After the bitterness passed, sorrow followed. He was still smiling, but I quietly took in the Personnel Director’s sorrowful smile.

It was strange to see that expression on someone who always smiled so brightly.

He must have heard about Jin from the seniors.

Ju, smiling silently, gently broke the silence.

“I heard. Thank you.”

His comforting tone made something well up in my chest.

I struggled to keep my voice steady.

“No, sir. I... I have something else to tell you.”

“Go ahead. Speak freely.”

“Yes. Outside the Core, Jin—”

“Yes.”

“He asked me to give you a message.”

Ju wasn’t surprised.

He only looked at me quietly, waiting.

The moment I met his eyes, the sound of trains running over the rails began to echo again in my ears. Clattering. A train rushing rhythmically through the darkness. The man who had suddenly asked my name, exchanging introductions.

The words he had said with a smile.

“He said to tell you he was sorry.”

Ju didn’t take his eyes off me.

“He tried very hard, but in the end he couldn’t overcome it.”

I didn’t fully understand what he meant.

But the message had reached the Personnel Director. I knew because his eyes grew wet.

Lightly bloodshot eyes. The tears didn’t fall, but Ju laughed with tear-filled eyes.

Then he lowered his gaze.

The Personnel Director, with his characteristic smile, looked down at the floor as he spoke.

“So he said that.”

“...Yes.”

“At the time, Jin was really unstable. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he had deserted or taken his own life. I tried to persuade him to retire instead. But I missed the timing. One day he disappeared outside the Core, and never came back.”

“...I should have dragged him back. I’m sorry.”

“No. Who could be more tormented right now than you?”

Ju lifted his head.

The pale light filtering through the translucent curtains. The quiet hospital room brightened by the white lamp. The Personnel Director sitting modestly by the metal railing of my bed.

I wordlessly watched the kind smile only he could make.

“Thank you for passing along his words.”

Ju gave his thanks.

For some reason, I felt deeply pained.

I bit my lip and forced my voice out. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

“...Yes.”

“Officially, the search for Jin will probably end here.”

What?

My eyes widened in shock.

Why? How? I had explained everything. That Jin had lived in the subway for ten years. That he had stayed behind to help me, and since no body was found, there was still every chance he was alive.

So why stop looking?

I thought the word “missing” meant they would keep searching. I thought Ami and the seniors were still out there looking for him.

Maybe my face betrayed my thoughts, because Ju smiled bitterly.

“A missing Badger outside the Core can’t be searched for forever. When a unit goes out, it can search on its own. But the official search ends here.”

“...But Jin was alive just days ago....”

“There are too many Badgers who go missing outside the Core.”

I froze, speechless. Ju’s bitter smile deepened.

In a low voice, he gently admonished me.

“I won’t tell you to let go of hope.”

“...Still, the search is too short, isn’t it?”

“Officially, we lost Jin more than ten years ago.”

I couldn’t argue.

I couldn’t even get angry. Because I knew they had spent far longer with Jin Silver than I had. When Jin deserted and vanished, Ju must have been even more desperate to find him. He had said Jin was on the brink, so he must have searched the outside thoroughly, clinging to the hope that he was still alive.

Grinding his teeth, trying to bring back a comrade who had fled.

How long before they stopped searching?

I couldn’t know. But I was certain Ju had done all he could.

I bit down on my lip again before asking:

“Even if I protest, nothing will change, right?”

“Mm. Nothing.”

“Even if I give a more detailed account of what happened, even if I point out the exact spot?”

“Mm.”

Ju answered calmly, his gaze clouding.

He looked at me with eyes filled with grief and pain, and gave his verdict.

“I’m sorry. The search is already over.”

I bit my lip harder.

The taste of blood spread in my mouth as I lowered my gaze.

I fought not to lash out, not to throw sharp words at him out of emotion. The decision wasn’t irrational. I just couldn’t accept it with my heart.

I fixed my eyes on the hand with the IV needle.

“I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

The Personnel Director stayed silent for a while.

Since I kept my gaze lowered, I couldn’t see what expression he wore. Silence pressed down on the room. Only the ticking of the clock brushed against my ears.

At last, Ju broke the silence in a low voice.

“It would be nice if everything could be certain. Wouldn’t it, Hilde?”

I quietly looked at Ju, smiling with wet eyes.

He went on, his smile so faint it looked ready to vanish.

“If we could always hold our comrade’s remains in both hands, bury them ourselves, smooth down the grave with love, and give a prayer filled with affection — that would be good, wouldn’t it?”

Too many missing comrades.

Hope crumbling before their eyes, but too desperate to let go. Because of that clinging, countless funerals were never held.

I knew then that countless Badgers had left Ju’s side that way. And that this man, with his uncanny gift for handling people, had engraved each farewell into his heart.

So I couldn’t find any words for a long time.

In front of someone who had lived through countless losses, there was nothing to say.

***

There was much I wanted to ask Yehyeon too.

I thought he would contact me soon, but until my discharge he never did. I stayed in the hospital five days, then was discharged. Yun came to pick me up. Just as he had said, he had waited only until I was released.

Not that I disliked it.

But we didn’t head straight back to the dorms. At 7 a.m., Yun saw me come out of the hospital room and said:

“We’ll stop by the lab first.”

“Where to?”

“My house.”

Why.

I made a sullen face, showing my reluctance, and Yun raised one eyebrow.

“You have a problem with that?”

“Wouldn’t it be an imposition on the Commander?”

“You’re the one intimidated by the Commander.”

“Well, yes, but also... why go to his house? Ah, is he away on a trip?”

“No.”

Yun’s answer was short.

Then he said nothing for a moment.

What?

It was rare for this man not to answer crisply. Usually if he didn’t want to answer, he’d dodge it or throw back a cynical retort.

What was it this time, that made him shut his mouth with that uneasy expression?

As I puzzled, Yun answered slowly.

“He’s hospitalized.”

“What?”

Hospitalized?

In the hospital? I gaped at him.

“The Commander?”

“Yes. He’s out tomorrow. I’ll drop you at the house and come back here. Training starts tomorrow, so today don’t mess up the place. Just rest quietly.”

“Is he sick?”

I ignored Yun’s nagging and asked.

At that, Yun’s face finally showed something. He frowned faintly, his neat features creasing.

“Stress-induced gastritis.”

Good lord.

So even Badgers, with their superior healing, could get something like that.

I gawked at my mentor, whose face showed his distaste for the whole situation.

And again, he had no intention of explaining further.

What had happened? While I was outside, did something occur? Or am I overthinking it, imagining I was the cause?

Either way, I got no answer. My mentor, having dropped this bomb, turned without a word and walked on. I pressed my lips shut and followed.

We passed familiar halls and entered the lab.

It was still empty, being early morning.

Scientists half-dead at their desks, surrounded by energy drinks and coffee. Clearly they had been up all night. Aside from them, no one was around. Sunlight poured in, baking the rows of desks. It reminded me of weekends I’d visited the lab.

It felt the same now.

I slowed, deep in thought, as I followed my mentor. He stopped beside John Mühlen.

“What?”

Yun looked at the blue-eyed scientist staring at him.

“What’s this? You even make eye contact? What do you need?”

“Program key.”

John, who always seemed out of his mind, pinned him with a clear gaze.

“I need your program key.”

“Ah.”

Yun responded shortly, as if understanding.

He shoved one hand into his pocket and walked on without another word. He jerked his chin for John to follow.

I saw John trail after Yun like a ghost.

That was John Mühlen all right. He didn’t even seem to notice I was there.

Still mad.

Strangely, I was glad to see him unchanged. It was a relief that he had neatly forgotten my existence.

We walked in silence. I didn’t know where we were going, but side by side, I followed Yun.

Until he suddenly stopped before a wall.

What?

“What is it?”

I asked curiously, but my mentor didn’t turn.

He stood motionless, eyes fixed on a spot.

His gaze didn’t waver. His body didn’t move an inch.

John and I blinked, then followed his eyes.

And saw the same thing.

The lab wall.

The traces left behind where something had once been attached. I had to think hard to recall what had been there.

The roughly severed ends of cables — what had been there?

What had hung on that wall?

“Fucking hell.”

Yun’s voice, full of rage, snapped me out of it.

“Which bastard....”

Eeeeeeeeeeeng!

[Emergency! Emergency! Immediate assembly! Emergency! Emergency! Immediate assembly!]

Eeeeeeeeeeeng!

[Emergency! Emergency! Immediate assembly! Emergency! Emergency! Immediate assembly!]

The ear-splitting alarm shook the lab.

Yun and I {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} both turned to look at John Mühlen. At the shocked, pale face of the man, and then at the red switch in his hand.

We all stood frozen like that. Staring at the genius scientist, who in turn stared at the wall with the face of a man who had lost his nation.

John Mühlen, who looked ready to go insane at any moment.

John Mühlen, who had pressed some unknown red button. Now trapped in shock and fear.

It was Yun who came to his senses first. “You, what the hell—” he muttered.

But John ignored him, whispering hoarsely, desperately.

“Oh my god, Martin.”

Martin was missing.