The Revolutionary's Plea
How Lamien interpreted Jin-cheol's smile was something only she knew. But in the next moment, she wiped away her tears, nodded to Jin-cheol, and silently stepped back between him and Miguel, taking up position behind them. It was as if she had no intention of interrupting their conversation any longer, simply standing at attention like a soldier guarding Jin-cheol's back. Ah, but she is a soldier, Jin-cheol thought with a wry smile, turning his gaze to Miguel.
Miguel, who had been watching their exchange and the looks in their eyes with intense seriousness, blinked as if snapping out of a trance when he met Jin-cheol's stare.
"Ah, um. Right. Solka-in's northern district got smashed to hell, but that doesn't mean everyone who lived there died. Jin-cheol's got it right. Your lover's probably still alive."
Lamien, who had retreated, just nodded silently. Her clear eyes shone with unyielding resolve. Miguel gazed at that look with a touch of admiration.
Jin-cheol snapped his fingers in front of him. "Hey. Let's wrap this up."
"...Ah, yeah. Where were we?"
"Our friend the White Butcher had a mission in the Solka-in region."
Miguel took a deep drag from his chullian, nodding. "That's right. It shouldn't be too hard to track her down."
"Not too hard?"
"Esai and Ologg stand out like sore thumbs among Lavito. Unless they're completely off the grid, someone's bound to spot their movements. That's why Snow had no choice but to become a guerrilla fighter. If she roamed the mountains and fields, she'd get caught."
Jin-cheol tilted his head. "So she's still out there hopping through the fields? How the hell do we find her?"
"No. This mission isn't about blowing up military installations. And Zasoyeonbang's already collapsed anyway. Uratan hasn't even finished securing the federation's territory yet. No one's chasing her."
"Aha. So Zasoyeonbang's entire former territory is basically a lawless wasteland right now?"
The chullian's ember glowed again, followed by a plume of smoke. "The revolutionaries are doing their best to keep the chaos in check. But Uratan doesn't want that. That's why they teamed up with Siapo to capture me. They don't want any organized resistance in Zasoyeonbang territory... Damn, those bastards kidnapped Willy's mother to blackmail him. He had no choice but to lead me into the trap..."
Miguel clutched his forehead, covering his eyes as if to hide the emotions welling up in them.
"...Foolish friend. His mother died long ago..."
"..."
He wedged the chullian between his fingers and scratched his brow with a troubled look. A faint redness rimmed his eyes.
"Anyway, that's not the point right now. What matters is that Snow's investigating some kind of mass disappearance incident near Solka-in."
"Mass disappearance?"
"Yeah. Whole villages vanishing. Her mission was to figure out if it's real abductions or just refugees fleeing the war. With no functioning investigative agencies around, she's probably out there handling it alone. You might even end up helping her."
"And what about you?"
Miguel smiled, still squatting with his knees hugged to his chest. "I've got business in the south. With Uratan. If we don't settle this, the revolution can't be called a success."
"Snow's near Solka-in..."
It was their destination anyway. He had planned to scout crowded areas for rebel—or revolutionary, as Miguel called them—traces and look for Snow. Good that the route hadn't changed. He could still find Lamien's lover.
As Jin-cheol pictured the journey ahead, Miguel spoke up. "So, you've used up your questions in exchange for my life?"
"One more. Ever heard of the Muksaang House?"
"Muksaang House? You mean those old Baika scholars?"
"Yeah."
Miguel popped the chullian back in his mouth and crossed his arms. "Well... It was a few years back when they were excavating some ancient ruins in Rostang... After the Zasoy-Uratan war broke out, I lost track. Rostang was on the front lines, so it's gotten more chaotic lately. I haven't heard anything from the last few months."
"Got it..."
He'd have to check it out himself. Head to Solka-in, deliver Ishanka's message to Snow, then straight to that Rostang city.
As Jin-cheol organized his thoughts, Miguel flashed a sly smile. "All done now?"
"Yeah, I think so. Why?"
"No reason. Don't just bolt now that Q&A's over—have a meal first. We're filling up before launching the Komintern."
Jin-cheol glanced back. Lamien's eyes said she'd follow wherever he went. Maro looked a bit dazed. And Dol Jumeok's gaze burned with intensity.
He whispered, "Chance to try Lavito food. We gotta eat."
"..."
Rabbit food? What's so special about that? They ate fish last time, didn't they? Jin-cheol chuckled and turned back to Miguel. "We'll eat."
Miguel nodded with a grin too.
Do they love group meals that much?
*
The meal was nothing special. Just a veggie stew. The abundance of carrots was its only quirk, but Dol Jumeok ate with solemn reverence, like he was uncovering some gourmet secret.
Jin-cheol, scraping the bottom of his bowl, narrowed his eyes at Dol Jumeok's gravity. It reminded him of thoughts he'd had watching Udim before.
Pretending to be dumb savages on purpose. You can't survive in the wild if you're actually stupid, right? Anything without a brain dies off.
Feeling the same from Dol Jumeok after Udim made him suspicious of Ologg as a species. Do they play dumb around other races on purpose?
But so what? Jin-cheol shrugged it off. If Dol Jumeok was secretly smart, did it change anything? No.
He set down his empty bowl and scanned the area. Revolutionary Lavito sat on the ground and crates, polishing off their bowls. Some scarfed seconds, others ate leisurely like him, and a few left half-eaten meals to smoke chullians.
Lamien fit right in, emptying her bowl. Maro, beside Dol Jumeok, glanced at him and mimicked his solemn eating.
With dozens of Lavito gathered, the scene was a mosaic of behaviors. And to Jin-cheol, it felt oddly familiar. Swap those rabbit faces for human ones, and it'd be some 21st-century moment, some place. A time that had only felt like shit back then, now strangely missed. Even though artillery and death had been close.
"..."
After staring at the Lavito for a moment, Jin-cheol stood. He asked a nearby one for a spot to wash up lightly. The Lavito pointed to a corner of the nearly packed-up camp, and Jin-cheol ambled over.
Miguel, half-finished bowl in hand with a chullian lit, watched him go, eyes lighting up. He stood too.
"Water comes out so stingy."
The Lavito had set up a tank with a faucet, but to Jin-cheol, the trickle was pathetic.
"...Nah, this is plenty for them."
As he confirmed the species difference anew and scrubbed the soot from his face, Miguel's voice came from behind.
"Esai have it easy. Skin's so smooth, it dries quick after washing."
"All non-Lavito are about the same."
Jin-cheol, having heard him approach, replied without turning.
Miguel leaned against the tank, intrigued. "But you're Esai, right?"
"Why?"
"Well, the Esai I know have purple skin and ears almost as long as ours."
Jin-cheol kept washing. "Snow's white."
"She's Esai except for skin and eye color. You're way different."
"Right. I'm not Esai."
"...Then?"
Jin-cheol shook the water from his face. "I'm the last survivor of the pure-blooded warrior race."
"...Warrior what?"
"Warrior race. One that fought and fought until they wiped themselves out."
Miguel's eyes widened, then he saw Jin-cheol grinning and burst out laughing, realizing the joke. "Hahaha! A warrior race that destroyed itself? Could apply to us Lavito too."
"Yeah?"
As Jin-cheol replied flatly, Miguel nodded. "If Lavito society stays like this, it'll collapse soon enough, if not now. How long can that shallow 'general myth' propaganda guide us? It leads to a cliff."
"Dunno. I don't know Lavito society well enough to judge."
"Then learn together?"
What? Joining the revolutionaries?
Jin-cheol let out a deflating chuckle. "I'm not Lavito, got no ties here. Planning to handle my business and bounce. 'Learn together' my ass."
"How long you been on this land?"
"Me? Three, four days."
"...And you met that Zasoyeonbang pilot?"
"That too, three-four days ago."
As if on cue, fierce ambition flared in Miguel's eyes. "Incredible. Pulling a Zasoyeonbang pilot away from Donchaba the general in that short time."
"Donchaba's dead."
"...What?"
Jin-cheol shrugged. "Few days back, coastal attack by Uratan battleship. Sank. No idea how many survived."
"Whoa..."
The news stunned him; Miguel stared blankly at the ground, then looked up with a bitter smile. "Figured it'd end like that, you fool... But a fallen general doesn't matter now. Anyway, what do you think of my offer? If you joined our revolutionaries, you'd be a huge help. With your combat skills or that pull you have on people."
Miguel, dismissing Donchaba as a fool, pressed again. But repeating wouldn't change Jin-cheol's mind.
"I got my own shit to do. And Zasoyeonbang's done, right? You need administrators, not fighters now."
"Precisely, revolutionaries. To smash the bizarre generalism across this continent, liberate all Lavito. I need comrades at the forefront."
"Me?"
Miguel's burning eyes fixed on him. "I saw it in how you awakened that Zasoy pilot from her grief. Someone who can give the continent's despairing Lavito the strength to crush generals and build their own nation with their hands! I glimpsed that power between you and her."
"..."
A tiny rabbit preaching revolution in this era. Not ridiculous. Small, cowardly, but smart enough to fly airships with amazing tech. No wonder revolutionaries emerged.
But Jin-cheol neither admired nor scorned him. Just saw him as he was.
"Lamien said you're a true Marx worshipper."
"...Hmm, not sure how much you know of Lavito myths, but unlike those who blame all woes on Marx's curse or prank, he was real, not a devil."
Even to the out-of-left-field question, Miguel answered readily, perhaps thinking it'd sway him.
"Generals call Marx evil god, demon, calamity—fitting him into their myths as the villain. But none truly know him, or they'd never describe a 'winged monster' or 'darkness-spewing demon'."
Miguel lowered his voice. "Just between us, when I was younger, I saw fragments of the real Marx in an underground ruin. Ancient records, older than forgotten empires. Much lost or unreadable, but enough to know."
"Know what?"
"This land needs revolution. Generals atop other Lavito must be dragged down and executed by their hands. Generalism will crumble under the violent weapons they wield. At revolution's end, Lavito lose only generals' chains, gain the whole world."
Jin-cheol watched him silently. A philosopher from ten thousand years ago manifesting in this Lavito through time and trials. Distorted, selectively interpreted, but rooted there.
So what should Jin-cheol do, facing it? Hell, what could he? Marx, communists—fuzzy after ten millennia.
Jin-cheol smiled bitterly. "So join your revolution?"
"Yes! You could grant freedom to all Lavito on this continent!"
"And after freedom?"
"...After?"
To Miguel's wide-eyed question, Jin-cheol smoothed his rolled-up sleeve. "Don't say earthly paradise. Fights won't vanish without generals. Bet my wrist on it."
"Better than now, at least!"
"Maybe for the world. But you?"
Miguel frowned, tilting his head. "Me? Why me?"
"Can you promise not to become the new general in that world?"
"...!"
Miguel's ears and fur bristled; his eyes widened, then narrowed to slits, blazing fiercely.
"...You saying I'll end up like those damn monsters?"
His low voice seethed with rage and disgust. Jin-cheol's words had insulted him deeply.
But facing that fury, Jin-cheol stayed calm. "Whoever fights monsters must guard against becoming one. I knew people who started with noble fights against evil, but ended up as cruel as—or crueler than—their foes, fueled by hate."
When war broke, nukes fell. Grieving ROK and Allied troops burned with vengeance. Most burned it out ending the war; some used it just to kill.
Not soldiers, but by differing nationality, skin, looks, blood—flimsy excuses to slaughter. Some mocked corpses, displayed them proudly. Youths who'd be normal college kids, idol fans in peace, cheered at hanging bodies.
Jin-cheol had watched numbly.
Damn, dredging up useless shit. Fucking great.
He slicked back his wet hair, tying it roughly. "Don't swear it won't change. If nothing changes, your 'freedom' won't come either."
"..."
Feeling Jin-cheol wasn't mocking, Miguel's blazing eyes softened, staring in confusion.
"Then? What should I do, in your view? Someone has to lead the revolution."
"Why ask me? Figure it yourself. I'm not your answer."
"..."
Jin-cheol finished washing and ambled away. Miguel watched, too confused to stop him.
Then Jin-cheol paused, turning back. "Why Pig Doctor? You don't look like one."
"...Started as Zasoyeonbang bullshit to discredit my medical degree. Claimed I was just a vet for pigs, not a real doctor."
"And it became a symbol?"
Miguel nodded. Jin-cheol snorted thoughtfully. Guess pigs exist here. How different from old ones? Samgyeopsal potential?
With that, Jin-cheol turned and left. Miguel watched his back fade, deep in thought.
*
The revolutionary mechanic was a squat old Lavito with a bushy mustache. He handed over Jin-cheol's fixed bike. "Ride easy. Looks new—what dumbass stunt stripped the wheel nuts?"
"Shit happens."
Jin-cheol mounted. Felt as good as new. Great.
He glanced aside: Dol Jumeok in the truck driver's seat, Lamien shotgun, Maro in back. All watching him.
"Alright. Let's roll."
Jin-cheol gunned the bike, leading. The Dol Jumeok truck followed.
They ascended the canyon path in reverse. Familiar rocks, strata, dirt scrolled by.
Leading, Jin-cheol paused and looked back. The revolutionary airship rose above the canyon. Not as massive as a general's battleship, but its compact form evoked a nimble destroyer.
He spotted busy Lavito at the windows, grinned, and turned forward.
The airship south, Jin-cheol's group east.
From the canyon, they raced their separate ways.