Mistaken for the White Butcher
*
In the corner of the village, someone whispered.
"What the... what the hell are those guys?"
"No idea. That thing they rode in on earlier—wasn't it a hog?"
"Yeah. But they didn't look like Siapo hog racers..."
"Anyone riding a hog is a hog racer, right? Those bastards are all the same shit-stirring nationalists! They're soldiers here to link up with the village military and escort the Kapitan!"
"Calm down. They could just be passersby, you know? Didn't you see? The two leading were an Olrog and an Esai. And that Esai had pale skin like Snow's. Could be her kin."
"Snow never said her relatives looked like her! Esai have purple or grayish skin! And that guy's not as white as Snow!"
"Either way, they don't look like Siapo soldiers. We need to delay entry."
"Bullshit! This is our only shot to save the Kapitan! Siapo's company is right on our asses! Who knows when they'll barge in!"
"Get a grip, friend. We're here to rescue the Kapitan, not get him killed as collateral in some clusterfuck. Charging in blind will just make more chaos. No signal from our guy inside, right? If something was wrong, we'd have heard."
"So we just sit here?"
"Until we get a signal."
"...Fuck. In the end, the Kapitan's gonna die because of us."
"Easy, friend. The Kapitan's not some pushover. A little crisis like this won't take him down."
With that, the whispers died out. Instead, the mood around the tavern shifted—from tense anticipation on the verge of entry to a rock-solid resolve to keep anyone from leaving the tavern. All this unfolding in the shadows of the tiny village.
*
"Answer me. What are a bunch of different races like you doing gathered together?"
The first to speak to Jin-cheol's group was the highest-ranking Lavito soldier among those seated there. He sat in the farthest corner, his fur neatly groomed, his uniform adorned with flashy insignia. Sure enough, when he raised his voice, the other chattering Lavito soldiers went dead silent.
As Lamien and Maro tensed up, Jin-cheol leaned back in his chair and replied casually.
"Why the fuck do you care what strangers do wherever they go?"
The Lavitos' faces froze. Jin-cheol's retort was curt, way too nonchalant for facing over twenty soldiers. Naturally, all their gazes locked onto him. Expressionless stares, devoid of words. A normal person might've felt awkward, but to Jin-cheol, they were just bipedal rabbits. Like watching kids' puppet theater—no discomfort or fear there.
The apparent leader actually smirked, amused.
"Sorry, but now that you're in this tavern, it sure as hell concerns us. It's a major threat to our nation and people's protection. I'd appreciate an answer."
His eyes darted wildly—not the face of someone begging or suggesting.
Jin-cheol shrugged.
"We stopped by for a quick drink on the way. Wanna check? Ask at the repair shop up front."
At Jin-cheol's straightforward reply, the leader narrowed his eyes, then glanced at a soldier near the door. The soldier bolted out.
"..."
After a brief silence, the soldier returned, panting.
"It's true, heave... They left their ride truck there..."
"The mechanic?"
"Huh?"
The leader frowned at the soldier's blank look.
"Bring the mechanic here for a face-to-face!"
"...He said he's busy? Still bring him?"
"...Never mind."
The leader shook his head slightly and stood from his corner seat. He strode over to Jin-cheol's table, saying,
"Olrogs are dumb, Baika only care about quick profits, Esai are sly. That's why I hate Esai most. Vile race."
Well, shit. A rabbit spouting random discrimination out of nowhere. What the fuck is this guy's deal?
As Jin-cheol thought that, the officer Lavito approached in a rigid stance, hands behind his back, slowly scanning the group at the table.
"One sly Esai, one dumb Olrog. Plus a woman and a kid? Quite the random combo. If it weren't for me, you might've passed as real travelers."
"That's exactly what we are. So what?"
Maybe it was the annoyance, but a faint smile tugged at Jin-cheol's lips. Not from amusement—more like a razor blade between his teeth, dark and ready to slice.
The leader pressed on, unperturbed.
"Sure. Could be true. You might really be travelers, just stopping for a drink, with zero connection to that 'Pig Doctor' over there."
At that, Lamien glanced over. The Lavito with the odd nickname, still in irons, stared back. Her expression hardened further.
"Oh? You know him?"
"...!"
Lamien flinched. The leader had suddenly wedged himself between her and the Pig Doctor. His smile deepened at her reaction, smug with confirmation.
Pig Doctor. Jin-cheol recalled: the name Zasoyeonbang's General Donchaba had mentioned in his meeting with Siol's council. Whatever it meant—unrelated to his looks—it screamed deep rebel ties. That's why Lamien recognized it. And Zasoyeonbang's rebels included the Esai "White Butcher," likely Ishanka's daughter—the Esai Jin-cheol was hunting.
But right now, Jin-cheol had zero ties to that Pig Doctor. Never seen his face, never spoken. Whatever Lamien thought of him, with Zasoyeonbang gone, he could pass as a fellow exile sharing lost homeland woes. No reason for this shitty treatment from the soldier rabbit.
With that in mind, Jin-cheol said,
"Look. We're really just passing through. Want us gone? We'll leave this tavern right now. Let's all just go our separate ways. No need for this bullshit."
"What nonsense! This place is under my control now! Anyone trying to step out gets summary execution on the spot!"
This crazy rabbit's barking like a dog.
Jin-cheol felt more annoyed and tired than threatened by the leader's shout. Fresh off the hog, he suddenly craved ripping back along the coast. The leader continued,
"You gonna keep claiming it's a misunderstanding? Ha! Sorry, but I've got top-secret intel the public doesn't. Know what it is?"
"...What."
Humming along to hear it out, Jin-cheol got a weird, wheezing chuckle from the leader, lips pulled tight.
"The Pig Doctor has an Esai underling. Dodges Zasoyeonbang pursuits, wrecks supply units and bases, single-handedly wiped two special assault squads in Waity Forest—his strongest weapon. Central continent's top elite guerrilla."
The leader narrowed his eyes at Jin-cheol.
"Her name: the White Butcher."
"...Huh? Me? I'm the White Butcher?"
The leader's smile held despite Jin-cheol's baffled look.
"Lots know the name but not why 'White.' Some think it's her brutality. But I know! Me! Torchson of the 7th Division Thunder Unit! It's 'cause her skin's way paler than other Esai!"
"..."
What a dumb fuck.
Common knowledge among Zasoyeonbang troops—Ishanka figured it easily—and this idiot acts like it's gold. Jin-cheol couldn't hide his dismay.
So, the rabbit saw Jin-cheol's group as Pig Doctor's rebels. Jin-cheol as the White Butcher. He'd thought Lamien's reaction triggered it, but it just confirmed suspicions. She stared at the officer, equally baffled. Meanwhile, Maro rolled his eyes nervously at the table, Dol Jumeok ignored the talk, downing his glass and slyly reaching for another.
Hunting the White Butcher only to get mistaken for her—absurd. Jin-cheol scratched his forehead.
What the hell is this?
The officer's wild deduction had the tavern's Lavito soldiers gripping rifles.
"UHAHAHAHAHA!"
A sudden burst of laughter echoed. All eyes turned to the Pig Doctor, laughing his ass off, throat bobbing, slapping his knee despite the irons—like it was the funniest shit ever.
The officer, flustered by the laughter, bellowed,
"What's so funny? Your rescue op busted from the start—that hilarious?"
"Hey, Torchson! Ever think comedy over soldiering? Say the word, I'll get you top billing at Solka-in Grand Theater! Pack seven thousand seats easy! 'Siapo Comedian Torchson! Witness the pinnacle of general-worshipping militarist idiocy!'"
"What?"
Next instant, the Pig Doctor's jovial face iced over.
"Dumbass fuck! Snow's skin is snow-white! Does that Esai look snow-white to your eyes? Then gouge out those shitty peepers and get new ones somewhere! Even pig eyes would see clearer than you!"
"..."
First real vitriol Jin-cheol'd heard on Lavito soil. Cute by his standards, but the other bright-eyed rabbits seemed speechless. The officer trembled, fur bristling; his men glanced nervously, unsure.
The officer bit his lip, steadied his breath, and spoke in a clearly suppressed voice.
"You don't grasp your situation, Miguel. You're being transported as a rebel. Know what that means?"
"Why drag it out explaining? You're the dimwit."
"...It means, if things go south, I can execute you on the spot!"
He yelled, grabbing his hip pistol.
"..."
But he just trembled, didn't draw—no one stopped him, so no balls to actually shoot.
The Pig Doctor spoke softly to him.
"Right. You could execute me anytime. Gun's in your hand. So think calmly about this."
"...Calmly?"
The Pig Doctor raised his shackled hands, palms out, chains rattling.
"Me and them? Strangers. Like I said, that Esai ain't Snow the 'White Butcher,' Olrog guy's a face I don't know. Woman and kid? Who drags a kid into a rescue? They're real passersby."
"...Really not your rebels?"
The Pig-Doctor-nicknamed Lavito nodded vigorously.
Why Pig Doctor? Doesn't look it at all.
Shoving aside Jin-cheol's doubt, the officer eyed the group, emotions somewhat cooled.
"Really? Just happened in for a drink?"
"Yeah—"
Like the Pig Doctor, Jin-cheol started a big nod—then froze. Wait, no. To find the White Butcher, he needed rebels. And their leader sat right there. Plus, mistaking them for rescuers meant she wasn't caught. So... rescuing the Pig Doctor here opened a path to Snow.
Should I save this guy?
As Jin-cheol pondered, the officer scanned them again. Then his eyes twisted.
"Hold up. You. Take off that jacket."
His gaze fixed on Lamien—her flight jacket specifically. Her fur bristled. Jin-cheol's thoughtful face hardened. Zasoyeonbang uniform underneath.
The group froze. The officer, sensing bigger suspicion, raised his voice.
"What're you doing!? Didn't you hear me?!"
"..."
Under pressure, Lamien slowly unzipped the jacket top. Seeing the inner collar, the officer drew his pistol, shouting,
"You! Zasoyeonbang spy, you fu—"
His words cut short. Jin-cheol's grip crushed his hand pistol and all. His other fist smashed the officer's face. A crack—nose blood and teeth sprayed as he crumpled backward.
"Kiii..."
"..."
"..."
After the officer flopped, soldiers and Jin-cheol stared silently. Soldiers alternated between fallen officer and Jin-cheol; Jin-cheol between them and Pig Doctor. The latter gaped, his persuasion undone.
And then.
The gloomy bartender, silent till now, suddenly yanked something from under the table. Twin submachine guns with fat mags. Soldiers and Pig Doctor's faces lit with horror at the muzzles.
The bartender bellowed,
"Anyone who wants to live, hit the fucking floor—!"
Next instant, with his roar, the SMGs spat fire.