RTN 17

chapter 17

Seol A-yeon said nothing.
Her face was pale.

Baek I-hyeon handed her the bottle of water he was holding.
Seol A-yeon, still looking dazed, accepted it, took a few sips, and then handed it back. Her manner was completely natural—like she’d done the same countless times with an old friend.

Baek I-hyeon quietly took it from her.

Seol A-yeon murmured, almost to herself.

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to. Once you awaken, you’ll understand naturally.”

“Awaken?”

“It means realizing for yourself that you’re a ‘Tuner.’ When that happens, you’ll be able to use divine power.”

Seol A-yeon’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. Her gaze was clear and direct.

Without realizing it, Baek I-hyeon dropped his eyes—then immediately caught himself and looked back at her.

“You were able to come here because you’re a Tuner. Before awakening, your soul must have been swept up in the flow of dimensions when you couldn’t yet control it. I’m guessing that’s when your physical body was recreated here.”

His voice caught slightly; he cleared his throat.

“In any case, I’m retracting the assumption that you’re a spy sent by the Church.”

“How generous of you.”

“Still, even a Tuner can only return to their original world by passing through a Gate. Help us win this war. Only then will you be able to access the enemy’s Gate.”

Seol A-yeon blinked. She tilted her head.

“Is it okay to tell me all that? I could just… go straight to the enemy, couldn’t I?”

It was a thought only someone who hadn’t yet seen the enemy could have.

“The moment you make contact with them, you’ll be killed. They may be intelligent beings, but they’re not human like us, and their values are entirely different. To them, humans are something to be eradicated.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long history of hostility. Hard to explain everything—but just assume they’re the absolute enemy.”

Seol A-yeon gazed at him silently. Those eyes seemed to absorb everything he said, burning with a strange intensity. Caught by that stare, Baek I-hyeon snapped back to himself and added briefly:

“That’s all. Any questions?”

“Uh, first of all…”

Seol A-yeon picked up the lunchbox.

“I’m going to eat something first. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

She adjusted her grip on the spoon and began eating. The food was all mushed together, sauces blending into a mess, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

Baek I-hyeon watched quietly as she devoured half of it in no time, spoon still moving without pause.

He hadn’t expected her to eat so well—especially considering the side dish inside was seasoned with a very peculiar spice.
Hardly anyone liked it except for the few locals from the region where it was grown. Most people spat it out as soon as they tasted it.

Baek I-hyeon didn’t like it either. Even when he forced himself to take a bite to reassure her, swallowing it had been an ordeal.

The lunchbox had probably been packed by Kim Do-un—most likely without thinking, just putting in what he liked, as usual.

When Baek I-hyeon had seen the spiced side dish earlier, he’d sighed. But he hadn’t removed it—he didn’t want Seol A-yeon to grow suspicious for no reason.

And yet, she was eating it enthusiastically.
So much so that she was scraping the bottom of the container with her spoon.
She wasn’t just eating well—she looked starved.

“Didn’t think you’d like it that much.”

“Try starving as long as I have.”

She answered absentmindedly, a grain of rice stuck to the corner of her mouth.
Baek I-hyeon reached out and brushed it away.
Seol A-yeon, leaning toward his hand without thinking, suddenly froze.

Baek I-hyeon was just as startled.
It made sense for her—she kept mistaking him for her friend—but why on earth had he just wiped food off someone else’s face?

He pretended nothing happened, wiping his hand with a tissue, when Seol A-yeon suddenly stood up.
He started to rise reflexively to stop her, then forced himself to stay seated.

Though she wasn’t exactly short, the difference in their build was noticeable.
He didn’t want to intimidate her with his size.
Instead, he kept his voice calm.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. I want to look in the mirror.”

“Why?”

“You touched my face.”

Her suspicion wasn’t unreasonable.
After all, Baek I-hyeon had once strapped a polygraph to her wrist under the guise of treating her injury.

“There’s no need to check. You had food on your face, that’s all. I wiped it off.”

“Exactly. I want to check why you’d do something like that.”

“Sit down. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Then why do something meaningless?”

He had no answer.
Even if it was trivial, wiping food off someone’s face was an act of kindness—and he had no reason to show her kindness.

“Not answering makes you look even more suspicious.”

She muttered that and brushed past him, heading straight to the bathroom.
She wouldn’t calm down until she’d confirmed it with her own eyes. Soon the sound of running water echoed from the other side of the door.

This wasn’t something to be offended by, Baek I-hyeon told himself.
In fact, he should be pleased.
If they were going to operate as a team, it was good that Seol A-yeon didn’t trust easily and was cautious by nature.

But still—he couldn’t help feeling a flicker of irritation.
He didn’t know why.

Restlessly rubbing the corner of his mouth, he glanced at the lunchbox.
Beneath the half-closed lid, her used spoon lay inside.

Doesn’t she usually avoid using utensils other people have used?

The lunchbox came with both a spoon and a fork.
But she hadn’t even looked for the fork—she’d just eaten straight away with the spoon he had used.

Had she confused him with her friend again?
If they’d been close enough to live together, maybe she wasn’t used to caring about things like sharing utensils.

Of course, she’d clearly said he wasn’t her friend.
Even so, her eyes occasionally drifted toward him as if by habit—like something inside her couldn’t help it.

Or maybe she’d done it deliberately, out of suspicion—thinking the fork, not the food, might’ve been tampered with.

If that was the case, she was an extremely cautious person.
Earning her trust would take time—and effort.

And yet…

Baek I-hyeon recalled the look she’d given him earlier—those cold, steady eyes saying that no friend of hers would ever exploit someone’s kindness.

It wasn’t just distrust.
She saw him as something less than human.

Even so, Baek I-hyeon didn’t regret using that child as bait to lure her in.
If he had to do it again, he would.

He could’ve simply left her alone. Eventually, exhaustion would’ve caught up to her, and one day she wouldn’t be able to dodge an attack. That would’ve been the moment to confirm whether the status window appeared.

But he hadn’t wanted to drain her strength that far.
She might have looked fine, thanks to her endurance and sheer willpower, but she was already nearing her physical limit.

People like her were hard to manage—they could crash without warning.

If she tripped, got injured, or her condition worsened, it would affect the training to come. That wouldn’t help anyone.

So yes, he’d done the right thing.

Even as he repeated that, it felt hollow—like he was grasping for excuses.

A reason why it was okay that her attitude toward him had changed.
A reason why he shouldn’t care that the desperate light in her eyes had cooled.

They were nothing to each other, after all.

A sting in his fingertip drew his attention downward.
A hangnail had torn beside his nail, and a thin bead of blood had surfaced.
The old habit he thought he’d broken had crept back again.

He pressed the wound lightly with his thumb—just as he heard movement from the bathroom.

Seol A-yeon didn’t sit down again.
She leaned against the wall, keeping her distance.

Baek I-hyeon instantly realized she hadn’t just checked her reflection in there—she’d used the time to collect her thoughts.
Her expression was resolute, almost grim.

He tensed.
She was about to question him, and he’d have to answer.
Explaining things like possession, S-class weapons, and war to someone unfamiliar with any of it was daunting enough—but explaining the status of a Tuner was another matter entirely.

He wasn’t good at explaining. Usually, others explained to him.

But when Seol A-yeon finally spoke, Baek I-hyeon realized he still hadn’t understood her at all.

“What about the other outsiders besides me?”

Her voice was slightly hoarse, but each word was clear.
Baek I-hyeon paused, then replied evenly:

“They’ll be assigned work aboard the ship. In return, they’ll be given room and board.”

“You’ll keep them alive, obviously. You’ll need their lives to control me, after all.”

She let out a dry laugh.
Baek I-hyeon didn’t deny it.

“That’s why we won’t be harsh. They’ll be excluded from dangerous tasks, managed with comfort in mind rather than productivity. That’s a significant privilege on the front lines.”

“And what kind of work are you assigning?”

Baek I-hyeon turned on his tablet, opened a file, and handed it to her.
Seol A-yeon scanned through the list briefly, then looked up.

“Some are manual labor, some clerical. You split them up on purpose—so we can’t band together.”

“Every department dislikes outsiders. Distributing them evenly is the only option. But we won’t interfere with the placements. You’ll decide, and we’ll follow your decision.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re their representative. They’re still alive because of you, aren’t they?”

Seol A-yeon frowned as if her head hurt, but only for a moment.
Then she focused intently on the tablet, her expression hardening.

Baek I-hyeon studied her quietly.

The list she held contained jobs of varying difficulty—assignments that reflected one’s sense of fairness, one’s values.
He needed to see what kind of decision she would make.

Seol A-yeon was a weapon that moved by her own will.
Her personality mattered as much as her physical strength.

He had to understand her.

Because once she went through all the procedures and was deployed to the field, when the worst inevitably came—
when they’d have to trust each other with their lives in the depths of that abyss—
it would all depend on who Seol A-yeon truly was.