GB 131

Haero was a bit embarrassed by his direct answer. Yet when he himself pounced on Yoon Moo-hwa, he never hesitated or felt awkward. Yoon Moo-hwa truly loved this aspect of Haero.

The urge to smoke suddenly disappeared. After stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and closing the lid to prevent the ash from flying away, Yoon Moo-hwa was followed closely by Haero.

“What do you see?” 

“Nothing special today.” He answered Haero’s question, who knew that Yoon Moo-hwa’s eyes could sometimes be faster than underwater radar.

“Are ghost sharks that scary?” 

“Both their appearance and name are quite severe.” 

“If I said I wanted to see one…” 

“No.” Yoon Moo-hwa scolded Haero’s childish words. “Look at them in the database. You can view them in VR.”

Haero pouted. He was still so curious. Being excessively honest about his desires, Yoon Moo-hwa worried he might thoughtlessly throw himself into dangerous situations again.

Yoon Moo-hwa looked at Haero and, noticing his partially unzipped jacket, grabbed it and zipped it all the way up. Haero’s face was so small that the zipper covered up to the bridge of his nose.

“This is stifling. Moisture builds up when I’m like this.” 

“Still, don’t take it off.” 

“…” 

Though he must have had complaints, Haero remained quiet.

This was thanks to his reflection since implanting the chip in Yoon Moo-hwa and seeing how Yoon Moo-hwa welcomed it. 

Let’s grow up a bit more. Having clearly learned what it means to worry about someone, he tried to remember this and understand Yoon Moo-hwa’s sometimes excessive concern. That’s how he had matured.

Knowing Haero’s thoughts, Yoon Moo-hwa found Haero incredibly cute as he stood still and quiet despite his discomfort, and embraced him tightly.

Their clothes were so thick that when they hugged closely, both found it difficult to move. Still, neither had any intention of letting go. Their waddling walk resembled penguins, like those seen only in videos.

A pair of penguins danced a quietly chaotic waltz inside the isolated base in the dark Arctic Ocean.

Time passed. Yoon Moo-hwa knew he should send Haero back so he could eat the gamjatang he liked and the beef bourguignon, but he didn’t want to let him go. Having finally become honest with his feelings, Yoon Moo-hwa had become a bit… childish.

“Hey.” Haero raised his head from Yoon Moo-hwa’s embrace. He rested his chin on Yoon Moo-hwa’s shoulder, pressing down painfully. In that short time, Haero’s nose tip had turned bright red.

Yoon Moo-hwa couldn’t resist and ended up taking a picture of Haero like that. Despite telling himself to restrain, Yoon Moo-hwa’s data storage dedicated to Haero was growing heavier by the day.

Haero’s eyes turned toward the sky. His eyes folded and the aegyo-sal beneath them rose plumply.

“Look at that.” Haero raised his hand and pointed to the sky. “It’s like the snow globe attached to the music box you gave me.”

Only then did Yoon Moo-hwa also look up, following Haero’s fingertip.

There, a massive curtain was draped.

Let’s draw a curtain over this Earth that foolish humans had ruined themselves, regretted, and were now struggling to revive. As the sun decided so, a beautiful awning formed in the sky.

The aurora filled the sky like that, flickering.

It was so overwhelming. Haero gasped in amazement. It was a scene that left even the usually impassive Yoon Moo-hwa speechless.

“It’s like we’re inside a snow globe…”

Yoon Moo-hwa, while moving with Haero in his arms, unconsciously lifted him up.

“Whoa?” Suddenly lifted into the air, Haero was startled but gently relaxed his body. Soon, Yoon Moo-hwa placed Haero’s feet on top of his own boots.

Haero was wearing sneakers, not military boots. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have willingly stepped onto Yoon Moo-hwa’s instep.

“Shall we dance?” Yoon Moo-hwa asked softly. 

“Without music?” 

“Haero, sing for me.”

Yoon Moo-hwa was already moving. As his feet moved, the two of them gently treaded the air.

They didn’t know if this was the right way to dance, or what dance they were doing. That wasn’t important either. Haero laughed joyfully, and Yoon Moo-hwa was happy seeing that.

“I can’t remember the lyrics.” 

“Then just hum.”

Soon Haero began to hum. Yoon Moo-hwa closed his eyes and laughed, “Ah.” He recognized the melody. It was from the music box he had bought for Haero.

“I’m sorry to say this to you.” Haero whispered. “I’m glad we were demoted to this place. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have seen something like this…”

Yoon Moo-hwa smiled bitterly at these innocent words. He tilted his head and pressed his lips to Haero’s forehead.

“Should we just retire and live here?” This was a conversation they’d had before. Haero’s answer was predictable. Haero took Yoon Moo-hwa’s hands and spread them wide. Yoon Moo-hwa moved accordingly.

“No. This is enough as it is.” Haero looked up at the sky. 

Something enormous, like the curtains of giants or gods, rippled.

✼✼✼

Haero returned to the dining hall first.

Yoon Moo-hwa only entered the dining hall after spending quite some time outside. Whether due to the delicious food, or because it was better without an uncomfortable superior officer, or perhaps both, the atmosphere inside was very pleasant. Because of this, no one seemed to notice that Yoon Moo-hwa had left and returned.

“Here is your dish, Rear Admiral.” 

“I wonder if it will be alright, since it’s cold…” The Arctic chef muttered worriedly. 

“It’s fine. Your subordinates’ reactions are more meaningful than my taste.” Yoon Moo-hwa said as he picked up his spoon. “I can even grill a snake without salt and eat it.” 

“Hahaha.” The chef laughed, but the Narwhal’s cook did not. He knew Yoon Moo-hwa’s words weren’t a joke but actual training he had received.

After emptying both bowls completely, Yoon Moo-hwa sided with the gamjatang. Since this was more for entertainment than a sincere competition, and since one was a civilian and one was military, it made sense to favor the civilian. The cook graciously accepted this.

After the meal, dessert was served. The frozen desserts boasted excellent quality. They brought out several crates of famous pre-thawed frozen cake brands and shared them with alcohol. As this was inappropriate under military law, Yoon Moo-hwa had tactfully absented himself long ago.

Haero’s rear itched with the desire to follow Yoon Moo-hwa, but he couldn’t due to those holding him back. 

“About the sea lion.” 

Moreover, with talk turning to the animals he had rescued, he couldn’t leave. This was by his own choice. 

“Yes, yes. Is it doing well?” Haero asked, his eyes shining. 

“Yes! It’s fine. But you know what, it turns out it’s pregnant. It’s carrying a pup…” 

“Really?!” Like a bursting soap bubble, Haero’s joyful voice gently permeated the dining hall. 

With alcohol flowing, researchers and soldiers mingled freely, setting aside the unknown possibility of whether one of humanity’s major projects could succeed or not.

It became late at night. Haero walked unsteadily.

Currently at Goodall Base, since Yoon Moo-hwa was the only flag officer, the three rooms designated for flag officers were quiet with only one occupied. The corridor was the same. Haero boldly traversed that corridor and, in a drunken state, tried to scan his fingerprint. 

“Uh-oh.” There was no way it would work. 

“Why isn’t it working?” Haero rubbed his eyes. “Is Yoon Moo-hwa sleeping…? Then it won’t work…” 

His languid, alcohol-influenced voice echoed through the corridor. He didn’t even think that someone might hear.

The fortunate thing was that other crew members and researchers were in similar or worse states than Haero. 

“Yoon Moo-hwa.” Haero started calling for Yoon Moo-hwa. He seemed about to knock on the door next. Just as he raised his fist to knock, the lock was released.

The door swung open, and Haero fell forward. 

“You drunkard.” Yoon Moo-hwa, who caught Haero, muttered quietly.

Unaware of his feelings, Haero closed his eyes, his lips moving. Yoon Moo-hwa lifted Haero lightly and closed the door. 

The corridor was quiet again.

✼✼✼

“Why did you drink so much?” Yoon Moo-hwa removed Haero’s clothing while detaching his limbs that were clinging limply to him. His movements were skillful. 

“I didn’t drink that much.” 

But this wasn’t credible. It was understandable. Among all the alcoholic beverages available, there must have been one that perfectly suited Haero’s taste, and coincidentally, it must have been high in alcohol content. Given that he wasn’t the type to drink until his stomach was full, he probably got drunk on a small amount.

Yoon Moo-hwa didn’t scold him with phrases like “stand up properly” or “pull yourself together.” 

“Huh?” When he came to his senses, Haero realized he was naked. “When did I take off my clothes?” 

“Just now.” Yoon Moo-hwa didn’t take any credit even though he had helped with everything.

He carried Haero on his shoulder toward the bathroom. The water was warm. Haero opened and closed his mouth repeatedly as he got soaked under the shower. 

“I told you not to drink.”