Chapter 4

　　Yun Muhwa sifted through his last memories.

　　Countless islands appeared and vanished with the shifting seasonal tides, often rendering nautical charts useless. When that happened, even the most cutting-edge technology had its limits. They had no choice but to head out to sea in a reconnaissance boat.

　　As a lieutenant, Muhwa was authorized to command his own vessel. He had taken three subordinates out to patrol the coast. Climate change had warped the marine ecosystem—seaweed mutated into monstrous, massive clusters, and the mangroves stretching along the coast loomed like thick-legged elephants supporting the earth in the suffocating humidity.

　　Despite piloting a speedboat, the reconnaissance team had to navigate the thick salt fog at a crawl. There was an Ensign manually updating the charts, a Chief Petty Officer taking photographs, a Communications Officer keeping in touch with the mothership, and Yun Muhwa.

　　Danger was a constant at sea, but he had fully believed they would pull through and return safely, just like always.

　　“Lieutenant, there’s oil floating here.”

　　That was when the Chief Petty Officer spotted the anomaly through his binoculars.

　　Muhwa took the binoculars and double-checked the spot. Sure enough, a slick, shimmering oil spill coated the water.

　　Was there a shipwreck or a stranded vessel nearby?

　　“We haven’t received any reports about this,” the Communications Officer muttered, his voice trembling.

　　They knew exactly where the mothership was. There were no other fleets operating within the sector of the nearly ten-thousand-ton vessel and its squadron. If an unreported ship appeared, it was either a settler’s fishing boat or a pirate ship.

　　Muhwa’s expression hardened. He immediately prepared for combat.

　　Though it was a high-speed reconnaissance boat, it wasn’t heavily armed like the mothership.

　　Yun Muhwa ordered the Communications Officer to report the unidentified vessel to the mothership. Then, he attempted to hail the opposing ship. He stated that their vessel belonged to the Allied Navy, currently conducting an operation, and demanded the other ship state its purpose and affiliation. He tacked on a polite warning that failure to comply would result in them boarding the ship for an inspection.

　　He dropped the engine output to a minimum to reduce noise, keeping a sharp eye out for the unidentified threat in the salt fog. He hoped they would spot the vessel first—or better yet, that the other party was completely harmless.

　　But then Muhwa caught the low thrum of an alien engine. It definitely wasn’t the standard start-up sound he was used to hearing. He turned around. The Chief Petty Officer, Communications Officer, and Ensign all whipped their heads back as well, but the thick salt fog swallowed everything.

　　“What should we do? Should we report it?”

　　The Ensign knew Yun Muhwa had uncanny intuition. Or rather, an uncanny sense of observation.

　　If the Lieutenant had flagged the unidentified target as hostile, he was almost certainly right.

　　Muhwa raised a hand, silencing the men behind him. He shot the Communications Officer a look, signaling him to send another situation report to the mothership. His instructions were brief: Expected contact with unidentified object, followed by their coordinates.

　　Muhwa’s eyes narrowed as he stared out at the vast ocean.

　　The fog was only growing thicker. Not a single silhouette pierced the haze. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. If he had artificial eyes or corneas, this level of fog wouldn’t even be an obstacle, but international law strictly prohibited body modifications unless required for an unavoidable physical disability.

　　“Any response?”

　　“No response, sir.”

　　Hearing the officer’s heavy, sinking voice, Yun Muhwa pressed his rifle stock against his shoulder. Without heavy firearms, they stood no chance if this escalated into a full-scale firefight. Sounding the siren to check if it was a fishing boat would only expose their position for nothing if it turned out to be pirates.

　　“What are your orders?” the Ensign asked.

　　Muhwa strained his ears.

　　That engine noise is wrong. It sounds modified. There’s no reason for an ordinary fishing boat to be modified.

　　He took the helm himself. Reversing at a crawl, he slowly turned the boat to avoid getting caught in the mangrove roots.

　　And then, a massive explosion erupted behind them.

　　Fuck.

　　Yun Muhwa gritted his teeth. Before he could even react to the blast, his body was sent flying, and his memory went black.

* * *

　　Having pieced his memories back together, Yun Muhwa dragged a hand down his face. The impact had been massive. There was a reason why someone like him, who could easily handle five days of sleepless training, had been knocked unconscious for an entire night.

　　The unidentified vessel was almost certainly a pirate ship. This was already pirate territory, after all. His memory cut off at the blast, but he must have somehow escaped, only to wash ashore like a shipwrecked survivor, completely cut off from the mothership.

　　Everyone on this mission had consented to having a temporary vital chip implanted in their bodies. Their life-or-death status would have already been transmitted to the mothership via those chips and their last communication. Factoring in the time and distance they had scouted, it would take the mothership anywhere from thirty-six to forty-eight hours to assess the situation and mobilize a rescue.

　　Pressing a hand against his side to keep his ribs from shifting, Muhwa pushed himself up and headed for the cave exit.

　　The entrance, barely a foot taller than Number 8’s head, was absurdly low and cramped for him. Still, the thick tree roots holding it together made it sturdy enough that it wouldn’t collapse easily.

　　Muhwa swallowed a lungful of sweltering air and stepped outside.

　　His firearms were soaked and useless, and the blade he usually wore at his waist was gone. The kid had either taken it or it had slipped off while he was tumbling through the currents. Moving silently, Muhwa headed in the direction the boy had disappeared. His black uniform was perfect camouflage in this dense, overgrown forest, where the canopy blocked out the sun and kept everything steeped in shadows.

　　He foraged, picking and eating fruits that already had animal bite marks on them. He could go days without sleep or food, but it would be foolish to starve when there was a meal right in front of him.

　　As he made his way deeper into the forest, traces of human passage gradually appeared—broken twigs and crushed leaves.

　　Yun Muhwa slipped behind a tree and listened. He sensed someone nearby. Crouching low, he peered through the foliage and spotted the very child who had meddled in his affairs.

　　SMACK.

　　The child’s head snapped violently to the side.

　　The woman had slapped him so hard his small body nearly went flying. Now, she frantically patted down his clothes, yanking all his pockets inside out. When she found nothing, her fury only spiked. She shook the boy roughly.

　　“You little rat! Why were you snooping around the kitchen?! You came back empty-handed yesterday, too! Do you have no shame?!”

　　Yun Muhwa knew exactly why the kid was empty-handed. And he had a pretty good idea why he was drawing the woman’s suspicion right now, too.

　　Resting his chin on his hand, he quietly listened to the harsh scolding that followed.

　　A long while later, the woods finally grew quiet. A rustling sound approached, the footsteps distinctly light. Realizing the child was heading back, Muhwa stood.

　　The kid seemed to absolutely hate being treated like a child; he’d definitely be embarrassed if someone caught him crying. Just as he had melted into the forest earlier, Muhwa slipped away and headed back to the cave.

　　When the boy returned, Muhwa closed his eyes, feigning sleep. The nameless child, known only as Number 8, sniffled, wiped his face, and peeled the leaf off Muhwa’s side.

　　Yun Muhwa remained perfectly still.

　　Watching through half-open eyes, Muhwa swallowed a low sigh as he saw the boy spit a wad of chewed-up herbs from his mouth and press it against his wound.

　　So this is how… he fed me and patched me up.

　　Muhwa was about to sit up and tell him there was no need for that, but catching sight of the child’s swollen cheek and reddened eyes, he kept his mouth shut and closed his eyes again.

　　After some time passed, figuring he’d waited long enough, Muhwa opened his eyes.

　　“What are you doing?” he asked, a little taken aback to find a small head resting on his chest.

　　Number 8’s head snapped up. He clearly hadn’t realized Muhwa was awake. He darted his eyes away sheepishly, one of his cheeks visibly puffed up. It was definitely going to bruise. Muhwa couldn’t help the pang of sympathy, but he couldn’t let on that he knew what had happened. He leaned on his elbow to sit up.

　　“Uh-uh. You can’t get up right now!” Number 8 scrambled to stop him. “Your side will burst open! I just put fresh medicine on it.”

　　You mean the medicine you just chewed up in your mouth…

　　Yun Muhwa swallowed a sigh.

　　It was probably best to play weak and exaggerate his pain for the kid. No matter how young he was, he was still a child from a pirate village. Muhwa couldn’t risk giving the boy any reason to tell the adults about his presence.

　　“Alright. Got it. I’ll just lean back here like this. Is that okay?”

　　Soothing the child, Yun Muhwa leaned against the cave wall. The low ceiling forced him to hunch over awkwardly. Placing a hand on his side to gently press down the fresh banana leaf, he asked the boy again.

　　“Why were you doing that earlier?”

　　Was he planning to drag me to the village if I died? The kid didn’t seem to find death all that unusual.

　　But the boy just averted his gaze again and stuttered out a quiet, unexpected answer.

　　“Because it sounded nice…”

　　Yun Muhwa was left momentarily speechless.

　　“Because it sounded nice… and it was warm.”

　　It was an answer that could only come from someone who had never once felt the warmth or heartbeat of another person.

　　Muhwa’s theory was confirmed; the child had indeed grown up in a brutally harsh environment.

　　If this were a pirate island, nothing could be done. The world today was cruel to children anyway. Even so…

　　His large hand carefully tilted the boy’s chin up.

　　Resting his head in Muhwa’s palm, the child docilely lifted his gaze, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes. It was hard to believe this kid was raised by pirates. Sadly, he knew exactly how broken a child’s eyes could become.

　　Number 8’s cheek was already starting to turn purple. Yun Muhwa brought his hand to the boy’s face and was inwardly surprised. His palm was more than enough to cover the kid’s entire face. As he carefully stroked the bruised cheek with his thumb, the boy tilted his head, trying to lean into the touch. Muhwa gently pulled his hand away.

　　Number 8 looked bewildered by the sudden loss of warmth.

　　“Why? Did I do something wrong?”

　　Muhwa shook his head. “I didn’t want to hurt you. My hands are a bit rough.”

　　He wasn’t just saying that; his hands really were rough. They were heavily calloused, the skin thick and tough—the result of two and a half years of grueling special forces drills, not to mention the harsh sea winds.

　　In contrast, even though the child was tanned and exposed to those exact same winds, his cheeks were incredibly soft.

　　Muhwa frowned, reminded of just how fragile children were. He was hit hard enough to send his body flying.

　　Suddenly wondering if the kid’s teeth were okay, he brought his thumb to the corner of Number 8’s lips.

　　“Say ‘ah’.”

　　The boy immediately tilted his head back and opened his mouth as wide as he could.

　　“You’re missing a molar here. Was it already gone?” he asked, wondering if it had been knocked out by the slap.

　　But the boy shook his head.

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

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

　　“No. I’ve only lost one molar so far. But I didn’t cry when I pulled it. Number 3 hyung cried, though. That’s a secret, by the way.”

　　Number 8 smiled shyly.

　　If he were just starting to lose his molars, he really must be around ten years old. Mildly relieved to hear the tooth hadn’t been knocked out from the slap, Muhwa nodded.

　　When Yun Muhwa pulled his hand away, Number 8 scrambled to his feet.

　　“Where are you going now?”

　　Muhwa grabbed Number 8’s hand. It was tiny.

　　Number 8 gave him a puzzled look.

　　“I can’t just sit still. If I go back empty-handed again today, I might get in real trouble. I have to earn my keep.”