Chapter 2

Looking up from beneath the water, the surface felt impossibly distant. Light rippled across the water in shimmering waves.

What if I just fell asleep like this? It would be such a deep, sweet sleep.

He imagined sinking endlessly into a profound abyss. If only it were the ocean depths, where not even the faintest glimmer of light could reach. A long slumber in that silent void, where no sound existed and not a single sign of life lingered. A sweet, deep sleep.

The shimmering light beneath the water dissolved into midday glare filtering through his eyelids. The moment reality rushed back, a sharp ringing pierced his ears—a high-pitched whine that lingered. Tinnitus had become a frequent visitor lately.

“Captain Cha!”

Se-woong’s eyes snapped open at the shout, dispelling the quiet haze of his daydream.

Hee-chan shook his head in mock exasperation. “Still up here? You don’t even smoke—anyone would take you for a heavy smoker. The air is still chilly, yet you’re not even wearing a jacket.”

“…Ah, Officer Oh.” Se-woong sat up and blinked against the sunlight. “Wait, lunch hour isn’t over already, is it?”

Handing over a paper cup, Hee-chan replied, “You’ve got seventeen minutes left. Here’s yours, Captain—sweet coffee, just how you like it.”

Before he knew it, Hee-chan had arrived right before the bench, holding a coffee cup in one hand and a document folder in the other. Every time he climbed all the way to the rooftop smoking area to find Se-woong, he rattled off the exact same brand of nagging. He seemed thoroughly vexed by the sight of a non-smoker wallowing in melancholy while letting the rooftop wind freeze him to the bone.

To make matters worse, the elevator only ran up to the floor just below, making a climb up the stairs unavoidable for anyone visiting the rooftop smoking zone. Even the service members at the Joint Chiefs of Staff Headquarters[1], who gritted their teeth through daily physical training, despised these stairs; it was hardly surprising that a civilian administrative officer with no fitness tests to pass dreaded them even more. Se-woong could easily understand why Hee-chan hated this place.

That was precisely why it was deserted, and why Se-woong was so fond of it.

Se-woong took a long sip of the iced vanilla latte Hee-chan handed him. Although the sunlight was pleasantly warm, the breeze remained too brisk for an iced drink.

Flipping open his folder, Hee-chan asked, “Major Kang wanted to know about the Chairman’s SCM[2] escort schedule—wait, were you actually nodding off just now? Spring fatigue getting to you?”

Offering an awkward smile at Hee-chan’s exaggerated fuss, Se-woong rose from the bench and leaned against the railing.

The way Hee-chan drifted casually between polite informal speech and formal military register sounded unconventional within the barracks. Yet, strictly speaking, it could hardly be called insubordination. The military had already officially abolished the mandatory use of the strictest formal speech codes. And while Se-woong was technically his superior officer, Hee-chan was a seventh-grade civilian official rather than an active-duty soldier, meaning he was under no obligation to speak with rigid formality.

Above all, Cha Se-woong was simply not the type to demand excessive ceremony from a subordinate older than himself—even if he treated a superior officer of his own age with absolute, unflinching deference.

Se-woong gazed out past the parapet. “I was just enjoying the weather, that’s all.”

“Aha,” Hee-chan quipped. “Photosynthesizing, were you?”

Dropping honorific endings altogether, of course, was another matter. That was merely a verbal habit born of how close the two had grown.

Se-woong opened the slender document folder in his hands. As anticipated, only a single sheet of paper rested inside. Over the Chairman’s escort itinerary he had drafted and submitted for approval that morning, red pen marks were slashed across several sections requiring adjustments.

His dark eyes darted left and right, reviewing the contents at a glance. It appeared that a shift in the U.S. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s schedule necessitated changes to their own Chairman’s movements.

“It looks like their schedule keeps shifting,” Se-woong observed.

Hee-chan clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Well, aren’t they always doing whatever they please? Apparently, he insists on hitting golf balls at Camp Casey[3].”

“Well,” Se-woong remarked, tracing the edge of the sheet, “that’s surprisingly modest of him.”

Hee-chan threw his hands up in disbelief. “Right? Even so, the man is the U.S. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, yet he goes without a caddie. Still, the summit is weeks away—I don’t understand why they’re modifying an itinerary like this in real time. Do they just not care about operational security over there?”

Se-woong gave a slight nod of agreement.

In any case, it was an itinerary bound to change a hundred times more. One might think minor revisions could be handled through a simple email, but the moment security entered the equation, the cumbersome procedure was impossible to dispute. Inside the Joint Chiefs of Staff Headquarters, where every office window was blacked out to maintain airtight secrecy, the Chairman’s schedule was naturally a top-priority classified matter.

The hand rubbing the corner of the folder was pale, scarcely resembling that of a soldier. Though fairly large, his fingers were straight and well-proportioned, the lines so neat they suggested he had never done a day of rough labor in his life.

Squinting at Se-woong’s fingers, Hee-chan asked, “Do you do special skincare on your hands or something, Captain? How does an officer have hands that delicate?”

Pulled back from his straying thoughts by the absurd question, Se-woong knitted his brows slightly.

“Would I really do something like that if I had nothing better to do?” Se-woong retorted dryly.

Hee-chan grinned sheepishly. “I’m not kidding. They honestly look softer than my Yeo-jin’s.”

As Hee-chan marveled, even dragging his girlfriend’s name into the comparison, Se-woong subtly tucked his hands behind the folder. It was hardly a flattering compliment. Not just Se-woong, but any soldier holding a rifle would find it difficult to take praise about having pretty hands as a compliment.

Clapping his hands together, Hee-chan announced, “Oh, right! Captain, Major Kang said we should head over to Yukwoo-jeong tonight.”

“All the way to Yukwoo-jeong?”

“Yes,” Hee-chan said, nodding knowingly. “I mean, remember when we went with you last time? We got so much complimentary food on the house. He’s definitely choosing it for that reason.”

Se-woong frowned at the document. “Isn’t it a bit too far for dinner?”

The furrow between his brows, which had only just begun to ease, creased once more.

Major Kang, whose wedding was just around the corner, had already announced he would be handing out invitations tonight. And Yukwoo-jeong, the venue he had singled out, happened to be a Korean beef specialty restaurant owned by one of Se-woong’s friends. Announcing that they should all go there—rather than simply stating he was going himself—could only be interpreted as an indirect order for Se-woong to secure a reservation.

The restaurant lay across the river slicing through the city, making it quite a trek from headquarters, not to mention far too pricey for an officer to foot the bill alone without feeling the pinch. Yet insisting on traveling all the way there was plainly an effort to show off at an upscale restaurant while quietly riding on his subordinate’s personal connections.

Even so, Se-woong had no grounds to object. When a superior officer and the host of the gathering decided on a venue, what right did he have to refuse?

The only complication nagging at him was that Yuk Hyun-woo, the owner of Yukwoo-jeong, was not his friend alone. Whenever he visited the restaurant, he almost inevitably ran into Lee Shin. The odds were uncomfortably high.

“Which brings me to the point, Captain,” Hee-chan ventured with a sheepish grin. “Could you give me a ride when you head over later?”

Se-woong glanced sideways at him. “What happened to your car, Officer Oh?”

“Yeo-jin took it today,” Hee-chan replied.

Se-woong nodded slightly. “You two haven’t held the formal family meeting yet, right?”

“That’s right.” Hee-chan rubbed the nape of his neck with a weary sigh. “We decided to pick a date once the results of her mother’s latest chemotherapy come in. We’re rushing the ceremony because she’s ill, but precisely because she’s ill, we can’t lock down a date. Well… that’s how it is.”

Uncertain whether comfort or encouragement was called for, Se-woong merely gnawed at the innocent rim of his coffee cup.

Hee-chan snapped his fingers as another thought struck him. “Oh, that reminds me, Captain. Do you know of any good restaurants for a family meeting? Major Kang bragged about booking some wildly expensive place, but he wouldn’t tell me where. Yeo-jin’s been too busy to look, and since we’re older, we want something respectable. I just don’t have anyone to ask. Your second brother is married, isn’t he… Huh? Isn’t that Major Lee Shin down there?”

Se-woong, who had been leaning against the railing, slowly pushed himself upright. Hee-chan gestured with his chin toward a black sedan idling in front of headquarters’ main entrance. Following his gaze, Se-woong saw Lee Shin standing before the lobby checking his phone, having apparently just stepped out of the vehicle.

After lingering for a brief moment, the sedan smoothly glided away from the entrance. Having heard there was a presidential event today, Se-woong wasn’t surprised to see Shin wearing his service dress uniform. Even from this distance, he could vividly picture the immaculate, crease-free fabric.

“Man, he’s breathtakingly handsome,” Hee-chan exclaimed. “Look at the distance between the roof and the ground, yet you can still see his striking looks, can’t you?”

“I suppose so,” Se-woong conceded quietly. Anyone would have agreed with the sentiment, whether it was him or someone else.

Turning back toward Se-woong, Hee-chan asked, “I heard from Captain Yong over at DIH[4] that Major Lee has been going on a ton of matchmaking dates lately. Wonder if he’s trying to get hitched before his father retires. Aren’t the two of you close? Haven’t you heard anything?”

“……”

“Honestly, I’m less curious about who Major Lee will marry and more curious about who could possibly marry Major Lee,” Hee-chan remarked.

Did he mean that while it wouldn’t be surprising no matter how remarkable a person Lee Shin married, he wondered just how incredible someone would have to be to stand by Shin’s side? This time, Se-woong kept his silence without agreeing.

Between his neatly aligned teeth, the innocent rim of the plastic cup was bitten down once more. He had never harbored a habit of chewing paper cups or pen caps as a child, yet somewhere along the way, gnawing nervously on whatever was near had become second nature. There was no need to pinpoint when it had started. It had not been that long ago.

Se-woong wasn’t curious. Whomever Shin married, he only wished to remain in the dark.

Yet there was no chance he would never find out.

Hee-chan grinned slyly. “Major Lee’s pedigree is practically cheating, so I can’t even feel jealous. He’s got the looks, the competence, and probably the stamina in bed to—”

“Officer Oh,” Se-woong warned, his voice dropping low.

Raising both palms in surrender, Hee-chan pleaded, “My apologies! Total slip of the tongue—please pretend you didn’t hear that!”

Caught in the middle of a lewd joke, Hee-chan hastily swallowed his words. He knew all too well that his upright, younger superior did not care for that brand of humor. Quickly demonstrating contrition, he shifted the topic directly to Se-woong.

“Why don’t you go on a blind date too, Captain?” Hee-chan suggested, eager to change the subject. “One of Yeo-jin’s friends passed the higher civil service exam. What do you say? Apparently, she was even a promotional model back in college. The cover model, no less!”

Se-woong kept his gaze level. “You should set Captain Yong up instead. He seems far more desperate for one.”

“To be honest, I already did that last week, but the lady turned him down flat,” Hee-chan admitted.

Se-woong let out a faint, amused chuckle at the absurdity. The sharp edges of his upturned eyes softened, an effortless warmth that tended to leave people completely unguarded.

Then, inadvertently casting his gaze back downward, he caught sight of Lee Shin looking directly up in this direction. They were ten stories above the ground. Even as he told himself Shin could never recognize him from such a distance, Se-woong turned his body aside. Whether Shin had looked up knowing someone was there or simply on instinct remained unclear. Given how extraordinarily attuned he was to his surroundings, the latter was entirely plausible.

Thirty-two.

For military officers who tended to marry early, wasn’t thirty-two the perfect age to build a family?

“Ilgayeon,” Se-woong said quietly.

“Pardon?”

Looking down at his coffee, Se-woong elaborated, “A venue for your family meeting. It’s right near Yukwoo-jeong. That place was quite good.”

Nestled quietly in the very heart of a forest of skyscrapers—so serene that one wondered how such a traditional estate could exist in this bustling downtown—the restaurant was the ideal Korean establishment for family gatherings and formal marriage meetings. At that restaurant, whose very name signified the bond of becoming one family, Se-woong and Lee Shin had also become family.

Assuming in-laws could be called family, that is.

Eeeeee—

As the tinnitus flared up once again, Se-woong squeezed his eyes shut. His composed features twisted into a tight grimace of pain.