Chapter 45

Yi-tan’s eyes lifted back to Myeong-joo. His gaze narrowed into a faint, unreadable smile—an expression chillingly reminiscent of a serpent studying a field mouse.

“Platoon Leader! You need to take a look at this,” a soldier called out from behind.

Uncertain why the youth was regarding him with such an unsettling look, Myeong-joo maintained his pleasant expression and gestured with his chin toward the convoy. “They are calling you. You ought to go.”

“…”

Because Yi-tan did not turn away, their locked gaze stretched out in silence. Only when a second, more urgent shout came from the vehicles did Yi-tan finally turn his head toward Yun Ji-gwan.

Addressing the sergeant, whose round eyes were frozen wide as he observed the two of them, Yi-tan spoke in a quiet baritone: “Escort him to his quarters.”

“Ah, yes, sir! Right away.”

At last, he could unpack and lie down. In truth, his stomach had been churning nauseously for some time, making the simple act of standing an ordeal. Having repeatedly bitten his lip to conceal his pallor, Myeong-joo had to exert every ounce of will to keep from looking visibly relieved.

Turning to Yun Ji-gwan, Myeong-joo asked, “Where are the quarters? Do Harmonizers have separate accommodations here?”

“Uh…”

Regardless of division, the Special Corps invariably segregated the quarters of Harmonizers and Aberrants to preempt friction and misconduct. Yet since this was an active battlefield, he thought separate facilities might not exist. While a private room was ideal, having shared a single cramped space with his sisters meant Myeong-joo was perfectly content sharing a communal barrack with other men.

Yi-tan cut in with cool finality: “Escort him to my quarters.”

Startled, Myeong-joo lifted his head only to see Yi-tan cast a sharp, piercing glance over him before turning on his heel toward the waiting troops. Left behind in bewilderment, Myeong-joo looked back at Yun Ji-gwan.

“…Am I to share quarters with the second lieutenant?”

“Haha… yes, sir, it appears so.” Yun Ji-gwan offered an awkward laugh, looking as though he were sweating bullets.

While a faint sigh escaped him, Myeong-joo figured it hardly mattered. To ease the sergeant’s visible discomfort, Myeong-joo smiled pleasantly and suggested they get moving. Relieved, Yun Ji-gwan hoisted Myeong-joo’s cheap vinyl duffel bag.

***

As an elevated plateau, the front line of Mount Gaema featured vast, sprawling expanses.

In midsummer, the temperature across this immense upland was comparable to May in Seowon. Befitting its name—an armored warhorse—Mount Gaema rested on rugged ridges that formed its spine, serving as the formidable roof of the peninsula. Having departed Seowon just as winter was yielding to spring, Myeong-joo was thoroughly stunned by the biting cold.

Shivering in the wind, Myeong-joo drew in a sharp breath. “Brrr! They say Samsu-Gapsan is harsh, but this cold is truly unfit for human habitation… Do the demonic fiends not get stiff joints in weather like this?”

Lee Yi-tan’s quarters were closer to an expansive field pavilion, reinforced by layers of heavy vinyl over quilted cotton and topped with dry foliage for insulation. Though smaller than the communal barracks used by regular troops, it was plenty spacious for a single occupant and held a surprisingly cozy, welcoming warmth once inside.

Yun Ji-gwan laughed heartily. “Haha, you will adjust once you spend some time here. In any case, the platoon leader slipped a set of fur garments into your supplies—why haven’t you put them on yet?”

“…There were fur garments?”

Unaware of the addition, Myeong-joo scratched the back of his neck. They had driven a full half-day from Seowon to Mount Gaema, and with preparation time so severely limited, he could not fathom when Yi-tan had found the moment to pack warm clothes for him. A thoroughly capable man, no matter how one looks at it…

At present, the demonic fiends were said to have retreated halfway down the slopes of the plateau. Concealing themselves within primeval coniferous forests dense with larch, pine, and spruce to prepare counterattacks, the beasts had somehow caught wind of Lee Yi-tan’s absence for his wedding, striking twice and incinerating two military transports. There had been no human casualties, nor was the assault especially severe, yet because Major Lee Yi-ho’s company had filed an alarming report to high command, Lee Yi-tan had been forced to rush directly to Mount Gaema on the very evening of his wedding.

“Even so, we cannot afford to let our guard down,” the sergeant noted solemnly. “Those bastards are cunning enough to sniff out the platoon leader’s absence with uncanny precision.”

“…Is that so?”

It seemed bizarre how they gathered intelligence without an insider. When Myeong-joo asked whether it was due to their highly developed sense of smell, Yun Ji-gwan nodded slowly.

“That is our current assumption, but… in truth, some of them even understand human speech. I suspect those particular beasts possess terrifyingly acute hearing.”

“What does the National Defense Science Research Institute say?”

“Well… since none have been captured alive, they haven’t conducted much research into their hearing or sense of smell,” the sergeant answered.

Indeed, when the largest specimens approached the height of a three-story building, capturing such monsters alive was no simple feat; putting them down outright was far more practical.

Yun Ji-gwan prompted him once more with an urgent chuckle: “Eyy, don’t just sit there shivering—why not put that fur coat on already? If you catch cold all the way out here, the platoon leader will skin me alive.”

Though he doubted Yi-tan would ever do such a thing, Myeong-joo gave an amused chuckle and nodded.

It felt odd that, despite the freezing weather, the sun did not set as early as it did in deep winter. Even so, watching it dip behind the mountain ridge made him dread the murderous cold that would surely intensify through the night. Having hailed from a northern province compared to Seowon, Myeong-joo had considered himself hardened to winter, yet the chill of Mount Gaema was on an entirely different scale.

***

Once Yun Ji-gwan departed with a parting reminder to rest comfortably, Myeong-joo turned his attention toward locating the promised fur coat. The cheap vinyl duffel held only the clothes he had brought from home, leaving the wooden chest tucked into the corner of the tent as the sole remaining possibility. Yet he hesitated to open it, wary that it might contain classified military documents; stumbling upon restricted papers would only invite trouble.

In the end, Myeong-joo wrapped himself in a wool blanket and sat perched on the edge of the cot, which was layered with thick sleeping bags, waiting for Yi-tan’s return. He expected he would have to lodge here for the foreseeable future, yet finding no separate cot for himself was awkward. While the field bed appeared wide enough to accommodate two grown men, he had never imagined he would actually share it with Yi-tan. He considered asking Yun Ji-gwan, but refrained upon remembering that the sergeant had driven through the darkening day to bring him here. He could simply inquire when Yi-tan returned.

With his dilemma set aside, a pleasant lethargy settled over him. The nausea churned up by the relentlessly jolting jeep ride had finally begun to subside. From a kerosene heater set in the corner of the tent, faint fuel fumes and gentle heat radiated into the air. Loosening one hand from the blanket, Myeong-joo held his palm over the stove’s warm top plate, thawing his frozen fingertips.

How long had he sat like that? Without even realizing he had dozed off, he slid down horizontally onto the cot. With the throbbing ache in his chest stabilized and soothed, he plunged into an almost comatose slumber.

He was eventually roused by the subtle rustle of a presence.

Outside the tent, pitch darkness had fallen; several gas lanterns suspended from the ceiling beams had been lit, bathing the interior in a warm, steady glow. Forcing his heavy eyelids open, Myeong-joo was met with the broad expanse of a man’s bare back. Healed gashes and crosshatched blade scars traced across the skin, the sculpted muscles rippling ceaselessly with each fluid motion.

Bent at the waist, the man had placed a bucket of water atop an upright wooden crate, washing his face and rinsing down his back. His dog tags dangled behind his bare shoulders, tossed back so as not to get in the way. The stamped metal tag gleamed beneath the lantern light. From the crisp chill that accompanied each droplet splashing against the boards, it was clear he was using frigid, unheated water.

Only then did Myeong-joo realize that the man with the scarred back was the master of this tent. Gathering his groggy wits, he slowly pushed himself upright.

“You must be hungry.” As if he had known the instant Myeong-joo awoke, the man wiped his face with a towel and posed the question with easy casualness.

Staring at the striking youth whose face looked freshly scrubbed and clear, Myeong-joo parted his lips. “Indeed. I don’t know why my stomach is so empty when I haven’t done a single thing, while you did all the hard work, Second Lieutenant.”

“This is my duty, after all,” Yi-tan answered with a boyish grin.

Yet Myeong-joo paid little mind to the smile, dwelling instead upon the words. If enduring hardship in this desolate northern wasteland was Yi-tan’s duty, then what was his own? He wanted to offer some meaningful assistance with what he had trained for, but the craft of harmonization remained dauntingly difficult.

Watching the pensive Myeong-joo, Yi-tan moved to step outside without even putting on a shirt, only to turn back. Stepping over, he draped a wool blanket securely around Myeong-joo’s shoulders before heading once more toward the entrance.

The instant he drew back the layers of vinyl sheeting and quilted insulation, a ferocious gale of subzero air rushed inside. Myeong-joo instantly understood why the youth had bundled him in the blanket. The piercing cold was enough to make one’s eyes sting, leaving Myeong-joo worried that Yi-tan—still damp and bare-chested—might suffer frostbite.

Stepping toward the opening, Yi-tan instructed a passing soldier, “Prepare something simple and easy to eat.”

Having planned to inspect the garrison once the youth arrived, Myeong-joo felt thoroughly embarrassed. For a master sergeant to hole up in a tent and wait for the platoon leader to arrange his meals seemed entirely backwards.

“Shouldn’t I at least greet the men and introduce myself?”

“You can meet those fellows once day breaks,” Yi-tan said gently. “More importantly, go right back to sleep after eating. You look exhausted.”

Rubbing a dry hand over his face, Myeong-joo let out a wry chuckle. “Does my face truly look that unbearable? I am hardly handsome, so I ought to have groomed myself properly, yet I fell fast asleep until your return. I have no face before you.”

“…”

Yi-tan’s gaze lingered upon Myeong-joo as he spoke in that self-conscious manner. After scrutinizing him intently, Yi-tan crossed the space and sat down on the edge of the cot beside him.

“Instructor,” Yi-tan called softly.

“Speak.”

“I was sorry about yesterday,” Yi-tan confessed with genuine remorse. “Even with urgent orders, I should not have departed the hotel suite so abruptly…”

“Hm? When an urgent dispatch arrived from the front line, how could you not leave immediately? It is nothing you need to apologize for.”

When Myeong-joo countered with genuine bewilderment, Yi-tan stared at him again. A faint furrow creased his brow.

“If not that, then why…?” Yi-tan muttered under his breath.

Just as he murmured those words, a voice from beyond the entrance announced that dinner had arrived. Refusing to let his superior fetch the food this time, Myeong-joo rose swiftly and headed toward the door. “I will bring it in.”

The attempt was foiled immediately. Catching Myeong-joo by the wrist, Yi-tan seated him back upon the cot and strode to the threshold himself. He pushed the flap aside before Myeong-joo could protest, taking two military mess tins from a soldier. Soot blackened their bases, showing they had only just been taken off the fire.

Myeong-joo wore a chagrined expression at being preempted, but Yi-tan paid it no mind, asking with an apologetic smile, “The side dishes are rather meager, I fear.”

“Think nothing of it. Hunger is the best side dish.”

Having weathered a lifetime of hardship, Myeong-joo was hardly one to be finicky; smiling easily, he accepted a mess tin from Yi-tan’s hands. Pausing when the searing metal proved too hot to open, he watched as Yi-tan took it back and lifted the lid without the slightest hesitation.

“Is that not scalding?” Myeong-joo asked in surprise.

“It is hot.”

Yet his tone carried not a trace of discomfort. Once again, Myeong-joo was reminded that the man before him had traversed lives so brutal that trivial pain barely registered. The Yi-tan he knew had been a boy, then suddenly an adolescent, and in the blink of an eye, a formidable adult towering over him; Myeong-joo had always felt penniless, possessing nothing of worth to offer him.

Caught in his own sense of inferiority, perhaps he had lived without ever discerning what Yi-tan truly needed. Even a tiny splinter caused pain, yet by the time Yi-tan had hardened into a man who bore agony without showing a flicker of distress, Myeong-joo had done nothing for him. Both as an instructor and as his elder brother-in-law, he had been a thoroughly incompetent creature.