Okapi Sting
Anxious. Fretful. Restless. On edge.
That was my current state. I was pacing around like a dog that desperately needed to take a dump.
"What's wrong with you? Something happened?"
"No, sir."
"Sit down. You're making me nervous just watching you."
"Yes, Sergeant First Class."
As I hovered restlessly around the quarters, Sergeant First Class Lee Won-jun finally snapped at me. I answered and sat in the corner, but my mind was far from at ease. I was incredibly anxious and uncomfortable.
I had managed to swipe those bags from the rebel base, but now I had no idea what to do with them.
I couldn't exactly step forward now and say, 'Oh, I forgot, but I found these at the rebel base.'
But I couldn't just pull them out to check the contents either.
Why couldn't I? Because this was the military. There was always someone next to you.
The military, by nature, is an organization that does not tolerate anyone acting alone. When you eat, when you train, when you work—you are always with your team. Even our sleeping quarters were shared by six people.
There was absolutely no time or space to be alone. I couldn't even take a shower by myself.
Seriously, the only place where I could truly be alone was the toilet.
But pulling out bags full of firearms in a bathroom stall and rustling around? No way. I didn't want to be misunderstood for any reason.
So, I hadn't even been able to properly check the bags I took from the rebel base.
Before shoving them into my Inventory at the base, I had only managed to hastily open two of them like a thief in the night. I had no idea what was in the rest.
I wanted to pull them all out, see what was inside, organize the guns and weapons, and count the cash. But I couldn't.
It was driving me absolutely insane.
So, all I could do was whine and pace like a dog holding in a massive dump.
Starting with the day we wiped out that rebel base, our team began acting like lawless vigilantes.
We realized that the routes designated by the UN weren't always the right ones. Both our Suho Unit and the UN knew this. Thus, even when we didn't stick to the UN-designated routes, they didn't really interfere.
When we set out on patrol, we would start on the designated route. But depending on the situation, if we spotted even the slightest suspicious sign, we would immediately change course.
Of course, most of the time we came up empty-handed, but occasionally we would find and eliminate or drive away rebel groups.
They weren't massive bases like the last one, but we chased off rebels driving around in trucks, and sometimes we fired warning shots when we spotted them crossing the border from afar.
The raid on that base had just been an exceptionally massive achievement. This level of activity was still pretty good.
Because of our actions, the Congolese military and police gave our team a nickname: Okapi Sting.
The okapi is the representative animal of the Congo. A creature so rare it was once called the African unicorn. It's an animal so beloved by the Congolese people that it's even engraved on their banknotes.
An okapi looks somewhat like a zebra. In fact, it has zebra-like stripes on its legs. Just its legs, not its whole body. Its torso is a rich chocolate brown.
From a distance, it looks like a horse? A donkey? A zebra? But it's actually in the giraffe family. It has horns and a long tongue just like a giraffe. It's a fascinating creature and a true symbol of the Congo.
To our team's great honor, we were dubbed the Okapi Sting. Everyone was incredibly proud of that nickname.
Perhaps thanks to that, the security in the Uvira region gradually began to stabilize. At the very least, there were no more gunfights in the city center or people getting kidnapped.
On top of that, Uvira was the ultimate smuggling city. All kinds of goods were smuggled in using the massive Lake Tanganyika or the dense rainforests, then distributed throughout the Congo.
However, our unit's continuous patrol operations made smuggling difficult. With weapon smuggling blocked, a UN report even noted that the rebels' overall strength across the Congo was weakening.
Apparently, they had guns but were running out of bullets.
Either way, things were generally stabilizing. I wondered if this was the true power of a peacekeeping deployment...
"So, make up your minds and let me know what you want to do," the Team Leader said.
One year of deployment.
In this hot, humid, insect-infested place, we had spent a whole year.
And we did it without a single accident. Spending a year like that was an achievement worthy of praise in itself.
Now, unless there was a special reason, we would wrap up our one-year deployment and return to Korea. The orders we received when we first set out were for one year.
But a special reason had indeed arisen.
"The Congolese government has made a special request to our government. They want our team to stay a bit longer. Seriously, you bastards should've just done a decent job. You did too well, and now we can't even go home."
"Aw, come on, sir. How could we just ignore the rebels when we saw them? Were we supposed to just let them go?"
"How could we? We had to catch them."
"Hahaha!"
"Anyway, the order has been handed down, but it's not mandatory. Depending on the situation, everyone can stay, everyone can return, or only some of us can stay while the rest go back. So talk it over and let me know once you decide. Of course, if you stay, you'll get extra promotion points, so it'll be easier to get promoted."
At the Company Commander's words, everyone's faces filled with deep thought.
Well... a guy like me had no reason to worry or hesitate.
Whether here or in Korea, aside from the heat, there wasn't much difference. Honestly, it was actually better here.
The pay was much higher, and since we couldn't go out, there was nowhere to spend it. Literally, my money was just piling up.
Following the advice of the senior team members, I even invested in cryptocurrency. It was turning out to be quite lucrative. Since I didn't know a damn thing about it, I just copied whatever the seniors did.
And more than the money...
I wasn't lonely here. There was always someone by my side.
Of course, because I was with someone twenty-four hours a day, I couldn't check what was in my Inventory, which was inconvenient at times. But even so, living and breathing alongside these people wasn't so bad.
Even in this sweltering Congo, there were times when I felt a warmth.
If I could be with these people, I wouldn't mind just living in the Congo.
But that was strictly my perspective.
For those with families, those who were married, the situation was entirely different. They missed their families terribly.
Peacekeeping was great, but they wanted to spend time with their loved ones. They felt that one year of deployment was more than enough.
The environment was also an issue. I had no problem with it—in fact, I thought this was luxury compared to living in that dilapidated hilltop house with no electricity, water, or gas—but not everyone felt that way.
Some people constantly complained that they couldn't adapt to such harsh conditions.
Well, this was a personal matter, so there was no right or wrong choice.
"So, what are you going to do?" asked Sergeant Oh Jae-beom, Communications NCO 2.
At twenty-five, Sergeant Oh Jae-beom was three years older than my twenty-two, but he was still the closest to me in age on the team. Perhaps because of that, he felt comfortable talking to me like this.
"For me, either way is fine, sir. I'll follow the team's decision."
"Come on, don't be like that. Tell me."
"You know how it is, sir. I don't have any family. It doesn't really matter to me whether I go back or stay here."
"Is that so? I kind of want to go back. I mean, the extra promotion points are tempting, but it's been so long since I've seen my family. And I want to get a girlfriend. Here, forget a girlfriend, we can't even catch a glimpse of a female human being."
"That is very true, sir."
"Sigh... What a dilemma."
This dilemma was shared by the entire team.
"Does it make sense that I haven't seen my wife and kid's faces for a whole year?"
"I'm starting to forget what my mom looks like."
"Man, I just want to go somewhere cool. I want to see autumn."
"I think I'm just exhausted. I want some rest."
The majority opinion seemed to lean toward returning.
But then...
"They're giving us extra points. Do you know how huge that is? It could speed up your promotion by a year, maybe even two."
"Honestly, you almost never get a chance to earn this many promotion points in your military career."
"Even if we go back, once we get deployed on domestic operations, we won't be able to go home for months anyway. Isn't this actually a better opportunity?"
"We've already adapted to this place. It's better than getting sent to a new unit and having to adapt all over again, don't you think?"
The returnees and the stayers were locked in a tense debate.
The team atmosphere, which had never been bad, grew slightly strained.
The solution was brought by the Team Leader.
"So, basically, you guys would be fine with continuing the deployment as long as you got to see your families, right?"
"Yes, sir. That's correct."
"Then let's take a leave. I spoke with the Unit Commander. A twenty-nine-night, thirty-day leave. I'll get you guys leave, so you can go to Korea and then come back. If you don't want to go to Korea, you can go to another country. It's leave, so as long as you don't cause trouble, you can go wherever you want."
"I'm going to Korea!"
"Korea for me too!"
"I'll go with you guys!"
The team's opinions aligned once more.
Usually, when a deployment ends, you get a twenty-nine-night, thirty-day leave. The Team Leader suggested that instead of immediately extending the deployment, they take their leave first and then return to continue their service. The team members readily agreed.
They would enjoy their thirty-day leave and then return for another year of deployment.
All twelve team members decided to head back to Korea together.
Seoul Air Base, Seongnam.
"Don't go causing any trouble!"
"Hehe. Yes, sir."
"Don't mess up your return date. Even if you're just a little late returning from leave, it's considered desertion. Don't desert on me."
"Understood, sir."
"Alright, have a great leave. If anything happens, contact me immediately."
"Yes, sir."
"Though I'd prefer it if nothing happened..."
"I'll behave myself, sir."
"Right, right. Don't drink too much, or you'll suffer when you get back. Drink in moderation."
"Understood."
"Alright, see you guys in a month. Enjoy your leave. Dismissed!!"
"Dismissed!"
"Woohoo!"
"Man, this is great."
"In-bae, have a good leave. Keep in touch."
"Yes, sir. Understood."
The moment we stepped out of Seoul Air Base, the team scattered. Some took the subway, some took buses, and others got into cars driven by people who had come to meet them.
With nowhere to rush, I moved slowly, taking my time.
Only then did a world completely different from the Congo come into view.
Even though it was June and Seoul was hot, it was nothing like the heat of the Congo. It just felt warm.
Even the city smog and fine dust felt welcoming. The towering forest of skyscrapers looked foreign.
Returning to the city made me feel like a nobody again. Was I overwhelmed by the sheer scale of these tall buildings? I felt so small.
First, I headed home. It was the only place I had to go.
Although I had plenty of money for a taxi, I took the subway. Going underground made me feel a bit more at ease.
I got off the subway and walked.
It had only been two years since I left this place, but so much had changed.
The shantytown in the middle of the city had turned into a massive construction site. A strong sense of foreboding washed over me.
I hurried toward where my house used to be.
But before long, my steps ground to a halt.
Our entire neighborhood was cordoned off by construction barriers.
The redevelopment had begun.
In the distance, the spot where my house once stood was now just empty space.
The place where I used to sit on the wooden bench, eating ramen while looking out over Seoul, had vanished without a trace.
Stunned, I stood there frozen for a long time. Eventually, I made my way to the construction office.
I met with the site managers, but they said they were just on-site staff and didn't know the details, telling me to contact the main office. The main office then told me to contact the contract team...
After a series of twists and turns, I finally met an employee of the construction company. He was a man in his thirties with a kind, gentle impression.
"Nice to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way."
"Yes. But the place I used to live is under construction, and I wanted to know what happened. I was deployed overseas, so I was quite shocked to see this when I got back. I never gave my consent."
"Ah, you were a soldier. I saw your short hair and tanned skin and wondered if that was the case. So you were deployed?"
"Yes. I'm currently serving in the Congo."
"I served in the Dongmyeong Unit in Lebanon for eight months."
"Oh? Are you a former non-commissioned officer, then?"
"No, I went as an enlisted soldier. Still, it's great to meet someone who was deployed."
The man flashed a warm, friendly smile.
"It's great to meet you too."
I was genuinely glad. Now I understood why people always looked for regional or school connections. Just the fact that he had also been deployed made me feel incredibly close to him.
We weren't even from the same branch or unit, but I felt an instant bond. I felt like we could sit down over a bottle of soju and talk about the old days.
"Let's see. Give me just a moment. The address is 110-8, correct?"
"Yes, that's right."
"We've been double-checking since we got your call. Please wait just a moment. Would you like some coffee?"
"Thank you."
The man brought back two cups of cold iced coffee, handed one to me, and took a sip of his own.
"When I was deployed, the thing I wanted most was iced coffee. We had no coffee beans, and ice was completely out of the question. On the rare occasions we got to drink a cup, it was so cold and delicious. It felt like the Lebanese heat was wiped away in an instant. I suppose iced coffee is pretty common these days, even over there?"
"No, sir. It's still not something we can easily get."
"Really? I thought it would be easy by now."
*Knock, knock.*
A pretty female employee handed a file folder containing A4 papers to the man.
"Assistant Manager, this is that house. The one under the hill. I've attached a copy of the contract."
"Thank you."
The man scanned the documents briefly, then nodded as if it all came back to him.
"110-8. The house under the hill, right?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Looking at the paperwork, I remember now. This house... we had quite a bit of trouble because of it."
"Pardon?"
"Well, the ownership and contract relations were just so complicated."
"Yes, they were. That's why I thought the redevelopment would never happen."
"Exactly. I didn't think it would either, but somehow it all worked out. The house was registered under your father's name, correct?"
"Yes."
"We needed your father's consent for the redevelopment, so we tried contacting him multiple times, but we couldn't reach him. In the end, we even hired a private investigator to track him down."
"Where did you find him?"
"He was in Yeosu at the time. Anyway, we went down, met him, and got his signature. He must have been desperate for money, because he didn't even ask twice—he just signed right away."
"Did he... say anything else? About me, or anything like that?"
"Unfortunately, that's all I remember."
"I see. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me."
"I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answers you wanted."
"No, not at all. Have a good day."
"Wait... just a moment."
The man pulled out two 50,000-won bills from his wallet and pressed them into my hand.
"Just think of it as a deployment senior buying his junior a meal. Please, take it. Take care of yourself."
Leaving me with those words, the man turned and walked away.
I stared blankly at the two 50,000-won bills left in my hand.
I felt ashamed.
I felt so ashamed of my father.
A man I had met for the first time today handed me money, calling me his junior and telling me to get a meal.
But the man who called himself my father... even at the moment he sold the house, he didn't care where I was, how I was living, or what would happen to me once the house was sold.
Whether I ended up on the streets or sleeping on the cold pavement, my father didn't give a single damn.
Returning to the city, away from the Congo, made me realize with absolute clarity what kind of person I truly was.
I was a worthless person.
That was who I was.