By Zephyria 
Deep into the night, Jin Mu-hae found it difficult to fall asleep. It wasn’t simply because Joo-oh had been fidgeting in his arms for a long time.
Whenever he drew closer to the secrets of the Return flight, he often felt this way, even without any particular cause. It was because the things he needed to think about were piling up.
Even before hearing the explanation from Director Gil, he knew that West Wind would not be a mere traitor. She wasn’t some random accomplice who had rolled in from nowhere; she was deeply connected to his father and the others.
Furthermore, since learning that she was his own flesh and blood, that fact had remained lodged in a corner of his mind, even if he didn’t consciously dwell on it.
That was why it became even more incomprehensible. No matter how much memory he had lost, it must be true that he had lived with her up until a certain point—how could not even a shred of feeling remain?
When he tried to trace his vanished memories, only the image of a dining table with cookies and milk came to mind. Vague sentimentality didn’t take hold, much like when he recalled his father.
“Mmm… hua.”
Joo-oh, who had been sleeping as still as a dead mouse, twitched his lips. Mu-hae paused his thoughts and habitually felt the boy’s forehead.
Since there was no cold sweat and his body wasn’t chilled, it didn’t seem like he was having a nightmare. Feeling the touch even in his sleep, the boy rubbed his cheek and clung closer.
“Heung…”
At the low sound of his breathing, Mu-hae felt his troubled mind settle slightly. He properly tucked the body—which he would have pushed away and scolded if the boy were awake—into his arms and made sure the blanket covered him well.
Strangely, whenever he looked at the sleeping boy, he felt a tickle in his throat and a sense of languor. He had heard there were Aberrants across the sea that lured prey with strange sounds or smells; perhaps this fellow possessed such an ability as well.
‘I was watching. Jin Mu-hae.’
He was still curious about the boy’s past. So, when he occasionally asked about his dreams, Joo-oh would convey only brief details after some hesitation.
It seemed he no longer dreamt of lost memories revived as nightmares. Like an ordinary human, he was likely experiencing the day he spent with Mu-hae within his subconscious.
Though he still caused a great deal of stress, his condition had certainly improved day by day. Aside from the way he would suddenly blurt out informal speech, he had reached a level where he could more or less hold a conversation with anyone.
Because of that, the existence of the Return flight grew heavier, weighing down on Mu-hae’s chest. The mere fact that the utopia they desired might not be the future he wanted was enough to chase away the sleep that usually came the moment his head hit the pillow in a safe place.
‘…West Wind.’
And Jin Seong-jo. He still didn’t know for what reason the two, who had even been lovers, had parted ways.
Director Gil’s explanation—that their goals were the same but there had been friction in the process—kept echoing in his head.
If so, was West Wind still trying to achieve that longing in her own independent and quite different way?
‘West Wind told me. She asked if you were still envisioning the goal of the Return flight.’
‘It was a kind of contract. I made a promise regarding that woman and you.’
He found himself recalling the existence of the mother whose face he didn’t even know. Things like the birth relationship that the vegan society knew but Mu-hae hadn’t even guessed, or the life he had grown into by making his own choices as she had requested.
If there is such a thing as fate, it seemed he was born into a truly bizarre one. Everything regarding West Wind was nothing but speculation, but if, by some chance, he was included in that plan…
“Heeuum. Hyuuuu.”
“Where do you think you’re rubbing, you brat.”
That would truly be a design spanning a very long period of time.
The ceiling of the suffocatingly narrow third-floor room in the Jaegang District suddenly felt like the iron bars of a prison.
* * *
Due to the limited land of the Comfort zone, most residential areas consisted of high-rise buildings.
This phenomenon intensified as one got closer to the central area, and the place Mu-hae arrived at today was also a penthouse 50 stories high.
The population of Goryeo City was increasing slowly but steadily. Someday, when such buildings could no longer accommodate everyone, another city like Seogyeong City would emerge nearby.
However, no matter how much the city proliferated, it would be difficult to live with one’s feet on the ground. Even in the slums, the reality was that other unauthorized spaces were being added atop unauthorized buildings; perhaps Mu-hae’s own home would become a mottled, haphazard building within a few years.
“If you hold an event at home, where do you sleep?”
“Do you think they’ll do that until late at night? And since the places I’m allowed to go are set, I’ll just rest in another room or something.”
At Mu-hae’s rebuke, Joo-oh agreed and fidgeted with his sleeve. A silver button flashed, reflecting the ceiling lights.
“Give me your wrist. Let me tidy it up.”
“The buttons are uncomfortable.”
“These are expensive. Don’t lose them somewhere; bring them back exactly as they are. They’re borrowed.”
Park Young-chan was a decent fellow. With his tie and cufflink decorations borrowed and attached, Joo-oh looked reasonably high-class even in a moderately priced suit.
True to the nature of a boy who had hovered around asking how he looked until he stubbornly wrung a compliment that it suited him well, he followed along without unbuttoning or ripping off the decorations, despite saying they were uncomfortable.
“Recite it one last time.”
“Umm. Scholarship event. Investing in the research institute tuition for promising students.”
“And why did we come here?”
“We were invited together regarding the Defense Force donation.”
As expected, he didn’t forget the things he had to memorize. Instead of touching Joo-oh’s well-groomed hair, Mu-hae wrapped his large hand around the boy’s nape and gave it a light pat.
A silly smile bloomed on his face, but it changed instantly the moment the elevator opened.
“Stay right by my side.”
“Ung.”
The boy, possessing a perfectly fine face, straightened his back and stepped out behind Mu-hae.
Still, having attended a few such gatherings, both of them settled in with familiarity.
“Ah, you’re the Defense Force instructor I met that day, right?”
For two weeks now, Jin Mu-hae had participated in invited gatherings twice. Upon arrival, he exchanged greetings with those he knew and engaged in trivial small talk that he had little interest in.
He subtly brought up his targets and ensured he had proper opportunities to converse with them. This was thanks to Park Tae-sun, who, as promised, arranged for him to meet the people he wanted, even if from a distance.
To be precise, it was closer to scattering opportunities for encounters. Finding the target in gatherings of various sizes, engaging in conversation, and extracting the desired information depended entirely on Mu-hae’s own capability.
As a mercenary who had crossed the threshold of life and death several times, he didn’t want to use such a metaphor, but it was as difficult as catching an Aberrant.
To seize opportunities for conversation without drawing others’ attention, and to determine if the opponent was that ‘big shot’ without raising any suspicion.
Unfortunately, Mu-hae’s physique alone distinguished him from the other attendees. Even when he kept Joo-oh at a slight distance, it was unexpected that some gazes still remained fixed on him.
“If you keep asking the same things, your exposure level will rise.”
“That’s why I test them first and withdraw immediately if they aren’t the one.”
“Last time I said it probably wasn’t them, but Jin Mu-hae ignored me.”
“How would you know someone you’ve never seen in your life.”
Mu-hae stopped Joo-oh, who kept interrupting as if he knew something, with a jerk of his chin. The boy, turning his head as told, looked at the finger foods with sparkling eyes.
“You must come back before I leave.”
As he whispered softly, the boy nodded quickly. Matching Joo-oh’s movements, rustling noise was heard from the wiretap in his ear.
“I’ll really draw the attention this time.”
—I’ll really draw the attention this time.
The confident voice wasn’t particularly reliable, but wasn’t that why he had dressed Joo-oh up so much?
As soon as he obtained the information that the event venue was uniquely the host’s home, Mu-hae had gone to Park Young-chan without shame to seek advice on Joo-oh’s attire.
With the help of Director Gil and Teacher Jung, he had narrowed down the big shot candidates to four. Among them, two seemed uninterested in Blue Energy Batteries, let alone the research of the Return flight or Crystal Blue.
Now, with few candidates left on the list, he could explore a candidate’s home. It was an opportunity he couldn’t miss.
Of course, the homeowner had never permitted such a thing, and if they saw a strange man wandering through their private space, they would be outraged and call the security force…
But as long as he wasn’t caught, it was fine. Even if Mu-hae roamed the place, if no traces were left, the intrusion would be as if it had never happened.
“I’ll head out when things get hectic, so don’t get swept up and respond well.”
“Okay.”
—Okay.
“If someone asks, where did I go?”
“The bathroom.”
—The bathroom.
At the model answers coming out flawlessly, he finally let him go. Soon, the sound of him diligently crunching on something was heard through the device.
“Ah, it’s been a while.”
“Hmm? Ah. That, the Defense Force.”
Only after Joo-oh moved away did Mu-hae begin to move in earnest. He had to act as if he had been in this space the whole time so that he could avoid suspicion even if a problem occurred.
By the time he had satisfied the interest of a few people while acting as a damnably upright and capable young man, the donation event finally began.
Ting, ting!
Up ahead, the host tapped a champagne glass to gather attention. While everyone looked in one direction, Mu-hae slipped out of the wide hall with a surprising lack of presence.
“I’m out. Start.”
—Ah! My pad!
—Uh, ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were next to me…
Keeping a close eye on the small commotion echoing in his ear, he pushed open a heavy wooden door, and a hallway, silent in stark contrast to the interior, unfolded before him.
It was clearly the path he had walked in on, but it looked unfamiliar because it was empty. With just a few observations, Mu-hae grasped the layout of the house and walked across the stone floor, muffling the sound of his shoes as much as possible.
‘As expected, it’s locked.’
Although it was quite spacious, the penthouse Mu-hae looked around seemed somewhat smaller than what he had learned beforehand.
If the host frequently arranged such meetings, they might have designed the place to block off private spaces. To head beyond the large wall next to the hall where the event was held, it seemed he would have to pass through the central corridor based on the structure.
However, that entrance was blocked by a door that anyone could see was equipped with a security device. Mu-hae silently surveyed the surroundings and whispered into his sleeve.
“It’s locked.”
Simultaneously, Joo-oh’s voice, drenched in laughter, followed in his ear.
—Nom. This is exciting.
The sound of crunching followed, as if he had tossed something into his mouth.
224 – I Became an Aberration in a Dead Game