Parting Gifts and City Lights
Parm Wirson, who had been in the infirmary, lit up at the sight of Jin-cheol.
"Oh, Jin-cheol. Heading out?"
"Yeah, gotta go. What about Peran?"
The infirmary held only Parm Wirson. The two beds that had held patients stood empty.
"The Antela warriors took them. That guy from Sandesiya too. They're probably waiting for you on deck."
"You're not going?"
Parm didn't stop tidying as he replied, "What would I even do there?"
"You're the doctor who saved the lives of Antela clansmen's warriors. They owe you something."
The teacher's eyes crinkled with amusement. "Don't worry. The Esai are arrogant, but they're thorough when it comes to favors and grudges. As the saying goes, their backs are stiff, but their pockets are loose. They won't need me nagging—they'll bring the reward on their own."
"Oh..."
Is this the difference experience makes? Jin-cheol found Parm's sly, knowing smile oddly amusing.
At that moment, Parm pulled something from his desk and held it out—a wooden box a bit larger than his palm.
"What's this?"
"What remains between parting souls are memories and gifts. Given your memory, you'll hold onto the memories just fine. So all that's left is the gift. Take it."
This must be this world's custom. Somehow, everyone he parted from gave him a gift.
Jin-cheol opened the box and checked the contents.
"Isn't this the thing from last time?"
It was a syringe. The one Parm had mentioned when summoned to the captain's quarters—the one to jab into a patient in an emergency. It had an oddly ornate, antique look.
"Truth be told, it's a kind of disposable artifact. Use it for a major wound, and it'll save your life once."
"Then this is super valuable, right? You sure about just handing it over like..."
Potions were common in games, but in reality, a simple trauma treatment like this was worth a fortune. Countless soldiers had died on the battlefield from basic wounds and bleeding that such a tool could have stopped.
No one knew the exact effect, but if Parm vouched for it, it was as good as an extra life.
"It's expensive, but not impossible to get. Thanks to you, the Antela envoy survived, and thanks to that, I'll get my reward too. Don't feel burdened."
"...I don't turn down gifts like this. You're really okay with it?"
"I am. So don't make it awkward—take it."
Jin-cheol stowed the healing syringe in his bag and extended a hand to Parm. The doctor eyed it before grasping it slowly.
"It's a bit late to say it, but it was a pleasure teaching a student like you."
"I was lucky to meet you too. We'll meet again someday, Teacher Parm."
With a grin and a final bow, Jin-cheol turned and left the infirmary. Behind him came the sound of Parm resuming his tidying.
He passed through the cabin corridor and up to the deck, where just as the teacher had said, the Antela warriors had all gathered—along with Captain Romuto Quaibek seeing off Ishanka. Peran lay on a stretcher among them.
Spotting Jin-cheol, she gave a subtle nod of greeting.
The Sandesiya pirate was on a stretcher too. His condition looked better, though; the other two pirates sat slumped, faces battered and bound with ropes held by the Antela warriors.
Udim was on deck too, despite saying he had nothing to do. He and his fellow Olrogs were connecting the high stairs from the dock to the ship.
Jin-cheol's gaze naturally followed to the dock beyond.
"...It's a madhouse."
Now he understood why Atukai had called it noisy. Dusk was settling over Siol's docks, packed not just with Romuto's ship but vessels of all kinds—wooden sailing ships and metal boats, chaos aside. People swarmed everywhere: cranes unloading cargo from ships, slave Olrogs hauling it, groups of Kampoeni hefting large crates, Baika shipowners haggling loudly with Esai, endless warehouses lining the waterfront, and crowds streaming in and out.
"End of the day—it's always a mess."
Ishanka had approached. Jin-cheol, staring blankly at the docks, met her eyes. She continued.
"Morel told me. You need a place to stay in Siol."
The moment he'd left the engine room, Jin-cheol had grabbed passing Morel to pass the word to Ishanka. Rewards and all aside, he needed a bed tonight.
"I'd love to give you a room in the family compound, but that's beyond my authority. Instead, Morel will guide you—spend tonight wherever he takes you. Tomorrow, once you're rested, we'll deliver the gifts."
"You heading home?"
"Home?"
A flicker of bewilderment crossed Ishanka's near-expressionless face.
"You said Siol was home?"
"...Yes. Home. It is my home."
Her confusion twisted into a wry smile. She shook her head lightly and opened her mouth again.
"Fine, then—"
"Wait a sec."
"...?"
She blinked blankly at the interruption. Meanwhile, Jin-cheol turned to Captain Romuto, who had come out to see off the Antela group.
"Got a question."
"...What?"
"Those guys over there. Can I buy them?"
Jin-cheol pointed to Udim and the slave Olrogs. Udim froze mid-stair connection upon hearing.
Romuto rolled his eyes, grasping the situation, then spat out an answer.
"Of course. I bought them from the Siol patrol myself, after all."
"How much?"
"Thirty gold coins each..."
Romuto's words trailed off. His eyes slid to Jin-cheol, then to Ishanka beside him. They widened dramatically.
He smiled.
"...Two gold each is plenty. They're all pretty old, after all."
"Ten gold for all five, then."
Jin-cheol glanced at Ishanka as he spoke. She looked baffled but pulled gold coins from her pouch anyway.
"Just to check—this doesn't cover the reward, right?"
"...Don't insult my honor. If you think the Antela name is worth pocket change like this, you're mistaken."
Jin-cheol grinned at her reply and took the gold, handing it straight to Romuto. The captain fished out a small keyring and detached one key.
"Here. This proves you're their owner now. Press that red bit, and their necks—"
"Skip it. How to free them?"
"...Unlock with the key."
Jin-cheol took the key and did just that. Udim and the Olrogs stared dumbly at him, bomb collars off unexpectedly.
"Why...?"
"Cut the why. No more eating people. Hell, don't eat anything that talks."
"...Got it. Won't eat people, even if I starve."
Jin-cheol snorted a laugh, clapped Udim's shoulder, and stepped back.
Ishanka, watching, shook her head in disbelief before turning to leave. The other Antela warriors followed.
As they descended the stairs to the dock, a few Esai warriors waited there—no grand welcome, just light greetings before they all departed into the thinning evening crowds. Dusk had deepened, and the earlier swarm had eased as the day ended.
Watching their backs, Jin-cheol turned to Romuto with a casual nod. His version of farewell.
He didn't like the guy, but the free ride these past days warranted that much.
Romuto's damp eyes watched Jin-cheol silently the whole time, unreadable.
"Let's get going."
"...I've been ready."
Morel had stuck by Jin-cheol the whole time the Antela left. He looked a bit sulky—probably miffed at not heading straight back to the clan.
"Got a problem guiding me?"
"...No. Nothing like that."
At Jin-cheol's words, Morel smoothed his expression perfectly. It was like watching a rookie soldier manage his face—amusing.
Jin-cheol and Morel descended to the dock too. Olrogs and workers waved from the merchant ship. Jin-cheol waved back before leaving the waterfront.
"Keep up."
Jin-cheol followed Morel's lead. Matching his long strides took him quickly from the salty dock air into dense streets of buildings.
A hollow laugh escaped Jin-cheol. The streets glowed bright despite the darkening sky.
"What is this, Myeongdong?"
Wooden buildings, brick ones, concrete walls patched with new pillars and tents into taverns and eateries, street carts hawking feather-and-tooth trinkets. It was a street rebuilt atop crumbled concrete ruins with fresh wood and brick.
Crowds flowed: rope-belted ragged Esai, suited Baika, ever-grouped Olrogs, Kampoeni in ornate blue silk tunics—with fluffy white fur or hair atop their heads.
All subtly eyed Jin-cheol—or rather, Morel leading. They clocked his armor: Esai noble house warrior. Satisfaction bloomed on Morel's face.
"Feels good?"
"Huh? What? Good how?"
"Never mind. Those over there—who lights them?"
Jin-cheol pointed to what could only be streetlamps: ornate antique poles to modern-art wood stumps topped with bulbs.
"Heh. First time in Siol? The Sun Temple, obviously. All Siol's light comes from the temple's solar power."
"...That's really a temple?"
It sounded more like a power plant. Morel scowled instantly.
"Tease me anytime—that's a warrior's right. But in Siol, even you should watch words that smack of blasphemy."
"Sorry. Didn't know."
Morel's scowl vanished.
"...Just be careful."
"So, man, where we headed?"
He quickened his pace. "First time in Siol, so before an inn, there's a must-see landmark."
Landmark my ass. Not a tourist—Jin-cheol eyed Morel skeptically. Should've pushed to follow the Antela clan? Big houses had guest rooms, right? The crowds dwarfed the ship's folk; maybe chase Ishanka for a room?
But soon, they entered a small plaza.
"This is 'Antela Plaza.' Where our founder, Antela Modehn, received the sun's revelation."
"Right... Other clans got plazas too, huh."
"Yes. Seven plazas total—Shionos has the biggest. But Antela Plaza has Siol's best eatery, unmatched anywhere: 'Wall of Meals.'"
"Ah, so we're grabbing food..."
Already dizzy from crowds and chaos, Jin-cheol opted positive. Food. Yeah, food...
Morel led into a building on the plaza's edge. Wide but squat—no second floor. Round central pillar ringed by varied tables and chairs, packed with diners from the streets.
By then, Jin-cheol struggled to breathe.
Not from anything specific. Everything looked alien yet familiar.
Isekai? He could've dismissed it if utterly alien. But what he'd seen en route wasn't "another world"—just civilization blooming anew atop ancient ruins. The only difference: those rebuilding weren't human.
A stage of a scraped-together new city from a broken world.
An undeniable truth.
"Come here. See the glass wall? Stand there, and you'll get why I call this Siol's landmark. No restaurant like it anywhere."
Where's the cook? Servers? Jin-cheol scanned frantically, barely breathing. But his super-soldier body stood firm even breathless, following Morel to the central pillar's glass wall.
His gaze shifted sideways. A black-footed Kampoeni fiddled with the glass, hazy food images floating where his hand touched. He tapped one; a small square slot opened in the wall. He inserted a silver coin.
"Perfect—live demo next to us. Watch close, then you try, Jin-cheol."
After a few breaths, the slot widened. Out came the selected slab of roasted meat. The Kampoeni, drooling happily, grabbed the plate and claimed a table.
Jin-cheol watched stone-faced, then slowly reached for the opaque glass.
The moment his fingertips touched, appetizing food images vanished, replaced by a line of reddish text—in characters Jin-cheol could read.
Seeing it again. The Final Decree.