GB 99

“…So you have no idea how awkward it was.” Haero recounted what had just happened, speaking slowly while yawning.

Yoon Moo-hwa’s voice, soothing him as if he wasn’t tired at all, remained unchanged. Gentle and distinctly rational. Unlike during their intimate moments.

– I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.

“It’s fine. You were probably overwhelmed too.”

When Haero had finished climaxing, it was Yoon Moo-hwa who lifted him—as stars swirled before his eyes—then wiped his body with a wet towel and dressed him. Haero was limp like a doll, and only after being fully dressed did he realize Yoon Moo-hwa’s dick was still erect.

Seeing the flustered Haero, he casually said, “You should get going now, Doctor,” and pushed him toward the door.

After finishing the treatment, the first thought that came to Haero’s mind was that.

“Are you okay? That… it was painfully erect.”

When he stammered the question, Yoon Moo-hwa at first pretended not to understand, asking “What do you mean?” but soon softly laughed and said he was fine.

– It’s nothing special. If I couldn’t handle a mere erection, I’d be better off castrated.

“Why would you say such a thing?”

– Anyway, I’m fine. I’m used to waiting.

True. Even just the few suspicious vessels they’d confronted since boarding this ship were like that. Every operation was a series of waiting. So Yoon Moo-hwa would be more than accustomed to it. 

Haero nodded. “When our mission is over… let’s have a lot of fun then.”

– You mean having fun with sex? Haero, you’re really young. Not that I mind.

Yoon Moo-hwa teased him, full of laughter. 

Haero started to say that wasn’t what he meant, but soon gave up since that intention wasn’t entirely absent either.

Lying down and whispering on the phone with Yoon Moo-hwa made his heart flutter repeatedly, making him sleepy yet reluctant to fall asleep.

“I’m not joking. When the mission is over, I really won’t let you go…” Haero mumbled with another long yawn. His eyes were already more than half closed, “This will be a really special vacation. Unlike before, we…”

‘So we, what happened to us after?’

Haero had only learned about romance through the media. Doesn’t dating start when you ask someone out? Don’t you have to say you like someone to like them?

But unlike what he’d learned, when he was with Yoon Moo-hwa, such trivial matters didn’t seem important at all. Because there was something more intense between them than just saying they liked each other.

But at this moment, he wondered what to call “us.” That is, we are in the same military unit with different ranks, sailing on the same ship…

“So… we, we…”

It was maddening. His mind wouldn’t work. He couldn’t wake up, as if sinking into a swamp. Being drawn into sleep as if enchanted, Haero asked, not even sure if he was speaking properly, “We have a special relationship, right…?”

“……”

He needed to hear an answer… needed to hear an answer.

But Haero’s eyes finally closed, and the communication device he’d been holding fell to the floor beside the bed.

Soon, the sound of peaceful breathing faintly filled the room. After a long silence, Yoon Moo-hwa’s voice came through the device, as if placing a period.

– Sleep well, Haero.

That night, Haero dreamed of his hometown for the first time in a long while.

He navigated between the huge mangrove roots, performed a long dive—his pride and special talent—then emerged above water.

‘——!’

And he searched for someone.

‘——!’

He called the name endlessly, but no sound came out of his mouth despite shouting at the top of his lungs. There was nothing to hear either, just a dull silence.

‘——? ——!’

There was no one on the beach.

And only then did Haero realize that the island beyond the beach was burning fiercely.

The beach, still quiet and peaceful despite the island he cherished being on fire. Floating like a jellyfish before it, Haero looked down at the soft sensation wrapping around his legs.

Long tentacles were tightly wrapped around his legs. Even as they climbed higher and enveloped his body, he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t even frightened of the pain that the potentially poisonous tentacles might bring.

As he slowly sank into the water, Yoon Moo-hwa was there. The tentacles belonged to Yoon Moo-hwa, and only then did Haero recall the jellyfish that showed dreams from two years ago, but he woke up unable to distinguish whether it was Yoon Moo-hwa or that jellyfish.

With the familiar bell sound hitting his ears.

“All hands to general quarters in 15 minutes. All the crew assemble on shore in 15 minutes.”

“…Ah, damn bell.”

And as usual, he soon forgot the content of the dream after waking up.

✼✼✼

“The route through the Cape of Good Hope was pioneered in 1498. That means it’s been used for nearly 600 years. Though the Cape has rarely been completely safe during those 600 years, recent times have been especially difficult.

As they left Madagascar and ventured further into the warm Indian Ocean, the tension escalated. After escorting some merchant ships to those guarding waters near the Arabian Peninsula, only two ships remained heading toward the Atlantic. The large merchant vessels were especially limited in the speeds they could achieve.

Even with the sun up, they couldn’t relax their vigilance, and nights were even worse. Yet, independently of this, the night was heartlessly beautiful.

Haero stared blankly at the night sky that looked as if it might pour down. Today was his turn for duty. The Milky Way glowed whitish, literally like milk spilled across the cosmic sky. Sometimes they could see auroras due to the South Pole’s magnetic field, but today wasn’t one of those days.

“Can you see anything yet?” 

“Not yet.” Yoon Moo-hwa whispered as he took his eye from the telescope. 

It was such a delicate night that voices naturally lowered, even though no one would hear them on such a large ship.

“Think it’ll appear soon?” 

“Probably.”

Haero shivered in the biting Antarctic sea wind. The wind was unbelievably fierce, enough to make his body shake, but he couldn’t believe the senior officers who said this was quite mild. Indeed, if it were truly severe, they wouldn’t have been able to come out on deck like this.

Like during the Titanic’s sinking in 1912, they had to keep searchlights and radar operating constantly in case icebergs appeared to threaten the warship. The searchlight rotated slowly like a lighthouse. Just then, the reason Yoon Moo-hwa had called Haero out—and the goal Haero was shivering but maintaining his position for—appeared.

“Isn’t that it?!” Haero raised his voice, then thought better of it and asked again. “Isn’t that it, hyung?!”

At Haero’s excitement, Yoon Moo-hwa pushed his eye patch up and put his eye to the telescope again. His artificial eye clearly identified what Haero was pointing at.

“Yes, it is.”

Yoon Moo-hwa smiled and called Haero over. He pulled him close beside him, then wrapped his arms around from behind to offer him the telescope.

Though difficult to see in the darkness, a large object was clearly swimming through the rough waves, revealing its presence. It spouted water above the surface as it swam. Then it showed its white belly as it moved forward gently under the dazzling stars.

It was a minke whale living in the Antarctic Ocean.

During the dozen years when melting ice had turned the sea back into an unknown world where people couldn’t venture, humans had been unable to consume marine flora and fauna. Instead, endangered and critically endangered animals had been able to reproduce again.

One of these was the minke whale.

As an extremely carefully protected whale species, it was one of the reasons why merchant and naval vessels navigated with such caution, beyond just the rough sea conditions.

“How is it?”

Haero marveled while watching the whale with the night vision function that identified things in the darkness with a green glow.

Pure emotion washed over him.

The island where he was born and raised was near the equator. They couldn’t see such large marine mammals off the coast of that island. 

Haero felt a tingling sensation throughout his body and a tightness in his chest, blankly uttering words of amazement, “It’s so beautiful…”

“Isn’t it?”

Drone shows had become tedious and tiresome events, but whales and auroras never grew old no matter how many times you saw them. Even Yoon Moo-hwa, who had a somewhat indifferent side with a high threshold for being moved, enjoyed watching whales.

They weren’t the only ones admiring the sight. All the duty personnel and officers on watch would be watching as well.

“If I hadn’t left that island… I never would have seen this, would I?”

“If you could have made it this far, you would have.”

‘If you had been lucky enough to live a long time and if the pirate group you belonged to had grown in power, you might have been able to come this far south.’

However, while Yoon Moo-hwa said Haero could have seen it, he was somewhat skeptical. No matter how he looked at it, in that environment, Haero would either not have survived to adulthood or would have died soon after. It was a place where the probability of death inevitably outweighed survival. No matter how threatening or rampant the pirates were, they couldn’t pursue the military. Unless the military had some tremendous weakness or flaw, it would be difficult for them to gain the upper hand.

“No. I wouldn’t have seen it.” Haero muttered, still entranced. 

Yoon Moo-hwa looked at him, somewhat surprised by his denial.

“I know now. If I had stayed there, it would have been hard to live long. Even if I had survived, I couldn’t have been moved by scenery like this.” Haero put down the telescope and looked directly into Yoon Moo-hwa’s eyes. The whale’s call wound gently through the sounds of crashing waves. “If you hadn’t come to get me, I would have been dead or living as good as dead.”

“……”

“Thank you for coming to get me then… Yoon Moo-hwa.”

The thanks seem too late. Haero finally felt as if he had truly grown up, having passed through adolescence and completed four long years of adulthood. He felt quite proud of himself.

Yoon Moo-hwa understood why Haero couldn’t think of that event as fair. It wasn’t that he couldn’t—he chose not to. If Haero were to thank him for saving his life back then, he wouldn’t be embarrassed or confused. He wouldn’t be newly proud. To Haero, that act was simply natural. Rather than intending to save someone, he had merely picked up what was his and fixed it.

That’s precisely what made Haero special. Only he knew and understood Haero’s extraordinary nature, which was somehow twisted and incomprehensible to others.

So instead of saying it was nothing or the obvious “Didn’t you save me first?” Yoon Moo-hwa said something that would make Haero very happy.

“Where would I go without you?”

And as he expected, Haero was indeed very happy.

Yet even as he watched the joyful expression, Yoon Moo-hwa felt a lingering, lukewarm regret. Like the awkwardness of giving an answer very close to the correct one but still wrong.