A Gift for a Hundred Years
Sergeant Hwang Seok-jun didn't last long. Before the dust had even settled, he was packed off to serve the maximum brig detention.
He'd paid back every last won he'd squeezed out of the junior soldiers, and after his fifteen days in the brig he was transferred to another unit—narrowly dodging a trip to the army prison.
A few days after Seok-jun went inside, the company commander summoned Jeonghwan.
"Private Kang Jeonghwan. You called for me, sir."
"Ah, right. Jeonghwan. Pack your things. You've been pulled up to Division Headquarters."
"Sir? I don't think I heard you correctly."
"I said you're going to Division Headquarters, you idiot."
Jeonghwan stood there, stunned. Division Headquarters? Just like that?
The company commander clapped him on the shoulder as he stood reeling.
"When you get there, put in a good word for this company commander with the division commander, all right? I'm counting on you, Jeonghwan."
He wanted to know why. But the decision had already been made. This was the army, and the only thing Jeonghwan could do was say yes.
"Ah—yes, sir. Understood..."
And so, without the faintest idea why, Jeonghwan found himself headed for Division Headquarters.
Life at Division Headquarters had started without warning, but it was in a different league from his old company. Military life was never easy no matter where you served, yet even the day-to-day living here was incomparably better, and everyone seemed to have enough breathing room that the petty, pointless abuses that had plagued his old unit were almost nonexistent.
Still, Jeonghwan couldn't understand why he'd been sent somewhere this good, and he remained restless and on edge.
Did they mix me up with someone else...?
Then, one day, as he was grinding through those uneasy hours, the division commander finally summoned him.
"Private Kang Jeonghwan. Report to the Division Commander's office immediately."
Jeonghwan did his best to steady his pounding heart and made his way to the office.
Here it comes...
He was certain there had been some kind of mix-up. He figured he was being called in so they could send him back to his original company.
What came out of the division commander's mouth, however, was something he never could have imagined.
"Sir! Private Kang Jeonghwan, reporting."
"Ah, right. At ease, at ease. So—how's life at Division Headquarters treating you?"
Jeonghwan answered at the top of his lungs.
"Yes, sir! The senior enlisted have been treating me well, and I'm adapting without any problems, sir!"
"Aigoo. Keep your voice down. You're going to blow out my eardrums."
"Sorry, sir!"
The division commander rose from his seat.
"You've got yourself one hell of a brother."
His brother? Out of nowhere?
Wait—what does Hyung have to do with any of this...?
The questions piled up in his throat like a mountain. But the man standing in front of him was the division commander—the absolute authority of this entire division, the kind of man you had to believe even if he pointed at a cat and called it a dog. This was not a place where you asked questions.
"Yes, sir!"
The division commander fished a cigarette from his pocket, tucked it between his lips, and went on.
"That's the first time in my life my older brother has ever asked me for anything. All he's ever done is give and give—he's never once come to me with a request..."
He lit the cigarette and clapped Jeonghwan on the shoulder.
"Thanks to your brother, I finally feel like I've paid back even a fraction of what I owe mine. I'm grateful."
"N-not at all, sir!"
"Good. If anything hard comes up during your service, you come talk to me. Dismissed."
He was dying to know what on earth his brother had actually done, but the only thing Jeonghwan could do in that room was salute and walk out.
"Sir!"
He was almost through the door when the division commander caught him.
"Ah—wait a second. By the way, is your brother really that good with his hands? As it happens, I've got something of my own that desperately needs fixing."
"I'll look into it, sir!"
"Good. Introduce us sometime."
"Yes, sir!"
Jeonghwan saluted once more and stepped out of the office.
"Hoo..."
Only once he was outside did he let out a long breath of relief.
He still had no idea what any of it meant, but it seemed he would be spending the rest of his service right here at Division Headquarters.
I'm glad, I really am... but Hyung, what the hell did you do?
I was taking a short coffee break at work when a call came in from an unknown number.
Who's this?
I picked up, and a familiar voice spilled through the speaker.
I laid out what had happened, keeping it brief and even.
Since when, huh...
If I told him I'd spent a hundred years learning it on Mount Olympus, he'd start looking up psychiatric hospitals. I fudged it.
Jeonghwan went quiet for a moment. Then he answered, his voice small.
On the other end, Jeonghwan sounded like he'd been slapped.
That was what I said out loud. Inside, though, it stung—that my own little brother didn't even trust me this much. The me from a hundred years ago... what the hell kind of bastard was I? If I could go back, I'd beat the shit out of him myself.
Then again, all I ever did was drink and mess around...
I was about to hang up when my brother said something in a small voice.
I ended that cringeworthy call, and Taeseok, who'd been drinking coffee beside me, glanced over.
"Who was that? Your little brother?"
"Yes."
"Yeah? Sounded like you were talking about the army. Is he a soldier?"
"He enlisted not long ago."
The moment the army came up, Taeseok launched into a story from his own service that nobody had asked for.
"That so. Where'd you serve, Cheolwoo? I did my time in Cheorwon. Anyway, so when I was in, right, this one North Korean spy came over the line, and I was the one who—"
The story stretched on.
And then, as if on cue, Boss Han walked into the factory.
"What's this? Taking a break? Taeseok, I swear you're resting every time I look at you."
Taeseok put on a wounded face at the scolding.
"Come on, boss. I've been working this whole time. This is just a quick break."
"That right? So what were you two talking about that was so interesting?"
"Oh—army stories."
At the words army stories, Han Seong-hoon's eyes lit up like a kid's on Christmas morning.
"Please, Taeseok. What you went through barely counts as the army. Back in my day..."
Ah, I'm screwed.
Boss Han had started in on his armed North Korean infiltrator war stories.
We've got a mountain of work this afternoon...
"Ugh... I'm exhausted."
The part-time job had given me some financial breathing room, which was a relief—but that was a separate matter from the fact that holding down three fixed workdays a week on top of university had my body running on fumes.
On Mount Olympus, fatigue wasn't even a concept.
Up there, I could work three days and three nights straight and never once feel tired. I suspected the realm itself had simply burned the weariness out of you.
I should start exercising. Build up some stamina, at least.
I was walking toward the lecture hall, yawning the whole way, when a neatly dressed man in glasses spotted me from a distance and tilted his head.
What?
As the gap closed, he looked at me and asked,
"Excuse me—were you admitted to the ER a little while ago?"
"Yes, that's right. And you are...?"
"Ah, I knew it was you! You're the one who fixed my glasses that day. You don't remember?"
I remember.
He was the doctor—the one who'd been just as wrung-out as I was, back when I'd only just returned from a hundred years away.
"Ah... I do remember. Hello. What brings you to campus, though?"
"This is my alma mater, actually. I had a little business with the department, so I stopped by. But sir—how on earth did you fix those glasses last time?"
"I'm sorry? Is there a problem with them?"
He shook his head.
"A problem? No, no. They're too comfortable. And it's not just the fit—when I wear these, I can see far better than with any other pair, and my eyes don't get tired nearly as fast. Did you work on the lenses too, by any chance?"
...The lenses, too?
I was certain the only thing I'd touched that day was the frames. I'd adjusted them to sit properly against the doctor's face, so a slight improvement in clarity wouldn't have been strange—but better lenses, and less eye strain on top of that? Something was off.
What is this...? Don't tell me...
There was one possibility that came to mind. But the hypothesis itself made no sense.
And then, without warning, my skull began to ring.
"Ghk..."
A voice bloomed inside my head—one I knew as intimately as my own heartbeat.
"This is a gift I'm giving you, for the hundred years you toiled."
It was Zeus. The same voice I had heard for a hundred years on Mount Olympus.
A gift... for a hundred years of hardship?
I clutched my head, and the doctor leaned in, alarmed.
"Sir! Are you all right?!"
"I-I'm fine. My head just twinged all of a sudden. More importantly, doctor—could I take a look at those glasses for a moment?"
"The glasses? Oh—yes, of course."
He slipped them off and placed them in my hands.
And a moment later, I felt it.
Faint traces of Soul detected
A lingering fragment of the divine authority once imbued into every creation forged upon Mount Olympus
This... this is Soul.
It was faint—vanishingly faint—but it was there. From these glasses, I could feel it: the same divine authority I used to pour into every piece I forged during my years on Mount Olympus.