By Zephyria 
There is a limit to the human brain’s capacity. Life is too long and complex to retain all the data that pours in every minute, every second.
Thus, we live forgetting many things. Most meaningless memories disappear beyond the unconscious, but sometimes traces remain, and fragmentary pieces float around.
The moment Joo-oh impolitely spooned up what he called livestock feed, Jin Mu-hae suddenly recalled a fragment of memory from somewhere.
He was eating cookies on a black table. He carefully dipped the sweet treat in fresh white milk and bit down so that the soggy pieces wouldn’t fall.
Eventually, a drop of milk fell on his sleeve, but fortunately, it didn’t show. That was all there was to the memory.
He couldn’t remember the taste of the cookie or the appearance of the place he was in; only that moment lingered in his mind.
“Jin Mu-hae. What are you doing?”
“What are you looking at? Eat your food.”
He knew instinctively. It was a memory from before he was five years old.
It was a blurry scene, like a dream, but it was definitely something he had experienced. Things that were too mundane and meaningless for his brain to process, but which ended up remaining as hidden files.
“…From what age do people eat snacks like that?”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“I don’t care how old you are.”
Joo-oh, eating colorful cereal, came into Mu-hae’s view as he narrowed his eyes and pondered.
He was savoring the colorful, sugary cereal one bite at a time, looking as if the Fruit Tornado he had regained was so precious.
He ate so neatly that not a single drop of milk fell, even with a spoonful of cereal piled high. A quick glance at the table revealed that it was beige with faded edges.
…The old house he had lived in since he was a child, with no changes except for the state of the study.
He didn’t know where he had enjoyed his happy snack time in his memory, but it wasn’t here on Starlight Road.
He briefly wondered if it was Director Gil’s or Teacher Jung’s house, but he had never seen a black, massive table in their spaces.
It was truly a bizarre thing.
“See, it’s not good, is it?”
Ignoring Joo-oh, who nodded with an all-knowing expression, Mu-hae resumed his meal. These days, he had opened his mouth and kept saying whatever came to mind.
He would rather it be incomprehensible sounds like before, but he was using appropriate vocabulary in appropriate situations, making people conscious of him.
He was even starting to worry that he might say strange things when he went to the Electronic Store. Mu-hae swallowed what he was chewing and tapped the table with his fingertip.
“Remember what I said.”
“What?”
“Be careful what you say outside.”
“Okay.”
Joo-oh nodded with a matter-of-fact expression. It was worth it to have called him in last night and told him to watch his mouth.
“I won’t tell anyone that Jin Mu-hae touched me. Because it’s a secret.”
“Why do you have to phrase it like that… No, just don’t mention it at all.”
He had a knack for making even ordinary facts sound grotesque, so he had to give him a warning in advance.
Of course, even if he was out of his mind, he wouldn’t say things like he had fondled his butt or rubbed something in front of others. But he didn’t want to leave even the slightest chance. Just imagining it made him shudder.
“Touch my head now instead.”
“I’m eating.”
“Okay. Then when we watch TV after we’re done.”
Joo-oh’s eyes darted to the distance, scanned the TV, and stared at the sofa. Ever since he found out that they were going to the Electronic Store in the afternoon, he had been planning something in his round head.
It was obvious that he was planning to drag him onto the sofa and ask him to touch him. Mu-hae looked at the man laughing heartily, forgetting what he was eating.
His hair, darker and shinier than the table in his memory fragment, swayed beautifully. Without realizing it, he reached out and stroked his hair, but Mu-hae soon pushed it away again and put the remaining cereal in his mouth.
Even after ‘mating’ with Joo-oh, unable to overcome the rising lust, there was no particular change in their relationship.
Mu-hae took care of him roughly as he always had, and Joo-oh followed him around wherever he went.
It wasn’t like they were attached all day long. When Mu-hae was holed up at home translating the documents he had found at the shelter, he went for walks alone a few times.
When he came back, he had four boxes of his cereal in his bag, and when he asked, he said he had traded them for meat skewers. He had to admit that he had the knack for trading something that was several days old for perfectly good food.
While Director Gil was sick again and the schedule was delayed for a few days, Joo-oh diligently took care of all the good things for himself. He had a satisfying meal and stuck close to Mu-hae whenever he had a chance.
Whether they were watching TV or reviewing the Return flight’s work, he kept leaning between his legs, and if he let him, he would rub his face and suddenly lick his lips.
Whether he had learned something else he wasn’t told to do, or whether he thought it was okay to do so now, Joo-oh often blurred the lines between work and life.
Damn it. Nevertheless, Mu-hae often stopped what he was doing and groped his clothes. His body, which was so healthy and vibrant, didn’t follow his reason.
Whether Mu-hae was worried about him doing this outside or not, he looked quite happy. He was so satisfied that he sometimes buried his head in the sofa like an animal and purred.
“He’s supposed to be better, but he still looks like a corpse.”
“Have you ever seen a walking corpse? Hurry up and pack your things and go in. I have a lot of work to do.”
Director Gil, whom he met four days after returning to Goryeo City, looked as if he had died with dark circles under his eyes. The clothes he was wearing looked too loose, as if he had been very sick.
He wasn’t in good health to begin with, and he got seriously ill every few years. Teacher Jung’s theory was that he would have died alone if he hadn’t been dragged in for regular checkups.
“Yeah… I heard you found something again this time.”
“It’s going to be a long story, so are you sure you won’t pass out until then?”
“Does this bastard think I’m made of straw?”
Jin Mu-hae threw out a joke, or maybe it was serious, and went to sit in front of the tea table.
Joo-oh quickly took a seat next to him before anyone told him to. He looked as if that was his designated seat.
“What is this hellish health juice?”
“It’s health juice. The refrigerator is full of it. Empty some of it before you leave.”
Director Gil poured a mug full of grotesque liquid of dark green color. He was clearly getting rid of Teacher Jung’s work.
Mu-hae didn’t even touch it, but Joo-oh tasted it first.
“Ugh.”
He made a strange noise, but Joo-oh drank all the juice he had tasted anyway.
“Is it a serious story?”
“Probably. You’re going to have to tell me some old stories.”
Director Gil raised his hand to stop him, rummaged through his pockets, and put a cigarette in his mouth.
Sigh, whoosh. As the long cigarette was lit, he sighed languidly. Only then did Director Gil nod. It was a sign that he was ready to hear whatever fucked up story was coming.
“The intermediate process is long to explain, but anyway, I found more past records. To be exact, it’s not a record of the Return flight, but rather the diaries and research of researchers from Solar City.”
“Solar… City. I used to communicate with them quite a bit.”
“There are many parts that are difficult for me to understand. Like mechanical devices or the mechanism of Crystal Blue…”
“I guess so. Where would you have learned that in depth? Even if you go to graduate school for research, you’ll be studying for a long time.”
Director Gil flicked his cigarette ash down. Apart from his annoyed tone, his eyes were full of life again.
“So, you want me to explain it?”
He looked like he was about to pull out a document and look at it as soon as he was asked, but Mu-hae quietly shook his head.
“You wouldn’t understand even if you told me here.”
“Well, you understand quite a bit.”
The manager of the Return flight was from a research background, so he had already given up on understanding and applying the mechanism at once.
What he wanted to ask Director Gil right now was not the research content full of formulas, but the person the Return flight had erased. The fourth colleague he had been avoiding mentioning all along.
“West Wind.”
“……”
“Now that I’ve dug this far, I think it’s time to listen.”
Damn it. Director Gil muttered softly. His mouth moved more, but it seemed like a curse, so he didn’t bother asking.
He silently inhaled the smoke. His face, which still showed signs of illness, became even more haggard.
Director Gil, who had been silent until he had finished smoking a cigarette, finally put out the cigarette and opened his mouth.
“Why did you come to me instead of Han-yeo… Teacher Jung for once?”
Well, Mu-hae didn’t know either. He just felt like he had to ask Director Gil about this story. Even though he knew that he made an uncomfortable face every time he heard the same topic.
You really have a good sense. Director Gil, who had moved his lips as if he were talking to himself, drank the green liquid and frowned.
“If you had gone to him, you wouldn’t have heard the real story.”
“He answered everything.”
“This is a little different. He still has a lot of feelings left.”
Director Gil twisted his lips into an expression that was hard to tell whether it was a smile or a lament. He glanced at Joo-oh, made eye contact, and then sighed, “Hoo,” for no reason.
Perhaps he judged that it was okay for the tagalong who always followed him to hear it. He pressed his temples and leaned forward.
“No, Mu-hae. When I joined, the Return flight was like a small research club. They had a topic like the efficiency of Blue Energy, but inside, they were digging into something else.”
Mu-hae just nodded without answering, lest he stop talking. For once, Joo-oh didn’t interrupt and followed along in the same way.
“Until then, there were three of us. Your father, Han-yeong, and me. Then, one last person was added. Seong-jo’s acquaintance. From then on, the scale grew and the name Return flight was created, and each of us began to create code names.”
Director Gil’s eyes turned to the distance as he recalled old memories.
“West Wind was good at organizing and managing such things. We all had our own roles. Then, the noise started to arise…”
Thud. He lightly tapped the ashtray. The omitted content was expected even with just a small echo.
A kind of discord and the breakup of the Return flight. A friend that everyone is reluctant to mention.
“West Wind, did he betray us?”
“To put it simply, yes.”
“You must have brought him in because he was trustworthy.”
“I don’t know. Everyone may have the same goal, but they can’t have the same ideology.”
Director Gil took out another cigarette and put it in his mouth, then recited in a calm voice.
“I was the first one to get fucked. I was doing all-night research and taking a nap when I was suddenly dragged out by armed agents.”