Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Junny
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Elio asked with a smile playing on his lips.
“How do you know Julien?”
“Julien told me.”
Gamal answered without smiling. Elio looked puzzled.
“Julien did?”
“Yeah.”
Gamal nodded.
“People who aren’t here talk to me. They whisper to me. The things they want to say.”
“So like a medium...?”
Elio didn’t really believe in that sort of thing, but he found himself asking anyway. This time, though, Gamal shook his head.
“Nah, it’s not like that. Most people can’t hear stories from the dead because they don’t want to listen. The dead don’t talk to people who don’t want to hear them.”
Suddenly, Gamal spoke fluently.
Even as his language skills improved, Gamal had the habit of speaking in broken, childlike English. But sometimes he used perfect grammar, and in those moments, he seemed like a completely different person.
Do-young had stopped washing dishes midway and was staring at Gamal. The faucet he’d left running gushed water endlessly: whoosh, whoosh.
“But I want to talk to Julien.”
For some reason, Elio spoke urgently. Gamal shook his head.
“But you don’t believe I can.”
“That’s...”
Elio was at a loss for words.
“He said Julien’s happy, right? Did he really say that?”
“Yeah.”
Unbidden, Elio felt his eyes grow hot.
Julien is happy.
Just that thought made all those sleepless nights Elio had spent tormented by guilt over his brother—whom he’d failed to save even after sacrificing his own leg—feel somehow okay.
“Don’t cry. You look stupid with tears on my face.”
Gamal said suddenly. Elio’s eyes widened in surprise.
“That’s...”
Something Julien used to say often.
Gamal’s eyes curved into merry crescents as he smiled. Just like the rare smiles Julien would give.
“I told him to say it.”
Do-young spoke up abruptly.
“You pulling scams now too?”
Do-young sounded exasperated, but Gamal bristled in response.
“Ah, Do-young. If you hadn’t said anything, Elio would’ve really believed Julien’s happy.”
“My uncle finds out, he’ll blow a fuse wondering who the hell you think you are, pretending to know his feelings. My uncle’s scary. I was just watching because your antics were so outrageous, but stop before you go too far insulting my dad. Apologize, you punk.”
Elio’s tears had already dried up. Gamal said, genuinely sorry.
“Sorry, Elio. Wanted to make Elio not sad.”
“Bow and apologize properly.”
Do-young said, and Gamal obeyed readily. But because he was still hugging the jelly box, the individually packaged jelly bags tumbled down as he bent over.
“Ah, you idiot. You had to know they’d spill, dumbass?”
Do-young scolded as he knelt to pick up the jelly bags. Gamal crouched beside him to help, saying,
“Heard Do-young. Do-young’s fault.”
“Now you’re blaming others too?”
Elio stared in bewilderment before letting out a chuckle. Somehow, this bizarre scene didn’t seem so bad.
Suddenly, Gamal stood and pulled Elio into a hug.
“Thanks.”
Do-young somehow felt like it was his twin—killed by her own hands—who was thanking Elio through Gamal’s mouth. The man who’d tried to save her brother without a care for his own body’s ruin. A dull ache gripped his chest.
Elio, hand still resting on Gamal’s back, asked,
“Gamal, wanna be my daughter?”
“No way.”
Do-young cut in before Gamal could reply. Elio made a mischievous face, as if he’d expected that.
“There are all kinds of daughters in the world.”
Do-young’s head throbbed at the obvious teasing tone.
“Dad.”
Gamal, not understanding their exchange, looked confused but beamed and hugged Elio again.
“Elio already my dad.”
***
Footsteps echoed through the space. They bounced off one wall, then another. A long shadow trailed the steps down the gloomy corridor.
The feet in prisoner-issue slippers arrived at a cell. They slid a piece of paper inside.
A hand emerged from the darkness and took the paper. With leisurely motions, it unrolled the tightly wound note, like a message tied to a carrier pigeon’s leg.
The hand froze upon reading the contents.
“Found... Gamal?”
A low voice muttered in disbelief from the shadows.
Crumple.
The paper crumpled in a tight fist. A low, beast-like growl followed.
“So that’s where you were hiding. No wonder we couldn’t find you.”
***
Tora sat in a fast-food joint. Far off, he could see Zain ordering at the kiosk.
She could’ve ordered from her seat, but she’d gone to the kiosk anyway—maybe needing a breather from him. Propping his chin, Tora muttered as he watched.
“Nice ass.”
The way it filled out her pants made him think leather would turn every guy’s head.
But Zain seemed utterly indifferent to her looks, even allergic to compliments on her appearance.
He got it, somewhat—considering she was military, she probably wanted to be seen as “person” over “woman.” But did she have to act that way even in front of a guy she liked?
“Zain Summer.”
The woman he’d slept with last night—what was her name again? Delma? She sat across from him at the hotel room table and said,
“Twenty-eight. Enlisted as a non-com right after high school, passed exams to become an officer. So she’s got solid time in the service for her age. Passed through Delta Force, now...”
No, it was Emma. Emma trailed off, set down her pad, and said,
“She’s an operative with SAU—Special Activity Unit—under the infamous Intelligence Activity Bureau.”
“Not your average soldier, huh.”
Tora ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the sofa.
He’d figured they wouldn’t send a regular grunt to watch him, but an intel op who’d dug up even a Legion exec’s secret tastes?
Wasn’t that basically synonymous with MCTC suspecting him?
Emma—no, on second thought, Elma. Whatever, it probably wasn’t her real name anyway. Elma shrugged as she set down her pad.
“She must live in fear of running into big sisters like me. Two years each in Sahara and Yemen deployments. Front lines. Volunteered.”
Tora stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, then straightened up to look at Elma.
“So what’s your price for the intel?”
Elma stood, straddled his lap, and smiled alluringly—not at all like the notoriously shady back-alley info broker she was.
“You.”
Tora grinned.
“Cheap.”
Elma scoffed.
“Cheap? Digging into Intelligence Activity Bureau’s tail ain’t easy, you know?”
She leaned in close, nibbling her lip as she whispered,
“So make me melt like the rumors say, Tora Satadi.”
Just then, Zain finished ordering and sat across from them. Tora asked,
“Any special reason you joined the military?”
Zain blinked at the sudden question but answered anyway.
“What other reason’s there? To protect people who need protecting.”
“Still, seventeen seems awful young for that kind of resolve.”
Zain’s eyes narrowed—how did he know that? Tora just shrugged, chin still propped.
“Tao Captain told me.”
Tao had mentioned it once, so it wasn’t a lie.
Zain lowered her gaze impassively.
“Some kids grow up fast.”
“You too?”
Zain sighed.
“If you can’t use rank out here, at least use my last name.”
She didn’t like him casually calling her by her first name after knowing her such a short time.
But Zain should’ve thought deeper about her surname—or gotten to know Tora Satadi better—before saying that.
“Summer.”
A slow smile spread across Tora’s eyes. Fresh and summery, like a warm breeze.
“I kept thinking, it’s such a bright name. Makes my heart race every time I say it.”
A bit of time passed, and Tora looked awkward.
Zain was frozen solid, like she’d stared into Medusa’s eyes, unsure how to react. Then suddenly she stood and walked off. Tora turned to ask,
“Where you going?”
Zain glanced back.
“Bathroom.”
“This timing?”
“Bathroom urges wait for no one?”
No arguing that, so Tora shrugged. She was the type to make rocks weep from bumping into her woodenness.
Tora stared off into nothing, thinking.
*‘But she probably doesn’t know how to betray someone.’*
Meanwhile, Zain strode toward the bathroom. She passed a nearby table—and slammed a man face-down onto it with a bang, pressing a gun to his temple.
“Who the hell are you? Why are you tailing us?”
She’d been aware of the men following them.
*「You just got taken down?」*
But another man at the table asked incredulously—not to Zain, but her companion. The guy pinned to the table replied indignantly.
*「Who’d expect her to jump us like that outta nowhere?」*
*「She’s no Shiraka anyway!」*
*「She was almost Shiraka-level!」
Zain furrowed her brow. She grabbed the back of the man’s neck, hauled him up, slammed him against the side wall, and jammed her gun barrel right between his eyes.
“Think this is a toy?”
Only then did the man tense up. That’s when Zain really looked at him—at his features.
“You...”
Suddenly, a crash of shattering glass. Zain flinched and glanced over.
“Oh! Sorry!”
A waitress passing Tora had apparently spilled a drink. Looked like she’d tripped herself and mostly hit the floor—no splash on Tora—but she was apologizing profusely anyway.
“It’s fine.”
Tora soothed her with a friendly smile.
Zain couldn’t figure out what was happening. She’d had the guy pinned, neck under her elbow, no escape—yet now he was standing. And she was lying where he’d been sitting.
No, her exceptional dynamic vision had caught it clearly: he’d grabbed her, flipped her aside, slithered free like a snake, and tossed her into the chair.
She was elite spec-ops trained, after all. And these weren’t Luas-level threats—they were human.
Yet after that inhuman move against her, the men bolted like rabbits. So frantically one even slipped.
Zain lay there on the chair, too stunned to move, watching them hastily haul up their fallen comrade and flee.
“You okay?”
Tora came over and offered a hand.