GB 134 Side Story End

Three months after arriving in the Arctic Ocean, news spread that pirates who had increased their forces by colluding with the mafia had established a base on the outskirts of Greenland. The Arctic Ocean was once again entering a state of tension. 

However, Yoon Moo-hwa, Haero, and indeed all people born after the glaciers had melted were already accustomed to such situations. Tension exists daily, and somehow one must maintain a daily routine within it.

Barges have been arriving in the Arctic Ocean recently. This is to allow the Maritime Mobile Unit to stay. Even without hearing it from Yoon Moo-hwa, Haero instinctively knew something was happening in the Arctic Ocean. However, if something were happening, he would tell him first. With this firm belief, Haero went down to the underground artificial nursery.

The Goodall Base was always renovating its underground facilities. Inside, they were artificially cultivating organisms from DNA extracted just before extinction, and among them was the sea lion that Haero had rescued. The sea lion, which had successfully achieved natural breeding after a long time, was receiving even more special treatment as it approached delivery.

“How is it today?”

When Haero asked the base researchers with whom he had become familiar, the chief researcher answered in a bright voice, “Very good. It looks like she’ll give birth to her baby either today or tomorrow at the latest.”

“Wow.” Haero approached the screen with sparkling eyes.

The sea lion, which had become sensitive as delivery approached, was lying in a cage with dimmed lighting.

“It won’t be dangerous, will it?” Haero asked with a worried voice.

“We’ve gathered the best experts, so it should be fine.”

Indeed, they had searched worldwide to recruit the most skilled veterinarians and caretakers. It was also Yoon Moo-hwa’s Narwal ship that had transported the caretaker who had arrived three months earlier to establish rapport with the sea lion.

“When do you leave for the operation?” They asked Haero, who couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. 

He answered, muttering, “In two hours.”

“Oh my.” The chief researcher sighed as if disappointed, “Everything will be recorded for research, so go ahead.”

It seemed they believed there was a high probability that Haero would miss the delivery scene.

Haero felt the same way. Having rescued it himself and watching it become pregnant, he had been coming to see it whenever he had time. He had grown quite attached to it during that time, but unfortunately, it seemed he wouldn’t be able to see the delivery.

After spending 30 more minutes, Haero unnecessarily stroked the screen and then turned around. However, until he left, he didn’t forget to look back several times to say goodbye.

“Please take good care of her. I’m counting on you.”

“You’re like a big brother. Don’t worry!”

“Good luck with your operation!”

During Haero’s visits, the researchers had grown as attached to Haero as he had to the sea lion. Haero headed toward the naval port while hearing their warm farewells.

✼✼✼

—Ten minutes before departure, ten minutes before.

The navy had fifteen minutes and ten minutes before. Ten minutes before wasn’t a signal that ten minutes remained, but that all preparations should be finished by now.

Haero immediately pressed his face against the window at the familiar fuel smell that followed the massive engine sound. It wasn’t as if he could lower the window like in a car to look back, but he tried his best to see the base even that way.

“I’ll be back.” Haero whispered.

“Stay strong. Fighting.” Then he sent words of encouragement.

Not knowing if they would be heard, but believing they would.

✼✼✼

Recently, the Arctic Ocean has entered polar night. The sun didn’t rise, and it was night for days. Usually, even the moon didn’t rise, but today, something red that could have been either the sun or moon was up in the sky.

Sailors are susceptible to superstition. Some sailors were busy constantly spitting overboard saying today was ominous and they wouldn’t swallow their saliva, while others unnecessarily broke alcohol bottles to offer sacrifices to the sea god—everyone was busy for various reasons.

The problem was that idiots who got injured in the process emerged.

Today alone, Haero had treated three sailors who had cut their hands. With the advent of rapid treatment devices, shallow lacerations could be quickly sealed. However, it wasn’t a preferred method as the wound area could become extremely itchy or stinging afterward.

“But today it won’t work.” Haero gritted his teeth as he looked at the shin wound of the fourth sailor who came in. “Spread the word that if anyone gets injured one more time for an absurd reason, everyone will have to use the rapid treatment device.”

At the lieutenant’s words, the sailor flinched and muttered, “I was injured in the engine room. I got hurt while on duty… please let it go, Lieutenant.”

Haero pretended not to hear.

After treating the shin, Haero headed to the captain’s quarters. It was to grumble about these foolish patients. Although he knew that people from different cultural backgrounds had gathered and each culture had different degrees of reliance on superstition, it was simply difficult for Haero, an atheist with no religion, to understand.

When he knocked, a voice from inside returned, “Yes.” 

As Haero peeked his head in, Yoon Moo-hwa noticed him and removed his glasses. It wasn’t because his eyesight had deteriorated, but a measure chosen to minimize the fatigue caused by using artificial eyes in daily life.

And Haero secretly liked Yoon Moo-hwa with glasses very much.

‘I’ve developed a strange preference.’

This time too, Haero grumbled inwardly while trying to calm his pounding heart. It was a pleasant complaint.

“What’s the matter?” Yoon Moo-hwa asked. 

Haero approached him and briefly reported the situation. Yoon Moo-hwa, listening quietly, noticed why Haero had come to him and smiled quietly. 

After waiting for the report to end, Yoon Moo-hwa asked again, “So you’d like to prohibit superstitious activities on the ship? Is that what you mean, Lieutenant?”

Was that what he meant? Haero was taken aback and closed his mouth, then nodded. That seemed right.

“Yes, Captain.”

Yoon Moo-hwa, who had stretched out his body and was comfortably leaning back in his chair, answered, “That’s not possible.”

“Pardon? I didn’t hear you correctly?”

“Unless it causes damage to the ship or induces a panic state that leads to low morale, my prohibiting such behavior would rather have the opposite effect.”

“…I’d like to ask how it could have the opposite effect when there have been injuries.”

“Although they injured themselves, they probably don’t regret it and actually felt reassured by their actions.”

At those words, Haero recalled the faces of the sailors who had come for treatment. Except for the last one who was injured in the engine room, they did look somewhat relieved.

“Since it’s an action taken by their own choice, they won’t complain, and the psychological stability brought about by their magical practices will have a greater effect on boosting morale than the injuries they sustained. Rather, if prohibited, anxiety would be amplified and distrust toward superiors and comrades would grow, so it would indeed have the opposite effect. So, Lieutenant, this captain will turn a blind eye to magical practices except those that destroy the ship or harm comrades.”

“……”

“That’s what humans are—sometimes finding comfort in such foolish actions.”

Yoon Moo-hwa picked up a pencil. He too had a similar habit. Sharpening pencils when thinking. And though he wouldn’t tell Haero, he too had done something foolish. Like ear surgery.

“I understand.” After a moment of silence, Haero, seemingly convinced, nodded. “I understand, Captain.”

“Good. Fine.” Yoon Moo-hwa leaned forward again. Resting his arms on the desk and leaning his body, he smiled and called to Haero, “So, are you going to leave without giving me a kiss, Lieutenant?”

A moment later, Haero quietly smiled. It was time to reward the superior who had given him excellent teaching.

✼✼✼

They returned to the base, leaving the red moon behind. Several sailors who had been calm inside the ship were seen sprinkling salt on their bodies—who knows where they got it—as they entered the base.

Haero ran off hurriedly with his back to them. Yoon Moo-hwa, watching him from the deck, narrowed his eyes.

Haero’s destination was naturally underground. Passing through the personal decontamination room, he urgently asked as soon as he entered, “How’s the sea lion?”

“She’s in labor!”

The atmosphere inside was very busy. The operation had ended on time, but the sea lion’s delivery was delayed.

“Labor has been prolonged, so we administered a stimulant.”

A large screen was turned on. Except for the emergency team, everyone was watching the sea lion’s delivery.

Haero too was fully absorbed in it. The observation room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. However, it wasn’t a relaxed atmosphere but a highly tense state. They didn’t even notice Yoon Moo-hwa entering.

Yoon Moo-hwa signaled to a military official who noticed him to stay quiet. Then he quietly approached Haero’s side.

Haero only discovered Yoon Moo-hwa after five minutes had passed.

“Ca-Captain!”

Yoon Moo-hwa put his index finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.” 

Then, after first turning his head, he slowly shifted his gaze back to guide Haero back to the screen.

“It’s starting.”

Along with Yoon Moo-hwa’s murmur, whispers of 

“it’s started” spread among the people.

The sea lion writhes. Cries burst forth, and the caretaker was watching near the cage, not even breathing.

“How long will it take?”

“It depends on whether it’s her first delivery or not.”

Each person clasped their hands together, hoping it wasn’t her first delivery. In diverse ways, they prayed to their respective gods. Haero, having no deity to pray to, briefly grasped the hand of the person beside him and then let go. No one noticed that brief moment. After all, everyone was focused on one place.

Yoon Moo-hwa watched the severely tense Haero. To Yoon Moo-hwa, the sea lion had merely been a rescue subject, and now it was an unfamiliar animal no longer under his operational jurisdiction, having been handed over. But through Haero’s existence alone, it became quite an important being to him.

If things went wrong, Haero would certainly cry. He would definitely cry and be upset for a long time. So Yoon Moo-hwa also wished for the sea lion’s well-being. 

The only being that made him pray is Haero.

And after how much time had passed in that tension, an exclamation burst forth like a sigh. “It’s out!” 

The caretaker began to move busily.

The sea lion pup wriggled on the floor. The sea lion, who had been in agony, quickly turned its body and tilted its head to lick its offspring.

Watching this scene, Haero’s eyes somehow stung with emotion, and he tightly pressed his lips together. It wasn’t because of feeling lonely or thinking about parents he’d never known. It was just a profound feeling. That even in this kind of world, new life is still born and cries somewhere.

“Is it going well?” 

“If it nurses, it’s successful. But she’s already licking it, so half the battle is won…” 

All the researchers smiled. Soon after, the sea lion embraced its pup in its arms. Only then did everyone exhale in relief, each rising to cheer or embrace one another. As if it were their great achievement. Yet even more joyfully because it was truly a miraculous feat difficult for them to accomplish.

Haero also turned to look at Yoon Moo-hwa. Yoon Moo-hwa saw Haero’s wet eyes shining with joy and delight, and quietly smiled back.

“Captain!” 

Yoon Moo-hwa closed his eyes deeply and then opened them. Haero followed Yoon Moo-hwa, who quietly went ahead. 

Through the closing door, the words “Let’s pop champagne!” came through. Followed by a joyful roar, “Baby, we’ll make this a good world for you to live in!”

It seemed unlikely that anyone would notice or care about their absence, at least for now. In the decontamination room, which he had fixed to not spray disinfectant, Yoon Moo-hwa opened his arms to Haero. Haero jumped into that embrace.

“Haero.” 

Haero is his afterlife. Haero makes Yoon Moo-hwa want to pray, believe in miracles, and create hope.

“Around this time next year, I’ll show you penguins walking in the Arctic.” 

This child makes him want to become a hero.

“So next year too, let’s watch the aurora together…” 

“What are you saying?” Haero exclaimed with overwhelming joy. His voice was deeply filled with love.

“There’s no need for words like ‘next year.’ We’ll watch it together for a lifetime!”

Only then did Yoon Moo-hwa faintly smile. He realized he had been tense, as if Haero had proposed. And Haero dissolved that tension instantly, effortlessly. He makes even the most difficult things seem simple. As if promising there will be another century at the end of this failing one. As if declaring that even on a completely melted sea, there will come a day when we stand on glaciers again. 

‘You come to me so lightly and then become my everything.’

Yoon Moo-hwa embraced Haero in return. His future is held in his arms. 

❮Gran Blue Side Story End❯