Chapter 87

Chapter 87
At eighteen years of age, Yohan was just a single year away from completing his time at the military academy. Following the sudden and fatal accident that claimed his father Yosef, Yohan inherited everything left behind, though the actual rank itself did not pass to him.

“Yohan, I am deeply sorry about your father.”
“He would have been so proud to witness your graduation…”
“Should any difficult situation arise, please come to me.”

Yosef’s former academy colleagues all sympathized with the young man, competing with one another to offer assistance and fill the paternal void. With numerous powerful figures across the Zone attempting to look after him, Yohan realized he did not feel any profound grief over the man’s passing.

Eventually, retirement would have claimed him anyway. Having it occur prior to my graduation might actually work out to my advantage.

Yosef had never been an affectionate parent. His loyalty always belonged to the Commander, and after Haydam emerged, Yosef spent so much energy managing Haydam’s affairs that he likely forgot his own son was finishing his final year.

Right up until the end, he was busy shielding Senior Bones for that scoundrel’s sake. Completely typical.

Even so, that unwavering dedication was the very thing that elevated Yosef to such heights; Yohan could not harbor deep resentment toward him. The anger currently burning inside him had nothing to do with a distant father.

“I wonder what kind of trial Haydam has devised for the entrance exam.”
“It will undoubtedly be something extraordinary once more.”
“Oh, I wish he would conduct a training simulation with us as well…”

Whenever his fellow proctors—classmates who had been roped into duty alongside him—began praising Haydam enthusiastically, Yohan clenched his jaw.

My father poured his entire life into serving the Zone until his dying breath. But Haydam? That wretch did not even bother attending the funeral. A guttersnipe, and yet he—

The mere concept of an entrance exam designed by Haydam felt completely ridiculous to him. As far as Yohan was concerned, the traditional recommendation system and this new examination process were virtually identical.

Do people genuinely believe officers just hand out recommendations to anyone? They carefully pick out only the youths worth backing and send them to the academy. To disregard that dedication and treat all officers as corrupt—

Granted, he himself had not been chosen strictly for outstanding talent; he secured his place simply by being Yosef’s son. Yet he remained an elite who underwent rigorous training under Yosef from an early age, making his admission entirely natural. The thought of orphaned former child soldiers flooding an institution once reserved exclusively for the privileged left a bitter taste in his mouth.

They could label it an entrance exam all they wanted, but half of those orphans would fail miserably.

A person needs foundational knowledge before attempting any test.

As clear evidence, the sponsored youths recognized him as Yosef’s son almost immediately and greeted him with appropriate respect. Conversely, the orphaned child soldiers had no clue who he was and merely whispered among themselves.

Even if Senior Platon was the initial advocate for this exam and the remaining graduates concurred… this is entirely wrong.

Not every currently enrolled cadet supported the idea—Yohan certainly did not—and he knew several other proctors present shared his resentment.

Suddenly, the group of child soldiers who had been whispering turned their heads in unison. Following their gaze instinctively, Yohan spotted a boy bearing a striking resemblance to the Commander, walking into the testing hall with a stride far more mature than his years.

“Welcome, Haydam-nim!”
“You have arrived safely, Haydam-nim?”
“Haydam-nim, are you feeling well?”

Those exact children who had previously pretended not to notice Yohan now stood up together, their eyes gleaming with genuine admiration.

Yohan narrowed his eyes. He was well aware that Haydam hosted monthly charity gatherings for children of that age group, making gratitude understandable. Still—

Buying affection with provisions… precisely the kind of scheme a slum-bred upstart would invent.

He was still glaring when those deep, dark eyes locked onto his. Before he could stop himself, Yohan averted his gaze. Realizing he was the first to look away left him feeling rather shaken.

W-what? Why did I look away?

He could find no logical explanation for his reaction. While he struggled to steady his racing pulse, Haydam’s polished shoes stepped through the circle of children and headed directly toward him. For an instant, Yohan stiffened, wondering why—then he remembered he was standing upon the platform. He quickly adopted a calm demeanor and raised his chin.

Haydam had already turned away, looking down at the youths assembled below.

Unexpected words drifted back over his shoulder.

“The entrance exam will take place out in the snowfields. We are relocating the venue.”

“Pardon me?”

The specifics of the test had been kept confidential; up until that moment, Yohan had vaguely assumed they would distribute written papers and grade them. The snowfields?

“The snowfields? Are you saying you intend to lead these children outside the Zone?”

Haydam cast a brief glance up and down at Yohan before replying tersely.

“Yes.”

Speaking so informally?

This was hardly the moment to argue about proper honorifics.

“W-what kind of entrance exam requires venturing outside the Zone?”

Haydam threw another brief look in his direction, then addressed the children once more.

“The entrance exam is a hunt.”

“A hunt?”

“You will spend a single night out in the snowfields hunting down monsters.”

The proctor cadets murmured amongst themselves, but the children displayed no outward comprehension of what that implied.

Venturing beyond the snowfields to slaughter monsters with their own hands? That is not a hunt—that is a military subjugation! He is leading eleven-year-olds on a subjugation expedition and calling it an entrance exam?

Appalled by the sheer absurdity, Yohan stepped forward rapidly until he blocked Haydam’s path.

“That is entirely out of the question!”

“What makes it impossible, Cadet Yohan?”

The fact that Haydam addressed him by name caused Yohan to hesitate. He cleared his throat twice before speaking with greater caution.

“It is sudden… and deeply unfair, wouldn’t you say?”

“Unfair?”

“Certain child soldiers have already participated in actual subjugations, whereas the sponsored kids have never even stepped outside the Zone—”

“And you consider that state of affairs unfair?”

An amused smirk touched the corners of Haydam’s mouth.

“Suppose I administered a written test focusing on military strategy. Which group would that favor?”

“Th-that…”

Just moments prior, Yohan had believed the sponsored children held the advantage precisely because of their prior education. Finding himself unable to counter the point, he simply mumbled incoherently.

Haydam observed him for a moment, his eyes smiling.

“I understand your true concern, Cadet Yohan. You are afraid the children might sustain injuries during the hunt.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Or perhaps you are worried the child soldiers might actually pass the test? Surely not.”

The pointed remark hit its mark. Yohan hastily rejected the accusation.

“N-no. I was merely concerned for their physical safety. That is all.”

“Splendid. I have no desire to see any of them harmed either.”

“Then…?”

“The hunt commences the day after tomorrow. Each participant will prepare independently and assemble at the perimeter of the Zone. You proctors are required to bring camping equipment as well. Feel free to actively assist the children so that no one suffers injuries.”

Procure their own hunting gear? And they were permitted to aid the candidates?

That arrangement automatically grants the sponsored youths a major advantage.

Unlike the orphaned child soldiers who lacked external backing, the sponsored children could easily acquire all necessary supplies and cram essential knowledge over the next two days. Under the guise of “protection,” proctors could easily lend a hand to their favored candidates.

Wasn’t the core issue supposed to be his hatred of high-ranking officers favoring their own children? What is he even thinking?

Haydam, the very origin of Yohan’s profound confusion, merely offered an inscrutable smile as he looked upon the children.

“Until the day after tomorrow, then. Do not be late.”

“Meursault, what on earth is happening?”

On the exact day the nature of the entrance exam was announced, the Commander—who only discovered the truth through third parties because Meursault and Haydam maintained absolute secrecy until the end—summoned Meursault immediately to demand an explanation.

“An entrance exam structured as a hunt? Venturing outside the Zone transforms it into a subjugation mission, not a simple hunt.”

“We are indeed leaving the Zone, yes, but it does not constitute a subjugation—”

“We have already suffered casualties due to severe abnormal weather conditions! How can you even entertain the notion of sending children out there?”

Barely a few weeks had elapsed since lightning struck and killed Yosef. The Commander was also well aware that Yosef’s own son was serving among the proctors this time around. Should Yohan suffer an injury during the course of this “subjugation,” public sentiment toward Haydam—who forced the examination policy through—would deteriorate instantly. Meursault could not possibly be oblivious to that risk.

The Commander stared at him with an expression of utter disbelief.

“And what about Yohan? If the boy decides to sabotage the examination out of petty spite…”

“Not every child in this world shares Haydam-nim’s temperament, Your Excellency.”

The Commander’s forehead furrowed deeply.

“You steadfastly decline to accept my son as a son-in-law, and now you openly insult him right to my face.”

“How did our discussion veer in that direction?”

Meursault suppressed a heavy sigh internally.

You maintained complete emotional detachment when you divorced Daphne-nim, yet the moment I expressed reluctance to take Haydam-nim as a son-in-law, you begin picking fights at every turn.

“Regardless, a youth who has not yet graduated from the academy can scheme however he pleases; he remains entirely within Haydam-nim’s control. You understand that fact better than anyone else here, Your Excellency.”

“Hmm…”

The argument struck home; the Commander’s tense expression relaxed slightly, though he soon shook his head again as if still unconvinced.

“Even so, I fundamentally oppose sending children outside the Zone unaccompanied.”

“There are experienced child soldiers among them, and more importantly, Haydam-nim—”

“My worry is that a situation may arise where Haydam is forced to bear total responsibility.”

“That scenario will not occur. Several proctors are accompanying them, and above all else, this is not a genuine subjugation—”

“The proctors are merely cadets themselves. Still children.”

Cut off once more, Meursault pressed his lips together. The Commander tapped his fingers impatiently against the surface of his desk.

“We already experienced large-scale monsters launching an ambush during our previous subjugation, nearly wiping us out entirely. And now a monster hunt? What on earth is going through Haydam’s mind…”

“That is precisely what I have been attempting to explain to you.”

Fearing another interruption, Meursault spoke rapidly.

“The children will not be confronting actual monsters.”

“…What is that supposed to mean? Are they expected to hunt artificial monsters?”

“The designated target of this subjugation is Haydam-nim himself.”

For a few seconds, the Commander could only stare at Meursault in stunned silence.

“…He is my own son, and yet I still have zero comprehension of his thoughts.”

“At any rate, you have no need to worry about the children—”

“What are you even saying, Meursault?”

The Commander’s expression turned grim.

“I would feel considerably less anxious if they were hunting actual monsters.”

You hold that view, yet you still instructed me to take him as a son-in-law?

Meursault forcibly swallowed the sharp retort resting on the tip of his tongue.