RTN 25

chapter 25

The next day, when Baek Ihyeon’s summons appeared, Kim Dowoon was dozing off in the C-sector break room — like a boiled spinach leaf wilting away.

If his teammates hadn’t shaken him awake, he might have slept right through the alert, drooling all over himself.

He grabbed his uniform jacket and bolted out of the room.

The summons hadn’t come from the battalion commander’s office but from the clean room in the Left Wing — the farthest end of the massive space battleship. Even using the fast track, it would take over ten minutes to get there.

Ten minutes. Barely enough for a power nap for Kim Dowoon — but for Baek Ihyeon, it was worth gold.

Why did I even fall asleep?

He knew the answer. He’d tossed and turned all night. For someone like Kim Dowoon, who normally passed out the moment his head hit the pillow, that was unusual. The result: his brain was foggy all day.

Eventually, he’d crashed in the break room — and completely knocked out. He should’ve stayed near the central hall, keeping Baek Ihyeon’s call in mind, but he’d dozed off instead.

As soon as he got off the fast track, he sprinted like a madman. Only when his lungs burned did he finally reach the gateway.

The hallway was freezing, and only three or four soldiers in protective suits were there. Too few to be a full escort for someone like Baek Ihyeon.

Panting, Kim Dowoon checked the clean room’s indicator lights — thankfully, it was still active.

Just as he tried to peek through the monitor, one of the soldiers noticed him and came over.

“Lieutenant, you’re here!”

“Yeah. I’m not late, right?”

“Catch your breath, sir. He’s still in the purification phase.”

Kim Dowoon tried again to look at the monitor, but one soldier shifted to operate the console, blocking his view.

He decided to put on his jacket first. When he glanced at his reflection in the smooth wall, he looked awful — the picture of someone who had just rolled out of bed.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair to fluff it up. The soldier hesitated, then offered timidly,

“If you don’t mind, sir, I can…”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Kim Dowoon bowed his head slightly as the soldier carefully fixed his hair. He tried to angle his eyes toward the monitor again, but the view was still blocked by another soldier’s back. Now curiosity was gnawing at him.

“Where did he go this time?”

“We don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t? There’s got to be a destination marker.”

The soldier looked uneasy.

“These days, the commander inputs the coordinates himself.”

“And the piloting?”

“He does that himself too.”

The soldier’s hand left his hair. Kim Dowoon stared at his reflection again — he looked a bit more presentable now, but that wasn’t the issue.

“He sets the coordinates and flies alone?”

The soldier nodded. Kim Dowoon exhaled.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Yes, sir. Very dangerous. Whoever the other side is.”

Kim Dowoon’s eyes widened.

At that moment, the soldier at the console turned around. Kim Dowoon tried to peer over his shoulder, but the screen suddenly went dark.

“When the level drops to ten, we’ll proceed with detachment,” the soldier said. “He requested you enter then.”

There was no way to know where Baek Ihyeon had been. His public itineraries were always fake now.

Recently, Baek Ihyeon had even been falsifying his schedules within the military — moving secretly in other directions instead.

For someone that cautious to allow someone inside during a weapon detachment meant one thing: absolute trust. Traces left behind could reveal where he had been.

“You’ve earned Baek Ihyeon’s trust, you know.”

Seo Ayeon’s voice surfaced in his mind. Kim Dowoon shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the thought.

His mind was a mess — like some teenager flustered from being praised for the first time. Pathetic.

“God, this is annoying.”

“Sir?”

The soldier blinked. Kim Dowoon waved it off.

“It’s nothing.”

“Yes, sir… um, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah?”

“This might be out of line, but… the commander’s a bit… how should I say it… not quite himself today.”

“What, irritable?”

The soldier hesitated, then nodded slightly, speaking in almost a whisper.

“He seems sharper than usual.”

“Probably got chewed out by the Emperor,” Kim muttered.

The soldier looked uncomfortable.

“An S-class got implanted in the wrong host. You think he’d be in a good mood after that? Not likely. Anyway, I get it. I’ll be careful. Though, honestly, I’m the only one who ever is. The rest are brain-dead from years of fighting.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m not talking about you.”

“Yes, sir. Here…”

The soldier handed over a sealed metal mask. Kim Dowoon lifted it to his face; it opened automatically, molding over his nose and mouth.

A soft mechanical hum followed, and the air tasted faintly metallic. He stifled the nausea rising in his throat. He could never get used to these masks.

“Contamination at ten percent. Airflow stable. Keep purification above eighty. Entering now.”

Only one soldier stayed behind at the console, while Kim Dowoon and two others entered the clean room through the airlock.

The instant he stepped inside, he froze.

Baek Ihyeon stood in the center of the room — alone.

His back looked larger than usual. Terrifying, even. He didn’t look human, but like something made of malice.

Over his black uniform clung the stench of blood, flesh, steel, and fire. The heat radiating from his body made the air ripple.

And then — the wings.

Black, metallic wings sprouting from his shoulders, long enough to drag along the floor behind him.

The wings… grew again.

Baek Ihyeon’s broad shoulders rose and fell slowly with his breath. Each motion made the wings scrape the floor, releasing a faint metallic hiss. Kim Dowoon stared, horrified.

How can they have grown this much?

Those wings — the Black Wings inherited from the fallen Bana clan — were an A-grade weapon. Baek Ihyeon had trained them to a level far beyond their standard classification.

They were supposed to have reached their evolutionary limit after multiple molts. Yet here they were — longer, stronger.

“Detachment procedure beginning.”

Two soldiers moved in swiftly, attaching tools to Baek Ihyeon’s shoulders. They pried the wings free with gloved hands.

Weapon detachment was said to be excruciating, but as always, Baek Ihyeon didn’t make a sound. The detached wings hit the floor with a heavy crash, shattering into sharp fragments.

The shards of black metal scattered like a wave of dark feathers. Some slid across the floor, clinking against Kim Dowoon’s boots, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Baek Ihyeon.

He drew a deep breath and raised his head. The soldiers working on removing the remaining wing bases quickly stepped back.

Baek Ihyeon rolled his neck, loosening his shoulders, then turned around. His gaze landed on Kim Dowoon instantly — sharp and unerring.

His pupils were dilated and red. A side effect of A-grade activation. Kim Dowoon immediately saluted.

“You summoned me, sir.”

Baek Ihyeon opened his mouth — but static came first, a distorted sound preceding his voice. Another side effect. When he finally spoke, his tone was much lower than usual.

“Why are you reporting?”

What? Kim Dowoon blinked, confused. Today, he’d submitted two reports — defense-rate analysis and outsider work assignments. Both were things Baek Ihyeon himself had ordered.

Nothing major. Hardly worth an in-person report.

Baek Ihyeon spoke again.

“Outsider work assignments.”

There was nothing he could have done wrong. Knowing it wasn’t the answer his commander wanted, Kim Dowoon still answered.

“I carried out your orders, sir.”

“Who gave the order?”

“You did, sir. The battalion commander gave it to me.”

Baek Ihyeon stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then he said slowly—

“I never gave you that order.”

A dozen thoughts flashed through Kim Dowoon’s mind in an instant. Realization hit fast, followed by a surge of heat.

Oh, hell—

He barely held back a curse.

Seo Ayeon had thrown him under the bus.