Chapter 7

　　Suspended with his arms bound above his head, his toes barely brushing the ground, Muhwa couldn’t believe his eyes.

　　When he first heard the rustling in the dark, he’d assumed it was a rat. But the figure squeezing through the narrow gap at the base of the wall wasn’t a stray dog or a rodent. It was the kid.

　　Hehe. He recognized that laugh instantly. It wasn’t just any child or a woman with a small frame. It was Number 8.

　　Before Muhwa could even ask what he was doing here, the boy scrambled over, letting out a soft, strained groan as he closed the distance.

　　“How did you even get caught?”

　　His tone was utterly exasperated, but laced with undeniable concern.

　　Muhwa kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t exactly explain that he’d let himself be captured to set up an escape, or that the adults the kid trusted might end up hurt—or dead—in the process.

　　“Never mind,” he sighed. “I was just upset. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It’s probably my fault anyway… I must have let my guard down. I didn’t even realize someone was following me.”

　　It obviously wasn’t Number 8’s fault. Besides, Muhwa hadn’t even realized the kid was mad at him.

　　“I didn’t even know you were mad,” he replied, sounding genuinely clueless.

　　Number 8’s ears perked up at the low timbre. The man’s voice was still incredible. Even though he’d supposedly been beaten half to death by the adults, there wasn’t a hint of pain in his tone. Number 3 must have exaggerated.

　　Visibly relieved, Number 8 grabbed a handful of fish in the dark and lifted it toward the man’s mouth. Or rather, where he guessed his mouth was.

　　Number 8 was incredibly small, and Muhwa was massive; the kid couldn’t even come close to reaching him. Twisting his wrist, Muhwa slipped one arm free of the ropes. Then, fully prepared for his shoulder to dislocate, he leaned down.

　　He could have just told the boy to leave—he didn’t need to eat. But a lingering sense of guilt tugged at him. The kid had gone out of his way to save him, only to be shocked by his capture. Besides…

　　“You eat the rest,” Muhwa mumbled around the food. “I’m not hungry.”

　　He straightened his torso and slipped his hand back into the bindings. His wrist would swell, but the pain was manageable. He could get intensive treatment once he made it back. In a world where the population had shriveled like a deflated balloon and melting glaciers had unleashed deadly viruses, medical technology had advanced exponentially. All in a desperate bid to save whatever lives were left.

　　“By the way, did you get in trouble because I got caught?”

　　Number 8 flinched.

　　“Number 3 hyung kind of noticed…”

　　“And?”

　　“I don’t think I’m completely busted yet. I just have to hide it well. B-but the problem is…”

　　The boy lowered his voice. Muhwa had to lean in even closer to catch the quiet, pre-pubescent pitch. Pushing his shoulder mobility to its absolute limit, he bowed his head deeply.

　　“T-they’re taking you out tomorrow. I don’t know why. They’re going to put you on a ship and, um, throw you in the water somewhere…”

　　“Me?”

　　“Yeah…”

　　“I see.”

　　It was going exactly according to plan.

　　Muhwa’s reaction was utterly calm. But Number 8, assuming the man was devastated, felt his own emotions swell. Tears welled in his eyes, and soon, fat drops were spilling down his cheeks.

　　The boy pressed his lips tightly together, trying not to make a sound. But in the dead quiet of the night, Muhwa easily caught the muffled hitch of his sobs.

　　“Why are you crying?” Muhwa asked, a soft sigh lacing his voice. “You’re crying over someone you’ve only known for two days? I thought you said you were all grown up.”

　　“I-I’m not crying.” Number 8 scrubbed at his face with his fists, but the tears were falling faster than he could wipe them away.

　　Muhwa found himself in a tight spot. Of all times for the kid to cry, it had to be when his hands were tied. Even if his limbs were free, he wasn’t exactly used to comforting a child who barely reached his mid-thigh. Still, there was a difference between choosing not to do something and being physically unable to.

　　“Number 8. Baby.” Muhwa’s voice was blunt, yet tinged with a strange, rough affection.

　　Despite being treated like a toddler, Number 8 didn’t feel offended. At the strange but comforting endearment, he dazedly lifted his head.

　　Sensing the boy looking up at him in the dark, Muhwa smiled faintly.

　　“Don’t cry over me. I’m not a good enough person for you to be worrying about.”

　　“Why…?” Number 8 asked blankly. “Because you’re in the Navy? Because you’re a bad guy who kills us?”

　　“Mm.”

　　The real reason he called himself a bad person was that he’d executed a reckless operation, knowing full well it could put Number 8 in danger. And he had done it while hiding everything from him. Even now, he wasn’t explaining a damn thing. After all, Number 8 was still a member of this maritime criminal syndicate, raised right here on the island.

　　If only you weren’t here…

　　If that were the case, the two of them would never have met. He wouldn’t have survived only to lie to a kid barely half his size.

　　At the very least, if you could just get out of here, I’d have the chance to apologize. To explain.

　　If he had found Number 8 difficult to deal with before simply because he was an unfamiliar kid, he now found him difficult for an entirely different reason.

　　Muhwa swallowed a heavy breath, acutely aware that this boy had grown up in a world entirely alien to his own.

　　Number 8 clumsily wrapped his arms around Muhwa’s leg. Even with the Captain suspended in the air, the kid was so small he had to reach up just to hug his thigh. At the sensation of those small, warm hands, a silent sigh escaped Muhwa’s lips. The guilt settled like lead in his chest.

　　He couldn’t stop thinking about him. Even now, he had to be careful not to accidentally kick the kid with his swaying feet.

　　Completely unaware of how thoroughly he had tangled up Muhwa’s previously straightforward plans, Number 8 pleaded.

　　“Can’t you just tell them you’ll live with us? I’ll even teach you how to catch fish…”

　　“As your little brother, Number 9?”

　　“N-no, that spot’s taken… Well, no. He died, but… Anyway! Just live with me. Okay? You’re big and you know how to swim, so everyone will like you…”

　　I highly doubt that.

　　Muhwa smiled bitterly.

　　It wasn’t just because he was a Navy Captain; there were other reasons he could never defect. If he did, not only the Pacific S1 Branch but the entire Allied Navy would put a bounty on his head. They might even make it DEAD OR ALIVE. Knowing his father, it was an absolute certainty.

　　“Sorry. I can’t do that,” Muhwa said gently.

　　It wasn’t just the fear of a bounty; his sense of duty was absolute. Number 8 had saved his life, yes, but that didn’t mean he could suddenly turn to piracy. Repaying his savior by becoming a criminal wouldn’t be right for the kid, either.

　　It was right around then that Muhwa made a quiet decision, though Number 8 was crying too hard to notice.

　　Overcome by an intense sorrow, the boy buried his face in the thigh of a man he had known for barely forty-eight hours and shook his head wildly. His wails were muffled against the fabric. It was an unrestrained, thoroughly childish cry, completely different from his earlier tears. Maybe he felt safe knowing his sobs were absorbed by Muhwa’s rock-solid thigh, or maybe he was just so overwhelmed with grief he couldn’t process anything else.

　　You really are just a kid.

　　Muhwa’s chest tightened at the sound of the bawling. He couldn’t even pat the boy’s head to soothe him.

　　Watching that small, round silhouette shudder in the dark, Muhwa asked quietly, “You just want to be with me?”

　　At that, Number 8 slowly lifted his head. No matter how good someone’s night vision was, it was impossible to make out fine details in pitch-black darkness without goggles. Muhwa couldn’t actually see the long trail of snot hanging from Number 8’s nose as he pulled back, but he could easily picture the mess of the kid’s face. He let out a soft chuckle.

　　“Then you’ll just have to follow me.”

　　“Me…?”

　　“Yeah. You’re coming with me.”

　　“But… I’m not allowed on the ships yet.”

　　Number 8 couldn’t imagine any future other than Muhwa being loaded onto a boat and taken away by the adults. The best-case scenario was that Muhwa would agree to work and live with them, but either way, Number 8 wouldn’t be part of that picture. It hurt his pride immensely, but he was still just a kid. He wasn’t qualified to board a ship.

　　“What if I take you on board?”

　　Maybe it was the heavy quiet of the night. To Number 8, the man’s voice sounded sweeter and gentler than at any point over the last two days. The pitch-black darkness had a way of making even the slightest shift feel monumental.

　　“If we’re getting on the ship together…”

　　Number 8—who fully believed the only ships in the world were the modified pirate vessels the adults used—answered without hesitation. Surprisingly, the thought of boarding one didn’t even scare him anymore. Was it because he felt he had to protect this man who was currently so helpless? A sudden surge of courage filled him.

　　“Then I’ll go with you.”

　　Part of Muhwa couldn’t even understand why he was making this offer, but the kid’s brave answer tugged at him. He quietly curled the corners of his mouth up.

　　“Alright,” he whispered softly, giving Number 8 a gentle nudge with his knee. “Then head back and go night-night. You’ve got a ship to catch with me.”

　　At the quiet dismissal, Number 8 hesitantly backed away. Barely registering that he was being sent off, he nodded at the empty air in front of him.

　　But a second later, with a childlike innocence that the cruel world hadn’t managed to beat out of him, he stepped close again.

　　“Just let me feed you this last bit…”

　　Muhwa let out a breathy laugh at the scrap of fish the kid held up. Number 8 smiled brightly in response, completely oblivious—until a loud rumble from his own stomach turned his face beet red.

　　“Then one bite for me, two for you.”

　　Muhwa’s tone was back to its usual strict bluntness. Number 8 hesitated, then nodded. Muhwa silently slipped his throbbing wrist free once more and lowered his head.

　　Even straining on his tiptoes and stretching his arm as far as it would go, there was no way for the boy to tell if the man was actually eating in the dark. Muhwa kept urging him to eat, insisting he’d already taken his bite. So Number 8 ate the fish—which didn’t seem to have gotten any smaller—along with the tangy, savory sauce.

　　Eventually, feeling full, Number 8 let out a long yawn. Muhwa nudged the kid away again.

　　“This is the last time. Go night-night. Do your brushy-brush, too. Otherwise, I’m not letting you on the ship.”

　　Heavy with sleep, Number 8 scrambled to his feet at the soft threat.

　　Right before slipping out through the gap in the wall, he looked back, though he couldn’t tell if the man was watching him or not.

　　“G-goodnight,” he whispered. Then, as if needing one last reassurance, he added, “You’re really coming with me. We’re getting on the ship together…”

　　Muhwa didn’t answer. Number 8 stumbled away, disappearing into the night.

　　“Hah. Brushy-brush.”

　　Finally left alone, Muhwa chewed over his own words and let out a low laugh. It was utterly ridiculous.

　　He hadn’t even used words like that when he was a kid himself.

　　Brushy-brush and nighty-night…