RTN 10

“…and that’s how it’s inside that woman’s belly.”

When the report ended, the command-and-control room fell into silence.

Everyone was careful even with their breathing, anxious to read the reaction of the person at the head of the table. They wanted to be ready to act the moment an order was given.

A few couldn’t even look at Baek I-hyeon. They were afraid of the punishment that was likely to fall.

Baek I-hyeon rarely lost his temper, whether in official or private settings, but when he did become displeased the whole unit was turned upside-down and everyone had to tread on thin ice for a while.

And now, something had happened that would enrage anyone.

The foreigner had swallowed a living-implant weapon without understanding its nature — an S-class item decreed by the Emperor.

This was a weapon crystallized by the Emperor himself from a high-tier spirit that the seven great families had summoned to end this long war and crush the enemy. It was to be the decisive element of an operation to be carried out if the enemy refused to surrender at the upcoming talks.

The weapon had been transported from the capital to this forward front less than ten days ago, and until now tests had been conducted to carefully select a suitable candidate for implanting the weapon.

For some out-of-place person to have brazenly swallowed such a weapon meant that a major operation, painstakingly prepared over years, had failed before it even began.

Baek I-hyeon sat upright, his gaze fixed on the report sheet, silent. The pen in his right hand moved in circles and stopped repeatedly.

He wasn’t reading — he was thinking. It was a rare sight for him.

He always judged quickly and accurately, as if he had an answer for every problem. But now, staring at the report, he showed no reaction.

No wonder it was a headache.

Kim Do-woon clicked his tongue inwardly. He had had a bad feeling about that woman from the first time he saw her. In fact, his unease had started when he saw swarms of foreigners pouring out from the gate.

It was creepy. Even as she playfully flicked the orb she had taken from a man, her corralling of the foreigners to one place, the way she singled out the woman leader and spoke to her while giggling — it left a chill.

His instincts told him something was off. He’d never seen this many foreigners in one place in his life.

Anyway, ‘firsts’ on the battlefield weren’t good. There were no manuals, no precedents, and there was a high chance someone who witnessed it would be held responsible — meaning a lot of messy work.

In fact, the squad had barely rested between withdrawing from the gate and returning to the warship.

We should’ve just killed her before the commander got here.

If they had, none of this would have happened.

Regret was heavy. They should never have spoken to the foreigner in the first place. They should’ve killed her at once when they saw her.

But it was awkward to step forward and do it — when the foreigners appeared the squad’s eyes brightened.

Events that weren’t monsters or enemies were rare on a barren battlefield. Luring a monster and betting on who could pluck out its eyeballs faster had happened only once or twice; day-to-day life was unbearably dull.

It had been a long war.

At last Baek I-hyeon raised his eyes. The entire meeting table tightened as if it had dried up. He set the pen down; the clack of the pen against the table sounded sharp.

“Can it be removed?”

His voice was calm and cold, not much different from usual. Baek I-hyeon added, “I don’t care if Seol A-yeon dies.”

“It has already taken root inside her. It’s growing rapidly.”

A prompt answer came from near the head of the table. It was Chief Researcher Jang Seok-ju.

If he said so, then that was that. Someone sighed at the hopelessness of it. A low curse was heard from somewhere, but someone shushed them and it quieted down.

Over the renewed silence, only the sound of Baek I-hyeon flipping the report pages occasionally echoed. He stopped on one page.

“Then what is this case? A teenage male — a case where a living-implant weapon was successfully separated.”

“That’s why I said don’t put that in—”

Jang Seok-ju grumbled through clenched teeth. But no one dared stop him; he was the only one who could grumble in front of Baek I-hyeon.

Jang Seok-ju scanned the researchers sitting across from him with a face full of complaint, then answered Baek I-hyeon politely.

“That case is extremely special. In fact, you should consider it impossible. The established theory is that if you remove a living-implant weapon from a human, the spirit will perish and the human will die.”

Kim Do-woon watched Jang Seok-ju in silence as he spoke with a troubled but resolute tone.

“Moreover, the spirit bound in this S-class is of the highest grade and extremely delicate. It’s been damaged multiple times already during weaponization. Once when the great family captured it, once when His Majesty the Emperor sealed it, and once during crystallization — three times total. If it’s forcibly removed from the woman’s body now, the spirit will not endure and will be destroyed.”

It meant it was over. Baek I-hyeon leaned back slightly in his chair. His indifferent gaze turned to the Supply Officer.

“If we convert the loss into material value, how much is it?”

“Twenty and a half imperial satellites’ worth.”

The Supply Officer replied in a hoarse voice. A few people breathed low sighs, but Kim Do-woon felt little emotion — the unit was so large that it was hard to grasp.

But Baek I-hyeon seemed to be able to estimate. He spoke briefly.

“It’ll exceed that.”

“Of course, His Majesty used a sealing technique that can only be used three times, but the crystallization of the spirit is somewhat unstable—”

“The second time. He used it first during the Nakji recapture.” (Note: context-specific name — left as proper noun.)

“Sorry, we failed to reflect that. For an accurate estimate we’ll need time, but since His Majesty will have only one sealing left, the loss now is expected to be equivalent to or greater than a mother-planet’s value.”

“Then the supply division must compensate that amount. Or else…”

Baek I-hyeon took his gaze off the Supply Officer and looked around.

“Either Seol A-yeon must pay that value…”

Silence spread. A few exchanged glances — shocked, embarrassed, some apparently not understanding at all and looking around bewildered.

No one dared speak. It was Baek I-hyeon who broke the silence, speaking as though it were nothing.

“It’s a living-implant weapon anyway. It should work if it’s attached to anyone, right?”

The assembly’s faces darkened. The Operations Chief barely found his voice.

“Sir, that woman is a foreigner—”

“A foreigner is also a human. Does a weapon distinguish between locals and foreigners?”

No one could easily answer. Of course a weapon didn’t differentiate. The problem was that foreigners weren’t treated as human.

As they all sized each other up, Baek I-hyeon’s gaze turned to Jang Seok-ju. Jang replied.

“It doesn’t discriminate. As long as it’s a person.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

Baek I-hyeon’s expression made it clear the matter was over. His impassive face showed nothing but long-accumulated fatigue.

He closed the report file.

“Assign an instructor. The best one.”

“Sir, with all due respect, all instructors are currently assigned to reinforcing supply routes. We absolutely can’t spare personnel—”

“Do I have to prioritize them for you?”

The Operations Chief’s expression hardened. Baek I-hyeon said, “His Majesty personally sealed that spirit; it must not become useless. Find a way to make it usable. If Seol A-yeon demonstrates even one-quarter of the weapon’s original power, the mission can still be carried out. Train thoroughly.”

It’s done, thought Kim Do-woon.

In truth, he’d suspected this would happen. From the moment Baek I-hyeon clearly named the foreigner Seol A-yeon, the conclusion was nearly certain.

Baek I-hyeon would use her. And whatever decision he made, no one dared oppose him.

The reactions now were only common-sense concerns, not a rebellion against Baek I-hyeon. Everyone here, it would be no exaggeration to say, had kept their lives under Baek I-hyeon’s command.

Baek I-hyeon swept the room with his usual calm eyes.

“Any other business?”

“None.”

Jang Seok-ju answered quickly. Baek I-hyeon rose, smoothed his collar, and turned toward the door.

A few hurriedly stood up too, but only faced each other and didn’t step forward.

Unable to bear it, the Operations Chief ran up and caught up with Baek I-hyeon as he was about to leave the command room. He spoke urgently.

“Shall we punish the woman?”

“Why would we punish her?”

Baek I-hyeon turned briefly to the Operations Chief at the end of his sentence. Then he looked at those awkwardly standing and sitting around the meeting table and spoke in a low voice.

“I asked why you would punish someone you should be chaining up and educating all day long.”

“Well, she left the lab without permission and acted on her own—”

“Why punish someone who tried desperately to find a way to survive?”

No one could answer.

“Do you know why she outwitted us? Seol A-yeon risked her life, and we did not. According to protocol, internal ship facilities are relocated within ten years for security. Who was careless enough not to keep to that?”

Baek I-hyeon said coldly, “It wasn’t one or two years, it was ten. And then you gave a false report saying relocation was done? Any comments?”

Kim Do-woon glanced across. The Supply Officer stood with his hands clasped and his head bowed, silent.

Rightly so — the woman had trusted the location of the security room from ten years ago and attempted an escape.

They couldn’t interrogate the woman — who had swallowed an S-class and fallen into a coma — so they questioned the foreigners detained on the transport ship and learned the truth.

She had gambled on the chance that the game differed here; although it was risky, she’d tried.

And the security room had indeed remained underground. It was due to the supply division’s complacency and neglect to change the location of key facilities because it was bothersome.

Of course, Jang Seok-ju’s carelessness — leaving the desk drawer key dangling on the desk calendar — was also a contributing factor, but he was an irreplaceable key talent.

Thus the person responsible was clear.

“Demote the entire supply division and send them to the outskirts of Station B-41.”

Kim Do-woon held his breath. The outskirts of Station B-41 — a region recently exposed while rebuilding radiation shielding; send people there and nine out of ten would die when ordered out.

“If they spend three days there they’ll understand what it means to risk their lives. I don’t need subordinates who won’t risk their lives. Most of our forces fight fiercely every day on the battlefield. Compared to that, how is life inside the ship? Meals each time with guaranteed safety. Is it that hard to guard a single spirit crystallized by His Majesty?”

A trace of emotion finally showed on Baek I-hyeon’s usually impassive face. It was anger.

“It’s wartime. There’s no reason to keep people who are worse than a foreigner.”

He ended coldly.

“Cut off what’s in the way.”