Confessions of Rostang
The two airships that had suddenly taken off earlier slowly descended once more onto the open field behind the camp. One was piloted by Lamien, the other by the Urata pilot intimidated by Jin-cheol's sword. As soon as it touched down, Lamien leaped out of the cockpit and rushed toward the airship Jin-cheol had hijacked.
Jin-cheol was dragging out the armored soldiers' commander—the one who'd tried to flee moments ago—by the collar. The man clutched his opposite wrist with a trembling hand; below it, a blood-soaked rag had replaced his severed hand. Jin-cheol's longsword had taken it clean off. Still, compared to the other bodyguards who'd staked their lives to protect him, he was in far better shape. He and the pilot were the only survivors from his airship.
Lamien charged up, grabbing the commander by the collar. "You! What happened to the people who were here? The ones living in this camp! Where did you send Epani?!"
"…"
The Lavito commander trembled, lips quivering, but said nothing. Jin-cheol glanced at the surviving armored soldiers, who'd dropped their weapons and slumped to the ground in a row, then turned to him.
"Not talking?"
At Jin-cheol's low voice, the commander shuddered as if the pain in his severed wrist were unbearable. "…The, the vagrants… to the labor reeducation facility…"
"Who's a vagrant? Who the hell are you calling vagrants?!"
Excited, Lamien slapped the commander's face. Jin-cheol watched him reel backward and let out a short whistle.
This little rabbit packs a punch.
Lamien pounced on the fallen commander, yanking him up by the collar again. "Spit it out right! What the hell are Urata soldiers doing here in the first place?!"
"…The, the target… to hunt down the Pig Doctor's guerrilla, the White Butcher…"
"What about the people? Why grab everyone else from this camp?!"
"That was… for manpower acquisition."
"Manpower acquisition?"
The commander avoided Lamien's eyes, turning his head to stare at the dirt. When he didn't spill everything at once, Lamien finally drew her pistol from her waist and pressed it under his chin. Her voice dropped to a whisper, unlike her earlier shouting.
"I'm actually a Zasoyeon soldier. The one fighting a war against you lot. So unlike those hesitant revolutionaries, I can enjoy killing Urata scum without a second thought."
Her pudgy finger clicked back the pistol's hammer.
"Will you be my fun, or spill everything without hesitation?"
Oho, Lamien! You can threaten too?
Jin-cheol stepped back, arms crossed, hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Unlike him, who found her threat adorable, it was all too real to the commander with the barrel at his jaw. His fur bristled; his nose twitched wildly.
"Ex-excavation site! There's an excavation site! Our primary mission is hunting the White Butcher, but every Urata unit in Zasoyeon territory is basically running manpower expansion ops! We just loaded one airship to boost our quota!"
"Manpower expansion op?"
"Yes! With the government collapsed, vagr—er… Zasoyeon folk wandering homeless are rounded up and shipped south to the excavation site for labor reeducation!"
The commander caught Lamien's grimace mid-"vagrant" and switched words fast. But her frown didn't ease.
"Labor reeducation at an excavation site? What bullshit is that?"
"The south! Massive digs spanning southern Rostang! The ancient empire—the Forgotten Empire's relic city is buried under Rostang!"
"What… The war's not even over, and you're digging up land? Using captured Zasoyeon people? Who the fuck greenlights that crap?"
"The General! It's the General's lifelong project!"
"Rahman's obsession…?"
Lamien stared blankly, uncomprehending. Then she shook her head, refocused, and shook the commander's collar again.
"So! The people from this camp are flying to Rostang right now?!"
"Y-yes… Brigantine No. 3 should be heading there…"
"What the actual fuck?!"
Madness. Yeah, it was. Kidnapping healthy enemy civilians for shovel duty at a ruin dig? No sane nation or army would dream it up.
Jin-cheol, who'd been listening, spoke with sunken eyes. "You said every Urata unit in Zasoyeon territory is running these manpower ops as standard. Not even your main goal, but you grabbed camp folk for quota. How many got dragged to that Rostang site?"
"What? How many…? How the hell should I know? I just followed orders! Snatch if told, kill if told!"
Lamien tightened her grip on his collar. "You bastard…!"
"You're a Zasoyeon soldier too! You know a soldier's duty! We live and die by orders! That's what soldiers are!"
Lamien's trigger finger quivered. She wanted to pull it.
"So what? Trying to say you're not responsible for what happened here?"
Jin-cheol's words. Lamien eased her finger and looked at him. The commander looked too, raising his voice.
"Exactly! I followed higher-ups' orders! Same for your special forces who died by your hand! War's like that! Kill on command! Capture on command!"
"Dragging elders and kids into the woods and gunning them down too?"
"…"
No threat, rage, hate, or disgust in Jin-cheol's voice. Just a horribly low, chilling calm. That's why Commander Lavito couldn't respond, like a cold blade jammed under his chin.
"You…!"
Lamien glared, then—for some reason—released his collar and holstered her pistol. The sprawled commander perked up.
"Y-you're sparing me? Yes, I'm an officer. Even as a POW, I deserve officer trea—"
Lamien's fist smashed his jaw. His broken front teeth skittered across the dirt with blood.
"I won't kill you with my hands. It won't satisfy the dead anyway."
Bleeding profusely, the commander looked up from the ground. Her face was stone-hard.
"You'll hang publicly. Your crimes laid bare for the world, paying the price."
"I-I'm an officer… proper treatment…"
Lamien's boot crunched into his face. He lost the rest of his front teeth and passed out.
Lamien rubbed her sole on the dirt like it'd picked up filth. She turned to Jin-cheol, then gave a bitter smile. He realized a beat late why: he wore the same smile.
"Our kind too ugly?"
"…Ugly?"
"Scholars claim we Lavitos have a far superior civilization to any other race. Banks, well-organized army, even pointless international treaties. Flying battleships too. So we're superior."
Her eyes flicked to the commander, slumped and drooling blood-mixed spit.
"…Can you call that superior? Wearing that facade while killing and kidnapping—claiming we're better? I… don't know… Right now, I just… miss Epani so much… Epani…"
Tears streamed down her face mid-sentence. Jin-cheol silently pulled the sobbing woman close. She buried her face in his chest and bawled.
Airship crash, battwing shot down. Barely surviving the fall to reach here, only for her love to vanish afar again. Tears made sense.
Of course, the 10,000-year romance virgin couldn't grasp it fully. But Epani was alive—confirmed. Knew where she'd been taken. Just go fetch her, right? Better than not knowing if dead or alive… Crying from frustration was fine, but this wailing? Still, couldn't be cold to a bawling rabbit, so Jin-cheol patted her shoulder wordlessly.
"…"
Feeling his chest dampen, he spotted someone who'd neatly lined up the armored POWs. Leaning on her spear, owl mask on, watching silently: Snow.
Meeting her blank stare, Jin-cheol gripped Lamien's shoulders and gently led her aside.
"Yeah, tough times bring tears. Rest over here. Dol Jumeok'll bring Solka-in folk for cleanup. Got it?"
"…Yeah."
Sniffling nasally, she sat obediently on the wooden building's steps as he guided. Leaving her slumped there, Jin-cheol stopped a few steps away. The owl mask had approached.
"Uh, hey. Nice to meet you… You're Snow, right?"
Instead of answering, she thrust her spear tip at him. Jin-cheol didn't flinch. It halted just shy of his throat.
"Who are you?"
Her voice echoed muffled through the mask. Too soft for a cold spear master's ruthless image.
Jin-cheol eyed the mask and continued. "Kang Jin-cheol. Just call me Jin-cheol."
"Kang Jin-cheol? Never heard of the surname 'Kang'."
"Old family name. Over 10,000 years, give or take. Not important. Your mom sent a message."
"…That woman?"
Well now. Not even calling her 'Mom'. Deeper rift than thought.
Jin-cheol's head ached faintly. At least she hadn't attacked outright, thanks to fighting together.
"Yeah. Your mom, Ishanka."
"…What message?"
"Mom's sorry. So come home."
"…"
No words, but Jin-cheol felt her shoulders and arms relax slightly. The spear tip aimed at his Adam's apple drooped.
But the mask hid her expression. She spoke.
"…Sorry? For what?"
"Dunno. Just blanket sorry. The kind parents feel for failing their kid."
"…"
She swept the spear aside. Stood blankly, staring at the ground. Jin-cheol caught her mutter.
"…Now… what meaning does it have now…"
Slipping into her slack voice, he interjected. "Learned on the way: Siol assassins came often? But Ishanka knew nothing. After you left, she searched everywhere, wandering outside. Wanted to come here herself, but your house head blocked her."
"…"
She looked up from the ground, met his eyes, then dropped hers. No reply.
Seeing that, Jin-cheol felt oddly frustrated—and familiarly so. A queasy familiarity. What? This nagging sense?
"Uh… Your family drama seems messy; sort it with the Antela clan later. I came not just for the message—I have questions for you."
"…"
"…Hey, Snow? Hearing me?"
Finally, she looked up. Meeting the owl mask again, Jin-cheol pinpointed the feeling: the awkwardness of talking to someone with zero social skills.
"…Questions? For me?"
"Yeah. For you. Okay to ask now? Or need time to mull Mom's message?"
"…"
What? Isn't she the top revolutionary guerrilla? Can't mesh with others, so solo? Excuse for roaming hills unseen?
A soft "ah" from behind the mask. Then, abruptly: an apology.
"…Sorry. Spear."
"Nah, that's not the issue… Yeah, point a blade at someone's throat, apology's due. At least your humanity's intact. Good."
Jin-cheol closed his eyes, rubbing his brow. Was this the woman who'd just reaped armored soldiers' lives like cans?
"Uh… okay. Slow down. First, mind removing the mask? Faces help in talks."
"…"
Surprisingly, she flinched back a step, body tense with wariness. Jin-cheol sighed inwardly but pressed on.
"Fine. Don't wanna, don't. No forcing. Questions okay then?"
"…No. Will… take off."
Odd phrasing. Stuttering over removing a mask?
Whatever his thoughts, Snow slowly undid the head strap and removed the owl mask. A snow-white face emerged.
"…"
Her red eyes darted, avoiding his. Jin-cheol stared silently.
He knew albinism basics: congenital from low melanin, not rare in nature. Snow's was attractive. Typical cases had stark white lashes, alien feel; hers had deeper fur tone despite red eyes, making features sharp and clear—like very fair skin. Triangular pupils and long ears confirmed Esai, of course.
She fidgeted maskless. Jin-cheol asked.
"What? Something to say?"
"…You too?"
"Huh?"
Eyes down, avoiding his: "…You cursed too?"
His skin tone prompted it. Like seeing her kind first time. From her attitude, Jin-cheol guessed his question's answer.
Shit, she knows zilch about Opesis or whatever.
"Not a curse. Just melanin synthesis issue…"
"…?"
Her wide-eyed upward gaze blocked his words. Magic-AI era—who knew real curses? But Winter's Return, White Army legends? Hard sell.
Jin-cheol simplified. Curse or not, whatever. She looked human to him.
"Anyway, you're not cursed. First time seeing someone like me? Ishanka said you left Siol following a light-skinned person."
"…"
No answer; just blank red-eyed stare. Impatient but reluctant to push, Jin-cheol met her gaze. Finally, she spoke.
"Dunno how she knew, but the one I followed that day was Esai. Said they'd lift my curse, so I went. Drew my blood, weird tests… then sicced minions to kill me one day."
"…Who?"
"Antela house head. My grandfather."
"…"
Damn. Full soap opera. Game of Esai Thrones?
Jin-cheol's head throbbed at the Esai family dirt he hadn't wanted.