Angel Island (4)

How much time had passed? A faint sense of inertia was felt. The submarine was decelerating. It was about time to reach the destination. Immersed in habitual thoughts, Gyeo-ul turned to look at the seat next to him.

Ssaeek- ssaek. The sound of regular breathing. Joanna was asleep. After the captain’s visit, she must have relaxed, and before long, she had started nodding off. Fortunately, what she used as a chair was actually a bed. It was Gyeo-ul who gently laid her down so she wouldn’t wake. He covered her with a blanket as she curled up. He even lifted up her legs.

‘It’s only natural to get sleepy when the air is stuffy. She must be tired from yesterday and today.’

The ventilator kept switching on and off. It seemed to be adjusted automatically according to the carbon dioxide concentration. The threshold felt set rather low.

Everything is limited underwater. In a submarine, oxygen and air purification are both limited resources. Conserving them is always fundamental, and even during a short voyage like this, it’s no exception. Precautions must be taken just in case. Across all of Gyeo-ul’s experience, the only exception was the United States’ nuclear submarines.

The captain’s passenger cabin was barely one and a half pyeong wide. The air getting warm and stuffy after two people spent hours in such a cramped space was inevitable. It was an almost irresistible condition for sleepiness.

Gyeo-ul also felt his eyelids heating up from the inside. The precisely reproduced fatigue was no different from what he’d felt in life. If the adjustment had been lacking, forced sleep induction might have followed.

‘Should I wake her up now?’

Thinking back to last night’s exhaustion, he wanted to let her sleep a little longer—for the sake of maintaining fighting strength, at least.

But Joanna wouldn’t want to show such a defenseless side to the captain or anyone else. As for Gyeo-ul, well, trust had built up, so maybe it was okay? While he was debating, the submarine began moving again. Subtle waves of inertia—so delicate they’d be hard to notice without sensory adjustment. They repeated as the direction shifted. They seemed to be performing a tricky fine-tuning, settling on a surfacing position.

“Ann, wake up.”

He gently grasped her shoulder and shook her. Mmm—she furrowed her brow but did not open her eyes. Remembering how he used to wake up his older sister Ga-eul in life, Gyeo-ul gave a rare, genuine smile. Simply being in a cramped space created many similarities. The room they’d once lived in during poverty resembled this passenger cabin closely.

He’d hated opening the window in cold seasons. Gyeo-ul used to prefer warm, stuffy air heated by body heat. Because of this, he got scolded by Ga-eul frequently. What if you get sick? Each time, Gyeo-ul would mutter gloomily: “I hate winter.”

He’d never had much growing up, but his childhood was especially disadvantaged. Once the air was changed, the only way to raise the temperature was body heat. Heating had to be conserved, and it wasn’t always possible to have boiled water. That’s why Ga-eul often held her two younger brothers together under a single blanket for a long time.

In that embrace, he would read old books and learn from Ga-eul.

Hmm… Gyeo-ul suddenly regretted the hand he had on Joanna’s shoulder. The warmth in his palm. It had been a long time since he had held someone or been held. He wanted to feel her body heat a bit more. Even if the essence that lay beyond wasn’t a real person, real people were just as distant beyond sensation anyway.

Gyeo-ul did not follow his heart. He tightened his grip.

“Ann, ann?”

After shaking her a few more times, joanna’s eyes fluttered open slightly. Her eyeballs, which had been moving side to side, fixed on Gyeo-ul. Blink, blink—about three seconds to recognize the situation. She shot up, checked her weapons, checked the time, and then sighed as she spoke.

“I can’t remember when I fell asleep. How long was I like this?”

“About an hour and a half.”

“Oh dear. You should have woken me. You must have been tired too, Gyeo-ul.”

She wasn’t particularly embarrassed, just apologetic. For sleeping alone. Gyeo-ul picked up the dropped blanket and folded it expertly.

“As long as you slept well, that’s all that matters.”

No sooner had they tidied up than there was movement just outside the door. The one who opened it was an armed soldier.

“Agent Gibson, and First Lieutenant Han, the captain requests your presence. Please come to the combat control room.”

The soldier led the way. Gyeo-ul eyed his weapon closely. It was a firearm he’d never seen before—a type of lightweight, easy-to-handle submachine gun. He was curious about its performance. There wasn’t likely to be a skirmish with them for now, but who could say about later. Or perhaps an enemy with the same weapon would emerge. For example, another faction of the JSDF. Armies that have lost their country rarely move in the same way.

‘Hmm. Doesn’t seem as if they cared about accuracy.’

The barrel was short, making the trajectory unstable. It also had no stock, which would make recoil hard to control. Must be for suppressive fire, spraying lots of bullets at high speed. Perhaps it was useful in cramped environments like submarines or buildings—as accuracy isn’t so important at short distances. The 「Combat Sense」-based 「Insight」 and 「Perception」 affirmed Gyeo-ul’s judgment.

Speaking of which, firearm regulation was one of the FBI’s main jobs. Joanna was likely familiar. Maybe he’d ask her about it when there was time.

As they walked the hallway, a faint vibration ran up through the soles of his feet. The sound of water could be heard, and the floor felt as if it was gently floating.

In the control room, the captain waited with his hands behind his back. He greeted the two with restrained formality and offered the unoccupied periscope.

“We’re about to surface, but before that, you should scout the surroundings.”

He meant for them to become familiar with the surface in case a skirmish broke out. Gyeo-ul bowed his head.

“How considerate. Thank you.”

The view through the periscope was also projected on the large screen. Only one person needed to actually look through the periscope. The fact the crew didn’t do it themselves was a show of hospitality—allowing them to look wherever they liked. Joanna declined, so Gyeo-ul assumed the seat. The captain assisted with the controls.

The surfacing point was between two ships. Presumably, one of them was the CIA’s operation headquarters. The other would be under their control as well. Open spaces fore and aft were hidden with a tight web.

Wouldn’t that block the view? But as he zoomed in, things changed. The netting gradually grew sparse and blurry, and the scene beyond became clearly visible.

“It feels like I’m seeing through things.”

“Think of a Kill Flash,”

Joanna said.

A Kill Flash is a mesh-like frame that prevents revealing one’s location to the enemy due to lens glare. Even when attached to a scope, it doesn’t interfere with visibility.

On one section of the screen, distance was displayed; from 230 meters out, Gyeo-ul could identify the faces, equipment, and attire of armed personnel. The variable brightness showed everything as clearly as in daylight.

‘Soldiers?’

The troops were drinking and chatting among civilians. They wore unfamiliar-pattern digital camouflage and were armed with weapons not distributed in the United States. Joanna, watching the screen, muttered,

“Chinese soldiers. They’re the real power behind the Chinese in this area. As for those next to them…hmm, with those tattoos, they’re from the Four Seas Society. Last time I saw them was about eight years ago, when a faction was wiped out in Los Angeles. Didn’t think I’d see them again.”

At least for now, there was no immediate threat. Looking elsewhere, only a few drowsy sentries were visible, perhaps because it was late. Their lazy scanning was not aimed this way.

“That’s enough. If Ann’s ready, we can go up. The CIA will have someone on duty anyway.”

Joanna nodded. The captain spoke to the crew.

“Drain the ballast tanks. Surface.”

The executive officer repeated the order. Again, though less than before, the floor seemed to rise.

Surfacing was quick, since they were already near the water’s surface—enough to raise the periscope. The captain led Gyeo-ul and Joanna to the bridge access hatch. More personnel than necessary followed; maybe for a formal send-off, or perhaps it was just procedure.

By the captain’s order, the Japanese sailors went up the ladder first. When the hatch was opened, a spatter of seawater fell inside. Yikes. Joanna frowned and shook her hair.

As Gyeo-ul followed up, the sailors above aimed in all directions.

Just then, a rope ladder dropped from above, as if they’d been waiting. A man leaned over the cargo ship’s railing, watching them. Wearing civilian clothes, night vision goggles, and smoking a cigarette, he gave off an air of carelessness.

“We’ve been waiting, supervisor. And First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. Come on up—let me finally get some rest.”

Joanna frowned again.

Captain Umehara said farewell.

“It was a brief encounter, but I am pleased to have met you both. If fate allows, let us meet again; I will show you a better side of myself next time. And First Lieutenant Han?”

He bowed sharply at a right angle.

“Please look after the Japanese citizens wherever you are.”

The crew followed the captain’s example, bowing one by one. Gyeo-ul bowed respectfully in return.

“The pleasure is mine. I hope you’ll remain as you are.”

Joanna watched this scene with one foot on the ladder.

After shaking hands with Captain Umehara, Gyeo-ul followed Joanna up. By the time they reached the top, jinryu had already begun sinking below the surface. The hull silently disappeared into the water.

“Hm. Did you see enough?”

The bored tone belonged to the same man as before. Looking back, there was a stark contrast between Joanna’s displeasure and the man’s lazy composure. He flicked away his cigarette butt and took off the night vision goggles. His age seemed similar to or slightly greater than Joanna’s. The deck guards observed this meeting.

“First of all, welcome. I am Nathan Chadwick, field commander of the ‘Fair Strike’ operation for the CIA’s Department of Homeland Security Support. Er… Well, let me offer my sincere condolences to the two of you, who have been dragged here with burning patriotism and…extraordinary devotion, like pigs to slaughter. But for now, let’s eat. You probably haven’t had dinner yet, according to the schedule.”

His manner was a mess. Gyeo-ul replied with a formal greeting, not knowing what else to do.

“As you must already know, I am First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. Pleased to meet you.”

Joanna, meanwhile, remained silent.

Team Leader Chadwick carried on with his bored face but sly tone.

“Oh, come on, supervisor, why the sour expression? You’ll ruin that pretty face. Sure, we might be like Montague’s dogs and Capulet’s cats, but let’s not be so uptight from the get-go. Besides, except for those on watch or on operations, everyone’s asleep. I can’t even introduce you to anyone right now.”

Come, let’s get inside. He slung an arm around Gyeo-ul’s shoulder, gesturing with the other hand. His casual manner was a little awkward. With Chadwick leading the way, joanna was relegated to following behind.

The place they were brought to was, in fact, the mess. Team Leader Chadwick personally entered the kitchen. The open-plan design allowed him to converse freely as he cooked.

“I’ve saved some fine meat for our fine guests. Just as a refrigerated cargo ship arrived. Paid a steep price for it too…those greedy Chinese. Can you believe they made me pay 150 rifle rounds for two pieces of beef loin? The insane shipping costs in this hellhole are all because of them. If not for them, sea transport would be enough. Ah, I wish they’d all just drop dead.”

Whether he was putting on a show or just being himself, chadwick was chatty as he grilled—rambling on, giving them no chance to respond.

“Here you go, enjoy.”

The roughly grilled steak landed on the table. In spite of everything, it tasted good. Joanna picked up her utensils reluctantly, but after a bite, her eyebrows twitched.

“How is it?”

“Excellent.”

Chadwick beamed at Gyeo-ul’s answer.

“Oh, I like you, Lieutenant. So, shall I tell you the news of the people you’re most curious about?”

The people he was most curious about. For Gyeo-ul, that meant only the Gyeo-ul Alliance at Fort Roberts. But was there really any news already? Not much time had passed since he left.

‘Still, if he puts it this way, something must have happened…’

As Gyeo-ul watched him silently, chadwick smiled slyly.

“You want to know, don’t you. The star always lives on attention. All right, I’ll give you a thorough briefing on every branch and activity of your fan club currently active in the United States—”

“No… I think I’ll pass.”

Was something about this amusing? The intelligence officer burst out laughing. Next to them came a bitter sigh. Joanna was putting down her utensils. She seemed to want to snap back, but couldn’t find the words.

Will this operation be all right?

—————————= Author’s Note —————————=

#Q&A

Q. kartiel: @ Within the setting, are Gyeo-ul’s promotional videos consumed almost like movies or dramas? Looking forward to the juvenile delinquent version of Han Gyeo-ul, lol.

A. In terms of reality, even more than movies or dramas. Popularity… Um… Like Michael Jackson?…

Q. OneChance: @ Lately, I find myself going back to the previous chapter thinking I skipped one (once with that crazy captain arc). It’s a narrative device you see often, to skip ahead and fill in with flashbacks later, but this time it feels more like a poorly considered move during a tangled plot. Maybe it’s because the serialization pace is slower now. I wonder if you’re busy or having a hard time writing these days. Or maybe it’s just reader impatience when the story drags a bit… I’ll stop here though, since it’s getting long on my phone. Hope my worries are misplaced. Always cheering for you, fighting!

A. I am certainly conscious of comments about the slow pacing. I thought I was writing without overdoing it, but it seems I made you uncomfortable. Ha ha. I’ll think about it more and see if I can improve.

Q. 후추를후추후추: @Don’t you watch “Thron… Gaem!” packed with childlike innocence?

A. I stopped after season 1. Not enough time to keep watching. ㅠㅠ

Q. 딸기우걱우걱: @I voted for the protagonist over the subject matter. The apocalypse and “apocalypse game” genres are interesting, but the main character really stands out more.

A. Either is fine! After all, this novel won’t win any awards. I’m just grateful for the votes. 🙂

Q. 나나나냥: @After reading a lot of novels on Joara, it’s hard to tell the line between plagiarism and cliché. What do you think, author?

A. I think professional ethics among writers have disappeared.

To say readers wanted it, or that supply comes from demand—that’s just a coward’s excuse. Anyone who’s studied even a little economics knows supply and demand affect each other…

Of all the ways to meet demand, people just pick the easiest and most proven path.

They say imitation is the mother of creation, but that only justifies imitation that aspires to be creative. Ripping off an entire work, then saying “It’s not plagiarism legally, so it’s fine. Nothing new under the sun, right?”… Well, I find that sad…

Q. 마스터칼솔럼: @How much for 16 coupons? I’ll allocate 2 for each tentacle and give you 16. They say two of a squid’s ten legs are reproductive organs, so eight legs times two coupons each is 16 coupons.

A. My legs are purely legs. I don’t have reproductive organs.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep