GB 119

Haero was struggling to change into his patient gown while awkwardly swinging his arm in a cast.

“Lieutenant, after discharge, you are to promptly return to the North Pacific Branch Sector 1 Maritime Base and await further orders.”

With another inspection scheduled for 3 PM tomorrow, Haero was deeply troubled by this sudden order. Perhaps due to his distress, his fingers fumbled with the buttons more than usual.

‘I need to tell Yoon Moo-hwa.’

Would he find an opportunity to speak with him? The military was an organization where subordinates could never question why an inspection was suddenly canceled and why standby orders were issued so urgently.

Haero swallowed a dejected sigh.

Military police were guarding the door, and unless Yoon Moo-hwa, who had an uncanny ability to evade them, came looking for him under the pretense of coincidence, meeting him seemed unlikely. Therefore, Haero assumed he wouldn’t be able to see him again today.

So when the door opened, he thought it was a military policeman checking on him.

“Need help?”

But the voice belonged to Yoon Moo-hwa, whom he had expected not to have another chance to meet today.

When Haero turned around with surprised, wide eyes, Yoon Moo-hwa waved casually as if this were normal, just like yesterday.

“I have two arms, so I can help the Lieutenant.”

He approached with a gentle smile.

Haero was so distracted watching Yoon Moo-hwa come closer that he didn’t even realize the man was already touching his patient gown.

“Are you putting it on or taking it off?”

“Taking… it off.”

Unlike Yoon Moo-hwa, who had undergone side suture surgery and artificial eye reinsertion, Haero’s treatment was relatively simple. Rather, he had received the privilege of staying longer in the hospital for the sake of efficient inspection.

Haero stared blankly at Yoon Moo-hwa before suddenly coming to his senses and speaking urgently, “I, I. No, I mean, I have received orders to return to Sector 1 Base and await deployment.”

Worried that someone might be listening to their conversation, Haero hastily changed his manner of speech.

“Is that so?” Yoon Moo-hwa’s reaction was utterly calm. As if he had anticipated something like this.

In fact, at the exact moment Haero received his orders, Yoon Moo-hwa was revealing to the navy the precise coordinates of the ghost island archipelago where pirates were hiding. A deal had been made.

However, Yoon Moo-hwa hadn’t expected headquarters to issue standby orders to Haero rather than himself, so the expression he hid beneath his lowered head was quite cold, contrary to his calm tone.

“Ah, you already knew, hyung?”

In contrast, Haero, who hadn’t anticipated any of this, stammered his question in great confusion.

Yoon Moo-hwa, having unbuttoned all of Haero’s patient gown, slowly straightened his waist.

“I thought similar orders might come down.”

Haero was confused whether this was a difference in experience or in security clearance based on rank.

Come to think of it, Yoon Moo-hwa often, no, very frequently gave the impression that he knew everything. Just like now.

Of course, while he had guessed based on experience and was somewhat wrong, such details weren’t important to Haero’s sense of déjà vu.

The déjà vu began to transform into a premonition, and the premonition into certainty.

Haero’s expression changed from surprised wide eyes and parted lips to tightly pressed lips, unsure of what to say first among many thoughts, and finally to rather fierce, narrowed eyes.

“How do you know everything?”

Yoon Moo-hwa also noticed that Haero wasn’t just asking about the present situation.

However, he didn’t show it and tried to dodge the question.

“Well, when you’re a commander, you learn to read the political currents…”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“…”

“During cross-verification, the inspector asked me.” Haero recalled the inspector’s words. With his excellent memory, he could recite them without missing a single detail. “Commander Yoon Moo-hwa claims that his actions weren’t impulsive because he was certain about Lieutenant Haero’s survival status and therefore wasn’t of diminished capacity. Does Lieutenant Haero know about this?”

“…”

“How could Commander Yoon Moo-hwa be certain about Lieutenant Haero’s survival status? Is there a specific method? Do you know?”

“Haero.”

“If my brother had been captured, if you, Commander, Captain, had been captured, I would have believed you were alive and done whatever it took, by any means necessary. Like you did.” In his extreme confusion, Haero’s forms of address were all mixed up. “But somehow, it seems like there’s something more with you.”

Although he still wasn’t showing it, Yoon Moo-hwa was somewhat confused. Due to what could only be described as arrogant misjudgment, he believed that he would never face such questioning from Haero. And further, he hadn’t even imagined Haero would be angry about this. It was completely unexpected.

The flustered Yoon Moo-hwa was rarely at a loss for words.

In fact, he often was with Haero. Haero was the only variable that silenced him, an unpredictable existence.

“Come to think of it, you never asked about my past. I wondered if you weren’t curious about the four years we spent apart. I thought you were respecting it, thinking ‘It doesn’t matter, that time is yours.'”

Haero was confused as well.

Standing before Yoon Moo-hwa, Haero felt torn between two impulses: wanting to embrace him tightly with longing and desire regardless of whether it reopened his side wound, and wanting to step back to objectively understand the situation.

Haero felt as if his entire four years had been invalidated. The vague certainty that had been approaching now overwhelmed him like a house-sized wave seen up close.

So perhaps Yoon Moo-hwa hadn’t been waiting for his past but rather…

“Do you perhaps know everything I did during those four years?”

“…”

It seemed that Yoon Moo-hwa might know everything, even about the contraband delivery job Haero had wanted to keep secret.

No, he definitely knew.

Haero wiped his face in confusion and stepped back.

At that widened distance, Yoon Moo-hwa urgently reached out. Grabbing his thin arm and calling “Haero” affectionately as usual, but right now that was too much to bear.

Honestly, Haero felt embarrassed.

He felt ashamed and betrayed. He felt deceived.

“Was it also not a coincidence that I received boarding orders for your ship…?”

“Haero. Haero, Haero.” Yoon Moo-hwa anxiously called his name.

He gripped both Haero’s uninjured arm and the upper part of his injured arm, preventing him from moving further away. “That was just a shortcut. Everything that brought you here was your own effort. I just…”

“Just?” Haero murmured.

“I just…”

When Yoon Moo-hwa’s voice faltered, Haero raised his head. His glaring eyes softened helplessly upon seeing Yoon Moo-hwa’s expression. It blurred with confusion.

Yoon Moo-hwa, at least twelve years older than himself, wore a childishly confused expression. In contrast, his own face reflected in Yoon Moo-hwa’s eyes seemed clearer.

“I just wanted you to come to me sooner. I thought you were waiting for me, but I was the one waiting for you…” Yoon Moo-hwa, muttering painfully, covered his face with his hands and then dragged them down with difficulty. “For four years, I waited without knowing I was waiting for you. And when I realized you were right in front of me, only then could I breathe freely, only then did I realize how anxious I’d been, so I just…”

“…”

“Opened the door. So that you would quickly, so that you would soon board my ship. You would have been on my ship anyway. Eventually. So what difference would it make if that time came a little earlier?”

Their relationship was out of sequence. He had been arrogant enough to believe that control over the relationship rightfully belonged to him.

Looking back, 8 had saved him before he saved Haero.

The magic and rules of this relationship had already been established then.

He had tried to deny the naturally evolving relationship and was severely burned for it. It was like drinking seawater without realizing how thirsty he was.

Yoon Moo-hwa, abandoning his natural advantages and privileged time, helplessly murmured to Haero, who was smaller, younger, and far less socially advantaged than himself.

“I’m sorry, Haero… don’t be angry… I…”

‘Angry? Am I angry?’

Haero couldn’t identify his own emotions. At least not right now.

He was extremely confused. Like the first time he had set foot on land and experienced land sickness.

Haero stared blankly up at Yoon Moo-hwa before carefully reaching out his hand. Yoon Moo-hwa tilted his head as if this were expected.

Untying the knot and slowly removing the bandage, the cover that had been placed to block light disappeared, revealing Yoon Moo-hwa’s cloudy gray eye.

Still in its system adaptation period, that eye was even more transparent and alien.

Machines don’t lie.

But they also don’t provide answers to questions not asked, to things not requested.

Haero slowly shifted his gaze from Yoon Moo-hwa’s artificial eye to his real one.

Looking at that clean, clear, vividly blue-black eye that was dark but not dirty, Haero quietly closed his lips. “…I will depart for the North Pacific Branch Sector 1 Maritime Base.”

“Haero.” Yoon Moo-hwa murmured painfully.

Without taking his eyes off Yoon Moo-hwa’s dark eye socket, Haero took a step back. “I will wait for the day we meet again.”

Yoon Moo-hwa was about to call “Haero” again but firmly closed his mouth.

Haero saluted, and Yoon Moo-hwa, looking at the bandage in the boy’s hand, tightly shut his eyes.