Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Wow, as expected, a former survival expert really operated on a different level.
I swallowed hard as I stared at the contents Winston was pulling from his backpack.
I hoped the title of former SAS operative wasn't just for show.
Please, let this be a treasure chest that could upgrade this miserable deserted-island life.
The items that spilled out weren't flashy, but they were practical.
The first thing that caught my eye was a first-aid kit.
A pouch containing disinfectant, compression bandages, and other medical supplies.
As expected, he understood that surviving with nothing was impossible and had prepared for emergencies.
Next was a survival knife.
It looked heavier and sturdier than my jackknife, and it was obvious he maintained it well.
A three-meter rope.
Three one-liter bottles of water.
Five energy bars that were clearly a step above ordinary chocolate bars.
Two sets of spare clothes.
The fact that they were sealed in waterproof bags showed how prepared he was.
This bastard had water the whole time?
Was that why he hesitated earlier?
Actually, that worked in my favor.
He clearly understood the importance of water and carried it himself. Since I had given him mine, I'd successfully earned some goodwill.
Looking through the contents of his backpack, I realized that even experts carried the basics.
Everything was focused on essential survival.
And those spare clothes...
He knew just how dangerous hypothermia could be.
While I was examining the gear, Winston finally spoke in a hoarse voice.
"That's about everything I've got. Satisfied?"
He seemed to be watching my reaction while casually stripping off his wet clothes. He changed into a fresh set from the waterproof bag with practiced efficiency.
The warmth of the dry clothes seemed to calm him down. Running a hand through his damp hair, he looked at me.
"Do you know how to start a fire? I'd really like one as soon as possible, but as you can see, I don't have a fire steel."
I glanced at his trembling body and answered calmly.
"Hypothermia is dangerous. I've already got a fire going. It'll take about fifteen minutes to get there."
His eyes widened noticeably.
The fact that I already had fire on this island clearly surprised him.
"You have a fire steel or some other fire-starting tool?"
His voice carried both suspicion and hope.
Instead of answering, I picked up my jackknife and stood.
I've got something even better than a fire steel.
A lighter sleeping peacefully inside my backpack.
There was no reason to mention it.
The moment I revealed the lighter, I'd have to reveal the location of the tactical backpack I'd hidden deep beneath the palm trees.
In a survival game, the first person to reveal all his cards dies early.
That was an unchanging truth I learned from the organization.
Especially when the other person was former SAS.
Information asymmetry was something I intended to maintain.
Seeing his expectant gaze, I shrugged casually.
"Sadly, I don't have anything like that. But this island seems to be full of treasures. While exploring, I found quartz and chert, so I used those."
For a moment, Winston simply stared at me.
Then he blinked as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard.
"...Quartz? Wait, there's chert here?"
"There's both."
Quartz was quartz.
Chert was a sedimentary rock rich in silica.
"You found chert near this shoreline yourself?"
His voice jumped an octave.
Understandably so.
Quartz was common enough.
But chert was a completely different story.
"...That's impossible. Do you think chert is some random rock you find everywhere?"
Seriously, when someone tells you something, just accept it.
Then again, I hadn't believed it either when I first found it.
Most castaways would never discover something like that.
Chert was a hard sedimentary rock made up of microscopic quartz crystals. When struck against steel, it could create high-temperature sparks.
Finding chert on a deserted island normally required several conditions to line up perfectly.
But what was I supposed to do if it happened to be sitting right there?
Maybe this island really was some sick joke from a god.
"You won't believe it until you see it, huh?"
Naturally, I'd kept the chert.
Like I said, it wasn't the kind of stone you found every day.
I dug into my pocket and pulled out the piece.
Before I even finished speaking, Winston practically snatched it from my hand and examined it.
"...It's really chert. Just who are you?"
Instead of answering, I pointed into the distance with my chin.
"We can talk about identities while warming up by the fire. Grab your bag. You've changed clothes, so let's head to the base camp."
In reality, all I had was a campfire.
But I wanted to get him away before he somehow found my hidden backpack.
Winston continued staring at the chert in disbelief.
Still, there was no time to stand around.
Perhaps reading the look in my eyes, he picked up his bag.
"...Alright. Let's go."
The moment we reached the base camp, I pulled out the chert.
With Winston watching, I held the spine of my jackknife at an angle and struck the sharp edge of the stone.
Clang! Clang!
Clear metallic sounds echoed as sparks showered onto the dry tinder I'd prepared earlier.
After several attempts, a thin stream of smoke appeared.
Then a small red flame came to life.
Winston watched the entire process in stunned silence before instinctively gathering dry branches to strengthen the fire.
As if he'd already adapted to the environment, he quickly assembled a makeshift drying rack from branches and hung his wet clothes on it.
Then he pulled out one of the one-liter water bottles from his backpack and handed it to me.
"Thanks for the water earlier. This is my way of repaying you."
The few mouthfuls of water I'd shared had turned into a brand-new one-liter bottle.
That was a return on investment of over five hundred percent.
An incredible deal.
I silently accepted the bottle and drank.
Professionals were easy to deal with.
They understood give and take.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the half-melted chocolate bar I'd brought.
"Let's eat this first before it melts into soup."
We sat side by side in front of the fire and split the sticky chocolate bar in half.
The sweet and bitter flavor of cocoa touched my tongue, and for the first time all day, some of the tension eased.
"...I used to work for a criminal organization in Korea."
Winston narrowed his eyes while chewing.
"Mafia?"
"Something like that. I made a living with knives. Then the organization threw me away."
He paused.
"Why?"
"No idea. People can always invent a reason. Betrayal, purge, whatever. That's who I am. So what now? I know how to kill people. I'm not some survival expert who lives off grass in the middle of the forest. In situations like this, you listen to the expert."
At my honest confession, Winston let out a small laugh.
"That's the right strategy, Cheon Gaemsaem."
"...Just call me Cheon. My full name is a pain to hear."
"Alright. Cheon."
Winston warmed his hands by the fire, his eyes growing sharper.
It looked like the survival instincts he'd developed in the SAS were finally kicking into gear.
"So what now, Mr. Expert?"
Winston stared into the flames before speaking.
"We need to think conservatively. Assume we're going to live here long-term. First, we build a shelter. From what I've seen, you can make fire, but you can't build a proper home. Am I right?"
I nodded without hesitation.
"Good. I'll build something simple. I can handle the shelter alone. While I'm doing that, how about you go hunting and bring back food?"
He pointed his chin toward the jackknife hanging at my waist.
"You're good with a knife, aren't you?"
I couldn't help being impressed.
After spending more than ten years planning and executing operations in the organization, I could immediately recognize how professional and efficient his proposal was.
One of the most dangerous mistakes in a survival situation was wasting energy on tasks you weren't good at.
Winston could use the shelter-building and concealment techniques he learned in the SAS to finish a structure in the shortest possible time.
Meanwhile, I specialized in killing and skinning prey.
Each of us would be applying our most lethal talents where they were most effective.
If we both built the shelter first and hunted afterward, it would take twice as long.
But with division of labor, we could achieve two critical objectives before sunset: secure shelter and secure protein.
It also reduced the chance of conflict between us.
Two men who had only just met would inevitably clash if they spent hours crammed together building a shelter.
By sending me on an outside task, Winston maintained a healthy distance while giving both of us an opportunity to prove our value.
That was the skill of an experienced leader.
"...That's very reasonable. Alright."
I stood up and checked the edge of my jackknife.
As Winston said, hunting was my specialty.
Whether human or animal, the principle of finding a vital point and driving in a blade wasn't much different.
"Build the shelter however you want. I'll go find dinner."
Winston grinned and gave me a thumbs-up.
"Don't worry, Cheon. I'll make it penthouse quality."
I stepped into the darkness of the forest.