How to Live (4)

I don't care whether Kate lives or dies. If she were to suddenly pass away one day, I wouldn't feel much of anything.

It's only natural. She has nothing to do with me. She belongs to a completely different world.

And yet.

The moment she dies, my regression ends. I'll be forced back to that dreary, miserable future.

Not as the mage Seol Ha-woon, but as a limping, shut-in, game-farming leech... Wait. Aren't those words a bit too harsh?

But that wasn't all.

I hadn't realized Percival meant this much to Kate. I hadn't known they had built a bond of trust deep enough to take root in her subconscious.

If Percival was the only one who could soothe the festering wounds and toxic stress that had silently accumulated inside her...

Then I, too, bore some of the responsibility.

"...This is complicated."

Beep. Beep. The ominous sound echoed from the heart rate monitor. I looked down at Kate, who lay asleep on the bed. Within her subconscious, she was quietly dying.

How on earth could I drag someone out of a labyrinth when they viewed death as their ultimate happiness?

I had absolutely no idea.

Don't die, or I'll shoot. That was about the extent of my tactical options.

Kate was weary of living. A sickness so severe that she wasn't even consciously aware of it was gnawing away at her heart.

The Haleford family, as I knew them, was notoriously eccentric and ruthless. Kate's mother and father were incredibly cold, harsh people. The horror stories I had heard from Percival during my military service were enough to make a grown man faint.

People who fancied themselves aristocrats, the chosen elite, were incredibly exhausting. They demanded a near-mad level of perfection and dignity, not just from themselves, but from their children as well.

Percival had been the exact opposite.

He cast aside all formalities and simply loved his family—loving them as if a lifetime of devotion still wouldn't be enough.

I could finally understand why Percival was Kate's "only breathing room."

Thanks to this dive into her subconscious, I also realized why she insisted on going by the nickname "Kate" instead of her real name, "Catherine."

Because Percival was the one who had called Catherine "Kate."

"...A reason to live."

Unfortunately, she had no reason to live right now.

Because this labyrinth was granting her very own version of happiness—a peaceful death.

"..."

I took a moment to think about myself.

Why was I still alive? Why did I keep going?

I had no family left, my only friend had departed this world, and I had been discharged from the military—the place I thought would be my lifelong career.

Before my regression, back when I was a shut-in rotting away in my room playing games, why hadn't I ended it all?

Was it simply because I was afraid of death?

If that were the case, I would never have volunteered for the special forces.

Was it just... a sense of waste?

Because the life my only friend had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so desperately wanted, the tomorrow that countless people had died right in front of me wishing for, felt too precious to throw away...

"...No."

I wasn't living for their sakes.

The purpose of my life was that I still had unfinished business. There was a knot that had yet to be tied.

Because my revenge for them was still incomplete.

Beep— Beep—

I watched Kate as she breathed with shallow, ragged gasps. The rhythm of the heart monitor matched the cadence of her breath.

"...Kate."

I had once thought about this.

What keeps a person alive can be love or happiness, but the opposite is also true. Anger and hatred can just as easily serve as the fuel that keeps a soul burning.

"Wake up for a moment."

I had set the direction.

Now, all that was left was to move forward.

"..."

Kate opened her eyes. Spotting me, she offered a faint smile and looked out the window.

"You don't need to nurse me anymore."

A bleak winter, the last leaf clinging to the very tip of a barren branch.

I drew the curtains shut with an irritated snap. Kate turned her gaze back to me and murmured softly.

"I told you before, didn't I? Everyone dies eventually."

I knew. If this kind of death was the happiness her subconscious truly desired from the bottom of her heart, I had no reason to stop her.

However.

"In fact, it's only natural. Just peacefully—"

"There is something I must tell you."

I cut her off.

"Regarding Colonel Percival, there is some information I have been investigating."

Suddenly, a question occurred to me. It was a riddle I still hadn't found the answer to.

Was Colonel Percival truly a good man?

To Kate, he undoubtedly was.

"...Uncle Percival?"

"Yes. I was deeply engrossed in the investigation right up until I came here."

Percival had died before Kate reached adulthood.

"...?"

Kate looked at me with a puzzled expression. I handed her a manila envelope.

Inside would be documents manifested from my own thoughts and memories.

"Colonel Percival died in the Sahara Desert Labyrinth in the past."

As a commander, Colonel Percival was a failure. He was far too emotional. Without the backing of the Haleford name, he probably wouldn't have even made colonel.

He was a man who was never suited to be a soldier in the first place.

"...I know that."

Kate made no move to open the envelope.

I pressed on.

"Although he was officially listed as killed in action during a labyrinth raid."

Percival had indeed died in the labyrinth. His body couldn't even be recovered, as the labyrinth had collapsed and vanished while holding him in its grasp.

"The truth is different."

I gestured toward the envelope again. Kate's brow furrowed slightly—an expression she hadn't shown once in this subconscious realm.

"...What do you mean, different?"

"Yes."

Now, I would deliver a piece of the past to her. I would cast a hook into her subconscious.

"He was murdered by an ally."

Kate let out a sharp gasp. Her hand instinctively clenched the bedsheets. For the first time, a sharp, piercing light flickered in her eyes.

She asked in a trembling voice.

"...By whom?"

I took a brief breath.

The courage to be disliked. I didn't need anything of the sort. It was my deed, and it was my burden to bear.

"Someone you know well."

Anger burns with hatred as its firewood, and hatred requires a target.

Even Kate, who had always seemed so unbreakable, had her wounds. The hollow void carved into her chest was stark and clear.

"A man who served under Colonel Percival during that labyrinth raid."

Though her subconscious had failed to fill that void and instead sought the peaceful escape of death...

A wound can be sealed if you cauterize it with fire.

"A member of the UDT Black Team."

Crumble. Dust and debris began to rain down from the ceiling. It was the sign that she was waking from her subconscious dream.

"Seol Ha-woon."

Kate's eyes flew wide open. At that exact moment, the entire Haleford Estate shuddered violently. Cracks splintered through the very fabric of the space, and chunks of debris came crashing down in a thunderous roar.

The backdrop of her subconscious was collapsing.

"...Hey, Old Sport!"

A particularly deep, masculine voice echoed from the depths of my past memories. It was the kind of voice that made you wonder if this was what a wild stallion would sound like if it could speak.

"Yes, Captain."

Percival. He was a fascinating man. Incompetent as a commander, yet he was one of the strongest fighters in the military—a good-natured soul and a villain all at once. Though raised in the lap of luxury, he cared for his subordinates with genuine warmth, yet he ruthlessly eliminated anyone who opposed him.

He was a man who could not be judged by a single facet.

"Skipping the after-work drinks again today?"

"Yes."

"How boring... But you know, looking at you always reminds me of my younger days."

He was fiercely loyal to his own faction. He took care of those within his circle to an almost excessive degree. He treated his subordinates like family, and some of them were as loyal to him as they would be to their own fathers.

He wanted me to be one of those "children."

"Captain, you're still plenty young."

"Haha! Flattery will get you everywhere."

Percival was a clean-cut, handsome man who looked to be in his late twenties. At least, that was his apparent age. No one would ever guess he was in his mid-forties. He probably enjoyed it, too. If he had wanted to look older, he would have grown a beard.

"The stars in the desert really are bright. Ha-woon! Come over here."

He patted the spot next to him. I stood still, staring at him.

I hated being treated like a child, but whenever I hesitated, he would deploy an unblockable technique.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"...If my child had lived, they would have been about your age by now."

Left with no choice, I walked over and sat down. He immediately threw an arm around my shoulder. This kind of physical affection was uniquely frequent with me. He didn't shy away from doing it in front of others, either. It was his way of showing favor while signaling to everyone else that he was sharing his authority with me.

"Ha-woon."

"Yes."

"The other fools in this business don't understand you. They call you a hunting dog and fear you. They won't even get close. They babble nonsense about how you give them goosebumps, or how your mind is completely unreadable."

I silently looked up at the starry night sky. In moments like this, it was best to just listen.

"But I've seen deep inside you. I saw your transparency. That's why I specifically requested you from the military. Did we first meet back in the Wisconsin Labyrinth?"

"Yes. Our first meeting was by the lake."

"Right. I knew you'd remember. I've wanted to be your commanding officer ever since."

He collected people like someone gathering trading cards. Among them, I was treated like a highly rare Pokémon. I had served under quite a few commanding officers, but I had never pledged my loyalty to any of them.

"Let's do a good job this time, too."

"...Yes."

Normally, the military did not participate in labyrinths. This was especially true for the national armed forces, whose sole purpose of existence was national defense.

However, the UDT Black Team occasionally operated like mercenaries for specific families. The Halefords, in particular, had secured an under-the-table contract ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the military.

The operational and tactical expenses of the Black Team were astronomical. I myself had once spent over ten billion won—an amount completely impossible to write off as standard expenses—just to track down a single target.

It was an amount the state could never bear alone, which paradoxically meant that a revenue-generating model had been established within the military.

"So, Old Sport. If this labyrinth goes well, I'd like to officially transfer you under my direct command."

"...My skills are lacking."

"Modest again? There isn't another soldier like you. Or is the Haleford name not enough for you?"

I shook my head.

"It is because I still have unfinished business here."

At that, Percival's expression grew somber.

"Are you talking about your comrade?"

I didn't answer. Because Percival was a man who understood the pain of loss, he didn't try to persuade me any further.

"Once that business is finished, you can always come back to me."

He hadn't given up entirely, though.

"So, Old Sport. Have you received the briefing on this labyrinth?"

"Yes. I have."

"Give me a quick rundown, then. I had a bit too much to drink yesterday. Hahaha."

As he chuckled heartily, I spoke.

"They say this labyrinth is a space that replicates Earth."

"...Replicates Earth?"

"Yes."

Percival raised an eyebrow, prompting me for a more detailed explanation.

I answered in my usual dry tone.

"A parallel world."

A parallel world.

Another Earth.

It was the labyrinth that would become our end.

...Everyone's life is crumpled to some extent. There is no such thing as a life folded into neat origami. No matter how well you live, a paper crane is never made by accident. It simply gets crumpled up like a newspaper discarded on the street.

Therefore, it must be left crumpled. Even if you try to smooth out a wrinkled piece of paper, the creases remain.

And if you try to erase even those creases, the entire page of your life might tear apart.