GB 69

Contrary to Yoon Moo-hwa’s advice and concerns, the ship fortunately managed to narrowly avoid the typhoon.

Typhoons were the first anomaly to arrive with climate change. They would come more suddenly and without warning than even a shower. Sometimes they would start small and then suddenly grow larger.

Even sailors who had been holding up well against waves up to 3 meters high were now looking for seasickness medication.

“It seems you don’t get seasick at all, Lieutenant.”

Even the medical duty sailor, who claimed to be the least prone to seasickness among his peers, lamented with a pale face.

Haero’s inner ears would still occasionally ache when the weather was bad. But such pain was better than vomiting so hard it could break the toilet.

He replied with an unaffected expression, “It’s a blessing.”

After the sun rose, the sea calmed as if nothing had happened.

They were scheduled to enter the Red Zone after some more time passed. But before that, yawning with sleepy eyes, he returned to his room and fell into a deep sleep.

A few hours later, footsteps approached, moist and silent like in a shower room. The person looked at Haero for a while, then raised a hand as if to gently brush his cheek, but withdrew it.

Like the sea that had completely forgotten the night’s events, it was a small moment unknown to anyone.

* * *

Early in the morning, the allied forces’ supply ship arrived. Although there was a separate generator, it was operated efficiently with the help of fuel for about 80% of its operation, so fuel supply before entering the Red Zone, which could be called a gray pit, was a very important task. The supply ship was equipped with only the bare minimum of defensive weapons, so this would be the last contact before arriving at the next port of call. It was that important for the operation to be carried out safely.

Even a very light fog significantly reduces the chances of success. Skilled sailors, including Haero, came out to the edge. Although he had received the same training and knew how to respond in these situations, it was his first time experiencing it directly at sea.

“The waves are calm, but the fog is reducing visibility,” the deck officer briefed.

They finally matched speed with the Mariana, named after the trench. Following orders from the deck officer and boatswain, lines were fired to connect the ships.

Only after the connecting lines were interwoven densely and regularly like a spider’s web did the fuel supply ship move along the lines.

No matter how well the ships matched speeds, differences inevitably arose due to waves, making it incredibly difficult to align in one go. The success of docking the massive supply ship depended on how taut the towing lines were and how much they swayed.

“60 years ago or now,” the sailor in front of Haero grumbled softly, his voice mixing with the sound of waves.

It’s nearly impossible to detach and replace a single part on a ship. They couldn’t reassemble the whole thing, and there was a middle dark period when it seemed water would sweep away the world, so they had no choice but to continue using this somewhat primitive method.

Haero’s tension peaked as he held the taut towing line.

Even with calm waves, water fragments sprayed everywhere as the massive hull passed by. The outer deck where they stood was very narrow, and as the huge hulls drew closer, the current between them intensified. A moment’s carelessness here could lead to a fatal fall. At best, severe injury.

Beads of sweat formed on the bridge of Haero’s nose.

“If it goes to the third try, we’re really screwed,” someone was heard pleading towards the approaching supply ship.

If it took three attempts, they’d be too exhausted to do anything in the afternoon. They were supposed to enter the gray pit around afternoon, which would be problematic.

Haero glared at the supply ship, enduring the pain in his numbing palms. He couldn’t help but feel desperate.

As the sensation in his hands disappeared to the point where he couldn’t tell if he was pulling his own arm or the towing line,

“Connected!” Even the veteran deck officer couldn’t hide his joy at this moment.

They succeeded on the first try. Only then did the sailors who had been crouching and holding the lines slowly rise with sighs of relief.

Fortunately, there were no injuries.

Requested military supplies and personal items were being transferred alongside the supply pipe. A pouch full of letters was among them. Since no one would be sending letters to Haero, his only concern was the medical supplies.

“Medical room supplies!” The deck officer called out after opening the package and checking its contents one by one. 

Haero received his share of the package, passing by those eagerly awaiting letters and personal parcels.

“No personal items?”

“No, sir. Checking complete. May I take this?”

The busy officer on the narrow outer deck, preoccupied with organizing lines and cargo, waved his hand dismissively, seemingly telling him to get lost. As Haero was leaving the outer deck, he stopped abruptly at someone’s shout.

“I think this is the captain’s item!”

Yoon Moo-hwa.

As far as Haero knew, Yoon Moo-hwa rarely requested personal items. He had known this even before leaving his side. After all, Haero had only packed and sent items at Yoon Moo-hwa’s request exactly twice during that not-so-short time.

Haero raised his hand. “I’ll deliver it to him.”

The busy officer brightened. 

Holding two packages to his chest, Haero hurried his steps to first deliver the items that could break, like syringes, to the medical room. As he walked away, the supply ship passing by, saluting Yoon Moo-hwa’s vessel, faded into the distance.

The corridor was deserted. Haero entered the infirmary, clutching the packages tightly, and mechanically began organizing the cargo.

“Oh, did the military supplies arrive?” The medical officer, who had been in the engine room, walked in exuding a stronger than usual fuel smell. 

Haero, who was in such a hurry he wished he could borrow a cat’s paw, greeted him with enthusiasm. “Please help me organize these.”

“Of course. Ah, I heard you succeeded in one go today? Even though it’s not a zero-gravity space, that damn oil pipeline just won’t stick, you know. I wonder how long they’ll insist on using that method. But if we put in a larger generator than what we’re using now, we’d exceed the loading capacity…”

The medical officer rambled on about something, but Haero didn’t hear a word of it.

Despite his impatience, he finished organizing everything with military precision, then swiftly picked up Yoon Moo-hwa’s package and left the infirmary.

Haero, who had been walking as fast as was safely possible, returned just moments later.

“Um…”

Haero asked, with a face that, despite his efforts to control his expression, couldn’t hide his heightened excitement, “How do I get to the captain’s quarters?”

* * *

Yoon Moo-hwa was sharpening a pencil. It was his habit when thinking or organizing a strategy. The shorter the pencil, the more pencils sharpened, the higher the pile of pencil shavings, the deeper his contemplation.

At some point, Yoon Moo-hwa’s pencil sharpening became faster and more careless. The wood shavings, which had been peeling off thinly like fur, suddenly became thicker and started breaking off with a snap. Unaware of this, Yoon Moo-hwa remained lost in thought. Where could his mind be wandering? His brows were furrowed, as if he was struggling with something.

“Captain, this is Lieutenant Haero. I’ve brought your personal items. May I come in?”

Snap.

The pencil lead finally broke.

At the same time, Yoon Moo-hwa returned to reality. The lingering scent of figs at the tip of his nose vanished without a trace as his subconscious journey ended. Yoon Moo-hwa clicked his tongue at the pencil shavings and broken lead that had fallen onto his thigh. With a tsk, he brushed them all into the trash can and picked up the eye patch he had taken off.

“Come in.”

Haero must have already lowered the door handle to the bottom, because he entered as soon as the words were spoken. Yoon Moo-hwa hadn’t even finished putting on his eye patch.

“Ah.”

The rough scar left from an eye injury was visible for a moment before disappearing. Haero’s gaze wandered, as if trying to follow what was now hidden beneath the eye patch, but he snapped back to attention when Yoon Moo-hwa tapped on the desk.

“Why is a lieutenant delivering my personal items?”

“The deck officer was busy, so I volunteered.”

When one is too brazen, there’s nothing left to say. And Haero, knowing he had done nothing wrong, was confident. He strode up and stood in front of Yoon Moo-hwa.

Yoon Moo-hwa stared not at the package Haero was holding, but at Haero himself. He smelled of the sharp scent of freshly sharpened pencils.

“…”

Silence began to fill the space like a heavy gas that couldn’t breathe.

Still, Haero stood motionless. It was patience trained by the passing of time. If he had been twenty, he would have fidgeted, unable to endure.

“Lieutenant.” Yoon Moo-hwa opened his mouth. It probably just sounded husky because he hadn’t been speaking, but it felt erotic. Was it because he was aroused by him? Haero blamed his own youth.

“Do you know what’s in that package?”

With those words, the tips of Haero’s fingers, barely visible under the slightly slipped ochre wrapping cloth, twitched. Those fingertips could feel the edge of what seemed to be a hard packaging material, presumably a box.

“No, I haven’t looked. Should I have checked the contents?”