Lakefront Night (12), Santa Margarita Lake

When he returned to the office, someone was dying.

A soldier without legs was gasping for breath.

"Lieutenant... Can't you... save me?"

Gyeo-ul held his hand.

"I'm sorry, page."

The soldier, stan Page, had been the machine gunner of the weapons squad. Near the end of the battle, a mortar round tore through his legs below the knees. Shrapnel wounds covered his body. There was nothing left to be done—Doc had prepared a lethal dose of morphine. Gyeo-ul received it. That was the commander's duty.

Page whimpered.

"It's strange..."

"What is?"

"I thought... that if I stayed... with you, Lieutenant... I wouldn't... die..."

"......"

"It's cold... and it hurts..."

The soldier was the closest to the fire. Opposite him were the pregnant woman and Doc. The pregnant woman wept silently as she watched the dying man. It wasn't from her own pain. She cried soundlessly, lying down, staring at him. Doc gently turned her face away.

Jeffrey asked,

"Hey, page. Is there anything you want to say before..."

"I... don't want... to die..."

His pale lips trembled. His eyes were unfocused, already gazing at some distant place.

Gyeo-ul injected the morphine. One dose, then another. The soldier's face relaxed. Strength faded from his hand.

"Uuuhh... khumm..."

Within minutes, his breathing grew steadily longer and shallower. Slower and slower, until at last, it faded away completely. It was a death like falling asleep.

There was only one body bag. The second dead had merely been covered with their own raincoat. Now, the third casualty was laid beside them. The squad observed a short silence. They saved their tears. Some civilians prayed as well. After returning to the base, there would be enough time to grieve.

Outside, gunshots continued. Occasionally, heavy explosions echoed. The frequency was slowly decreasing. And faintly, there was something like screams mingled with monstrous howls. Not much longer now.

Gyeo-ul called Doc over to a quiet corner.

"White. How's the pregnant woman?"

"Labor started right after the shooting began. She's currently in cervical dilation, I estimate."

"How much longer?"

"Honestly, I don't know."

Doc, who had worn a stoic expression until now, finally showed a deep weariness once there was no one else around. He began to rub his face, but remembered: he had just cleaned and sanitized his hands in boiled water. He clenched his fist, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh before continuing.

"I'm not an Army surgeon. I completed all training at Sam Houston, but none of that included obstetrics. Pulling bullets and delivering babies—those are two completely different domains..."

Fort Sam Houston was the site of the US Army Medical School. Even completing every course there only put a medic at a paramedic level. Gyeo-ul nodded.

"I see. I understand."

"When it comes to assisting childbirth, everything I know I only picked up from the medical corps. Still, I have to act like I know it all. I'm the only one those people trust."

"......"

"Damn it! I'm terrified I'll ruin everything. Every time they ask what to do, if it'll be okay... I get dizzy. Fighting mutants would be easier than this."

He faltered for a moment. Gyeo-ul silently waited. Sometimes, all someone needs is to be heard.

After steadying his harsh, suppressed breathing, white spoke again.

"The pregnant woman's in bad shape. Her body temperature is 38°C. I took the risk and gave antibiotics, but it hasn't helped yet. Maybe because she hasn't eaten properly—she's got severe muscle loss. I'm not sure her uterus can contract properly. I have no idea what malnutrition and infection will have done to the fetus. There's a very high chance this will be a difficult birth. For both mother and child... I'm not optimistic. I'm not confident about performing an emergency C-section. And I doubt the mother can tolerate much blood loss."

Just then, there came a suppressed groan: the pregnant woman was stifling her pain. Her husband massaged her desperately. How many hours had it been? All his motions were weak, but he didn't stop. He was desperate.

Doc hesitated to say what needed to be said. The rule was always to give up on hopeless cases. Just as they had helped Stan Page die in peace.

Reading his eyes and his turmoil, Gyeo-ul eased his burden.

"Do your best as long as you can. Don't worry about the outcome. We can't give up. She's a civilian. We're soldiers."

"... Haaa, yes, sir. God help us."

"White."

Gyeo-ul stopped the medic, who was about to turn away.

"Soon, a mutant group will approach. Even if we lure them away, this place mustn't have any light. Can you continue everything while wearing night vision?"

The medic's face twisted in disappointment, but he still nodded.

"I'll try. But if the fire goes out, how do we keep the place warm?"

"Collect the heating packs from the rations and use them to heat water."

Gyeo-ul issued orders to the squad immediately. They pulled out cabinet drawers to fill with water, then stuffed heating packs inside. From the three days' rations for thirty-one people, they had about three hundred heating packs.

A single pack could keep the water near boiling for over twenty minutes. By refilling, it could be kept hot—hot enough to last until morning if used wisely.

As the soldiers estimated what to use, Gyeo-ul said,

"Don't hold back now. Once the place is warm, maintaining it won't be hard."

"Understood."

Every riverside window, left open for the smoke, was now closed. When the glass fogged with condensation, even sharp-eyed mutants would have a hard time peering into such a darkened building.

Jeffrey approached Gyeo-ul. He listened at the door before speaking.

"Captain Harris might already be dead... Ha, he had it coming. What's next? Are we just keeping the lights off and waiting quietly until those things pass?"

"No. Keeping quiet will be hard. The pregnant woman's here. No matter how loud the river gets, or what the weather's like—if even one of those things has sharp hearing, it's dangerous. I plan to go out and lure them away. If there's a visible target, they won't focus on small noises. And they'll get noisy themselves."

"Luring them? That's insanely dangerous."

"It's not. I'll lead them from across the river."

"Ah."

The Salinas River's upper stretch was about ten meters wide. With the dam gates open, the current was even rougher—too wide for mutants to cross easily. Maybe one or two at their highest enhancement could jump it.

'At most, only a few could try.'

Gyeo-ul believed he could handle that much. If it was a ghoul, he'd take its head off before it even landed. No real worry.

"Tell the soldiers outside to set up a few crossing lines. I'll be going soon."

"Lines... It'll be easier than before. How many are you taking this time?"

"One squad. Jeffrey, prepare them."

"That's not the problem—I mean, only one squad again? We don't know when mutants might show up on the other side... Why not take more? Didn't you almost get buried alive coming here?"

Gyeo-ul tilted his head.

"Elliot told you? ... Well, then you know—it wasn't a matter of numbers."

"I just want to be prepared, in case."

"Do as I say. It'll be fine. Above all, protecting civilians comes first."

"How about letting me go instead? People say I'm a lazy platoon leader anyway."

"I don't trust you enough."

"What did I ever do to deserve that?"

Still, despite his half-serious grumbling, Jeffrey didn't waste time. He gave orders over the radio, spread the word, and started prepping the team.

Before setting out, they'd need to agree on the movement plan and a rendezvous point in case they couldn't return.

Now it was time to address the civilians. They still didn't know the situation—just suspected. These people would be stuck in darkness for a long time, so any anxiety needed to be minimized. Panic would be disastrous. This too was Gyeo-ul's job.

"So, the Lieutenant is luring them himself?"

The old man who had joined the sheriff in their earlier ambush asked. Gyeo-ul nodded.

"Yes. Right now, on the east ridge, Captain Harris and the mutant group are fighting. From the sound, it seems nearly over. Honestly, this place isn't suited for defense. To the west is the Salinas River, north is the dam, east is the lake."

"In other words, there's a good chance the mutants will wander here. Is there any chance Captain Harris won?"

This time, it was the sheriff, kathleen. Gyeo-ul nodded again.

"There were just too many mutants. Captain Harris didn't stand a chance. If the survivors drift south, all the better, but I can't count on it. That's why we need to lure them away."

Among the people a bit apart from the sheriff, a bearded man in loose clothes raised his hand.

"So we just wait here and do nothing?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"You're not... abandoning us, are you?"

"Of course not. I'll only be leading a small team away. The rest will stay with you. Please trust us."

The boy gave a gentle smile. Even among those at their limit, the famed boy officer's smile was persuasive. Yet, a new, unwelcome voice rose in protest.

"What if we cross the river now, while there are no mutants? Wouldn't we be safer somewhere else?"

"Ma'am, it's bitterly cold outside. Many here can't safely move right now."

"We'd manage!"

She raised her voice. The boundary of her 'we' was clear. Some looked unhappy, but didn't protest.

Gyeo-ul didn't look at the alienated group. He just quietly asked,

"Please keep your voice down. There might be stragglers outside."

"Oh, sorry."

She didn't look sorry, only tense—a cultivated selfishness rather than malice.

In the sheriff and her old friend, there was a flash of anger. Kathleen slipped her finger into the trigger guard, but her gaze was on the boy officer, not realizing what she was doing.

'You can't just wish death on people who aren't refined.'

How much blame could there be in cannibalism just before starving to death?

In Gyeo-ul's view, it was rare for someone's crime to be entirely their own.

Intermittent gunfire from outside died away. Combat Sense registered directions, cross-referenced with the map in Memory. Gyeo-ul calculated the time remaining. There was a wide margin for error, but it wasn't unusable.

"I don't have time to explain at length. For now, please follow my decisions. If you can't trust me, I won't be able to protect you. Please cooperate."

"But Lieutenant! Isn't it unfair for many to risk themselves for one?"

"Any further talk will interfere with the mission. Contain yourself, Ma'am. You'll put everyone in danger."

At the change in Gyeo-ul's tone, the woman shut her mouth—eyes glimmering with tears. Clutching a palm-sized booklet to her chest, she closed her eyes.

"I'll put out the fire. If mutants see the light, we'll be in trouble. It'll be a long, dark stretch—please endure it quietly. I promise I'll keep you alive."

Cold water was poured onto the still-burning fire. Chwaaah! Steam rose fiercely and the air filled with the sharp scent of ash.

Six infrared lights were set around the pregnant woman. When they tried to set up more, doc White refused. Night vision goggles strained the eyes; too much light made caring for the mother harder.

Sergeant Liberman brought Gyeo-ul a map.

"I talked it over with the platoon leader. Here's our movement and rendezvous plan. What do you think?"

"Hmm... That looks good. Let's go with it."

No changes needed. Gyeo-ul copied it onto his map. Slide, sweep, swish—quickly corrected with Cartography. Then Jeffrey approached.

"Elliot's squad took too many losses. We're sending Hernandez's instead—seven men. I also gave them a rocket and machine gun from the weapons squad just in case. No use for those here anyway."

"Good. Depending on the enemy numbers, we might even wipe them out with the terrain. Where are they now?"

"Getting ready to cross. Just waiting on you, Lieutenant."

Before he left, a few people came to send Gyeo-ul off. Jeffrey and Liberman wished him luck. Among the civilians, the sheriff and the old man followed to the door. Two soldiers stood behind them, ready for any contingency. Gyeo-ul prepared to send the pair back inside.

"There's no need to get soaked in the rain."

The old man glanced at the blood spatter still on Gyeo-ul's face.

"Lieutenant. There's something I must say."

"What is it...?"

"Thank you for your devotion. Truly. And... I regret that someone of your age must do this."

It was praise he hadn't heard since the awarding of the Silver Star. That time, it was from a journalist, so in a way, this was the first time from someone like this. Gyeo-ul asked,

"What's your name?"

"Chapman. Douglas Chapman."

"Thank you for your support, Mr. Chapman."

Gyeo-ul shook the old man's hand.

The sheriff saluted instead of shaking hands. Though obviously exhausted, there was rare strength and precision in her gesture. Gyeo-ul returned the salute and said,

"Don't hate people too much. Do that, and you'll end up hating the whole world. I've learned that the hard way, so please, don't ignore it."

Kathleen looked utterly taken aback. Gyeo-ul smiled.

"Go inside."

He signaled the soldiers.

There was the sound of the door closing, then locking. Turning away, he saw the flash of lightning—and above the mountain's black silhouette, the plague-bringers glinting white in the darkness.

Gyeo-ul walked toward the waiting soldiers. Night was deepening.

--------------------------- Author's Note ---------------------------

#Additional Publishing Info

So many questions—I'll answer all at once here.

― Is the Noblesse serialization stopping?: No. I promised already. The editor-in-chief's permission was arranged from the start.

― So, are there any issues?: There are, but it can't be helped...

― Will it also be on platforms like RidibookX?: Yes. The timing will differ, though.

― When's the print edition out?: There's no date yet. It'll take a while.

― How many volumes worth are serialized so far?: About four volumes.

― Will there be much revision?: I plan to revise the first chapter, since many find it hard to read... Also, mature content will be altered. Other than that, I'll fix punctuation or minor wordings that misrepresented my intent.

― Any signed editions or postcards?: Well... absolutely no plans for print editions yet. And... do you really want my autograph? Planning to use it for a spell or something...

#Innocence and Anger

Reading the comment section last chapter was a little painful. Some readers got angry. In the online world, everyone gets angry so easily.

It's natural enough to request shorter author's notes and longer chapters. After all, you just want more of the story. No need for anger.

Above all, reader anger means the author hasn't provided enough innocence. People full of innocence rarely get angry. They just smile, and, when the time comes, utterly destroy their target. That is innocence.

Folks! If you drain all my innocence like this, where do you spend it all?

The author's vitality withers again today...