By Zephyria 
“I intended to bring the T-47, but I’ve come to the conclusion that handing it over is a separate matter.”
“What kind of wordplay is that?”
“I imagine you’ve already guessed. That the objective shifted onto you, based on limited preliminary information, might be intangible knowledge.”
The corners of the blue-haired man’s mouth twitched into a smile. Both of his eyes remained piercingly sharp while only his mouth smiled, making the air in the room feel as if it had dropped several degrees.
“I was promised safety. The difficulty of the request itself isn’t low, but the process of possessing and then delivering the requested item seems to be another issue entirely.”
“And so?”
“Once I am certain there will be no lingering repercussions, I shall report the results.”
“And what if you aren’t certain?”
“Based on a sacred mercenary contract, wouldn’t false information regarding the difficulty or safety of a request be grounds for termination?”
Hahaha! Cheong suddenly burst into loud laughter. Had he heard similar words from a complete stranger in any other setting, he was the kind of man who would have waved them away, feeling they weren’t even worth a response.
In such a case, his servants would have emerged from any hidden door to drag the person away, whether to the sky or beneath the earth.
But right now, Cheong looked genuinely amused. Every time Jin Mu-hae did something to grate on his nerves, this man—who seemed to have a screw loose—acted as if he had discovered an oasis.
“This is why I like you. You’re truly entertaining. Right. There must have been a reason for such suspicion. Where do you think I intend to use it?”
Was there any need to agonize over this with Sakdal’s head in front of him? Mu-hae answered without so much as a blink.
“If there were no deception in the request information, you’d probably be trying to use it as a bribe. Or solving someone’s problem on their behalf.”
“As expected, he’s still young, isn’t he?”
Cheong suddenly spoke to Joo-oh. The boy, who had just taken a bite of the ribs brought in by the servant, glanced sideways.
Munch, munch. He didn’t seem to chew more than a few times before his bulging cheek sank back in. Joo-oh looked back and forth between the ribs and Cheong, then licked his lips.
“Your Jin Mu-hae needs more polishing.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“At this rate, he won’t work on those cunning old corpses.”
“Cheong isn’t meat yet.”
In an instant, they were chatting amongst themselves, excluding Mu-hae. Damn bastards. He told them not to laugh or speak, but they showed no sign of listening.
“Greenhorn, you don’t even look angry, so mentioning things like personal safety doesn’t really hit home.”
“…….”
“Similarly, if you had preempted sensitive information and considered breaking the contract, you wouldn’t have come all the way here in person.”
It felt as if his inner thoughts were being read transparently. Glug, glug; Cheong refilled the empty glass with the same liquor.
Mu-hae didn’t even touch the shimmering liquid with his fingertip, staring at the man with an unchanging expression.
“But it was a good attempt. Your mind works faster than it looks. Now I’ve been put in a situation where I have no choice but to be dragged along, right?”
“Is beating around the bush your hobby?”
“I believe you were the one beating around the bush first. You don’t want to hand over information recklessly, but you have no intention of simply running away. In that case, yes… is the T-47 perhaps related to that?”
Return flight. Cheong merely mouthed the words silently. Tap, tap; he drummed his fingertips on the table, creating a light noise.
Though Mu-hae didn’t respond, he felt a sting inside. To the point where the artificial smile on his lips felt burdensome.
“You get more interesting every time we meet. I like it. Moreover, you figured out the objective on your own without me ever telling you? If only your neck were less stiff, I’d actually want to work with you.”
Damn it. The chilling greed that had been directed at Joo-oh felt as if it had expanded its scope to include him.
Mu-hae calmly brushed off the interest and touched the empty bag once more.
The question and worry that had drifted through his mind from the moment he first identified the nature of the T-47: why did Cheong want documents related to the Return flight?
Perhaps it was thanks to having experienced all sorts of human archetypes unintentionally. Cheong’s plan, which was usually hard to discern, was beginning to vaguely appear before his eyes.
His thoughts organized themselves quickly with just the small hints the man was dropping. If there was no direct connection between the request objective and Cheong, then it likely reached a big shot that Cheong was trying to align himself with.
But would a person of such value—someone whose favor alone was worth 80,000 Deals—carelessly hand over the existence of the Starlight Road to someone from Sakdal?
‘That makes no sense.’
What Cheong wanted—or rather, what the mysterious big shot wanted—was not the T-47 itself.
Presumably, it was someone who would come seeking it with that knowledge in their head.
Whether that target had been him from the start was unknown, but it was certain that there was no need to hand over the Starlight Road research data to the man spinning around in front of him.
“Do I have to meet them in person?”
“Well. I’ll have to give that some more thought.”
“I assume you’ve already sent a report?”
“Hmm, I happened to prepare quite a bit of food. Since you returned today, it would be good to rest and wait.”
Crunch. Mu-hae locked eyes with Joo-oh, who had timed his chewing of a nut perfectly. He was tasting the roast dish with a look of utmost happiness before his jaw slowly stopped.
‘…….’
Come to think of it, he had been so distracted that he hadn’t provided the boy with a proper meal.
Since his original plan was to use the T-47 as a pretext to create a link with the suspicious big shot, it wasn’t bad if the rest of the day was filled with free refill food.
When Mu-hae nodded silently, Joo-oh’s face brightened instantly. Humming a tune, he placed meat on a small plate and pushed it in front of Mu-hae.
“Jin Mu-hae hasn’t eaten either.”
“You just eat.”
“Did you like the welcome drink?”
“Don’t drink the alcohol. Throw it away.”
As Cheong suddenly interjected, a luxurious glass bottle flew and shattered beside him. Joo-oh grinned as if asking if he did a good job, then put the rest of the food in his mouth.
Mu-hae thought Cheong would be annoyed, but the man had a strangely docile face when it came to Joo-oh.
Crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair, Mu-hae gazed at the chaotic night view of Sakdal through the window.
The end of the long and desolate journey flickered before him. The moment he scanned the brilliant neons, the red eyes that had stared at him in front of the bio chip stained with Thorn wolf fluid flashed through his mind.
‘He says he wants to see you in person.’
‘The place and time?’
‘He said you’ll find out.’
With Cheong’s enigmatic answer, the long day came to an end.
Mu-hae remained lost in thought for a long time after boarding the last train leaving Sakdal.
Return flight. Starlight Road. And their long-held yearning…
The clues he had breathlessly uncovered over a period of less than a year pointed, strangely, not to the Starlight Road, the hideout in the Jaegang District, Teacher Jung, Director Gil, or Dmitri’s rest area.
The silhouette of the incomplete puzzle lurked behind Cheong. Or, strictly speaking, it was someone sitting somewhere, waiting for him, regardless of the man.
Why did the existence he had only just heard about feel so familiar?
‘I don’t know. Gu-reum… shouldn’t be someone that close to power.’
‘It seems you all don’t know who you’re moving for. I’m talking about a “real big shot.” Not just some middleman.’
All sorts of voices from his memory cluttered his head. Just as the goblin neons outside the window were fading into the distance, a warm hand suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Jin Mu-hae. Are you tired?”
“No.”
“But your face looked like this.”
Ugh. Joo-oh clenched his teeth and furrowed his brow. It seemed Mu-hae had been scowling without realizing it.
Mu-hae pressed his forehead to relax his stiff expression and belatedly looked back at him.
He had been so frantic since leaving Sakdal that he hadn’t been able to pay attention to him. Come to think of it, this was the guy who had suffered alongside him even going into prison.
When he quietly reached out his hand, Joo-oh quickly leaned his head in. His soft hair ruffled, and the familiar scent of shampoo wafted out.
“You worked hard.”
“I liked it. Except for when I was away from Jin Mu-hae.”
He was a guy who was generally fine regardless of what happened. As if such things weren’t even worth calling hardships or adversity.
One side of his hair stuck up, forming a shape like a horn. Absurdly, a three-meter-tall Aberrant flashed before his eyes like a hallucination.
…It was strange. He had stepped away from the affairs of the Return flight for a while, yet he felt as if he had never once deviated from that orbit.
He even felt the illusion that a destiny he never chose, the will of the world, was guiding him toward being a Blue Gun.
“I think Director Gil would have liked the dessert we ate earlier.”
At the voice mumbling while smacking his lips, Mu-hae remembered a contact he had forgotten. He looked down at his left wrist.
[If you find yourself curious about more later, come by separately.]
It was the message Director Gil had left upon departing on the day Mu-hae first realized the danger of the study.
He seemed to have absolutely no interest in how the world turned, but surprisingly, he lived with a wealth of information that even Teacher Jung might not know.
Perhaps on that day, Director Gil had more he wanted to say. From childhood memories that felt like missing links to information about his mother that he had only now come to hear.
The stories he had brushed aside because they were unrelated to Joo-oh’s safety or his immediate daily life now sat upon his chest with an inexplicable weight.
“Hey.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to go see Director Gil?”
“I actually found a prettier tetelong.”
What a ridiculous reason. Director Gil probably wouldn’t care about a piece of plastic, whether it was a tetelong or a Kukochi.
Still, since Joo-oh said he wanted to go to the electronic store, it felt as if a decent excuse for a visit had been created.
Mu-hae quickly checked the time and sent a reply to the contact he had neglected for a while.
[I do have something I’m curious about.]
He was probably asleep… but he would contact him as soon as it dawned.
Vrrr- vrrr-.
“…?”
Surprisingly, the Link Watch vibrated in less than five minutes.
Twitching an eyebrow, he checked the content; it was an invitation to visit anytime tomorrow at his convenience.
“Did you tell Director Gil about the tetelong? He told you to come right away, didn’t he? Because this one’s fur is better made.”
Joo-oh, making his own assumptions, had an excited face. Instead of scolding him for being nonsensical, Mu-hae kept his mouth shut and let him smile brightly for a while.