Retire 392

392 Greeting (1)

Short-cropped hair.

Eyes fixed on the camera.

An awkwardly stiff smile at the corners of her mouth.

Shoulders held tense with effort.

And yet, on the face beneath the police uniform, there was a pride that could not be hidden.

I couldn’t tell when the photo was taken. But considering what happened to Kim Yuhwa, it must have been quite some time ago. Perhaps it was from when she had just become a police officer.

What was that young officer in the photograph thinking when it was taken? Was she filled with a sense of justice, determined to help people and catch criminals? Or was she reciting that old cliché about being the people’s shield?

There’s no way to know. No way at all.

Maybe she became a police officer without any grand sense of duty, or maybe it really was out of a righteous heart.

Either way, was Kim Yuhwa satisfied with her choice? Did she ever regret it?

If she had known what she would be drawn into later, what decision would she have made?

Would she have given up? Hesitated?

…Or would she have thought she had to do it anyway?

I’d never thought of myself as stupid. If there was something I didn’t know, I always figured it was because it wasn’t my field, not because I was lacking. That’s why there are experts in the world.

But there are so many things in this world that not even the greatest expert can answer. It’s one thing if it’s simply something I don’t know, but what do you do if the answer never existed to begin with?

And the people who might have been able to give me an answer have long since turned to ash.

Kim Yuhwa, too.

Father, too.

My sister, as well.

And countless others I never knew. Sandra Gamble of Paros, or Alex Hope, whose fate—dead or alive—I can’t even guess… all of them, in their own way.

Even Noah Michel and Henry Lehmann.

“…Senpai?”

Han Taekyung called to me in a worried voice.

Only then did my surroundings come into focus. Deep in the dungeon, where not a single ray of light reached. Dead eggs and shattered shells. The old police ID in my hand.

“Are you… all right?”

“What reason would I have not to be?”

Only after I snapped back sharply did I realize my mistake.

Han Taekyung had done nothing wrong. When someone you’re with in a dungeon picks up a dead person’s ID and falls silent, it’s natural to worry.

I wiped my face with a dry palm. My hand smelled of parched earth.

“No… I’m sorry. My nerves are a little frayed.”

“It’s all right, senpai.”

Han Taekyung replied with a maturity that was almost disconcerting.

“That belonged to the person who was here before, right?”

Thinking of the blackened mark on the ground made me feel sick. Realizing it wasn’t just a burn mark, but the last trace of someone who didn’t even have a grave…

At last, reality reached me.

It’s not that it hadn’t felt real until now… but now I felt it, both from long ago and in this very moment.

The fact that someone had died to help us.

I had never met Kim Yuhwa.

But had I really never met her?

The children and test subjects at the lab lived in a restricted environment. The only people they could meet were each other and the researchers. There were other staff who came and went, but in principle, conversation was forbidden, and they always wore masks.

Even my brother only took off his mask outside the lab. And after he was caught without it, he never showed his face to me again.

I thought of all the “masks” I’d seen. Was Kim Yuhwa ever behind one of them? What disguise had she used to infiltrate the Ark? How did she meet my brother? Why did she trust him?

When my brother spoke about me, could Kim Yuhwa have trusted his word without ever seeing me herself?

Ironically, those who wandered the lab in black clothes and animal masks, like ghosts, often pitied the children who were kept deep inside. Whether they were men or women, young or old, they’d sneak us snacks from time to time.

Maybe Kim Yuhwa was among them.

But that, too, is a question I’ll never have an answer to.

“Senpai? Um, do you… want some water? Or maybe some candy? It might help you feel better.”

“……”

“If you don’t like candy… I have chocolate, or emergency rations. You never know what will happen in a dungeon, so I always bring something.”

Han Taekyung seemed barely aware of what he was saying. Who would have thought he was capable of trying to comfort someone?

I stared at him, still holding Kim Yuhwa’s photo. Han Taekyung nudged Hope with his elbow.

“O-of course, I’m sure you brought your own supplies, senpai, but sweet things are best at times like this! Knowing your taste, you probably brought all those bland—no, I mean, healthy snacks, so have something sweet and cheer up!”

He probably wanted Hope to say something, too, but Hope was distracted by something else.

Ah. That.

At least my sister hadn’t lied about where she got that sword. If she was going to tell the story anyway, she should have told me to check the inner wall, too.

I imagined my sister standing here. If she’d found Kim Yuhwa’s body as I had, would she have found that business card, too? What would she have thought of the message on it? The identity of the whistleblower who was never revealed?

Maybe.

Maybe—just maybe—she could have connected my brother and me.

I don’t know.

Whenever I think I’ve found an answer, an even deeper question follows. Even as I tell myself I’ll never know, I can’t help but wonder, “What if? Maybe? Could it be?”—and chase after the faintest possibility.

You could have told me something.

Why did you hide it all so thoroughly?

Were you really planning to leave everything to my sister?

And just run away yourself?

This isn’t what I wanted to do, you know… old man.

But at the same time, I could understand how Father must have felt. I understood why my sister went along with him. Maybe she was the one who insisted.

I wouldn’t want to tell Uirok any of this, either. I’m you from the future, and our real brother is dead.

How could I ever say that?

I never could.

I clutched the only ID Kim Yuhwa left behind.

Did she have any family?

Hong Seok-yeong would know. He’d be glad, too. It’s better to remember her as the awkwardly smiling rookie officer in the photo, rather than as a corpse rotting in a dark, damp cave.

Yes. And there’s something even more important.

Whether or not I ever met Kim Yuhwa doesn’t matter.

What matters is that there was someone who tried for my sake, for my brother’s sake.

Honestly, I had my brother, but I can’t say my brother had me. What could a seven-year-old possibly do? Just whine and make a fuss. That’s a burden. I couldn’t have done what he did, carrying a kid like me.

But unlike me, who was just baggage, Kim Yuhwa was there to help my brother. I was just an extra. Whatever happened between them, in the end, Kim Yuhwa decided to help my brother escape the Ark.

That’s what matters.

That my brother had someone who helped him.

Kim Yuhwa, and—though I hate to admit it—Tati, his friend.

That was enough. My brother had someone to share his heart with.

Someone else worried about him besides me.

Isn’t that a small but precious thing?

“C-candy… Junior, didn’t you bring anything? Oh, did I pack it for you?”

“No. I’m fine. Really, I’m fine this time.”

I put away Kim Yuhwa’s police ID. Whatever else happened, I couldn’t afford to lose this.

What was left—

“……”

As I picked up the sword, Hope’s gaze followed.

This dungeon wasn’t dangerous, and I hadn’t drawn my weapon because it would just get in the way.

But Hope knew exactly what my sword looked like. Han Taekyung might shrug off the existence of two identical swords as just another dungeon oddity, but not Hope.

“Later.”

I didn’t say anything more to Hope. She seemed to realize this wasn’t the time or place, and kept quiet.

She’s become much more human than when I first met her. Maybe it’s because of Gamble. Or maybe it’s thanks to Han Taekyung.

I unwrapped the plastic and took up the sword. Only then did Han Taekyung’s eyes widen.

“Oh, that looks just like your sword, senpai.”

“Yes. It’s identical.”

“Can dungeon items be duplicated?”

…Han Taekyung, honestly.

“I don’t know, but that’s how dungeons are. Maybe they were always a pair. I got this sword from someone I know, anyway.”

“Oh… the mystery of dungeons!”

I drew the sword. Not the one passed from my brother to my sister, then to me—but the one my brother last used, the very same.

I vaguely remembered, back when I first arrived in the past, thinking that if my sister’s sword existed in this timeline, I should get it. At the time, it was just a naive thought: the more good items, the better.

I never imagined the sword would have such a tangled history.

“Step back.”

“Oh… you’re going to burn it here?”

Han Taekyung quickly retreated as he asked.

“It’d be awkward to just leave it here.”

“Well… it would be bad if someone came in and saw this later.”

“Are you going to close off the dungeon completely?”

Hope asked next.

I hesitated a moment, then shook my head.

“No. I’ll just burn this area and the space up ahead.”

She knew what I meant without me having to explain.

“I doubt any other raid team will make it this far, but if they do, they’ll just think it was the monsters.”

“Do the monsters here breathe fire?”

“How should I know? That’s not my problem.”

“So this is how dungeon mysteries are born.”

Hope snickered softly.

I said nothing more and moved the sword. Blue flames bloomed from the tip. Twenty years may have passed, but wielding the sword was the same. If not for the scars from Yoo Ji-eun’s rough use, I wouldn’t even be able to tell the swords apart.

Blue fire sliced through the darkness in an instant. Since I didn’t know the exact size of the cave, I only burned the area within my line of sight. Dousing the flames as needed, I retraced my steps, avoiding the smoke.

As the monster eggs roasted, a few hatchlings awoke early. I finished off the ones that staggered out.

Finally, I returned to where Kim Yuhwa had been.

“……”

I took in, one last time, the place where she had sat.

For the police officer I’d never met, but who might have given me a piece of candy.

Don’t forget.