GB 13

Yoon Moo-hwa arrived at his father’s official residence and waited for Number 8 to wake up. Meanwhile, child-sized clothes arrived. Due to the rushed preparation, there was only one set that could double as pajamas. Thinking he needed to buy more clothes, Yoon Moo-hwa showered and handed the clothes to the half-asleep Number 8.

After changing in separate rooms, the two came out wearing oddly similar outfits. With his hair still messy, Number 8 looked like a little gentleman in formal wear, which made Yoon Moo-hwa chuckle.

Number 8 felt awkward seeing his reflection in the mirror. He was still tired despite having slept.

Yoon Moo-hwa busily took the child around. They got in the same car they had arrived in, and suddenly they were at the military hospital. Yoon Moo-hwa left Number 8 for a health check-up and went to a different floor for his own treatment.

Left alone, Number 8 was swept up in the bustle of people moving around. He nearly cried when they drew his blood with a sharp needle.

After going through various cold, large machines and different rooms, he was exhausted despite his earlier nap. By then, he finally reunited with Yoon Moo-hwa, who had treated his wound with a laser and received antibiotic prescriptions.

“Did the examination go well?”

“……”

Number 8 nodded, looking dejected.

“Now we just need to hear the test results.”

“Where… did Yoon Moo-hwa go?”

“Hyung.”

“Hyung?”

“You called Number 3 ‘Hyung’ too, right? You can call me that. You’re not a soldier.”

“Hyung…” Number 8 mumbled, his lips moving hesitantly. Although it was the same term he had used for Number 3, somehow it felt awkward.

“Where did hyung go?”

“I got my wound treated. To finish healing where you applied medicine.”

There were countless questions he wanted to ask; Wasn’t what I did enough? What treatment did you receive? How does it heal better? – but Number 8 kept quiet because there was another person in the room they entered with Yoon Moo-hwa.

Number 8 was seeing too many, far too many strangers.

“Welcome.” The doctor warmly shook Yoon Moo-hwa’s hand and smiled kindly at Number 8, who was watching him warily while taking a step back behind Yoon Moo-hwa.

Number 8 sucked on the grape-flavored candy the doctor gave him while letting the incomprehensible words wash over him.

“His immune system is a bit weak, and his growth and development are slow. Vaccinations can help with immunity, but the slow development stems from malnutrition during his early years—can’t be helped.”

“He’ll need a lot of vaccinations, I suppose.”

“Yes. It seems he probably hasn’t had even the basic vaccinations, so we should proceed as quickly as possible without overwhelming him.”

“We don’t know the child’s exact age. Can you estimate it?”

Number 8, who had been examining various models on the desk, looked up. 

The doctor met Number 8’s eyes and gave him a smile, then turned back to Yoon Moo-hwa. “Based on his growth and development, he seems about eight years old, but judging by his baby teeth falling out, it’s probably more accurate to say he’s around ten.”

“He’s small…”

“He is on the small side. He’ll grow more soon.” The doctor laughed, agreeing indirectly with Yoon Moo-hwa’s mutter. “With proper nutrition, he’ll grow to average height. Don’t worry.”

Though he wanted to listen since they were clearly talking about him, an irresistible drowsiness came over Number 8. He nodded off and finally closed his eyes.

Without looking, Yoon Moo-hwa caught the child’s head as it fell forward. That child’s head almost hit the desk with the candy stick still in his mouth. 

After removing the candy from the sleeping child’s mouth and throwing it in the trash, Yoon Moo-hwa asked, “Do children always fall asleep so suddenly like this?”

“You can think of it as having a smaller battery capacity. They recharge quickly, which is an advantage, but they also tire out faster compared to adults. Especially with the sudden change in environment, it’ll take some time for him to adjust.”

The doctor glanced briefly. It was at the point where Number 8’s shoulder met his back.

There was an indelible mark indicating Number 8’s origin. “If it were me, I’d cover or remove it, but the pain…”

“He’s still young.”

“That’s true.” The doctor trailed off at Yoon Moo-hwa’s firm response, which cut like a knife.

The conversation between the two adult men about him sounded like a lullaby, making Number 8’s body feel light.

Number 8 dreamed of looking down at a water puddle full of duckweed, slowly flowing between mangroves.

* * *

Yoon Moo-hwa forcibly sat Number 8 at the dining table, who was whining sleepily, wanting to sleep more.

“You shouldn’t skip meals.”

“I didn’t catch anything anyway…”

“You don’t need to do that anymore.”

Was this what he meant by strict? Number 8 looked resentfully at Yoon Moo-hwa, who was handing him a green liquid, as he struggled to keep his nodding body upright.

“Drink it.”

“The color is strange…”

“From now on, you have to drink this every day.”

It was the opposite on the island. He had taken care of Yoon Moo-hwa like this. Number 8 pouted and picked up the cup with teary eyes.

The liquid truly tasted awful. He could tolerate a fishy smell, but this strange, astringent, bitter taste mixed with an odd sweetness was torturous for Number 8, who had simple taste buds. However, with Yoon Moo-hwa watching, he couldn’t leave any.

“This isn’t something I can drink for you. Finish it all.”

At the gruff yet slightly kind, and quite stern tone, Number 8 kept glancing at Yoon Moo-hwa but eventually emptied the cup.

Yoon Moo-hwa put the empty cup that had been full of nutritional liquid in the sink. Behind him, a security release alert sounded. It was the sound of his father entering.

Number 8 also heard the unfamiliar electronic sound but didn’t know what it meant. He was simply amazed at the clean water Yoon Moo-hwa poured into a new cup.

“It’s seawater with the salt removed and treated for drinking.” Yoon Moo-hwa briefly explained, bending down to Number 8, then straightened up.

The reason he stood next to Number 8 instead of going to his seat was to show his father that he would take responsibility for the child he brought.

Admiral Yoon Sang-won, who was taking off his uniform cap and running his hand through his hair, stopped in his tracks when he saw his son staring at him and the child who was barely half his size. 

A displeased voice came out, “You brought him all the way here?”

“I thought we already agreed on this. Didn’t we?”

“Your words are polite, but your attitude is insolent. How should I take this, Lieutenant Yoon?”

“I’ve taken off my uniform, sir.”

“There’s no off-duty for a soldier.”

Number 8 looked back and forth between the gruff father and son, who resembled each other in appearance and manner of speaking, wondering if they were fighting.

When his father clicked his tongue and went into his room more readily than expected, Yoon Moo-hwa reassured Number 8 in a nonchalant voice, “He always talks like that.”

A little later, Yoon Sang-won came out again after changing. It was a while before he, who had been treating Number 8 like an invisible person, spoke to the child, “What’s your name?”

“Number 8!”

Yoon Sang-won turned to Yoon Moo-hwa with a face that said, “What nonsense is this?”

“They call children by numbers over there.”

He knew pirates had their own ways, but it was quite a feat to shock him in different ways each time. Yoon Sang-won coldly criticized, “Crazy bastards.”

“I’m planning to give him a name.”

“No family name.”

Yoon Moo-hwa frowned ever so slightly.

Number 8 probably wouldn’t understand the meaning of those words yet, but later, when he recalls this conversation, he’ll likely be quite hurt. 

His father’s way of deliberately putting his foot down like this seemed awfully cold-hearted, regardless of common morality. However, Yoon Moo-hwa had no intention of being stubborn either. Even without adoption, there were plenty of ways to take care of Number 8, so he preferred efficient methods over pointless arguments. Not giving a family name was that path.

“You choose the name yourself. Don’t leave it to me.”

Yoon Moo-hwa was planning to do that anyway. He had no intention of asking his father to name the child. From the beginning, Yoon Moo-hwa had a word in mind that seemed oddly fitting.

“Haero.”

“What?”

“I’m thinking of calling him Haero.”

“Haero as in sea route?”

“It could be interpreted that way.”

Yoon Sang-won loved the sea and took great pride in being a naval officer. He was both a sailor and a naval officer. A path on the sea that prevents drifting in the vast ocean, ephemeral yet existent. He was unlikely to dislike a name that sounded exactly like that.

As Yoon Moo-hwa predicted, Yoon Sang-won soon grunted in approval. It meant he liked it.

“Better than Number 8.” Yoon Sang-won then stood up, holding the glass of alcohol brought by a servant.

Only after the older man with a cold face resembling Yoon Moo-hwa left did Number 8 hesitantly ask Yoon Moo-hwa.

“What’s Haero? Is that my name?”

“Yes.” Yoon Moo-hwa refilled the empty glass and brought out the prepared meal. He transferred the neatly arranged dishes from the dining table to trays and placed them at their seats.

During this time, Number 8 couldn’t believe this reality and kept muttering only that one word: Haero, Haero.

“Eat your meal.” Yoon Moo-hwa instructed, bringing the child back to reality.

Number 8, who had been in a daze as if in a dream, pinched his cheek at Yoon Moo-hwa’s calm attitude. “But we didn’t ride a boat…”

Yoon Moo-hwa responded to the mumbling, “We did ride a boat together.”

“Oh, right…”

“Don’t you like the name?”

“No, I do like it!” Number 8 shook his head vigorously.

“Then from now on, Haero. I’ll call you Haero.” Yoon Moo-hwa picked up his chopsticks with a decisive air.

Number 8, no, Haero looked at Yoon Moo-hwa with an expression that suggested he might cry. Yoon Moo-hwa placed chopsticks in Haero’s small hand, thinking the child didn’t know how to use them.

“As I thought…”

Chopsticks suited him better than knives or guns. Yoon Moo-hwa smiled quietly.

Haero bit his lip tightly before breaking into a wide smile and began to bring rice to his mouth grain by grain.

It was sweet. Whether because of the name or the food, he didn’t know, but it was perfect.