Chapter 104

Chapter 104
Room Corner Hubby—or rather, Han Yeo-bom—functioned as a healer capable of treating his own wounds. He was an individual who no longer required a Star Candy held within his palm; simply storing one inside his personal inventory allowed him to mend his body. That precise trait served as the reason I brought Han Yeo-bom upward instead of Taejung. Regardless of how much Taejung and I trained, we remained unable to recover unless actual nourishment reached our mouths. Han Yeo-bom, however, had spent approximately the last three years healing others without making physical contact, and his personal recovery velocity remained peerless. Consequently, the notion held by Ttopamine Addict that Han Yeo-bom constituted a hindrance proved incorrect. Admittedly, his intellect still functioned somewhat poorly, but…

Nngh…!

The blade Han Yeo-bom brought downward using his entire exertion froze mid-flight, separated from Miki Parker’s windpipe by a space as thin as a single sheet of paper. Miki Parker’s supernatural power halted the weapon mere moments before it could bury itself deep.

How are you still alive…!

Even so, the bulging veins mapping Miki Parker’s neck demonstrated that he had barely succeeded in blocking the strike; he never anticipated a player he believed he had already eliminated would suddenly ambush him in this manner. This fellow still fails to utilize his ability correctly. He had looked impressed simply watching me deploy mine, meaning his maximum capability likely extended only to manipulating tiny scraps of metal, such as projectiles fired through the air. I would need to force the breakthrough through sheer physical power. Concluding that pushing more weight downward would force the metal through, I reached toward his neck. Miki Parker, realizing my intent, flinched and violently twisted his torso out of the way in an instant. Han Yeo-bom, still clutching the knife, tumbled forward over me as though poured out from a container, and I shoved him away.

What the hell is with that bastard? Why won’t the knife go in?!

It’s his ability. He can stop bullets—did you honestly think he wouldn’t stop a knife?

Ha… then what was I supposed to do?

You should’ve choked him out from behind.

Ah. Right.

I cast a look at Han Yeo-bom that communicated my desire for him to stand up already, then extracted a length of metallic wire from my inventory and coiled it around my palm. During that brief window, though, Miki Parker dropped down onto his knees directly in front of us in a submissive, mild posture.

…What?

What?

Han Yeo-bom voiced the question aloud for both of us, intense suspicion sharp within his gaze. Miki Parker painted a hesitant, artificial smile across his lips and began to speak.

Sorry. Looks like I had the wrong idea.

……What?

That player Lee Dam said was in the way. Probably wasn’t you—must’ve been someone else. Haha. Man, I’ve got some nerve, mistaking people and pulling a stunt like this. Please forgive me.

What on earth was wrong with this individual? Han Yeo-bom scowled at the exact same moment I did, then parted his lips as though he possessed a multitude of inquiries but required this particular one answered first.

Okay, no—who even is this ‘Lee Dam’ you’ve been going on about?

The reality remained that I had still not disclosed my genuine name to Han Yeo-bom. He had never posed the question either. I only discovered his actual name was Han Yeo-bom because he volunteered the information himself, insisting that having senior members call him Darling was more than sufficient, meaning I should utilize his real identity. Now that Miki Parker had thrown the designation Lee Dam into conversation, I could afford even less to reveal my actual name.

I had half-anticipated Miki Parker to blurt out first that I and Dopamine Addict of the Unicorn Area were one and the same—yet contrary to my expectations, he glanced at me once and delivered his words without even a minor shift in his facial expression.

Lee Dam is… my boss. I mean Dopamine Addict of the Unicorn Area.

So Lee Dam is that impostor’s real name, huh.

Even when Han Yeo-bom labeled him an impostor, Miki Parker displayed zero reaction. I still remained unable to determine whether he comprehended that Dopamine Addict and I represented the exact same entity and was actively shielding me, or if he genuinely possessed no awareness that we were one and the same. When I initiated no specific movement, Han Yeo-bom looked toward me and inquired,

So what are you gonna do with this guy?

What do you mean, what.

I tightened my hold upon the wire.

I’m going to strangle him. Cover me.

Wait—wait!

Miki Parker thrust both arms outward in a panicked motion and scrambled back to his feet.

I got cut off while introducing myself earlier. I’m Miki Parker, pilot of this airship.

At that declaration, I slackened the wire I had previously elevated.

You’re the pilot?

If they just send the airship alone, who’s supposed to fly it? That’s why he called me a gift.

Hmm…….

It remained an absolute fact that none among us possessed a player or non-player character capable of operating this apparatus. Within the gaming mechanics, once the system verified your credentials, non-player characters managed the piloting duties. However, zero such characters existed currently, and even if an automated piloting system functioned, it merely adhered to preset coordinates or managed elementary functions like aerial parking. I had assumed he intentionally labeled this maniac who charged us from nowhere as a gift purely to irritate me—yet it transpired that he intended for me to utilize him as a driver. Either way, between this moment and prior events, it stood evident that Miki Parker at the very least harbored no desire to inflict harm upon me. If anything, he appeared eager to secure my approval… Impostor or not, and even if he functioned merely as Ttopamine Addict’s subordinate player, I might as well put him to work for the present.

Hey, are you seriously gonna use that psycho as a pilot?

When I discarded my menacing demeanor and sank into deep contemplation instead, Han Yeo-bom deduced that I was seriously entertaining the inclusion of Miki Parker, and voiced his thoughts with unmistakable displeasure.

What are you trusting him enough to hand him the controls for? You think your dad’s just gonna let you hop on an airship flown by a Unicorn Area player and go sightseeing in other zones?

Oh.

At Han Yeo-bom’s declaration, my eyes widened with realization.

That’s a great idea.

What? What did I even say…….

Han Yeo-bom’s voice trailed off into silence, after which he stared directly at me wearing an expression of absolute terror.

We’re screwed……. You’re cooking up another crazy scheme.

…And so. Captain Haydam, Second Lieutenant Darling, and Second Lieutenant Taejung have been abducted by an unidentified airship.

Commander Hayden, having absorbed Major Platon’s briefing, pressed his palm against his aching temple and spoke.

I have no idea what I just heard.

My apologies.

Platon did not appear particularly remorseful.

Start over from the beginning. What exactly has my son done?

Platon, maintaining his customary calm and composed posture, delivered the entire briefing once more from the very beginning, precisely as commanded.

Reporting once more. During the search phase of the subjugation campaign, an unidentified airship materialized overhead. Captain Haydam left strict instructions to shoot down the vessel if he failed to return within thirty minutes, then boarded the craft alongside Second Lieutenant Darling. Ten minutes following their entry, lightning struck the airship from the upper atmosphere twice. After roughly ten additional minutes of silence, a platinum-blond male—estimated at one hundred ninety-two centimeters in height, in his early twenties—appeared atop the airship and dropped a rope downward. An object resembling a rolled sheet of parchment was secured to the termination of the line. The players deduced it constituted a message originating from Captain Haydam. While they investigated the contents, Second Lieutenant Taejung ascended the rope. At that exact second, the airship abruptly gained altitude and soared away, dissolving into the cloud cover.

He appended the detail that the players hesitated to blast the airship out of the sky with three individuals already located on board, and that amid this hesitation the craft slipped completely out of sight.

The commander fixed his gaze upon Platon wearing an expression of profound disbelief, then cast his eyes down toward the document held within his own hand.

…And this parchment you brought me represents that message reported to have descended from the airship.

Yes, sir. That is correct.

Upon the paper, written in an unfamiliar handwriting style, the following text appeared:

MESSAGE
I will be taking your son for a little while. If you wish to have him returned safely, follow the instructions below.

1. Do not pursue the airship
2. Strengthen the borders between zones
3. Leave the captain’s duties to Platon
4. Regarding supply matters for Meursault…
(the rest omitted)
If you carry out these instructions faithfully, you will see your son again before long.
Don’t skip meals, and take it easy on the work.

As he perused the missive, Hayden felt his head resume its throbbing pain. The penmanship belonged to a stranger, yet regardless of perspective, this failed to resemble anything a typical kidnapper would leave behind. What variety of abductor provided instructions concerning cleaning up administrative matters while simultaneously stealing a person away?

Is my son even someone who got kidnapped? From where I’m standing, it looks far more like my son hijacked an airship and ran away from home.

My apologies. I don’t really know. But since following the instructions Captain Haydam left… no, the instructions the kidnapper left… is said to bring him back soon, that would be the correct course.

Commander Hayden narrowed his eyes while studying Platon. A thoroughly logical suspicion bloomed within him that this subordinate, too, had assisted his son in disguising a simple runaway incident as a kidnapping to successfully escape the zone. Haydam, you little… I actively prevent him from leaving the zone and he pulls a stunt like this. He had appointed him to the captaincy specifically to curb his persistent endeavors to venture outside the zone—and not only did it prove infuriating that Haydam would orchestrate an entire fabricated kidnapping routine merely to evade disciplinary action, but it also stung with painful disappointment that he refused to even clarify why he needed to reach another territory this desperately. He possessed zero clues regarding the origin of the airship utilized for this abduction act. Should he have properly interrogated the source back when Haydam suddenly returned possessing a hoverboard? Regret proved entirely useless now. The airship carrying Haydam had already crossed beyond the boundary.

And even if this failed to constitute a runaway—even if it represented a genuine abduction—Hayden discovered himself strangely devoid of anxiety regarding Haydam. He felt merely a touch of sympathy for whichever unidentified male drew the misfortune of capturing his son.

Haa…….

Fine. It was bound to transpire eventually.

Commander Hayden released a profound sigh surging upward from his core, placed the letter face-down upon the desk surface, and spoke.

We’ll do as Haydam—no, as the kidnapper says. Strengthen the borders between zones. Major Platon, you will serve as Captain Haydam’s deputy.

As ordered.

You truly have nothing to do with this. I trust?

If I had known, I would have gone with them.

…You’re dismissed.

After Platon departed, the commander elevated his gaze toward the sky—presumably the trajectory his son had vanished into. It remained irritatingly transparent.

I’d been needing an excuse to leave the zone anyway—and he’d sent me a player to kidnap us. Miki Parker really was a gift. My apologies to the father stuck with a troublesome son, but the airship we occupied cruised along smoothly. One very minor complication existed, however.

You don’t know Taejung?

I glanced back and forth between Taejung and Miki Parker wearing an expression of complete skepticism. Not only Miki Parker, who had just asserted he possessed no familiarity with Taejung—Taejung himself appeared utterly bewildered.

Th-the Miki I know didn’t have black hair like this, either…….

No. Then where exactly resided the mikisoccer whom Taejung recognized? Judging by how sharply he reacted to being labeled an impostor, he unquestionably represented the mikisoccer of my acquaintance… Therefore, why did the pair of them fail to recognize one another? Or were they merely acting as though they didn’t? What possible advantage could they gain by pretending to be absolute strangers?

Holy shit… I don’t know this muscle-bound freak. Is his ability just having muscles?

Mm… perhaps Taejung had simply matured physically to the degree that Miki failed to identify him. Even so, with Taejung and Miki Parker mutually failing to recognize each other, a suffocating awkwardness enveloped the interior.

Then an announcement broadcast echoed from the airship’s operating system.

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Arrived over Candy Zone airspace. Descend?