Passion (BL Novel)

The atmosphere was so desolate and cold… Could it be that someone actually died?

Perhaps I should have gone straight to the duty room, forgetting about the bread and all. But even so, despite everything, the thought of grabbing something to eat crossed Jeong Tae-ui’s mind as he walked into the cafeteria. And then, it happened. Just as he was about to move further in, he came face-to-face with a familiar face who had just returned their tray after finishing their meal.
Since Jeong Tae-ui had become Iley’s priest, he had grown distant from his teammates. Some would offer a glance full of pity, and sometimes when they brushed past him, they’d give his shoulder a quick tap before moving on. Others ignored him completely, and some were even more ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) incensed at Jeong Tae-ui than at Iley, shouting at him with rage. The person he was facing now was one of the latter, though with a slight tendency toward the former.
“Tow.”

When Jeong Tae-ui called his name, Tow stopped walking and subtly furrowed his brow.
“What’s with the atmosphere? Did something happen while I was gone? …You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”
As usual, regardless of how the other person treated him, Jeong Tae-ui spoke casually, just as he did with his former teammates. At this moment, however, he sensed something was off.

Under normal circumstances, Tow would have clicked his tongue in disapproval and passed by without answering or with a curt response. But now, Tow was looking at Jeong Tae-ui with an expression that was genuinely strange. It wasn’t just anger—there was an unsettling hint of amusement, though no smile appeared. It was as though the mood was sinking into darkness, but there was also an undercurrent of excitement, or perhaps anxiety.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Jeong Tae-ui asked again, narrowing his eyes slightly. Tow seemed to hesitate, choosing his words carefully. Then, just as he was about to speak, another familiar face appeared. It was Nobuo, who, like Tow, had been part of the same team. Although Jeong Tae-ui didn’t often speak to him, Nobuo had been a part of the team and had maintained a certain camaraderie. But he had always harbored a strong hatred for Iley. Ever since Jeong Tae-ui had become Iley’s priest, Nobuo had been one of those who hurled insults at him with increasing ferocity. Jeong Tae-ui didn’t want to deal with him, but the strange atmosphere made him uneasy, so he asked again.

“Nobuo, what happened? Did that guy… finally kill someone?”
That was the only thought that came to mind, but even that didn’t feel right. It didn’t quite fit the atmosphere of something serious happening, not in the way it should have. What was this nagging feeling? —No, it wasn’t just a nagging feeling. It was an unpleasant one, something that made his stomach churn with unease, slowly creeping up from his feet.
The answer came not long after. Nobuo spat out the words as if disgusted.

“He didn’t kill anyone. He just made sure they’ll never see again.”
“What…?”
Jeong Tae-ui couldn’t continue the sentence. As he stood there, blankly staring at him, Nobuo clicked his tongue, almost as if mocking him, then spoke with a sarcastic tone.

“Do you want me to just tell you the result, or are you curious about how it happened? I was right by the balcony when it happened. I saw everything, even the exact finger he used to scratch at their eye. Want the details? I can give them to you. What do you want to hear?”
Jeong Tae-ui just stared at him silently. When he turned his gaze back to Tow, Tow grimaced, a bitter expression crossing his face.
This damn guy. He’s at it again. Eyes, huh? This time, not the usual limbs… he really avoided the predictable, didn’t he? Jeong Tae-ui lowered his head. This was one of those moments.

He felt an odd sense of solidarity with the many teammates inside the cafeteria, all feeling what he was feeling. Losing a life might have been better than what happened, but the eyes? That was a different matter than just broken limbs. It wasn’t something that could naturally heal or be fixed with treatment. If it was the eyes, it would make it impossible to live a normal life. Sure, they’d give a consolation payment if someone lost their life due to an accident in the division, but that wasn’t the kind of issue that could be solved with compensation.
“You crazy bastard…”
The curse escaped Jeong Tae-ui’s lips without thinking. He already knew, but it hit him again with a new intensity. Anger boiled up inside him.
“Why ruin someone’s eyes all of a sudden? Why not just break some limbs like usual? Why the eyes this time? Damn it. Whether it’s a trainer or not, that bastard should rot in the underworld!”

What does a person look like through the eyes of someone who doesn’t even regard them as human? Jeong Tae-ui had wondered that for a long time. He didn’t intend to talk about ideals, but there was certainly a minimum level of ethics that people should maintain. However, there were those who lived completely disregarding such things. Jeong Tae-ui didn’t hate Iley as a person, but he surely disliked this side of him.
He should’ve just rushed to the duty room and left the bread behind. No, he should’ve stayed there until the very end, even if he got drenched in sewage, and watched it all unfold. Or he should’ve struck that bastard’s face with a punch and dragged him straight to the duty room. Jeong Tae-ui tore at his hair. Damn it. This bastard would probably just sit back and enjoy his meal, free from any consequences. If that face was in front of him right now, he’d give him a good punch.
“Iley… Where is he?”

They had no reason to know, but Jeong Tae-ui muttered it under his breath. Surprisingly, the answer came almost immediately.
“He’s probably lying in the duty room. Hah, serves him right. He might as well just die already, that bastard.”
Nobuo spoke through gritted teeth, almost laughing, but his eyes were glowing with anger. He didn’t seem satisfied, as if it wasn’t enough for him.

Jeong Tae-ui tilted his head slowly. For a moment, he didn’t understand the words.
“The duty room… Iley?”
He had heard it wasn’t that man, but Iley was in the duty room, but it didn’t make sense to him, and so he asked again. Tow added, “They’re both probably in the duty room,” but it still didn’t make sense.

Jeong Tae-ui looked to Tow for clarification. Tow clicked his tongue, his face showing discomfort, and then spat out the words in annoyance.
“He stabbed his side. He had a knife. While Iley was getting his eye stabbed by Rick, that bastard didn’t even care for himself and slashed at his own side. That’s why his eye’s in that state now. …What a fool.”
Tow’s anger was palpable. Half of it was directed at Iley, and the other half at their foolish teammate who, in his attempt to harm Iley, had inflicted even worse damage on himself.

Jeong Tae-ui still couldn’t make sense of it and alternated glances between them. Iley had ruined that man’s eye. That man had stabbed Iley’s side. Nobuo had said, “Might as well die, the bastard.”
“…He must’ve stabbed deeply.”
Jeong Tae-ui muttered, as if to himself. Perhaps Iley had been hurt more seriously than he had thought. Maybe that was why the strange, uneasy, and anxious atmosphere seemed so fitting.

Iley was dangerously injured.
It was almost unimaginable. It felt like they were either joking or dreaming. Then, Nobuo yelled loudly, his voice a mix of laughter and anger.
“Yeah, he was stabbed! But not too deeply. If you want to talk about severity, he’s not in life-threatening danger. That monster of a guy won’t die. But he’ll suffer. By now, the poison on that knife must’ve already circulated through his body. Yeah, it’d be great if that bastard died right here, just like that!”

Jeong Tae-ui closed his mouth. He was starting to understand the situation now. The man had ruined his eye. In return, Iley—though to what extent, he couldn’t tell—had been put in danger.
Jeong Tae-ui sympathized with Tow’s anger. Whether he knew that man or not, or whether he knew Iley or not, this wasn’t about those relationships. The man had done something foolish. He hadn’t thought about how his actions, in letting his anger out, would affect the people around him. Jeong Tae-ui clenched his teeth, bitterly lowering his head. Every time something like this happened, one disaster after another would break out. Today really felt like a day cursed by misfortune.
His energy drained, his body felt heavy, like an anchor had been tied to it. It was a sensation that never got any easier to endure.

“Why? You upset because that bastard got hurt? You uneasy because he got stabbed? There’s someone whose eyes are ruined, you know?”
In front of Jeong Tae-ui, Nobuo sneered as if the words were getting to him. Jeong Tae-ui didn’t have the energy or will to respond, merely glancing at him. But Nobuo seemed irritated by his lack of response.
“Go talk to the bastard who’s bleeding out of his side. He’ll know. That bastard’s probably glaring at me with his eyes ready to pop out.”

“…Nobuo, I know you’re angry, but this isn’t the place to take it out on me.”
Jeong Tae-ui sighed and responded in a tired voice. However, Nobuo didn’t stop. His sneer grew even more bitter.
“Why? After you disappeared, that crazy bastard stared at me like he was going to gouge my eyes out. Is it because you and he are people who can’t even look at me without causing trouble? What’s the reason?”

“Nobuo, stop it.”
Tow clicked his tongue, trying to stop him. But Nobuo, shaking off Tow’s hand, stepped closer to Jeong Tae-ui with a face full of malice. Jeong Tae-ui remained silent, not wanting to escalate the situation into an unnecessary fight.
“You like crawling around under that crazy European bastard? You think this miserable bastard likes that?!”

“Nobuo!”
Tow shouted quietly. Though Tow probably agreed with Nobuo emotionally, he didn’t seem to want to continue this confrontation.
Nobuo shot a deadly glare at Tow but didn’t say anything. He fell silent for a moment, then, as if he was done talking, muttered some short curses and stormed off. Tow, shaking his head, glanced at Jeong Tae-ui with a troubled expression, then sighed and turned away.

What? So that kind of rumor was going around?
Jeong Tae-ui leaned against the wall and lightly banged his head against it. His already heavy head seemed to grow even heavier. Rumors always blow things out of proportion. A small piece of gossip would grow into a massive story by the time it came back around. He was sure that there were worse, more malicious rumors about him circulating somewhere.
“….”

Jeong Tae-ui sighed. He had expected as much. There was no point in worrying about it here in this division.
“Ah… but it really feels disgusting, honestly…”
He really wished he could just round up all these childish, petty bastards and slap them until they woke up, then pour cold water on their heads to knock some sense into them. After that, he’d tie up the culprit responsible for all the resentment and give him a good slap as well, dunking his head in cold water. He wouldn’t have any regrets.

“Who the hell picked these assholes to be together, UNHRDO? Was that personality test they make you take before entry designed to bring these guys together on purpose?”
Jeong Tae-ui grumbled to himself as he detached from the wall. His body was still heavy, and his steps felt like lead, but he couldn’t just stay where he was.
Even if he hated these bastards, he still had to check how badly they were hurt. Jeong Tae-ui wiped his dry eyes with the back of his hand and started walking.

 
He had never even considered it.
Perhaps because he had gone through such unimaginable outcomes one after another, the man named Iley Regrow seemed like someone who wouldn’t get hurt or die. So when Jeong Tae-ui heard from Gyoho that Iley was actually in a more serious condition than the man whose eye had been stabbed, he was stunned.

“One eye is a bit risky, but it won’t lead to blindness. Since it’s hard to treat here, we sent him outside. The real problem is that bastard Rick—…”
Gyoho frowned as he spoke.
“We need to investigate first, but it seems the knife was coated with something dangerous. That tough guy who managed to walk on his own even after having his side slashed collapsed the moment he got to the duty room. The situation isn’t good.”

Behind muttering Gyoho, Jeong Tae-ui caught sight of Iley lying on a bed. Seeing him lying there with his eyes closed, in a place with other people around, felt deeply strange. His pale white skin looked almost like that of a dead man.
The thought of ‘a dead man’ popped into Jeong Tae-ui’s mind, but he immediately shook his head. Maybe it was because such a word was completely incompatible with that man, or maybe he simply didn’t want to think it.
Even Gyoho, who was always muttering, “When will that crazy bastard just disappear,” looked baffled and disbelieving at the situation. Yet he didn’t seem pleased or amused; his face showed irritation. …Perhaps it was because he had more work to do now, Jeong Tae-ui thought as he tried to ask more, but Gyoho pushed him away brusquely.

“How the hell should I know right now? You’ll have to wait and see! You go do your job instead; don’t just loiter here in this cramped place!”
With that sharp rebuke, Jeong Tae-ui was pushed out of the duty room. He stood there dazed for a moment but soon sighed and turned to receive the afternoon regular shift. There was nothing he could do even if he stayed there.
Throughout the afternoon, the branch was restless and buzzing with unease. Jeong Tae-ui went about his routine as usual, but wherever he went, he kept hearing the names Rick and Regrow. The uproar must have been serious because after work, he was also called to an instructors’ meeting. But there wasn’t much he could say. All he knew was what was already said: that it happened amid an ongoing conflict.

A strange feeling lingered. Perhaps he still couldn’t quite believe it. It felt like Iley was still out there somewhere, perfectly fine, while others kept coming with strange rumors and grabbing Jeong Tae-ui to talk about it. Only after the instructors’ meeting and finishing all his duties did Jeong Tae-ui walk back to the duty room.
In fact, there was no real need to go. Moreover, thinking about it, maybe if something really happened to Iley or if his condition was serious enough to be transferred to an outside hospital, Jeong Tae-ui might have found some relief. Though he’d still have friction with his teammates, once that bastard was gone, things could return to normal. He wouldn’t have to be pushed around as a priest anymore, nor would he have to feel the anxiety of following a ferocious monster with bare hands. Still, without feeling particularly relieved, Jeong Tae-ui went to the duty room—and found it empty.
What? Did he already get better and leave? So it really wasn’t a big deal after all.

Jeong Tae-ui suddenly felt drained when he saw the empty duty room with neither Gyoho nor anyone else there. Something inside him loosened, as if a tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding onto just melted away.
He wiped his hands awkwardly on his pants twice. His palms felt damp.
“If you’re well enough to get up, you could’ve come to the instructors’ meeting. You made me come here for nothing.”

Jeong Tae-ui muttered quietly and sighed. Even if he wasn’t perfectly fine, if he could get up, that was enough. He turned to head back to his room. At that moment, the duty room door opened and Gyoho came in. He looked briefly surprised, probably not expecting anyone inside, but after recognizing Jeong Tae-ui, his face asked why he was there.
“Iley must have gotten up, huh… Damn. I was just bothered for no reason. When did he wake up?”
Jeong Tae-ui pointed at the empty bed with a nod but Gyoho still shook his head stiffly.

“No, he’s still in a coma. It’s pointless to keep him here, so I moved him to his room.”
“His room? …Iley’s room?”
Jeong Tae-ui asked in disbelief. A dark mood settled over him again. They said he hadn’t woken up even once all afternoon. But if there was no point in leaving him here, he should’ve been sent to an outside hospital. He had never heard of someone being moved to a private room with no facilities or equipment. Jeong Tae-ui frowned in confusion. Gyoho, grabbing a few things from the desk, gestured irritably and walked out of the duty room again.

“I’m heading to see that bastard anyway, so you can come if you want… Tch. I’m a pain, but you’re not doing so well because of that bastard either. No way this will end nicely.”
Jeong Tae-ui hesitated briefly but then hurriedly followed Gyoho, who strode ahead without looking back. Gyoho muttered to himself that unless they increase manpower next quarter, he’d quit this damn job.
Muttering to himself, “At least he can quit if he wants,” Jeong Tae-ui sighed again, unable to count how many times already today.

The only thing that somewhat calmed him was that Gyoho didn’t stop cursing Iley the entire time they walked. Jeong Tae-ui shook his head and thought that Iley wasn’t close to dying yet, at least not on the brink of death.
“I’ve often thought that guy wasn’t human, and it looks like I was right. This can’t be human.”
Gyoho was so certain that Jeong Tae-ui seriously asked.

“Did they find a blood structure or cell type no one’s ever seen before?”
Gyoho gave him a look that said he thought Jeong Tae-ui was an idiot for even asking, then waved a test strip with a changed color.
“He’s alive. Yeah? Perfectly fine.”

Jeong Tae-ui didn’t need to look directly at Iley, whom Gyoho was pointing to with the test strip, to know he was alive. Sweat soaked his forehead, face, and neck, leaving them damp. He didn’t make a single sound, but occasionally his lips or eyelids twitched. His face was as pale as a corpse, yet he was alive.
When the two entered Iley’s room on the first basement floor, the room was shrouded in complete darkness. It was so quiet that not even breathing could be heard, as if no one was there at all.
But when the light was turned on, and Jeong Tae-ui saw Iley lying quietly with his eyes closed, buried under the covers, a chilling sense of unease washed over him. On the surface, Iley appeared to be peacefully asleep. Upon closer look, moisture glistened in the light, but at a glance, his face looked as white as usual, seemingly sleeping. That was what made it feel so wrong. Iley had never slept silently like that in the presence of others. Sometimes, he would close his eyes in front of Jeong Tae-ui as if dozing off, but if Jeong Tae-ui muttered even a word, he’d immediately open his cool, alert eyes to stare back at him. Moreover, Jeong Tae-ui had never seen him lie defenseless like this in front of others, not even in a dream.

Only then did Jeong Tae-ui painfully realize: this man was truly ill.
“Why? Is that poison supposed to kill instantly, and yet he looks fine?”
When Gyoho said he was fine, Jeong Tae-ui retorted with that question, only then noticing that his tone had become anxious and irritated without him realizing it, and he clicked his tongue. It wasn’t the time to get angry at Gyoho, but the simmering anger wouldn’t subside. Still, it was true—how could someone look fine when they were lying unconscious with a corpse-like face and almost no breath?

Gyoho, noticing Jeong Tae-ui’s sullen voice or perhaps not, frowned as he glared at the test strip, then crumpled it and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.
“It’s not instant death, but it’s close. Do you know how high his fever is right now? Right now, poison aside, he can’t just lie still like that. He’s beyond unconsciousness; it’s a life-or-death situation. But—he’s not dying.”
Jeong Tae-ui wished he could pull that mouth of Gyoho’s shut. If dying means human, and not dying means not human, then he’d choose to give up being human. Anyone would. Just live, even if you’re not human.

“So what’s the conclusion? Is he going to die?”
Jeong Tae-ui clicked his tongue and asked. Gyoho, who was about to launch into a long explanation, frowned at Jeong Tae-ui’s harsh glare and, muttering discontentedly, shrugged.
“It’s a bacterial toxin. An exotoxin type. Because of its mechanism, the toxin is easily secreted outside the bacterial cells—... Simply put, it’s a refined toxin, so it’s not one you just sit and wait to die from without any treatment.”

Gyoho was about to give a detailed explanation but stopped when he saw Jeong Tae-ui’s even sterner face, smacked his lips, and jumped to the conclusion.
“But it’s not something to take lightly. For someone weak, it’s a toxin that could threaten life. A healthy person would get seriously sick for about a week and, if their stamina holds, recover. If their stamina drops, it could be serious. That monster probably won’t die, but at least check on him occasionally.”
Gyoho added that if he were found suddenly cold and lifeless, to contact the corpse disposal team immediately, then prepared to leave. Jeong Tae-ui grabbed his sleeve urgently.

“Hey, so what am I supposed to do?!”
“Do? There’s nothing more to do. He’ll be sick for about a week, then wake up half dead. If consciousness returns during that time, good; otherwise, he’ll be kept alive by IV. No one can do anything else. He has to rely on his own strength to wake up.”
That was beyond Gyoho’s responsibility, and with a shrug, he said so.

“Why not move him outside? To a hospital with proper facilities?”
Jeong Tae-ui asked, but Gyoho just shook his head.
“There’s no point. Moving him would just make things worse. Just leave him. Think of it like he caught a really bad flu.”

“People die from the flu too.”
“That’s right. I never said he wouldn’t die. But with that monster’s stamina, dying from the flu isn’t so easy. Even if he caught the flu from the flu’s grandfather, do you think he’d die?”
Jeong Tae-ui couldn’t shake a bitter feeling as he nodded no. He looked down at Iley—pale, even more so than usual, but now truly corpse-like. If not for the faint sweat glistening on his skin, Jeong Tae-ui might have shaken him to confirm he wasn’t really dead. He stared silently, then reached out. Just before touching his forehead, he hesitated, then withdrew his hand. The beast did not bare its teeth nor attempt to bite. Hesitating, Jeong Tae-ui finally placed his hand on Iley’s forehead.

It was hot. It was a fever so high it was almost unbelievable coming from that pale face.
“He’s burning up.”
“I told you. Do you know how high the fever is? To exaggerate a little, if it goes up a few degrees more, even if he wakes, he’ll be a fool.”

Gyoho muttered the scary words with a calm face, clicking his tongue and scratching his head as he stepped back. Jeong Tae-ui grabbed him again just as he was about to leave, but Gyoho snapped irritably and shook off his sleeve.
“Look! There’s nothing more I can do!”
“Still, you’re just leaving a guy with a raging fever here?”

“Then what? Sit here with you and talk about life while watching that bastard? I’m busy enough because of him. Who’s going to do all the mountain of work? You? You have to analyze twelve human charts and prepare a bunch of faxes to send to the outside hospital tonight. Can you do that?!”
Gyoho screamed like a banshee, clutching his head, lamenting, “I shouldn’t have come into this damn place, but that damn vicious curse settled here again.”
Jeong Tae-ui looked at Gyoho, stunned, and quickly sent him away. In hindsight, Gyoho was really a pitiable man. Responsible for the infirmary in a branch crawling with monsters and people with deep grudges, he was truly stretched thin. Jeong Tae-ui knew well that when Gyoho said, “There’s nothing more I can do,” he meant it.

Still, staring at that corpse-like figure, he wanted to grasp at any straw he could.
“Hey, Iley.”
There was no response.

With only a small bedside lamp on, in the dim room, Jeong Tae-ui stood silently next to the bed, gazing down at him.
“Hey… Iley Regrow. Try to get up.”
But still, Iley remained utterly still and silent. Jeong Tae-ui stepped closer. This was not a man who would let a stranger come so close in such a defenseless state. Usually, he would have opened his eyes and backed away by now. Or more likely, he wouldn’t have allowed them to even enter the room before waking.

Now, he looked like a lifeless doll, pale and bloodless like a wax figure. Even if a knife were plunged into him, would he rise? Like a vampire found at midday, this powerful man who inspired fear and anxiety in all was showing a helpless appearance, vulnerable to the slightest attack.
“What is this?”
Jeong Tae-ui muttered softly, almost to himself.

“This is strange… That guy who always caught people like rats is like this now, it’s weird.”
He slowly reached out his hand, this time without stopping, and touched the forehead. His palm was damp with sweat. Normally, sweating would lower body temperature, but the fever showed no signs of dropping.
“So I guess he’s still human—he’s got a fever.”

Jeong Tae-ui wiped the sweat off his face and neck roughly with the back of his hand, then withdrew his hand. Without sitting on the bed, he silently stared at Iley again. The feeling was odd—there was no scene more out of place than this.
“Hey, when are you going to get up? Or get worse so they have to send you outside? Being sick halfway here just makes it worse.”
Jeong Tae-ui clicked his tongue. He had never failed to grumble that this bastard deserved to be hit every time trouble happened, but now that it was real, it didn’t feel so good.

“Then why’d you ruin the eyes of a perfectly fine person, you vicious bastard? Didn’t like the way those eyes looked at you? From what I saw, they weren’t much different from the others. …Though, yeah, the way he looked was a little unsettling.”
Jeong Tae-ui grimaced, recalling that unpleasant gaze that scanned a person from head to toe. Still, even though it was unpleasant, no one would think of destroying those eyes. This bastard was just too far from normal thinking. No wonder he got stabbed and poisoned.
Jeong Tae-ui quietly stared at Iley, then tugged gently at his cheek. This was something he’d never do when Iley was sane. So he tried. If this man got up, when would he have the chance again?

“If you’re unhappy, try getting up… …You got what you deserved, stupid.”
Jeong Tae-ui let go of his cheek. From start to finish today, he had nothing but bad luck sticking to him. Damn it. If misfortune was going to cling to someone, it might as well be me—not drag others into it. What rotten luck.
Outside, footsteps echoed. The sound started at the next room’s door and faded toward the elevator.

Compared to the densely populated sixth basement floor, hearing anyone other than himself on this first basement floor was rare. Unless one deliberately came to meet someone, encounters were almost nonexistent.
Well, the people living on this floor were mainly guards and supervisors. While the soundproofing between rooms was good, the walls facing the hallway were thin, so sounds from the corridor could be heard from quite far away. It was designed that way for security reasons, or so he heard.
But the people on this floor weren’t the kind to be easily subdued by intruders, Jeong Tae-ui thought, shaking his head as he recalled the man lying unconscious in the block’s inner room.

“If the one least likely to be attacked is lying down like that, who can really be safe?”
Jeong Tae-ui muttered as he lay on the bed. Thinking that thought tangled his mind again, and he clicked his tongue. The clock showed a little past ten. For a while, the uncle and the supervisors seemed very busy. Since a valuable worker had fallen just before joint training, maybe they were even busier taking care of his share of the work. Thanks to that, the supervisors hurried by, barely stopping to speak.
“If you call someone, at least be on time, uncle…”

He had met his uncle by chance in the morning. As expected, busy, the uncle held a phone between his shoulder and ear, accepted and handed back pieces of paper from a supervisor, then waved him over with a hand signal and told him to stop by that night. When asked when, the uncle casually said “around ten,” then rushed off looking too busy to ask what it was about.
Joint training was not something that could be easily thought of as simply gathering people from each branch, training them, and then sending them back. In severe cases, some people would die—in fact, it was rare for four or five people to die like the last training, and only a few would be injured—so it was not something to prepare so sloppily. In addition, the cost of training was an amount that ordinary people could not even imagine. With only a week left until the South American training, my uncle was busy with extracurricular activities day after day.