The Fisherman's Disguise
"That's the plan."
"If that's what you think, then very well. I hope you return safely."
"I'll complete the mission successfully and come back."
"Come back safe too, Captain Palan. We have high expectations for you."
"Why... No, I'll do my utmost to fulfill the mission."
He hastily swallowed the retort that almost slipped out and spat out a mechanical line instead.
"Then let's wrap it up here. Since the fate of the war hangs on this operation, keep security tight."
"Yes, sir!!"
With the commander's words, the briefing ended, and they filed out of the room one by one in order of rank.
The problem was... for some reason, every single person leaving locked eyes with him.
'This is so damn awkward I could puke.'
Lucky he was fasting, or anything he'd eaten would've come right back up.
"You must be rattled. Let's hit the mess hall first. Sitting still for two hours has my stomach glued to my spine."
"Yes, sir."
He followed Major Eden to the second-floor restaurant that had been mentioned earlier.
"Go on in."
Oddly, there was a room inside the restaurant. Once they entered and shut the door, the noise cut off completely.
'Soundproof magic in a restaurant? Yeah, Intelligence Agency's on another level.'
It was clearly designed for business talks.
"As you might have guessed, the mission you're taking on this time is reconnaissance for the landing operation. Extremely important work."
"It seems important, but isn't it way too dangerous?"
From what he'd heard, they'd disguise as a fishing boat.
No way the enemy was stupid enough to give a free pass just because it looked like one.
'They'd at least board and inspect us. And with me and Major Eden's faces known, they'd spot us immediately.'
Then it'd be torture hell from that moment on.
'Shit, this is seriously not happening.'
Better to die gloriously fighting in the west.
Just imagining torture made his skin crawl and his limbs shake.
"You look worried."
"How could I not be? But before that, I really don't think this is for me."
Every time they asked, he did it, and now they wouldn't stop.
You had to know when to draw a hard line.
'Victory in the war? Sacrifices for comrades? Let me survive first.'
This mission crossed the line by a mile.
"What makes you think it's not for you?"
"First off, the enemy already knows we're Intelligence agents. Going in like that? Too risky."
"You think even the city guards know our faces? You're worrying too much."
"Still, you never know."
"I've been to the Aditz Empire twice since the war started, and I'm still kicking."
'What? Is this guy treating Aditz like his backyard?'
Twice? How long ago? It was shocking, making him wonder if he was over-worrying.
"And there aren't many who can handle a mission this tough. Of them, I'm the only one free right now."
"I'm not one of those people who can handle it."
"No, you can. You've got what it takes, Captain."
'No, sir. I really can't.'
Words weren't getting through.
"I'd do it if I could, but this one..."
"Let me make you a proposal, Captain."
"A proposal?"
Proposal or not, he didn't want to, but he had to hear it out.
"Finish this mission, and I'll get you assigned as supply company commander for a peaceful battalion somewhere. Sound good?"
"Until the war ends?"
"Obviously."
"Hmm."
That changed things a bit.
'Burn it all out one last time and coast?'
With the war turning into a long slog, the math checked out—it wasn't a bad deal.
'And alone, no clue, but with this guy? Probably guaranteed success.'
The issue was whether the promise would stick.
"Tempting, but honestly, I don't trust it. Been burned before."
It started with "We'll pull you next class," and the lies piled up.
Skepticism was natural.
"I've already talked to the higher-ups. Got approval. No need to worry."
"But the commander said he has high hopes for me."
"Why would the commander care about a captain? He remembers you because your name comes up a lot. Cut off news for a month, and he'll forget—I guarantee it."
'Fair point.'
Pretty convincing.
'And come to think of it, Major Eden's never lied to me.'
Maybe once if he dug deep, but nothing came to mind.
"You'll really pull me to a safe rear supply company?"
"You're misunderstanding. I've been trying to get you to the rear for a while. Do this last big one with me and end your Intelligence days with a bang."
Food you didn't want but had to eat anyway.
In the end, he took Major Eden's hand.
"Fine. Let's do it."
With resolve hardened, the next day he boarded the carriage south with Major Eden.
Whiiiiiish!
Riding to the coast, a strong wind hit them.
"The sea."
The endless blue calmed the mind just by looking.
"First time at the ocean?"
"I've been a few times before, on trips."
The Oclo family vacationed every year-end.
Two years ago, they'd come south.
'Even without that, I saw plenty in Korea.'
Tiny country—drive an hour, hit the sea. A perk.
"Noble life is so leisurely."
"Can't deny it."
Even so, not all nobles thrived.
'No special state stipend for nobles. Botch land management, business, or gambling? You're done.'
Bankrupt? Lose the title.
That's why few families held titles for centuries.
"You don't seem very noble, Captain. Compliment, by the way."
"Yeah, whatever."
He knew it.
'Lived below average for over 20 years—how could I suddenly act noble?'
Impossible. He'd given up long ago.
"Don't hear that often?"
"First time to my face."
"No honest people around you."
Basic courtesy, not honesty—he bit it back.
"Tie the horses here."
"Got it."
He looped the reins around the post Eden pointed to.
"Follow me."
Major Eden led, stepping onto the pier and boarding a shabby fishing boat among many.
"This the one?"
"Yep. Problem?"
"No problem."
Just perfectly fishy.
'Good camouflage, I guess?'
Nets and all—like they'd bought a real one.
Thud! Thud-thud! Thud!
As he wondered if they'd shove off, Eden stomped the hatch on the deck.
A rhythmic knock, meaningful.
Creeeak.
As expected, Eden stepped back, and the hatch opened—a man climbed up.
"You're here."
Bearded, unkempt. Didn't scream soldier.
"Modded as requested? Time's short."
"Of course. Want to see?"
"Yeah. Lead on."
"This way."
Following to the stern.
"Engine's the best we could get—max output faster than any boat. But overheating issue."
"How long at max?"
"30 minutes. Longer, and overload boom."
"Noted."
Eden got more details on the rest.
"Fish are fresh border catches, stocked in the hold."
"Fresh enough to eat raw."
"Pardon? Ah, yes. Right."
The man faltered at Eden's words.
'Don't stop him—he'll troll.'
Palan had struggled adapting too.
"Clothes inside. Aside from engine, it's a standard fisher."
"One... issue."
"Issue? Speak."
The man pointed at Palan hesitantly.
"Me?"
"Too noble-looking. No one'd buy fisherman."
Eden eyed him head to toe, stroking his chin.
"Fair. A year in the army, and the noble sheen hasn't faded."
Eden seemed to agree.
Not really relatable.
'Fisher clothes make a fisher. What's the diff?'
He knew his face ranked above average.
But ugly wasn't a fisherman requirement.
"What to do?"
"Mud on the face, hair too neat—cut it short."
"Your thoughts, Captain?"
Easy answer.
"If that's it, fine."
Better than getting nabbed for noble vibes.
'Survive, and I'll buzz it bald.'
"No scissors—dagger it is. Come here. I'll cut."
Eden drew a sharp dagger, beckoning.
"Pardon...? With that?"
"Problem?"
Utterly oblivious.
Shameless as if Palan was overreacting.
"Isn't it risky?"
"Such worries. You shave with a blade but balk at hair?"
'Uh...? Logical, damn it.'
Speechless.
"Hurry. Time's ticking."
"O-okay."
He knew time was short, shoved fear aside, sat on a crate.
"Needs labor-worn look—messy cut."
Snick. Snick. Snick. Snick.
Eden planned, swung the dagger.
Each stroke dropped hair to the deck.
No regrets—just hoped it kept him safe.
"Done. Good enough?"
The man pondered, nodded.
"Best for now."
"We're set. Head out—we shove soon."
"Understood. Safe return."
No salute, but polite bow, then off the boat.
"Like the cut?"
Eden asked as Palan checked a mirror.
"Decent enough."
Choppy—nobody'd call this noble.
"I'm pretty good. Anyway, start her up and let's go."
"Huh...?"
What now?
"Why?"
"You drive?"
"Then you? Nobles must've."
Noble assumption.
Palan's memories: no boating.
'Korea? Hell no.'
Steering wheel? Rare even cars.
"Nope."
"Variable."
"You can't... drive a boat?"
Wild guess.
But Eden always exceeded expectations.
"Obviously not. Nobles don't boat?"
"Ah."
That brazen "your fault" vibe.
Palan swayed.