GB 4

Yoon Moo-hwa recalled his last memory.

Due to seasonal tidal changes, countless islands repeatedly appeared and disappeared. Navigation charts were often meaningless. At such times, even with cutting-edge technology, there were limitations, and they had to go out to sea on patrol boats.

As the Chief, Yoon Moo-hwa could take on missions equivalent to a ship’s commander. He went out with three subordinates to patrol the coast. Due to changes in the marine ecosystem caused by climate change, seaweed had grown terrifyingly into clusters, and mangroves along the coast had grown like elephants supporting the Earth, along with heavy humidity.

Belying the name “high-speed boat,” the patrol team slowly navigated through the salt fog. An ensign directly recording on the navigation chart, a sergeant taking photos, a communications officer contacting the main ship, and Yoon Moo-hwa.

As always, there were constant dangers at sea, but he believed they would manage well and return this time too.

“Chief, there’s oil floating here.”

Until the sergeant discovered an anomaly through the binoculars.

Yoon Moo-hwa took the binoculars and reconfirmed where the sergeant had been looking. There was clearly a shiny oil slick visible.

Could there be a shipwreck or a stranded ship?

“We haven’t received any reports about this,” the communications officer muttered in a trembling voice.

They knew exactly where the main ship was. There were no other fleets within the operational area of the mother ship, approaching 10,000 tons, and its affiliated squadron. If an unreported ship appeared, it would be either a settler’s fishing boat or a pirate ship.

Yoon Moo-hwa prepared for combat with a tense expression.

Although it was a high-speed exploration boat, it wasn’t as fully equipped with firearms as the mother ship.

Yoon Moo-hwa first had the communications officer report to the main ship that they had spotted an unidentified vessel. Then he attempted to contact the opposing ship. He stated that this vessel belonged to the International United Navy, currently on a mission, and requested that they identify their purpose and affiliation. He also included a polite warning that they might board and inspect if they didn’t comply.

They reduced the engine output to minimize noise and watched for unidentified dangers in the salt fog. They hoped to spot them first, or rather, that the other party would be harmless.

However, Yoon Moo-hwa detected an unfamiliar engine noise. It clearly wasn’t the type of engine sound he was used to hearing. He turned around, and accordingly, the sergeant, communications officer, and ensign also turned their heads back, but nothing was visible in the salt fog.

“What should we do, should we report?” 

The ensign knew that Yoon Moo-hwa had an uncanny sense. More precisely, not an uncanny sense, but an uncanny power of observation.

If he had identified the unidentified party as hostile, it must be correct.

Yoon Moo-hwa raised his hand to quiet those behind him. Instead, he signaled only to the communications officer to report the situation to the main ship again. His instructions were brief. ‘Expected contact with unidentified object’, and the coordinate location.

Yoon Moo-hwa’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the vast sea before him.

The fog was getting thicker. Not even a silhouette was visible. He clicked his tongue in displeasure. If one had artificial eyes or corneas implanted, this level of fog wouldn’t be an obstacle, but international law strictly prohibited body modifications unless there was an unavoidable physical disability.

“Any response?”

“No response, sir.”

Hearing the heavily sunk voice, Yoon Moo-hwa rested the buttstock against his shoulder. Without heavy firearms, they had no chance if it came to a full-scale battle. He considered sounding the siren to check if it was a fishing boat, but if they were pirates, it would only expose their position without any gain.

“What should we do?” the ensign asked.

Yoon Moo-hwa listened more intently.

The engine sound was suspicious. It seemed modified. An ordinary fishing boat wouldn’t make modifications.

Yoon Moo-hwa steered the boat himself. He slowly turned the boat at low speed, reversing to avoid getting caught in the mangrove roots.

And then there was a bang, an explosion sound.

Shit.

Yoon Moo-hwa gritted his teeth. Before he could react to the explosion, his body was thrown, and his memory ended there.

* * *

After recalling all his memories, Yoon Moo-hwa raised a hand to rub his face. The shock had been significant. There was a reason why he, who could easily endure five days of training without sleep, had been unconscious for a whole night.

The unidentified vessel was likely a pirate ship with high probability. This area was already pirate territory. Though his memory was cut off, he must have somehow escaped but, unable to return to the main ship, had been washed ashore like a stranded vessel.

Everyone accompanying this mission had agreed to have vital chips with set usage times implanted in their bodies. Their life or death status would have been relayed to the main ship through the last communication and the chips embedded in each of their bodies. Considering the time and distance of the patrol using the high-speed boat, it would have taken the main ship a minimum of 36 hours to a maximum of 48 hours to assess the situation and move directly after situation assessment.

Pressing his hand to his side to prevent his ribs from twisting too much, Yoon Moo-hwa got up and went outside the cave.

The cave entrance, only 30 centimeters higher than Number 8’s head, was far too low and small for Yoon Moo-hwa. Still, it seemed it wouldn’t collapse easily, probably thanks to the tree roots holding it firmly.

Yoon Moo-hwa stepped outside, swallowing a breath in the humid air.

His personal firearms were unusable due to water damage, and the bladed weapons he had worn at his waist were nowhere to be seen. The child must have taken them, or they had fallen off while he was rolling in the water current. Yoon Moo-hwa quietly walked in the direction the child had disappeared. His black duty uniform was perfect for hiding in this place, which was dark despite the sun being up due to the densely growing trees.

He picked and ate fruits with animal bite marks. He could go without sleep or food for days, but it would be foolish not to eat when food was available.

As he went up through the forest, traces of human passage became more apparent. Broken branches and crushed leaves.

Yoon Moo-hwa hid behind a tree and quietly listened. He sensed a human presence. Slowly crouching and turning around, he saw the child who had been so meddlesome towards him earlier.

Slap―

The child’s head turned violently.

The woman who had slapped the child so hard that it seemed his small body might fly away now frantically searched the child’s clothes, turning out all his pockets. Finding nothing, she seemed to get angry for that very reason, shaking the child violently and shouting:

“You little rat! Why were you snooping around the kitchen! Yesterday you came empty-handed too, do you have any shame or not!”

Yoon Moo-hwa knew why the child was empty-handed. And he could well understand why the child was now under suspicion from the woman.

He rested his chin on his hand and quietly listened to the continued harsh scolding.

After a long while, it finally quieted down. A rustling sound approached, but the weight was quite light. Yoon Moo-hwa realized it was the sound of the child approaching and stood up.

The child seemed to hate appearing childish terribly. He would be embarrassed if seen crying. Just as Yoon Moo-hwa had instantly blended into the forest, this time he instantly left, heading back to the cave.

When the child returned, Yoon Moo-hwa pretended to be asleep, not knowing anything, and the child called Number 8 without a name sniffled, wiped his face, and removed the leaves attached to Yoon Moo-hwa’s side.

“…”

Yoon Moo-hwa watched Number 8 through narrowly opened eyes, then quietly swallowed a sigh as he saw the child spit out chewed herbs from his mouth and attach them to his side.

‘So this is how… he fed and applied it.’

Yoon Moo-hwa, who was about to get up and say there was no need for this, closed his eyes again upon seeing the child’s swollen cheek and reddened eyes.

After a short while, thinking it must be enough by now, Yoon Moo-hwa opened his eyes.

“…What are you doing now?”

He asked, a little flustered upon discovering the head resting on his chest.

Only then did Number 8 suddenly lift his head. He seemed not to have realized Yoon Moo-hwa was awake. He rolled his eyes sheepishly, with one cheek swollen plumply. It looked like it would bruise. Yoon Moo-hwa couldn’t help feeling sorry, but he couldn’t act as if he knew the reason. He propped himself up on his elbow to rise.

“No, no. You can’t get up now!”

Number 8 desperately tried to stop Yoon Moo-hwa.

“Your side will burst open! I just put new medicine on it.”

You mean that medicine you chewed in your mouth…

Yoon Moo-hwa swallowed a sigh.

It seemed best to pretend to be weak and whine a bit to the child. No matter how young, he was still a child from a pirate village. He couldn’t let the child think he should tell the adults about his existence.

“Okay. I understand. Then I’ll just lean here like this. Is that alright?”

Yoon Moo-hwa placated the child and leaned against the cave wall. His posture was awkwardly bent due to the low ceiling height. Pressing his hand against his side, gently pressing the newly replaced banana leaf, he asked the child again.

“What were you doing just now?”

Was he planning to take me to the village if I died? The child didn’t seem to feel any particular novelty about death.

But the answer the child gave, rolling his eyes again and stammering very carefully, was unexpected.

“Because it sounds nice…”

“…”

“Because it sounds nice… and it’s warm.”

It was an answer that could only come from someone who had never experienced the sound of another’s heartbeat or their warmth.

Yoon Moo-hwa became certain of his hypothesis that the child had grown up in an extremely harsh environment.

If this was indeed a pirate island, it couldn’t be helped. The world was cruel to children anyway. Even so…

A large hand carefully lifted the child’s chin.

The child, docilely raising his gaze while resting his head in the hand, looked at him with innocent eyes. It was hard to believe he had been raised by pirates. Sadly, Yoon Moo-hwa knew how damaged children’s eyes could become.

The cheek of the child named Number 8 was starting to turn purple. Yoon Moo-hwa brought his hand to the child’s face and was inwardly surprised. It seemed his hand could more than cover the entire face. As he gently stroked the cheek with his thumb, the child tilted his head, trying to press his face closer, so Yoon Moo-hwa withdrew his hand.

Number 8 was bewildered by the suddenly vanished warmth.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

Yoon Moo-hwa shook his head.

“I was afraid it might hurt. My hands are quite hard.”

It wasn’t just a saying; his hands were truly hard. They had many calluses and a rough texture. This was due not only to the grueling training he had undergone for two and a half years, including special training, but also the effects of the harsh sea winds.

In contrast, although the child’s skin was tanned, his cheeks were soft despite having been exposed to sea winds.

Yoon Moo-hwa frowned, recalling how tender and fragile children are. The child had been hit hard enough to be knocked over.

Suddenly wondering if the child’s teeth were okay, he said “Ah” to Number 8 and put his thumb to the corner of his lips. The child immediately tilted his head back and opened his mouth earnestly.

“There’s a molar missing here. Was it always missing?”

Wondering if it had been knocked out from the recent hit, he asked, but the child shook his head.

“I pulled it out last week. They said when your molars fall out, you’re all grown up.”

“So you’ve finished all your other baby teeth?”

“No. I’ve just lost one molar now. But I didn’t cry when it was pulled out. Big Brother Number 3 cried, they say. It’s a secret, though.”

Number 8 smiled shyly.

Given that he had just lost a molar, he really did seem to be about ten years old. Slightly relieved that it hadn’t been knocked out from being hit, Yoon Moo-hwa nodded.

As he withdrew his hand from the child’s open mouth, Number 8 got up from his seat, gathering himself.

“Are you going somewhere again?”

Yoon Moo-hwa quickly grabbed Number 8’s hand. It was smaller than a fern leaf. Number 8 looked puzzled and said, “I can’t just sit still.”

“If I go back empty-handed again today, I might really get punished. I have to earn my keep.”