RTN 54

chapter 54

“Move!”

Inside the track. Everyone clinging to the windows to watch the situation panicked and rushed en masse toward the exit.

Under that momentum, Jang Seok-joo was swept along like a fallen leaf and only regained his senses after banging his head against the wall.

From that moment, he ran like a madman. His eyes desperately searched for his team first.

At a distance, he saw a researcher trip and fall. He ran over quickly and grabbed the back of their neck with all his strength. Then, charging toward the exit, he shouted at the top of his lungs:

“Out! Go, go, go! Run!”

He pushed the people forward and barely made it out of the track.

He dropped the researcher he had dragged out anywhere, then turned back against the crowd and ran back into the track. Helping the officers, he frantically forced the remaining people out.

It was almost over when he noticed something like a bundle of clothes in the inner corner. Squinting, he realized it was a child.

Why was there a kid here? As he stared blankly, a lightning-like realization hit him. A stranger. The same stranger they had used in Seol Ah-yeon’s tests.

He rushed to go in, but his arm was grabbed by the jaw, almost knocking him over. Someone shouted:

“Leave it! There’s no time!”

He broke free roughly, ducked inside, and lifted the child. The child didn’t resist, folding into his arms like a ball. Astonishingly, the child was light.

Just as he stood up with the cotton-like child, the deafening shouts urging him to hurry filled his ears, and behind him, a chilling mechanical sound rang out. He turned.

At the end of the track, the opposite exit was smoothly opening. This was where Seol Ah-yeon’s kicked phantom would come in.

“Team leader!”

“Quick!”

“Come on! Run!”

“Hey, Team Leader Jang! What are you doing! Run!”

He hesitated briefly, then turned and ran toward the people. Since the last time he had narrowly escaped the enemy, he had never run with such desperate force.

Clutching the child tightly, he ran like a madman through the exit. At that moment, one of the closest officers slammed the emergency button with a fist.

“Everyone, move back!”

Before he could even finish speaking, the door slammed shut behind them, and a mechanical sound signaled the exit was completely sealed. Immediately, the ground beneath them shook violently.

Holding the child, Jang Seok-joo lost his balance and fell. The tremor ran through his hands on the floor, a sensation he had never experienced before, then subsided as quickly as it had started.

Everyone stood frozen, scanning their surroundings. The operations chief, panting beside him, muttered:

“What was that?”

“Looks like a phantom just entered.”

Someone answered. The operations chief stood and, in a hoarse voice, asked:

“That tiny thing can make this much noise?”

“Seol Ah-yeon kicked it with tremendous force.”

“Even so, it shouldn’t shake like this… Weird. Are the cameras on?”

“They’re on.”

“Check them. All units, standby!”

While the operations chief checked the monitors, Jang Seok-joo attended to the child. Fortunately, there seemed to be no injuries. However, the child’s condition was odd.

Without a sign of fear or surprise, the child just stared blankly into space. Even when shaken or called, there was no reaction, as if a wooden doll—clearly in shock.

Suppressing his anger, Jang Seok-joo scanned his surroundings.

Under the officers’ direction, the people who had exited the track were quickly regaining order, and in the midst of them, he saw unfamiliar faces huddled together. All were in work uniforms, tense.

He approached and asked:

“Who’s the leader?”

The strangers shrank back. Jang Seok-joo pressed again:

“Which one of you? You must have decided!”

Finally, a man at the back raised his hand. Taller than the others, he stood out.

“That’s me.”

“Not taking care of the child? You worthless brats, if you escape, that’s it? Do you even know why you’re still alive? Seol Ah-yeon brought you out, and you’re still alive! Haven’t you learned anything?”

Jang Seok-joo handed the child to the man. The man, stiff-faced, awkwardly accepted the child. Jang Seok-joo spat out:

“Once the situation is sorted, take the child to the infirmary. Use my name for treatment. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He was about to say more but stopped. After all, they were strangers and prisoners—a mere bait to control Seol Ah-yeon.

Still, he felt uneasy. Turning back, he asked:

“What’s your name?”

“Jeong Jin-won.”

“Report back to me after the infirmary. Got it?”

“Yes.”

Good grief, look at those eyes.

Despite answering quickly, the hostility in his pupils was unmistakable. Jang Seok-joo clicked his tongue internally. He made a mental note of the leader’s face and turned to leave.

Something was wrong with the track.

The operations chief held his head with both hands, staring seriously at the monitor. The screen was pitch-black.

Several officers berated the track staff:

“Why is it showing nothing? Is it broken?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Then why can’t we see? Didn’t the phantom break the camera?”

“No, the cameras are fine…”

“Are you sure the phantom came in? Maybe the woman kicked it in the wrong direction?”

“She definitely kicked it this way. Look, the trajectory is clear. It’s inside the track…”

“Then why can’t we see it?”

The monitor, which showed nothing but black, revealed subtle textures in the darkness. Jang Seok-joo felt chills run through his body.

“Everyone, back off! Don’t look!”

He couldn’t tell if he shouted first or ran first.

The officers and staff huddled at the monitor were startled and looked at him.

“Back off! Turn it off! Turn it off!”

He grabbed them by the collars and hair, pulling them away as he approached the monitor. He avoided looking at the screen, focusing only on the control panel. He shoved the staff aside, clenched his fist, and slammed the power off.

With a faint noise, the screen went completely black.

Panting, Jang Seok-joo turned. Those pushed aside were sprawled on the floor or standing, looking bewildered.

“What’s going on?”

The operations chief, sitting on the floor, flushed red with irritation:

“What’s the fuss? The awakening is over; it’s fine to look. We just need to confirm it came in properly.”

“It’s already inside,” Jang Seok-joo snapped sharply, thinking the honorific unnecessary.

“I didn’t see it,” the chief replied.

They almost all would have died if Seol Ah-yeon had been even a second late…

“I said, the screen shows nothing!”

Damn it. He cursed silently.

Jang Seok-joo had always been frustrated with his subordinates’ stupidity, and when first assigned to this unit, he had high expectations. He had admired Baek Yi-hyun’s subordinates, expecting them to be smarter.

But within days, he realized they were no different. Only Baek Yi-hyun stood out, making everyone else seem intelligent by association.

The operations chief, one of the reasons for this realization, spoke again:

“The screen’s just black. Maybe a malfunction or noise…”

A casual mistake for an untrained eye, but any trained soldier should know, Jang Seok-joo thought.

Even someone like him, usually in a lab coat, could see it. This is why when Baek Yi-hyun dies, the whole unit goes down—no exaggeration.

He had hoped the chief would realize it subtly, but his puzzled expression was not reassuring.

Then he heard:

“It’s a phantom transformed into an adult form.”

Everyone turned abruptly. The strangers cowered, soldiers stiffened.

It was Baek Yi-hyun.

He should have been recovering in the clean room, yet here he was.

“There was a strong tremor just now. The phantom transformed into its adult form as it entered the track, putting strain on the warship. What you see as a black screen on the monitor is the phantom. Because it’s adult and massive, only a small part is visible.”

As Jang Seok-joo suspected, his judgment was correct—but there was no satisfaction in being right.

He stared breathlessly at Baek Yi-hyun and Seol Ah-yeon, who he held lightly in his arms.

“We have successfully captured the phantom. All operations are immediately suspended, and we head directly to the capital.”

No one answered.

In stunned silence, all eyes were on Baek Yi-hyun.

He looked far too normal. Of course, they were grateful he had survived. But his condition was absurd.

Baek Yi-hyun had undergone awakening. Judging by the remnants of wings near his shoulders, the pain should have been unimaginable.

Yet his complexion was clear. Even after using an A-class weapon, no side effects appeared. His eyes weren’t red, his voice not hoarse.

In contrast, Seol Ah-yeon, cradled in Baek Yi-hyun’s arms, was limp and motionless. The vigorous energy she had shown earlier was gone, as if her life force had been drained in an instant.

She was uninjured; her body was intact, except for the neat slit on her chest where the sword had pierced her black uniform.

Yet she looked pale and unconscious.

In short, Baek Yi-hyun and Seol Ah-yeon had completely switched conditions.

It must be transfer.

Jang Seok-joo, unable to help himself, asked:

“Commander, is this… a transfer?”

“Unprecedented, so I cannot say definitively, but theoretically, it is similar.”

Baek Yi-hyun’s calm admission was unreal. Jang Seok-joo pressed again:

“With Seol Ah-yeon… you, um… did something?”

“This level of contact is all that occurred.”

Baek Yi-hyun answered dryly. Jang Seok-joo could hardly believe it. No one could.

“For a transfer to occur just from an embrace, there must be a very deep bond. Only long-term lovers could experience this.”

He tore his gaze from Seol Ah-yeon, limp and fading, and muttered almost as a sigh:

“You said you were strangers.”