlaha went bankrupt this week alone. The only ones left are the Morning Sun Union and the Moon Night Union. Well, it’s probably only a matter of time for them too.”

As I listened to his story, I blew cigarette smoke towards the ceiling.

When I joined the union about seven years ago, there were nearly 20 different mercenary unions of all sizes competing with each other in Ixlaha.

As commercial trade flourished and many foreign merchants began to enter the city, the demand for mercenaries inevitably increased. Hiring mercenaries for intercity travel was a standard practice for dealing with the Fanged Beasts. Human resources were also necessary for transporting large shipments. As commerce boomed, the mercenary industry also prospered.

Now, it’s said that only two mercenary unions remain. It’s quite a depressing story.

“However, it doesn’t make sense to me,” I opened my mouth. “How could the mercenaries in the union accept such treatment? They are all such passionate individuals. If they were treated that way, wouldn’t they rebel?”

After a moment of silence, the chief answered. “Perhaps the union managers or even those mercenaries knew when it was time to call it quits.”

“Call it quits?”

Chief Han took a deep drag on his cigarette and exhaled purple smoke as if he was sighing.

“Ixlaha was once known as the ‘City of Mercenaries.’ But that’s a thing of the past now. Since the transcontinental railroad was completed four years ago, the demand for mercenaries has drastically decreased. Over the past four years, more than ten mercenary unions have disappeared. Even if the church didn’t get involved, most of the mercenary unions would have gone bankrupt eventually.”

What the hell was that? I wanted to shout it out, but Chief Han’s lowered gaze held me back. I had never seen or wanted to see his eyes like that before.

“You’ve probably noticed it too, Sword. Even if we get a request for work once a week, it’s considered good now. There’s no longer a need to risk our lives for intercity travel. We hardly encounter Fanged Beasts anymore unless we go to undeveloped areas. The age of mercenaries is over.”

I couldn’t say anything. I knew it too. I knew it but I pretended not to see it.

I dropped my long cigarette on the floor and stamped it out with my foot.

“Did you intentionally fold the union while I was away, chief?”

Chief Han smiled wryly and lowered his head slightly. “Sorry about that. Knowing you, you would have opposed the church even if you had to draw your sword.”

“What about the others?”

“They didn’t agree with it, but they understood.”

According to him, there was a retirement allowance from the union and insurance money from the church. It would be more accurate to say that they were made to understand rather than they understood.

“Of course, I’ve transferred your share to your account, including the expenses for this trip.”

I stared at the ceiling in silence. I didn’t know whether to be angry or to lament. Understanding the situation or its structure held back those emotions.

It’s no longer the era of mercenaries.

In the end, that’s what it came down to.

“What are you going to do now, chief?”

“As for me? Let me see,” Han said, and smiled. “I’m thinking of opening a flower shop with my retirement money.”

“A flower shop?” I repeated, surprised.

“Yeah. I’ve never grown anything before.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of this man admiring flowers. It just didn’t suit him.

The chief frowned at my laughter. “You’re a rude guy, Sword. What about you?”

I scoffed at the question and stood up. “Do you believe that my mind is already thinking towards what to do next, just after being laid off just now?”

“Hahaha, that’s right. My bad.”

He stood up and lifted the wooden box he had been sitting on to his shoulder. With his free hand, he patted my shoulder lightly and said, “Don’t worry about it. You’re still young. You can do anything.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered.

“Well, it’s not my problem anymore.”

“You’re such a terrible boss.”

“I’m not your boss anymore,” the former ‘boss’ said, laughing.

Hearing his usual laughter, my resentment also felt foolish. What lay ahead of me was the despair of having to start job hunting again.

It really was the worst.