TBG Ch 4

“…Wash up. Your wounds are healed, so don’t worry.”

“Did Ten heal me?”

“A mere fifth-grade healer? Hardly. He struggled just to keep you alive.”

“Then who?”

“I healed you.”

Laila raised an eyebrow at Owen, who spoke with a nonchalant expression.

“I didn’t know Your Excellency had healing abilities too.”

“To be the Supreme Commander of the Empire for over thirty years, this much is a prerequisite.”

Owen replied slyly, licking Laila’s lips. Soon, he kissed him deeply and tenderly before letting go.

“I’m leaving, so handle the aftermath appropriately.”

“…Yes.”

Laila nodded, his face flushed. Owen picked up his jacket from the floor, put it on, grabbed his cap and sword, and left the room. Having seen Laila open his eyes, there was no reason to stay longer. But then, belatedly, he noticed something off.

Narrowing his eyes, the man touched the collar of his shirt with his fingertips. The triangular gold pin that should have been attached to the collar was missing. Confirming the disappearance of the eagle-engraved ornament, Owen sighed.

“Ha.”

Not just a honey trap, but thievery too? The honey trap could be blamed on the cadets, but where did he learn to steal? Muttering to himself in disbelief, Owen was called out to by someone with a thoroughly subdued voice.

“Uh, um, Your Excellency…”

Hilda was cautiously glancing at Owen Krote, frozen in place. His gold-green eyes calmly scanned the sexy, reddish-brown-haired woman. Right. Her specialty was pickpocketing, and her hobby was fraud. He recalled she hadn’t been out of short-term incarceration for long. Owen Krote methodically opened his mental roster.

As soon as Laila became the leader of the colony through absurd drinking bets and minor meddling, Owen had dug into everything about its members, from their emergency funds to their childhoods. True to their description as an unregistered awakened group, they were all ex-convicts, fugitives, and minor social misfits.

But he could understand why they refused registration. With such low ranks and lowly status, no matter how much they struggled, they’d be used as cannon fodder and die ignobly on the front lines. Those from the Second District might receive some compensation, but the Third District didn’t even get that.

Owen Krote didn’t want to condemn them for finding their own way to survive, but he certainly didn’t want them corrupting the boy he’d raised so carefully.

“…Um, is the boss still in a lot of pain?”

Hilda asked, visibly tense, interrupting Owen’s thoughts. In a way, she, with even less ability than the low-grade healer child, dared to question the Supreme Commander.

But despite being terrified, she looked him in the eye, which was commendable. Especially since her courageous question was for a crying child with a red nose.

Owen Krote was a reasonably fair superior.

“He’s healed. He’s washing up now, so you’ll see him soon.”

“Really?”

A radiant voice, brightening the surroundings, came from lower down. Hilda hurriedly tried to hide Ten, who had popped out from behind her.

“Ten! I told you to stay hidden!”

“Oh, sorry…”

The kid wasn’t two years old but twelve—did they think hiding behind someone would work? Owen observed their foolish behavior.

“Ahem.”

In front of the flustered women, a burly man with reddish-brown hair, unable to hide his swagger, stepped forward. A new knight had appeared. Owen looked at Dominic impassively. A violent offender with twenty-three convictions, always causing trouble with his brute strength. A criminal who frequented prison as much as his sister. An illegal mercenary, a low-grade unregistered awakened.

“Uh, thanks for the help, but we’ve got our own situation, so it’d be great if you could leave now.”

By imperial law, this thug was nothing but a lowlife, yet he fearlessly issued an eviction notice to Owen. Despite the vast gap between them, he stared straight into the Supreme Commander’s eyes.

“We don’t have enough to properly entertain noble lords either.”

“Dominic!”

Hilda tried to stop her brother, but Dominic was hostile. Owen briefly diverted his attention. Water was still running in Laila’s room. Engaging a bit longer wouldn’t hurt.

“No need to be so wary. I don’t harm people just for being hostile. If I retaliated for every minor grudge, there’d be no one left alive. You wouldn’t want the Supreme Commander to become a crazed butcher, would you?”

The Supreme Commander spoke, fingering his empty shirt collar. His piercing gold-green eyes looked at Dominic, then Hilda. Not directing that gaze at the child was his final act of leniency.

“But is there a reason to forgive insolence to my face? If you’re banking on Laila, give it up. Even if I tore you apart in front of him, he’d just cry for a few days and move on.”

“If you touch Dominic, I won’t stand by.”

Kay, who had been silently holding his ground, finally stepped forward. Owen curled his lips into a picture-perfect smile.

“Ah, the existing nanny, right? Must’ve been tough scraping by with a bunch of ex-convicts.”

“Not that tough. Things got better after the boss… the major came.”

“Of course. Who else would diligently find work for a bunch of good-for-nothing thugs no one would hire?”

“You done talking?!”

“Dominic.”

Dominic flared up, but Kay stopped him.

“He’s right. The major really helped us out. Even Dominic, who doesn’t trust people, trusts him.”

The calm voice affirmed Owen’s words. This one was quite composed. He had a brain, could think, and read the situation. Someone came to mind. Riff Troy was like this too. No wonder Laila chose this sorry group. Owen pieced together how Laila ended up leading this ragtag bunch. Though he pretended otherwise, Laila was soft on those around him, endlessly lenient with people like them.

“No matter where he’s from or what his story is, we won’t betray him.”

“…”

“Dominic, you too, right?”

“Of course, the boss is the boss!”

Dominic shouted, his face red with embarrassment. His thuggish attire and speech, which didn’t inspire trust, belied an unexpected honesty.

“Take care of him going forward.”

Owen said, concluding his assessment. Dominic, who had been fuming, widened his eyes. He’d never imagined hearing such words from the most refined man on earth.

“He values his affiliations. If he’s ostracized later for being tied to the Supreme Commander, he’ll be hurt.”

“We wouldn’t do that. We’re only surviving because of the boss. We didn’t even lose the bar.”

“If you see it as a debt, repay it yourselves.”

“Hey, Supreme Commander!”

Dominic shouted, his pride wounded by Owen’s final snide remark, but Owen didn’t respond. About to leave the rundown building, Owen paused briefly. His eyes finally turned to the child. Dominic hurriedly shielded Ten, but the calm olive-colored hair and curious eyes couldn’t be hidden.

Owen Krote lowered his posture for the first time. The great hero met the gaze of a mere slum child. Ten blinked rapidly. Even to a child, his appearance was overwhelming.

His slightly disheveled golden hair, unique gold-green eyes, and beauty redefined standards. The Supreme Commander’s hand unhesitatingly patted Ten’s flushed head. Dominic, realizing Owen bore no malice, visibly relaxed.

“Thank you for treating Laila.”

“Ah…”

Ten held back tears, his cheeks puffing up. Looking at the child’s swollen face, Owen briefly thought of someone else. Laila was quite popular with both the elderly and children. Being so loved must be innate.

“You helped him pull through.”

Praising the child’s efforts, the Supreme Commander stood. He put on his cap and slipped into the military boots casually left at the entrance, as if it were his own home. Hilda fidgeted, her eyes darting nervously.

Ignoring her gaze, Owen tied his laces and opened the door. Riff Troy, looking as usual, saluted him with precise movements.

“Your Excellency, as ordered, we’ve identified all threats within a three-kilometer radius of the Third District’s perimeter.”

“The strike force?”

“Ready to deploy. Major General Solar Owner has arrived.”

“Let’s go.”

Owen nodded, resting his hand on his sword’s hilt. Having come to the Third District abruptly, he needed to put on a performance convincing enough for the Assembly. It might provoke Sirun Alles and bruise his power-hungry ego, but so be it. If Laila saw this, he might relent and return to the military, which would be better.

The colony members wore complex expressions. Ignoring those who disliked but couldn’t curse him, Owen left the dilapidated building.

In an alley about 510 meters from the colony’s lodging, the strike force was already lined up to greet him. The street was quiet, blanketed by armed troops, and the soldiers’ faces were tense for the rare battle. Some had seen war, others only tasted it. But with peace so long, most knew no war.

A brown-haired woman at the front called out in a booming voice.

“Your Excellency, Supreme Commander!”

Solar Owner saluted, her face rigid.

“Major General Solar Owner.”

Owen gestured lightly to her.

“Are you confident?”

“I swear on Your Excellency’s honor, I will not bring shame!”

Hearing her proud voice, Owen nodded.

The Third District’s perimeter opened for the first time in thirty years. The Supreme Commander was always at the forefront.

⭐

The colony was in a somber mood. A few years ago, the one-eyed boss who’d appeared out of nowhere to lead them had been blown away by a bomb. His back was completely mangled, a mess. With hundreds of fragments embedded and seizures from pain, there was no solution.

Ten poured out his healing power, but the wounds were too severe to take effect. The child, refusing to eat or sleep, cried and clung to Laila’s side for two days. They forcibly separated Ten from him. Laila, lost to reason, thrashed in agony, lashing out with hands and feet. The remaining three took turns getting pummeled.

Dominic, despite not having superhuman strength like him, was sent flying by the boss’s terrifying grip, vomiting bile. But they didn’t abandon Laila. Three years ago, Hilda had gone to prison. The court demanded a fine. Struggling to survive, they couldn’t afford such a hefty sum. Then Laila appeared, paid the fine, and bought back their pawned bar.

To those who’d otherwise have starved or set fire to the prison, Laila was a savior.

And that savior was on the brink of death. While foolishly wondering how much a proper coffin would cost, a man appeared in the house like a ghost, without a sound. No one on Caron could fail to recognize that face. Even the Third District’s abandoned residents knew him.

For days, they’d been so conscious of the Supreme Commander they could barely swallow water. Dominic, like a nervous wreck, had even gotten into a huge fight with Hilda.

But their boss, oblivious to their anxiety, acted recklessly the moment he regained consciousness. Still not recovered from his nervous breakdown, Dominic trailed Laila, nagging incessantly.

“Boss, how long were you bedridden, and you’re going out? Are you insane? Safety blindness?”

“Safety blindness, my ass. You’re in no position to lecture me. Now’s the perfect time.”

Hearing of Owen’s deployment, Laila, as if he’d never been ill, quickly geared up and prepared to head out.

“I’m telling you, rest! Even dogs sit in the shade when it’s hot. Is your brain worse than a dog’s?”

Dominic’s words grew harsh, but Laila just laughed. Knowing how much they loathed “nobles”—a derogatory term for First District citizens—Laila found Dominic’s reaction amusing.

“Dominic.”

Tying his bootlaces, Laila stood abruptly, looking at the reddish-brown-haired thug. Laila was about Dominic’s height. Dominic turned his head, avoiding the boss’s gleeful gaze.

“What, what is it?”

“Thanks.”

Laila patted Dominic’s shoulder in gratitude. The hand wasn’t as cold as it had been during those heart-stopping moments.

“Don’t say creepy stuff! Gross!”

The loud shout woke Ten, who’d been napping on the sofa. The sleepy boy alternated looks between Dominic and Laila, then jumped up and ran over. Laila gladly knelt and bent to hug Ten.

Dominic, noting how Laila’s gesture mirrored the Supreme Commander’s earlier, wore a deeply conflicted expression.

“Boss.”

The child hugged Laila tightly with his whole body. Laila rested his cheek on Ten’s head, savoring the warmth in his arms.

“You were really worried, huh? Thanks. I’m alive because of you, Ten.”

“Don’t get hurt.”

Ten sniffled, rubbing tears onto Laila’s uniform. Laila smiled, gently wiping Ten’s eyes. It was a tender gesture.

“I won’t do anything dangerous this time. I’ll be back quick. Ten, keep an eye on Dominic.”

Ten nodded eagerly.

“I’m worse than Ten?!”

Laila chuckled at Dominic’s indignation. He didn’t seem like someone who’d been comatose for a week. First District privilege, huh. Every time Dominic saw Laila’s face, he tried to forget the Supreme Commander it naturally evoked, pursing his lips.

“Hurry back. We’re throwing a recovery party tonight.”

“Oh, that’s why Kay and Hilda went out.”

“Gah.”

It was supposed to be a secret party, but Dominic realized his slip-up, mumbling. Laila waved dismissively and left the house.

Outside was deathly silent. After the terrorist attack and the Supreme Commander’s appearance, martial law had been declared in the Third District. Not even a rat stirred, only armed soldiers patrolled. Looking suspicious would get you arrested, but not getting caught was fine.

Slipping past a soldier reporting street conditions via radio, Laila nimbly vaulted walls, racing to the Third District’s perimeter. Standing atop a house’s roof, Laila gazed at the open perimeter gate. The massive gate stood wide, as if waiting for the abandoned land to return to humanity’s embrace.

For the first time, the Third District’s defensive gate, locked to block Typhon, had opened. The military opened it and didn’t close it. They were filled with unwavering confidence and pride that no defeat or mistake would occur in a battle led by the Supreme Commander. Hand on the sturdy wall, Laila crouched low.

His cold eyes watched the earth explode in places as gunfire rang out. The abandoned lab was now unrecognizable, collapsed. But today, his target wasn’t the lab. He planned to head to the Shattered Lands.

Holding the gun loaded with modified bullets secretly given by Major General Molto Rikam, Laila leapt from the wall. His light uniform, stripped of insignias and medals, fluttered in the wind.

He hadn’t forgotten the Shattered Lands’ location from his prior visit. Knowing the direction, he didn’t hesitate. Gotta be back before dinner. And at the recovery party… he’d tell the colony about Supreme Commander Owen Krote.

The wind tousled Laila’s short black hair. It was a tailwind today. Unrestrained by anyone, he ran freely across the desert like the wind.

⭐

The revisited lab was silent. Hanging from the perforated ceiling, Laila scanned inside, more cautious than usual. Certain no living presence stirred within, he dropped inside.

His hard military boots hit the floor, the sound echoing. Perhaps long abandoned, dust rose thickly. Laila covered his nose and mouth, coughing lightly.

Owen’s words were a hint. For some reason, the dormant lab had briefly reactivated, likely putting the mines back into dormancy. Thus, he was now safe to walk anywhere in the lab.

Relaxed, Laila explored corners of the lab he hadn’t examined before. The facility, used for both development and experiments, was overwhelmingly vast compared to the abandoned lab near the Third District.

There was even a dormitory nearby, designed to sleep up to sixteen per room, suggesting researchers lived here. It didn’t look like researchers’ quarters. Laila frowned, touching a rusted bunk bed. The bed was so narrow that even Ten would fall off with a slight toss. The room, packed with eight such beds, felt like a chicken coop.

He quickly left and returned to the lab’s center. Unlike his first visit, the monitors were dead black.

Was what he saw that day a hallucination?

But it was too vivid. Laila slowly reached for the circuit board. At that moment, the monitor’s power flickered. As if it sensed his touch.

“Uh…”

Startled, Laila stepped back. His tense gaze caught the monitor lighting up. A long, clear golden line slowly rose in the center of the dark screen, then vanished.

No swirling golden storm this time. Instead, the cold screen displayed a message.

[Welcome back]

As Laila read the formal text, the monitor flickered again, printing new words.

[Would you like to connect?]

“Connect…?”

Is the server still linked? Laila muttered at the unexpected situation. But the monitor, as if taking his words as consent, wrote new text.

[Please enter the password]

No way he’d know the password. Would Owen have told him if he’d asked? Laila frowned, thinking, then tried his luck.

“Sirun Alles?”

[Connection failed]

“Damn it.”

Laila clutched his head in front of the monitor. He spat out a few more passwords at random.

“Fractus?”

[Connection failed]

“War?”

[Connection failed]

“T-Typhon?”

[Connection failed]

“What the hell!”

Irritated, Laila kicked the mechanical parts under the monitor.

“A password’s a password, isn’t it!”

He shouted. Then, as if mocking him, the monitor, which had endlessly displayed connection failure notices, slowly changed color.

[Hello, Captain.]

A clear voice echoed through the empty lab.

[Q greets you.]

Huh. Unable to grasp what he’d done, Laila stared blankly at the monitor. Something flickered on the screen. Where only formal text had appeared, a warm, peaceful landscape now showed.

“Q…?”

[What a joyous moment. I’ve been sleeping, awaiting this day. I sincerely welcome your return, Captain!]

In the large monitor, someone ran barefoot through golden wheat fields. A young girl, about Ten’s age. She wore a straw hat, her blonde hair braided in pigtails under the brim. Her small feet tread golden grass. The vigorously running girl smiled, her cheeks rosy. Unable to tear his eyes from the screen, Laila stammered.

“Uh, so… Q?”

[Yes, Captain!]

The girl stopped in the lush wheat field, smiling at Laila’s call. Q, as she introduced herself, looked straight into Laila’s eyes.

“Captain, that’s what you’re calling me…?”

[Of course, Captain. You’re the same as ever. Even waking me so roughly. It’s fine, though. My body is made of super-titanium alloy and cosmic materials, so that level of impact won’t damage me!]

This childlike AI seemed to mistake Laila for its master—a master with a bad temper and the worst password-creation sense.

[I, of course, respect the ever-consistent Captain.]

With her cheerful words, Q’s power button blinked talkatively. The flashy lights suggested Q was programmed with a highly proactive personality.

Laila considered correcting the poor AI’s misconception but stopped. This could work. If he was recognized as the master, it might help find the lab’s destroyed data. He might even uncover Owen Krote’s intentions for sending him here. Pointing at the bright landscape on the monitor, Laila asked Q.

“So, where is this?”

[…Captain, if you’ve been having memory issues recently, I recommend a brain scan as soon as possible. Alzheimer’s is entirely treatable! However, restoring lost memories is extremely difficult with current human technology, so please take action before your brain sustains further damage.]

The answer was lengthy, but the point was singular: Q was worried about Laila’s dementia. He couldn’t get mad at an AI. Laila briefly pressed a hand to his face to quell his frustration, then removed it.

“Uh… I’ve been sick lately, so my memory’s fuzzy. Can you help?”

[So that’s why the password errors happened?]

She’d apparently been awake since he shouted during his password attempts. When he vaguely agreed, Q chirped in a smiling voice.

[Then I’ll guide you through the lab. Captain, will you permit me to accompany you?]

Laila nodded at Q’s words. Q babbled excitedly.

[Connecting to the terminal for accompaniment. You’re using a terminal with poor security? Approved.]

A blue light flickered on the communication terminal on Laila’s wrist.

[You’re currently in the central lab wing. Two sub-labs are positioned to the left and right, and in emergencies, a defensive wall activates. Would you like to try it?]

“…I’ll pass.”

He didn’t want to know what would happen if he activated the defense system in an empty lab wing.

[Then keep walking forward!]

Laila moved as Q directed, feeling foolish. Q tirelessly chattered, introducing the lab’s details. The central lab was larger than he’d thought. The claim that thousands of mines were buried to destroy it wasn’t an exaggeration—it was a scale that required such measures to erase from the map.

Continuing, Laila passed the narrow dormitory, communal bathroom, and dining hall he’d seen from the roof, heading further outward. His steps turned east.

Following Q’s guidance for about twenty minutes, he reached the eastern end of the lab, where a wall had collapsed, fully exposing the outside. Holding the ruined wall, Laila stared blankly ahead. A fragrant breeze brushed his cheek. Golden grain leaves swirled.

[You saw the screen earlier, right? This is that place.]

Laila felt an illusion, as if Q’s invisible soul was holding his shoulders from behind.

A vast granary stretched endlessly. Larger… wider than the Third District’s asphalt river. A massive wheat field, ripe and lush, swayed in the wind. The air was clean. No foul odors, no acrid gas, no stifling heat. Fresh air and nature’s blessings existed here.

“The Shattered Lands… how?”

Fertile land growing crops was a mirage. Humanity had lost everything it could take from nature. On Caron, too cramped for settlements, farming? He’d never imagined such a scene. Why was humanity pushed so far when such a place existed?

Speechless, Laila stared at the wheat field swaying like Owen’s hair.

“Q, I have a question.”

[Yes, please ask.]

“This is a lab, right? Why is the grain so lush?”

[A lab?]

Q asked, puzzled. Her AI voice carried the faint whistle of the communicator. He imagined the girl from the screen running proudly through the distant wheat field.

[This is a shelter, Captain. Though some shelter functions are currently lost, the grain grew well this year! The decision to use my core as the land’s host was correct.]

“A shelter?”

Laila didn’t even consider Typhon outside. His blue eyes were filled with golden, rippling grain. Dust-covered black boots stepped into the granary. For the first time, Laila felt nature.

[Yes, a shelter. It’s been 200 years since humanity landed here! I’m proud of you for overcoming the prophecy of doom, Captain.]

Laila froze, his fingers tracing ripe wheat.

“…200 years?”

[Yes, Captain. 238 years, to be exact. I hope you stay healthy this year too.]

“No, Q.”

Laila’s voice trembled. Unconsciously, he gripped the tough wheat stalk, snapping it.

“This year is Caron Calendar 138. Your calculation… has an error.”

[An error?]

Q seemed to tilt her head. It couldn’t be, but it felt that way.

[Calculated by planetary time since humanity settled this planet, 238 years is correct. Oh! You’re using a specific calendar from Earth? Then, counting from the Great Migration’s upheaval, it’s 138 AD.]

With Q’s clear voice, Laila was utterly speechless.

[As per your orders, I took root and guarded this land.]

Standing in a breathtakingly beautiful region he’d never seen, Laila staggered, shocked by the immense truth he’d heard. Q asked worriedly.

[Captain, your heart rate is elevated, and your breathing is irregular. Signs of anxiety detected. Shall I call a medical robot?]

“No, no. I don’t need it.”

Clutching his knees, Laila shakily raised his head. The massive lab came into view. He couldn’t fathom how many lived here. Realizing why humanity hid a century of history, Laila panted.

“So, Q… I’d like to look at some data.”

[What kind of data are you referring to?]

Laila’s lips twitched at Q’s question. Sweating coldly, he forced a frown and asked.

“Is there any data left from Sirun Alles’s research?”

[I’m sorry, Captain. The name Sirun Alles isn’t in my stored files.]

Q apologized, denying Laila’s query. …The overseer, wasn’t he? Perhaps Sirun Alles used a pseudonym. Laila pondered. That old man might’ve changed his name and title for cleanup. If he hid a century of history, he was capable of anything. Laila asked anew.

“The list of researchers who worked on Fractus?”

[One exists. Shall I assist with viewing?]

That one must be Sirun Alles. Laila clenched his fist. He needed to know why the decrepit Chancellor hid a century. If Owen sent him for this.

“Now!”

Laila shouted, his voice mixed with anger and excitement. Q complied with the Captain’s command.

[Yes, proceeding with viewing upon the subject’s consent… Connecting… Connection complete. Awaiting approval… Approval granted.]

As Q’s murmurs ended, a hologram window appeared before Laila. The researcher had black hair and black eyes. An East Asian. In a world of mixed races, pure East Asians were now only seen in old records.

Unfamiliar but strikingly handsome, his face was expressionless, clad in a lab coat. A nameplate was pinned to the coat, but Laila couldn’t read it. It wasn’t Caron’s common tongue or pre-Migration script. It was a long-lost language.

“…Who is this?”

[I’m sorry, Captain.]

Q apologized again.

[Approval for viewing this individual’s information has been revoked and denied. Closing the record.]

“Wait, Q!”

Laila urgently called, but her consciousness was generated by the massive machine. Unable to grasp anything, he watched the man in the hologram vanish. The man reached for a blonde girl.

[All power has been depleted.]

They held hands, disappearing beyond the golden field.

[It was an honor to meet again, Captain. Until we meet again…]

Q’s voice ended there. Laila pounded the lab’s circuit board, calling Q, but she never reappeared.

At the same moment, Owen Krote, who was leading the command, suddenly turned his head to look in a certain direction. Major General Solar, who had been grinning as if achieving nirvana at the thought of fighting alongside the Supreme Commander she had dreamed of her whole life, asked what was wrong.

“Your Excellency? Is there an ambush in the east?”

“…No. Just a good feeling.”

Owen smiled with his eyes. In the Shattered Lands, the boy must have grasped a new secret. Everything was fate, part of a grand flow. Owen had no intention of rejecting or fleeing from it. Instead, he chose to encourage it.

Of course, what had happened earlier was unexpected. Owen felt a pang in his chest.

But even if Laila learned everything and cursed this land and humanity, Owen would accept it.

“Major General Solar.”

“Yes, Your Excellency!”

“Let’s have a drink after this.”

Because he wouldn’t be able to sleep sober. Hiding the rest of his thoughts, he smiled warmly and gripped his sword again. To the east lay a radiant land. To the west, a dead one. Humanity had sinned. It hid its briefly prosperous territory from its kin and fled from its crimes.

It was the history of the first massacre.

⭐

Laila circled the lab several times to calm his chaotic mind, but the structure was such that not even a common emergency power device could be found. In the end, it was only after seeing the vivid purple evening sky that he left the ruined lab, having gained nothing. Still, he had promised to return before sunset, and he wanted to keep that promise.

But what could he do once he returned? Did Owen know all this and send him here? Did he want Laila to uncover the secret hidden by the Assembly and the military? And who was that strange man?

Laila’s head felt like it would burst with complicated emotions. Unable to manage his expression, he lingered outside for a while before finally returning to the colony.

“Boss is back?!”

As he opened the door, drained of energy, a wave of warmth enveloped him. The cramped entryway was soon filled with people. In the small house, everyone rushed to the entrance, their faces alight with excitement, chattering joyfully.

“Boss!”

Ten ran up and leapt into his arms. Laila reached out and lifted Ten.

“What took you so long? The food almost got cold.”

“Yeah, Boss, you can’t live life so carelessly.”

“…Being a bit late is living carelessly?”

The faces of his teammates, teasing him unnecessarily, were bright. They had scraped together their meager savings to throw a modest party just because Laila had woken up. It was remarkable. Laila wasn’t some pretty-faced, foolish deserter, nor was he just someone with a close relationship with the Supreme Commander. Though they didn’t know the exact nature of that relationship, it was obviously not ordinary to anyone who saw them.

Yet they treated Laila as they always had. As if he weren’t some high-and-mighty noble but a regular friend. The boss who led their ragtag group, joined them in drinking bets, and hung out with them. Their grumbling voices and affectionate expressions were the same as they had been for the past three years.

In an instant, his worries vanished, and things felt okay. For a moment, even the dark past of humanity he had witnessed in the Shattered Lands faded away. Overjoyed by this, Laila smiled broadly.

“Impressive.”

A cold beauty’s smile was rare. Kay muttered involuntarily. Hilda, standing beside him, nodded.

Honestly, their boss’s personality wasn’t exactly great. Living in a place like the Third District naturally hardened one’s character, but Laila had a unique sensitivity that set him apart. He even carried the rigid demeanor typical of someone long entrenched in the military’s hierarchical system.

When Laila, usually expressionless like a soldier, smiled brightly, the impact was felt even by the colony members who saw him often. Hilda, hands stuffed in the pockets of her baggy jogger pants, whispered.

“That guy was impressive too.”

Kay somehow understood the subjectless remark. There weren’t many people with appearances Hilda would call impressive.

“Well, yeah. He’s a celebrity.”

“I believed the empire’s broadcasting station was emitting hypnotic signals to brainwash people into idolizing the Supreme Commander as a beauty.”

Hilda whispered with a sad expression. Kay glanced at her, stifling a laugh.

“Damn it. I haven’t slept since seeing that face, and I bet I won’t tonight either. Later, when someone asks how we picked our boss, let’s say it was by looks, not drinking capacity.”

“If you liked him that much, why not ask the boss to date him?”

“Are you crazy? I want to live a long life.”

Kay swallowed a faint laugh at Hilda’s serious expression. Indeed. If you wanted to live long, it was best not to approach the man with those cold sky-blue eyes.

Before assessing his appearance, the Supreme Commander exuded an overwhelming presence. He felt alien. Like something inhuman wearing human skin. Adorned in a gilded uniform, he shone so brightly that even Ten was momentarily captivated. He was a man whose innate authority seemed to manifest as beauty.

“How did the boss end up tangled with someone like that?”

“He said he made the first move.”

“Was that really making a move? Or was he just a moth drawn to that face?”

“Could be.”

“Not could be, I’m sure of it.”

Showing surprising insight, Hilda grabbed a crudely frosted cake and walked toward Laila.

“Let’s blow out the candles!”

“It’s not even my birthday, what candles?”

Laila grumbled but blew out the candles without complaint. They weren’t proper candles—just matches lit and stuck into a humble cake—but it didn’t matter. Laila had recovered, and the Third District, though quieter than usual due to the Supreme Commander’s visit, was in top shape with supplies and security.

Sipping beer pulled from the downstairs bar, Laila laughed and chatted, then, as if remembering something, shoved a hand into his pocket.

“Anyone know a good dealer?”

“Dealer? For selling?”

“Stolen goods.”

“I know someone.”

Surprisingly, Kay raised his hand. Since he usually stayed at the bar while the others roamed and caused trouble, it made sense that Kay had broader connections. Laila handed him something from his pocket.

“Sell this for me.”

“What’s thi…”

Kay fell silent, seeing two gold ornaments land in his palm. Laila laughed out loud at the stunned blue-haired man blinking blankly.

“It pissed me off, so I’m selling it.”

“Boss, selling this will really get you arrested.”

“No way.”

The Supreme Commander’s closest confidant said with a smile. His eyes sparkled, unable to cope with sudden stress. Whoops. Dominic covered Ten’s eyes, muttering that it wasn’t a scene for a kid to see.

“How many perverts secretly idolizing the Supreme Commander do you think are in the empire? The moment his worn items hit the black market, they’ll go crazy to get them. Report stolen goods? The moment they do, the Supreme Commander’s elite task force will swoop in and wipe out the entire exchange. They don’t have the guts for that.”

The two triangular ornaments were unmistakably the Supreme Commander’s. No one else in the world could use such gold, especially with the Supreme Command’s emblem stamped on it.

“It’ll sell for a lot.”

Laila nodded at Kay’s words.

“You said you’d get purifiers, right? We’ll be set for at least a year.”

Saying so, he belatedly kicked off his boots and strode barefoot to the modest but cozy dining table. Ten scurried over and sat on his lap. It looked almost peaceful.

Feeding Ten a piece of crumbly, cream-smeared cake with a fork, Laila thought.

If, by some chance, Owen Krote was involved in that century-long cover-up, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“Boss, something wrong?”

Ten, with cheap cream smeared on his lips, looked worried. Cute kid. Laila silently pulled Ten into a tight hug.

“Ten, you’re this country’s only hope.”

“That makes the rest of us listening feel kinda weird.”

Dominic grumbled, as if jealous, lifting Ten from behind into his own arms. Ten just smiled meekly. The stubborn kid who refused to leave the unconscious Laila seemed long gone, so docile now.

“This is tasty.”

The table was piled with rare Third District vegetables. Mostly sprouts, and above all, no carrots—exactly to Laila’s liking. The small, scattered fig cubes were especially good.

Without telling his team to eat, Laila piled vegetables and fig cubes onto bread and munched heartily. The trip to the Shattered Lands had left him ravenous. The four watched Laila, uncharacteristically stuffing his face, intently. Hilda, who’d made the cake, muttered with a sour expression.

“…Did a rich guy starve his kid?”

“The military never delays pay.”

Overhearing the murmur while eating, Laila swallowed a large chunk of bread in one go and pointed to the empty seats. It meant sit. Like obedient children, they all scurried to their chairs at Laila’s command.

“For ten minutes, I’ll take questions about anything you’re curious about.”

At Laila’s unexpected words, they forgot to eat, staring at him with mouths agape.

“Me.”

Ten, smarter and more diligent than the three clumsy adults, eagerly raised his hand. The boy’s olive-colored eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Alright, Ten. You have the floor.”

Laila, half-jokingly mimicking a military meeting, deliberately altered his tone and flicked his fingers. Ten giggled and then, without hesitation, threw out a bold question.

“Are you and that person in love with each other?”

“Our kid hasn’t even gone to school, yet he’s so good at getting to the point.”

Hilda chimed in tactlessly from the side. Right, the cold season’s over, so we need to send Ten back to school. Laila thought about something else as he responded.

“Well… for now?”

“Question. Why’s your answer so vague?”

“Because love comes in many forms.”

Laila pulled the salad plate closer and chewed thoughtfully as he spoke.

“No point expecting serious questions when you’re all just going to gossip about trivial stuff, so I’ll keep it simple. My name is Laila Krote, and with a certain famous person who shares my surname, you could say it’s a ward-and-guardian relationship.”

His lips busily chewed vegetables. The salad, not properly drained, tasted more of bland water than fresh greens, but Laila didn’t show it.

“…Not husband and wife, but guardian?”

“Are you insane?”

Dominic’s comment sparked visible irritation on Laila’s pretty face. He flung his fork, embedding it menacingly next to Dominic’s hand on the table, and answered.

“And most people don’t know my surname is Krote. Anyway, since Owen’s trying to take responsibility for me, he’s still looking out for me in all sorts of ways… My desertion actually had a reason, but explaining it all at once is too complicated and annoying. Just think of him as a grumpy neighbor uncle. The uncle who used to give me chocolate chip cookies when I was a kid, so he feels a bit familiar—let’s go with that.”

“That makes sense? You haven’t even said anything important!”

“Sharp. But I’m too lazy to explain. Can you sum up your life in ten minutes? With your criminal record alone, it’d be impossible…”

“Boss!”

Dominic shouted angrily. He yanked out the fork Laila had thrown and hurled it back violently. Laila caught the fork, powered by Dominic’s brute strength, effortlessly with just two fingers. Kay let out an impressed sound at the fluid motion.

Laila, who had just displayed such remarkable skill, sneered coldly with a sharp expression.

“You’re bold enough to throw a fork at your boss, so what’s there to fear? Gutsy, good for you. Next time you see him, make sure to call him uncle. Supreme Commander Uncle. If anyone doesn’t call him uncle, they’ll have a nice one-on-one chat with me.”

The last part carried an inexplicable, seething malice.

“…What, did you sneak off for a date or something? Did you fight already?”

Hilda, seeing Laila suddenly flare up while sitting, whispered with a dumbfounded expression. There was no response. No one wanted to risk trouble by attaching a casual title like “uncle” to a man who radiated a halo from his face, but Ten alone, clutching his juice cup, nodded determinedly.

⭐

Perhaps it was the aftereffect of visiting the Shattered Lands, but Laila dreamed again. He was walking beneath a steep ice cliff. Ahead was a man with black hair. In this freezing place, he wore only a t-shirt and pants, stepping barefoot on flesh-cutting ice as if it were nothing.

Though unfamiliar, Laila was certain he had met him before.

“Hey!”

The moment he reached out and called to the man, Laila woke with a start, his hand stretched toward the ceiling. His body was drenched in cold sweat.

“…”

Ugh. With a groan laced with exaggeration, Laila curled up. For a week, he had been plagued by the same nightmare. Unable to sleep properly, his condition was a complete mess.

He made a few more risky trips to the Shattered Lands afterward, but Q never woke again.

He could ask Owen for an explanation, but Laila didn’t want to contact him. Seeing Owen Krote, who hadn’t uttered a word until Laila uncovered the truth in the Shattered Lands, made him want to punch him.

So, since his return, he unilaterally ignored Owen Krote’s attempts to contact him, deliberately failed to complete a job while keeping Owen’s money, and used the modified bullets from Molto Rikam to easily crush Typhon heads, selling the cores to illegal weapons modifiers for profit—small acts of rebellion.

Even then, when he didn’t want to stay awake, he drowned himself in alcohol. It was utterly unlike a soldier, but Laila was no soldier—he was a criminal.

“Isn’t the boss pushing himself too hard lately?”

“Making a lot of money is a good thing, isn’t it?”

He brushed off the colony’s concerns flatly. In truth, making money was good. The black-market dealers paid less for cores than Owen Krote would have, but they weren’t too stingy. They even tried to offer a bit extra.

Having sold the Supreme Commander’s shirt ornaments, the colony became valued clients in the black market. The gold ornaments fetched an unprecedented price at an auction in the Second District.

Two tiny ornaments, barely the size of a fingernail, sold for enough to buy a small house in the First District—a testament to the Supreme Commander’s name value.

After auction and intermediary fees, the colony’s take was less than half, but it was still substantial. They used it to repair their leaky building, where rats sometimes fell from the ceiling, and replaced old furniture. Ten, who had started school, was beaming lately.

Laila wasn’t satisfied with just that. At night, he went beyond the perimeter alone to earn money diligently, and during the day, he holed up in the bar, drinking heavily.

“…Hic, why’s… the bottom gone?”

Drunkards’ eyes darted toward the hiccupping beauty holding a bottomless beer glass. Word had spread that Laila was at the bar drinking daily, and despite the recession, the colony’s bar was packed.

For the first week, people just watched Laila drink alone or stagger upstairs with Kay’s support. But as the pattern continued, those who’d only watched began approaching him.

Today’s brave soul was a hulking man with a closely shaved scalp, sporting a skull tattoo. In the Third District, he was considered ruggedly handsome or wild, boosting his outward confidence endlessly. Kay, who had been handing Laila drinks as requested, gave the skull-tattooed man a subtle business smile. Below the tattoo, scrawled in translation, was the phrase, “Fuck you to death.”

“Ahem, hey.”

Skull Tattoo—Felt, that is—had been watching Laila from the corner for four hours. Laila’s hair was disheveled as if he’d just woken up, his eyepatch nearly slipping off until the blue-haired bartender retied it. He’d eaten what might’ve been breakfast or lunch while enduring the bartender’s nagging, then started drinking immediately.

Drinking nonstop for four hours, he must be plastered by now. Felt swallowed hard, looking down at Laila. Instead of his usual military uniform, Laila wore a t-shirt and jeans, giving off a much softer, approachable vibe.

“Where’s my beer…? Did I drink it? No way.”

Laila seemed oblivious that he’d slammed the glass so hard the bottom broke, letting the beer leak out below.

“Hey, don’t you hear me calling?”

“Hmm… where’s my drink…?”

Laila muttered, poking inside the glass with his fingers. As Felt had thought, Laila was flushed and glassy-eyed from the alcohol.

“What? If you’re calling, say something.”

Finally accepting his beer was gone, Laila pulled his fingers from the glass with a faintly sulky expression. His sleek fingers somehow tickled Felt’s heart. Felt discreetly licked his lips.

“If you’re up for it, how about a drink together?”

“…With you?”

Cold blue eyes fixed on Felt. For a drunken rogue, they were icy. Probably the unique color of his eyes. Felt hesitated, then nodded with a servile smile.

“There’s a decent bar nearby. What do you say? I’ll buy. Drinking at the same place every time gets boring, right?”

“Hmm…”

Laila dragged out the moment, pretending to think. His primly curled lips held a hint of a friendly smile. Felt, growing impatient, sat next to Laila without permission and slung an arm around his shoulders. Laila flinched, then shrugged as if tickled—at least, that’s how it looked to Felt.

“Major, you ever learn dice games since coming here? I can teach you some fun stuff.”

“Fun stuff?”

“Oh yeah, all sorts of things.”

Felt let out a sleazy chuckle, stealthily placing a hand on Laila’s thigh. He’d expected the cold beauty’s body to be icy and stiff, but it felt surprisingly warm. The inner thigh, briefly touched, revealed taut muscles despite the fleeting contact. Stripped down, his rear view would probably be stunning.

Unable to hide his excitement, Felt flared his nostrils and puffed out his chest. Laila nearly brought the bottomless glass to his lips, noticed his mistake, and flung it at Kay.

“Whoops.”

Kay, who’d been watching Laila intently, caught the broken glass. Laila wiped his wet lips and sprang to his feet.

“Alright, let’s go.”

He gestured with his chin at Felt, eyes hazy with alcohol.

“What’re you doing? I said let’s go.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, cool.”

Having mostly seen Laila sitting or walking from a distance, Felt had assumed he was small and frail. Standing face-to-face, Laila seemed taller than him, making Felt shrink back as he stood hesitantly.

Still, a quick comparison showed Felt was slightly taller. Laila’s good proportions and upright posture just made him seem bigger. About 180 cm? Taller than expected, but not bad. A fling with a beauty like Laila would be a decade’s worth of bragging rights for a back-alley thug like Felt.

Might as well make him fall hard for a real man. Licking his lips, Felt led Laila to a back-alley corner. Ahead was his gambling den and lodging. Pretend to teach him dice, slip him a drug, and take him to the room—easy.

The thought made his groin throb unbearably. Felt draped an arm around Laila’s shoulders, pressing close and subtly groping. Laila, usually hostile even to chatty drunks, was unusually docile.

Does he like this body? Felt, lost in delusion, schemed eagerly.

If he’s into me, why bother going to the gambling den? We could do it right here. No way a guy like that hasn’t been touched.

With that, Felt slyly slid his hand down and gripped Laila’s waist tightly. Laila, who’d been walking quietly, stopped dead. His refined face, impossible to read, stared at Felt coldly.

“I’m fine doing it here, you know? You came along because you’re interested, right…?”

Felt trailed off as he suddenly collapsed. Unable to comprehend why he was staring at the glowing orange sky instead of the Third District’s prettiest face, he gurgled and foamed at the mouth.

Laila, having thrown a swift punch without hesitation, flexed his wrist and brushed off his waist where the filth had touched. The pervert, knocked out by one blow, writhed on the ground, unable to regain his senses. Lately, he wasn’t the only one inviting such tragedy.

“Touchy and pissing me off, what a mess.”

Muttering to an opponent who couldn’t hear, Laila kicked Felt between the legs without mercy. The poor thug, who’d tried to make a move, lost his reproductive function entirely. Unable to scream from the searing pain, he rolled his eyes back and drooled. But Laila, without a shred of guilt, blinked primly with his pretty face.

“Touch me one more time, and I’ll cut off your fingers.”

The threat barely registered with Felt, his groin destroyed. Feeling refreshed, Laila strolled out of the alley with light steps.

The door of the signless bar burst open. The drinking patrons turned at the noisy entrance, saw it was Laila, and quickly buried their noses back in their glasses. They’d all seen Laila recently play along with reckless fools, only to return with blood dripping from his fists.

A broken nose was the least of it—this pretty face had no mercy. Seeing Laila’s refreshed expression, they instinctively crossed their legs. Even if unused, genitals were precious.

“Back already? Want something to eat?”

Only the blue-haired bartender didn’t avert his gaze, speaking kindly to Laila. His brown apron, worn while working, was stained with bleach, splotched with white patches.

“Nah.”

Laila returned to his seat, propped his booted feet on the chair Felt had occupied, and let dirt from his soles fall freely. Kay didn’t scold him.

Instead, he made an omelet for Laila, who’d eaten only a piece of bread all day and drank nonstop. Laila poked at the cream sauce on the omelet with his fork. He’d said he didn’t need it.

“…Business must be good lately, huh?”

“Someone’s been working hard. No fines for vandalism, assault, gambling, or theft arrests either.”

“Touching.”

Laila retorted curtly, adjusting his grip on the fork. It was too small for the omelet, but he didn’t care. He cut the palm-sized omelet and chewed slowly. It tasted decent.

Laila, eating quietly, seemed somehow dejected. Kay wiped his wet hands on his apron and poured a shot of strong tequila. He knew Laila wasn’t drunk. Even drowning in a vat of liquor, Laila would finish it and walk away alive.

Laila downed the tequila Kay silently offered in one gulp. No lemon or salt, but that was better. His pretty nose twitched slightly at the heady, potent alcohol’s aroma.

“Need a chat?”

Laila let out a soft chuckle.

He knew he’d been moping lately, and the colony had noticed. Ten, mature for his age, was acting spoiled on purpose. Hilda was fussing like an older sister. Even Dominic was uncharacteristically tame.

Instead of telling Kay about the Shattered Lands, Laila deflected.

“Relationship advice.”

Kay smiled at the playful opener. His orange eyes were like tart candy. A warm, affectionate gaze.

“I’ll do my best.”

No confidence, but honest—Laila liked that. He held out his empty glass.

“Two more shots. Give me one, you take the other.”

“You’re buying for me? Thanks.”

“Drinking alone’s no fun. If idiots like earlier show up, it might spice things up…”

Listing his twisted hobbies, Laila rested his clasped hands on his stomach and leaned back lazily. It was impressive how he could slouch so indolently on a hard wooden chair.

Laila rocked the creaking chair slowly, then sighed.

“Guess I’m just… confused.”

“About what?”

He’d never imagined discussing this with anyone, and it was embarrassing. Laila flushed slightly, belatedly sheepish.

“Well… it’s complicated. This is only the second time in my life I’ve had a talk like this.”

He spoke indirectly, but it meant this was his second-ever relationship talk. Kay found it more surprising that Laila had even had one before.

“That’s the shocking part. You’ve done this before?”

Laila swallowed a laugh at Kay’s reaction. His upturned lips naturally drew attention. Rolling the tequila glass in his hand, Laila said.

“Before graduation… at the academy’s graduation party, I drank for the first time. Everyone got tipsy and started spilling shameless personal stuff. I got caught up and told my classmates I liked someone. Honestly, I was drunk, but it’s also the age you’re recognized as an adult, right? I got impatient.”

His words carried a faint sigh. Kay poured lighter rum into Laila’s empty glass instead of tequila. Staring at the white rum without drinking, Laila continued.

“My classmates went wild. The guy who’d been aloof for twelve years, never mentioning a crush, suddenly admitted to years of pining… I started liking him around fourteen. I’m not sure exactly, but he started appearing in my dreams then. So, objectively, fourteen’s the marker…”

Trailing off, Laila touched his forehead. Though inaudible, his lips clearly formed a curse.

“No-conscience bastard of the century.”

That was aloud. Kay debated whether to console the Supreme Commander, cursed for appearing in a teenage boy’s dreams, or join in.

“I got interrogated for hours, surrounded. We were all drinking, so everyone was more aggressive and persistent than usual. We’d taken interrogation classes at the academy, but who knew we’d use them on a classmate? Somehow, I let slip that he was much older. That set them off. Those thunderous idiots hounded me about who it was, wrote a whole novel among themselves, and ended up egging me on, saying I should pounce before someone else snatched him. Typical of the brainless jerks who rigged dorm beds to stash and share dirty magazines, right?”

Laila snickered. The glass in his fingers swayed. Before the liquor spilled, he tossed it back and swallowed.

The unaged rum, perhaps because of the earlier tequila, was smooth and mild, like drinking water. He wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand and sighed.

“But hearing that stuff got to me. I thought, I’m too young, and he’s the empire’s prime marriage material, right? So I left the party and went home. We lived together… I got to the garden and started stripping. Coat off, vest off, cravat undone, shoes… Don’t look at me like that. You can’t climb into bed with shoes on.”

“Well, yeah. So you stripped and went for it?”

“Yeah. But I failed. While we were tussling, the alcohol wore off. As I sobered up, I got so embarrassed I bolted.”

Laila nibbled the glass’s rim lightly. It was precarious and suggestive. His cheeks flushed, recalling the moment.

“Oh, so that’s when you said you made a move…”

Listening, Kay thought. The Supreme Commander’s restraint, resisting someone like Laila stripping and pouncing, was inhuman. Maybe he’s used to his own face in the mirror. But Owen Krote’s beauty was different from Laila’s.

Owen Krote’s looks created distance. If his face was suited for idolization or deification, the boss was, crudely put, the type you’d want to sleep with.

“Uh… what was I trying to say?”

Laila rubbed his forehead hard and sighed. Then, as if reluctant to waste the sigh, he poured out a torrent of words.

“Oh, I was gonna talk about that jerk. I knew he was shady from all the politics, but lately, it’s been infuriating. I know he cares about me. I know, but he hides too much. If he likes riddles, he’s got clowns for that, and if he wants to toy with people, the old councilors are enough. Knowing that and doing it anyway just pisses me off. What kind of bastard does that?”

Laila, now tipsy, rambled like any drunk. The disjointed talk led Kay to guess something happened the day Laila woke up.

“Is it a trust issue?”

Laila pondered, then shook his head. Trusting someone just because you want to is an emotional, foolish response. He was a soldier. He didn’t trust Owen the man—he trusted the Supreme Commander. Owen Krote was rational. He wanted the empire’s future to follow the right path, which is why he clashed with Sirun Alles.

“I’m just angry. It’s not enough to break trust.”

“You should try talking to him.”

“If people talked better, wars wouldn’t happen.”

At the cynical remark, Kay offered a tequila shot instead of agreeing. Laila clinked glasses lightly and downed the strong liquor. His flushed face remained impenetrably cold.

“So that’s why you’ve been going out so much lately?”

“Well, yeah. It’s complicated. Seeing his face would really tick me off.”

Laila was honest. But he didn’t seem about to delve into his past again. Kay, with a sink full of dishes, couldn’t help asking.

“So, Boss, you didn’t say what happened after that party night?”

At the soft question, Laila bit back a laugh.

“Well, I’ll tell you more next time if I get the chance. But I can say confidently, the shameless one is the Supreme Commander.”

Kay stopped trying to calculate the age difference between Laila and the Supreme Commander. In a world where lifespans could be extended as desired and youth maintained as long as one wished, perhaps such an age gap wasn’t an issue.

“Still, you like him, right?”

Kay’s question didn’t fit the Third District. It didn’t fit this world either. Laila, thinking he was indulging in an ill-suited romance, let out a small chuckle.

“Kay, there were no other options. From the moment I was born, I grew up looking at that man—how could I have chosen anyone else?”

His words were true. Kay nodded in agreement.