ODKO | Chapter 9

“Do you think we’ll get disaster relief?”

“I don’t know, maybe we should stage a one-man protest in front of the audience chamber.”

Jack chuckled brightly as he spouted nonsense.

“If you do that, you’ll get your head chopped off for treason, Squad Leader.”

“Well, we only live once, whether we die this way or that way…”

At someone’s rational restraint, Jack lowered his head and let out a strange, hollow laugh.

The soldiers, seeing the cracks in Jack’s composure, realized that it wasn’t just them who had reached their breaking point. The atmosphere grew heavy, sinking into an unsettling silence.

“Surely we won’t have to live like this until our new Knight Commander retires, right?”

“Hey, put a curse on it, a curse.”

“Anyone got a cigarette?”

“Ugh, I’m dying here.”

Fortunately, the seemingly endless wave of monster appearances did have its pauses. When the rumbling beneath their feet ceased, the soldiers took the opportunity to chat among themselves, drive their swords into the ground, and collapse where they stood.

Jack was already crouched down, looking like someone who had given up on everything long ago.

“Was the area around the Capital always this infested with monsters?”

“I don’t know, damn it. Who cares?”

“Have a smoke and get a grip, Squad Leader.”

One of the soldiers offered Jack Carlson a cigarette. His hand and face were a mess, covered in dirt.

Look at this mess, Jack clicked his tongue, but the hand he reached out with wasn’t any better. In fact, having led the charge against the monsters, Jack’s appearance was even more rugged than theirs.

“Sigh…”

Jack didn’t even have the strength to hold the cigarette in his mouth. Instead, he let out a deep sigh. Around him, soldiers sprawled in the mud, gathering in small groups to drink water and smoke as they caught their breath.

As the acrid smoke curled into the air, Jack suddenly recalled the day of the new Knight Commander’s inauguration—the day he had unexpectedly met him in a warehouse he hadn’t even known existed, sharing a heated and passionate moment.

The memory brought a wry smile to his face.

On the day of the inauguration, he had been so overwhelmed by the relentless why? and how? that he could barely think straight.

And from the very next day, the new Knight Commander’s orders had come crashing down—marking the start of their grueling ordeal.

‘I knew I was screwed, but I never imagined it would be like this.’

Jack thought to himself as he placed the cigarette between his lips with trembling hands. The relentless monster hunting had driven that incident from his mind—until now.

The beautiful Knight Commander, whose mere thought usually brought nothing but a fond smile, had threatened him with a silent signal: Today. Speak. Die.

If life had been normal and peaceful, he might have slipped up somewhere. In a twisted way, the grueling workload had been a blessing in disguise.

“Leading by example is good, but this is practically a disaster.”

“Why do we have to work ourselves to death when the Blue Knights and vigilante groups could handle it?”

“Maybe it’s nothing for the offspring of a renowned martial noble.”

“Seriously, damn it, his face must be covered in mischief.”

While Jack was lost in thought, the soldiers were united in voicing their complaints. He listened quietly, squinting against the cigarette smoke.

‘Covered in mischief, my foot. His face is so smooth a fly would slip off.’

Jack wanted to tell them—but he didn’t have the energy.

Even as resentment grew in his heart, the image of the Omega Knight Commander surfaced in his mind. And despite himself, his lips reflexively curled into a fond smile. Since that day, it had become a conditioned reflex.

“Who knew the brat from the Madison family would be such a lunatic? Why mess up the well-organized work assignments and work people to the bone?”

“Who knows.”

The soldiers continued tearing into their new commander with their words. Jack, who secretly agreed with them, felt oddly uncomfortable.

Because unlike them, he had a special connection with Cayenne Madison.

“Stop complaining, everyone. We were just living easy—this is what our job is supposed to be.”

Jack Carlson, crouched on slightly elevated ground, spoke while smoking a cigarette in the most pathetic posture. His words carried authority, but the way he held the cigarette in his mouth was anything but dignified.

The soldiers fell silent at the words of their Squad Leader, Jack Carlson. Their gazes all turned toward him.

Half-lidded eyes filled with exhaustion seemed to say, “He’s the craziest one here.”

“Come to think of it, didn’t you see the new Knight Commander, Squad Leader?”

“I did.”

I saw him up close.

As Jack recalled the sight of the infamous Cayenne Madison, his lips curled into a faint smile.

“What was he like? The rumors say he’s very young and has an amazing face.”

A soldier spoke up, and the moment he finished, all the others perked up with interest.

The dead-fish eyes that had been dulled by exhaustion suddenly came to life—like fish flopping desperately in water—and all of them turned to Jack at once.

Unconsciously, Jack furrowed his brows.

“An amazing face?”

“Yes, the rumors are everywhere. They say he has an amazing face, but none of us soldiers have seen him, so we don’t know.”

“Ha… can you really sum it up as just an amazing face?”

Jack took a deep breath and rubbed his chin.

Jet-black hair, deep blue eyes like the ocean, and skin so pale and translucent that you could see the veins beneath.

Considering he had never seen an Omega with such beauty before, calling him simply “amazing” felt far too vague. After all, something could be amazing because it was beautiful—or amazing because it was grotesque.

If there was truly something amazing about Cayenne Madison, it wasn’t just his appearance. The real question should have been: How can he be an Omega, with that family and that background?

And more importantly—how could someone with that face and that lineage have so little experience?

While Jack was lost in thought, the soldiers, who had been listening with shining eyes as if caught up in a trainer’s first love story, suddenly stiffened.

The lighthearted atmosphere evaporated.

A few of the quicker ones even reached for their discarded swords.

Jack widened his eyes.

“…Huh…?”

At that moment, a familiar scent wafted in, stimulating his sense of smell from behind his ear.

The smell of oil-coated metal, and a scent that seemed strangely familiar from somewhere.

“…I told you, if you talk, you’ll die.”

“Ahhh—!!”

At the small whisper that tickled his ear, Jack Carlson let out a bloodcurdling scream, forgetting both pride and dignity.

His knees buckled from the shock, and his scalp burned as if it had been set on fire. In that brief moment of sheer terror, he unconsciously called out for his mom, dad, and even his long-deceased grandparents.

“Who are you?!”

“Would you know if I told you?”

At the brave shout of one of the soldiers, a cold sneer came from behind Jack.

“Huh? No, I wouldn’t know…”

Now that he thought about it—unless the person was someone famous, there was no way they would recognize him just by hearing his name. The soldier, realizing his own flawed logic, fell silent at the unexpectedly reasonable response.

“The discipline here is a mess. It’s running well.”

It was a voice he knew all too well.

A voice he couldn’t forget.

A voice he had missed and longed for—one that had been momentarily buried under the weight of grueling work.

When Jack turned around, the familiar figure with jet-black hair was kneeling before him, a sword pressed against his neck. Their gazes met, and in that instant, the man raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

His large eyes—blue pupils shining like scattered stars—gleamed with an unnerving sharpness.

“C-c-c-c-c…”

Jack’s heart pounded violently. He tried to call out—“Commander!”—but for some reason, the words refused to leave his throat.

“Who are you to suddenly show up and pick a fight?”

Jack knew exactly who he was. And if he wanted the situation to go smoothly, he needed to declare it—loudly.

But shock had stolen his voice, leaving him stuttering.

Meanwhile, the soldiers, unaware of the young man’s identity, openly displayed hostility.

Hearing the sharp tension in their voices, Jack, his face pale, quickly abandoned words and resorted to gestures. He frantically waved his arms and formed an X with his hands in a desperate attempt to communicate.

But the exhausted soldiers, barely clinging to reason, only exchanged disillusioned looks.

“What’s wrong with him now?”

They drew their swords.

Just as Cayenne had said—the discipline was a mess.

“Judging by your pale face and combat uniform, are you a soldier from a nearby lord?”

“This is a danger zone. Civilians should leave.”

“What a funny guy.”

Unaware of the turbulent future awaiting them, the soldiers channeled their accumulated stress onto the unexpected guest.

‘Please shut up!’

Jack, his face drained of color, tore at his hair and mouthed the words desperately—but no one could hear him.