The hospital had long since ceased to function as a medical facility. It was no longer a space of healing, but a refugee camp where civilization was actively deconstructing. In the area that remained an "emergency room" in name only, there was no longer any order or priority. The patients, who had been pouring in for days, were collapsing in consistently grotesque ways: vomiting, hemorrhaging, and the silent, crumbling loss of hair. No two individuals broke down in the exact same manner, and thus, no one could prepare for it.

  Initially, efforts were made to protect the staff, assuming it was a plague, but hygiene became a luxury in the face of the tidal wave of patients. Supplies ran out, and doctors stood in the center of this hell, relying on nothing but a thin mask and a single pair of gloves. Beds had vanished long ago, and while it was considered a stroke of luck just to see a doctor’s face, there was nothing the doctor could actually do upon meeting them.

  The floor had turned into a swamp of black liquid and filth. Distinguishing whether it was blood or vomit had lost all meaning. It was a spot a nurse had wiped down only 10 cells prior, yet it took less than a single cell for something to spill over it again. A nurse, exhausted from the futile cleaning, dozed as if dead in a corner, while at the entrance, a woman holding a child wailed as she gripped a doctor’s gown. The doctor, lacking even the strength to pull her hand away, stared into the void with hollow eyes.

  On one side of the corridor, a middle-aged man knelt against the wall, a handful of hair falling powerlessly into his palm. He looked down at it, then scattered it across the floor as if it were someone else's property. Those who could not find a place on a bed slowly grew cold on the tiled floor, emitting animalistic groans.

  The medical staff moved mechanically. Clad in gowns soaked in fatigue, they moved among the patients giving orders, and when a colleague collapsed, someone else filled the gap. Several complained of nausea and headaches, but they could not become subjects of treatment. They could still stand, and they could still judge—for now.

  Into the heart of this pandemonium, a military command vehicle entered with its sirens wailing. The sharp, mechanical screech of a loudspeaker cut through the screams.

  > “Attention. The dispersal of enemy toxins throughout the city of Yonic has been confirmed. The current situation is a despicable act of bio-chemical terror and—”

  >

  The people did not listen. The groans tearing through their own throats were louder, and the cooling body temperature of the family members in their arms was more urgent. In this landscape of hell, the government's explanation held no more significance than mere noise.

  > “The water supply will be cut off immediately. Citizens, do not be alarmed and follow the government’s instructions—”

  >

  Before the broadcast could even finish, employees from the Water Bureau, soldiers, and doctors from the Public Medical Service burst in with a roar. They forcibly rounded up the medical staff from each department. Soldiers formed a wall with their muzzles to prevent protest. Before the gathered medical staff, the Director General of the Public Medical Service spoke with a heavy voice.

  “The cause has been identified.”

  A murmur broke out. The Director General waited a moment before continuing.

  “It is a toxic terror attack by the Alliance. The source of transmission is the water supply. All water usage is strictly prohibited immediately. Boiling or disinfecting it is useless. There is no way to remove the contamination. Only distilled water is permitted.”

  Hands went up for questions everywhere, but the Director General firmly pointed to a set of guidelines.

  “Refer to the documents distributed for medical treatment methods. These are the official government instructions.”

  Hardly had he finished speaking when the soldiers locked the main valves of the hospital and threw open only the drainage pipes. The piping was forcibly adjusted so that water would only be supplied to the distilled water production facilities utilizing the Hemolysis Point, and armed troops were stationed in front of the valves. The doctors, reading the guidelines as they dispersed, were horrified. The "treatment" consisted of nothing more than basic wound dressing. An infuriated doctor grabbed the Director General as he was leaving.

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  “Is this it? You call this a guideline?”

  The Director General turned back to the doctor with eyes crusted with fatigue.

  “I am a doctor too. You are the tenth person like yourself I have seen today. I know your heart, and I know what you want to say. But...”

  The Director General paused for a moment, then whispered lowly.

  “The patients' prognoses are already fixed.”

  Hearing those words, the doctor lost the strength in the hand that was gripping the official. The Director General bowed his head politely, yet coldly.

  “Stay in the hospital as much as possible. Medical staff who use distilled water have a slightly lower rate of poisoning. At this point, each and every one of you is a strategic asset of the state.”

  The soldiers no longer blocked the doctor. The Director General exited the hospital and headed toward the next one.

  The Chancellor’s Chamber

  “The approval rating is also a problem,” the Strategic Secretary began.

  “Extreme fear has been fostered by this incident. It is not simply a matter of the Chancellor’s approval rating falling; support for the war itself has plummeted. The people are questioning the government's very ability to maintain control. The announcement that it was an enemy terror attack was accepted, but the problem is ‘what comes next.’ The public is asking if we can block this toxin. But as you can see, we don't even know what the enemy dispersed, do we?”

  Rolf pushed the reports on the table away irritably. The papers were filled with phrases like ‘undetectable,’ ‘unidentified components,’ and ‘analysis failure.’ He stared intently at the Intelligence Director across the long desk.

  “No detection method, no cure... from the top leadership to the guards on the ground, everyone is fighting an invisible ghost. Public Health Minister, tell me again about that bacteria count you mentioned earlier.”

  The Minister swallowed hard before answering.

  “Yes, Excellency. As a result of a full investigation into the intake stations and private water supply facilities throughout the city of Yonic, the indigenous bacteria that should be found in a normal environment are almost entirely annihilated. The peculiar thing is the state of that annihilation. Usually, when we kill bacteria, we use chemicals to destroy the cell wall structure. But here, uniquely, most of the cells appear as if they mutated and died. It is a phenomenon identical to being exposed to ultra-high-temperature steam.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “As you know, most aquatic cells have a resistance to high temperatures. They can survive even if the water is boiling for over an hour. That is why high-temperature sterilization is usually done by burning them with steam.”

  “So you're saying the cells look like they were burnt by steam?” Rolf asked, unable to contain himself.

  “Yes, that is correct. However, for that to be the case, they would have had to pass through a massive heat source somewhere, but no such traces were found.”

  Rolf frowned. “Are you telling me there is a heat source in the water that is invisible to the eye and possesses no heat?”

  “I am saying that is what the observations indicate.”

  Rolf whispered lowly, “Are you saying that if one drinks it, that poison burns and decomposes the cells inside our bodies with high heat?”

  “Based on the symptoms, yes. Hair loss, vomiting, hemorrhaging of internal organs... this is not a simple poison, but a weapon that collapses the body from the inside. It is natural for fear to spread. The problem is the medium. Since it is the water, everything has ground to a halt.”

  The Economic Chief spoke up.

  “Currently, wartime factories not only near Yonic but also inland and on the other side of the continent cannot be operated. Fear is spreading that the next target, after testing a major city, will be the strategic material production sites. The wartime system is collapsing.”

  Rolf clutched his head.

  “Give me just 5 cells,” Rolf said, looking around. He kept only the Director of Central Intelligence and the Minister of Defense.

  “What shall we do now?” Rolf asked the Intelligence Director.

  “Why don't we weaponize it instead? Since we know the manufacturing method, if we announce that we will retaliate against the enemy in kind, the approval rating will rise.”

  At the Director’s words, Rolf turned to the Defense Minister.

  “Too many resources have already been lost.”

  “Can’t we just put more resources in?” Rolf shot back.

  “I am not talking about physical resources. It is expected that at least one million casualties will result from this Yonic incident. An entire city has completely collapsed.”

  The Defense Minister leafed through his documents.

  “This is equivalent to the effect of fighting an entire war. Furthermore, Yonic is a major port and economic center. The priority is to prevent collapse in various sectors. Besides, maritime supply is currently impossible anyway. It is uncertain whether the Union soldiers on the continent can survive for even six months.”

  Rolf listened to the Defense Minister and repeated his words quietly.

  “A Minister of Defense who opposes the war...”

  “I am telling you that it is that hopeless.”

  Rolf felt hollow at the Defense Minister’s words. “What if we restart the project and conduct the same experiment, just as the Intelligence Director suggested?” Rolf said, unable to let go of his obsession.

  “We would have to review it, but it wouldn't be impossible. We already know the direction and the method... The problem is control. It is clear the toxicity is a material, but we have no way of knowing what kind of material it is or how to transport it. To speak bluntly, everyone could die while trying to move it.”

  Rolf smacked his lips. A bitter taste filled his mouth.

  “Tell the Foreign Minister to come in. Let’s end the war.”

  It was the first political defeat of Rolf’s life. But he knew well that holding onto it would only lead to further ruin.