Ch.156Episode 9 – Old Fashioned

In the dim night, I sat on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the delivered documents.

These weren’t just ordinary documents.

They were intelligence files.

It’s been almost a week since the terrorist attack was suppressed and I was hospitalized, but unfortunately, I couldn’t remember why I was here or what had happened. To be precise, I had no memory after being embraced by Camilla.

So I needed to find out.

What happened to the terrorists?

How did the hostages manage to survive?

What did I do before losing consciousness?

How did the special forces break through the obstacles and enter the department store?

How did Camilla, Lucia, and Francesca escape from there?

And why did I lose my memory?

Under the harsh white light, I flipped through the report prepared by the Military Intelligence Agency’s Counterintelligence Department.

Terrorist incident overview. Timeline. Information about the terrorist organization. Personal details of the terrorists. Reports based on recovered bodies and interrogations of captured terrorists. Department store CCTV footage and civilian hostage testimonies. Collected evidence. Major organization trends. Wiretap records from diplomatic missions in Abas. Media and civil organization movements. Public opinion survey results, and so on.

The extensive documents, hundreds of pages long, contained a wealth of information, but they didn’t take long to read. I was used to this kind of material. So I read through the report as usual.

While reading, my gaze lingered on a particular section.

‘Intelligence Officer Personal Information.’

The report, written by an official from the Military Intelligence Agency’s Counterintelligence Department, contained information about me.

‘…It is confirmed that the intelligence officer suffered an injury resulting in the amputation of a digit (right thumb) during combat with terrorists. According to the attending physician, reattachment of the digit is impossible, and permanent disability is expected.’

‘…Currently, the intelligence officer cannot remember the terrorist incident due to short-term memory loss. He is unable to provide testimony or participate in investigations. There are concerns about dissociative amnesia and post-traumatic stress disorder, beyond simple short-term memory loss.’

‘…Furthermore, due to damage to the brain and other vital organs, it is anticipated that future job performance will be impaired.’

Digit amputation, fractured ribs, ruptures, hemorrhaging, decreased brain function, reduced motor skills, short-term amnesia. The report was telling me in no uncertain terms that I would not be able to return to duty.

So it wasn’t just memory loss.

I had obtained this report to find out what happened, but instead of answers, I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth.

Feeling frustrated, I carelessly closed the report and lay down on the bed.

“Haah…”

The terrorist attack was over, but nothing had been resolved. There were ongoing disputes about responsibility, the Church and the Tower were protesting, and political parties and organizations worldwide were playing a cautious game.

What would happen now?

The operation was on the verge of collapse, and my workplace was probably debating whether to remove my desk. I couldn’t even contact family or acquaintances, let alone leave the hospital room. On top of that, I had disabilities I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

While everything else seemed predictable, my own future was anything but.

The future looked bleak.

Like the night sky outside the window.

“…”

A quiet night of sleeplessness.

With various thoughts drifting through my mind, I stayed up all night before finally managing to go to bed.

However.

What I hadn’t expected was…

“…Who’s there?”

“Oh, you’re awake?”

“…Veronica?”

That Veronica would visit my hospital room at dawn.

And,

“What are you doing here?”

“Ta-da!”

The scene of her holding and waving her wrist with a regrown thumb.

Episode 9 – Old-Fashioned

When people are shocked, they usually become speechless.

President Bush was like that when he heard about the Twin Towers collapsing, as was the National Intelligence Service officer who couldn’t sell his plummeting Bitcoin because he was supervising college entrance exam writers, and as was I when I returned from leave and heard from a colleague that Kim Jong-il had died.

What was it again? The college entrance exam writers gathered around the TV, grinding their teeth and wailing when they heard the KOSPI and KOSDAQ had fallen. When news broke about Bitcoin crashing, professors and high school teachers reportedly collapsed on the floor.

It was so long ago that I don’t remember the exact details, but I clearly recall my senior calling me to a soju house after the college entrance exams and crying his eyes out. He complained about losing money on stocks while in the military and then on Bitcoin after joining the NIS. It was so absurd that I just kept drinking.

That’s exactly how I felt now.

This is ridiculous.

“Ah, ah, ah, no. This finger, this.”

I was so flustered I could barely speak.

The finger that had been cut off was perfectly intact.

“Ah, uh, um…”

“Why are you so surprised about this?”

Veronica flashed a smirk.

Having just woken up, I pinched my cheek, wondering if this was a dream.

“…”

“…Major.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you pinching my perfectly fine cheek…?”

Barging in unexpectedly, sprawling out, and speaking with that haughty tone—this was unmistakably Veronica.

This must be reality.

“Wow…”

I marveled at my intact thumb, as if asking what had happened. Still drowsy and bewildered, but this was definitely real.

Unable to form words as I examined my thumb, I finally managed to express my gratitude to Veronica.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Veronica.”

“I get it. Now, could you please let go of my cheek while we talk…?”

“Ah, yes.”

*

“I heard from the girls. They said you got hurt in a fight.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

In the early dawn, not even late night, I sat on the hospital bed listening to Veronica’s story.

“When I heard about it, I thought you were on your deathbed. Massive bleeding, broken bones, basically not a single part of you intact. We couldn’t even contact you because nobody knew which hospital you were in. Everyone was just pacing anxiously… The Foreign Ministry said it was the Defense Ministry’s jurisdiction, and the Defense Ministry claimed they didn’t know much either.”

“I see…”

She was wearing clerical attire, neither the formal robes she usually wore at the Church nor civilian clothes.

It’s not unusual for clergy to visit military hospitals, but Veronica wasn’t an ordinary cleric—she was a saint of the Church. Moreover, the four of them, including Veronica, didn’t even have official entry records. So to hide her identity, she had no choice but to wear clerical attire.

Few people would recognize her as a saint while wandering around a military hospital at dawn. Still, worried that someone might recognize her in passing, I had carefully drawn the curtains and dimmed the lights as much as possible.

“We didn’t know your condition and couldn’t contact you. So I called the ambassador and waited. After about ten minutes? They gave me the hospital name and address.”

“I see. I was wondering how you found me.”

She says she used the Church’s ambassador to Abas to find out where I was. I had been wondering how she knew where to come, but nothing surprises me anymore.

Veronica paused and slumped her shoulders. She seemed drained.

“Ugh, so annoying. You have to understand how ridiculous government officials can be, right? Whether it’s the Empire, the Church, or Abas, why are civil servants all the same everywhere?”

“Hahaha…”

“Ah, my blood sugar’s dropping…”

“Have a chocolate.”

I unwrapped a chocolate and put it in Veronica’s mouth. It was chocolate that the hospital had distributed to each room for the year-end, telling patients to keep their spirits up.

Veronica accepted the chocolate and chewed silently.

“This tastes terrible. Is it because it’s military-supplied?”

“It’s not military-supplied, it’s just store-bought. You just have expensive taste.”

“Hmm… I don’t think that’s it.”

What do you mean that’s not it? It’s ridiculous hearing that from someone who eats gourmet food every day.

Looking weary, Veronica pulled out a leather case from her pocket. She opened it and took out a thick cigar.

“Want to smoke one?”

“You’re going to smoke in front of a patient? Besides, this is a non-smoking area.”

“So what? It’s not like you have a terminal illness.”

“You’re completely crazy…”

“Don’t worry. I’m here, after all.”

Veronica grinned as she took out a cutter. With a snip, she cut off the cap, puffed on the cigar a few times, then naturally lit a match and set it aflame.

Smoke rose in the intensive care unit.

Dressed in clerical attire, Veronica sat with her legs crossed, puffing out smoke. Fortunately, this was a private room. If it had been a shared room, someone would have already cursed at her to put out the cigarette.

It would have horrified someone from the 21st century, but this place was extremely tolerant of smoking, so I couldn’t say anything.

“In the land of the one-eyed, the two-eyed man is a cripple…”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing important.”

Veronica exhaled smoke and smiled after finishing her toasting. From cutting to cold draw to toasting, she was clearly a habitual smoker.

I didn’t dislike smoking and knew she was a smoker, so I let it be. Except for the fact that she was smoking in an intensive care unit.

But it felt wrong to criticize someone who had reattached my finger, so I just silently watched Veronica before looking away.

“So, Major. What exactly happened that got your finger cut off?”

“Didn’t you just say you heard about it from Lucia or Francesca?”

“Come on… Hearing it secondhand is different from hearing it directly from you.”

“It’s not exactly a pleasant story…”

“So you’re going to keep it bottled up inside? Just let it all out. It’s not like you have many people who’ll listen anyway.”

“…Sigh.”

Hearing that, I realized she wasn’t wrong. So I told Veronica everything.

Starting with how we decided to split into pairs to explore the department store but got trapped,

How Camilla and I were walking around when we discovered the black curtain,

The moment I got separated from her while fighting beast-form terrorists and those in the emergency stairwell, before meeting Francesca.

How Lucia treated me,

My radio conversation with the terrorist,

Sending the three of them away and trying to fight alone,

And finally, getting beaten by the beast-form terrorist and having my finger bitten off.

I told her everything. She probably heard most of it from Lucia or Francesca anyway.

“Hmm…”

With her legs crossed, Veronica rested her chin on her hand and hummed.

“It’s much more serious than what I heard. A fall, stab wounds, gunshot wounds, contusions, abrasions. And then getting bitten by a beast-form terrorist. How on earth did you survive?”

“It’s my job.”

“Cut the bravado… Anyway, good job, Major. Thank you for protecting our girls and keeping them safe.”

Veronica praised me, which was rare. Both of us often tease each other, but I don’t think we’ve ever genuinely complimented one another. It felt strange.

Just yesterday, I was worried about the operation falling apart, my memory loss, and whether I’d have to quit being an intelligence officer. But I woke up to find my finger restored. I even received thanks from Veronica.

It felt both deflating and absurd. The whole situation was just funny.

I chuckled and leaned back against the bed.

“I feel like I should be bowing down in gratitude. Let’s just act normal, shall we?”

“Why are you being difficult when I’m being nice? Just say thank you quickly.”

“Oh my, thank you, Saint!”

“You should know what a blessed day this is. Who else gets free treatment from a saint?”

“Is it something to brag about that clergy charge money to heal people?”

“Do you think religious people dig the earth for a living? We’re not volunteers; we need to be paid to survive.”

“This is ridiculous.”

We laughed, teasing each other as usual. The laughter made my fractured ribs ache, but Veronica, perceptive as ever, noticed and treated my side.

Bouncing up from the bed, Veronica approached me and examined the wound.

“I can treat most things well, but I’m not fully prepared right now, so I can’t heal you completely. I’ll give you a basic treatment now and finish healing you when we get back.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I watched the light gradually gather around my side before suddenly disappearing, and spoke with curiosity.

“I heard that even military chaplains struggle with reattaching fingers and need to call in specialists from the Church… How did you do it?”

In response to my almost self-directed question, Veronica answered. She slightly opened her mouth, inhaled the smoke she was holding through her nose, then exhaled it while tilting her head.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to do that?”

“…”

“Why are you looking at me like that? I genuinely don’t understand.”

Veronica tilted her head with a genuinely puzzled expression. Thanks to her fluent Abas language skills, I understood what she was saying, but it was slightly difficult to comprehend.

“Well, I heard that even some bishops, and even some cardinals, can’t reattach fingers…?”

“That’s about those outdated old-timers. People like me and Lucia are different. Do you think the position of saint is achieved through political maneuvering?”

I was about to say “Yes,” but remembering that she had reattached my finger, I kept my mouth shut.

However, Veronica was quicker.

She narrowed her eyes and glared at me like an inquisitor about to smash a heretic’s head with a holy book.

“Major. You just had an irreverent thought, didn’t you?”

“Me…? No?”

“Tsk- Ah, this really won’t do…!”

Veronica muttered with a mischievous smile. I don’t know what she was thinking, but she muttered in Kiyen instead of Abas. However, from my time in the Empire, I could understand what she was saying. Most of it was insults directed at me.

After grumbling for a while, Veronica took out a portable ashtray, tapped off the ash, and pointed at me with the cigar between her fingers.

“People think that a cleric’s rank is proportional to their divine power, but that’s a misconception. In reality, whether you’re a bishop, archbishop, cardinal, or pope, how much divine power you can wield isn’t important.”

“Divine power isn’t important? Then what is?”

“Nothing special. To become a bishop, you need degrees in biblical studies, theology, and canon law. You also need passion, wisdom, and virtue. You must be suitable for the position, maintain a good reputation, and a certain time must pass after ordination. Oh, and firm faith too.”

I wondered if being able to wield more divine power wasn’t a sign of strong faith, but Veronica clearly distinguished between the two.

“Isn’t having strong faith related to wielding more divine power?”

“Not necessarily. While clerics with exceptional divine abilities tend to get promoted faster, that doesn’t mean they’ll rise to the highest positions. And not all clerics know how to heal people in the first place. It’s a specialized field.”

“What are you—”

“Anyway!”

Veronica continued in a confident tone.

“But saints like me and Lucia are different. Unlike bishops, archbishops, metropolitans, cardinals, or the pope, to be a saint, you need talent that makes the word ‘miracle’ seem appropriate. You know about our divine compatibility, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“It’s hard to explain to ordinary people… Anyway, just know that we both have exceptional talent for healing people. Of course, all those other qualities I mentioned—good reputation, job suitability, passion, wisdom, dedication, virtue, faith—are also essential.”

“Saint. Are you bragging right now?”

“Yep.”

What a piece of work.

I wanted to say something, but I just opened and closed my mouth before giving up. The medication was affecting me, and having just woken up, I wasn’t fully alert. Talking with Veronica always felt draining.

But Veronica continued talking without pause.

“I even made your finger grow back. Do you need more proof? This clearly shows I’m a wise and gentle person. I healed you without charging anything. You should be grateful.”

“Fine. Thank you. So when are you leaving? You seem to have come here secretly, so you should go back before others start worrying.”

I gently issued an eviction notice as I lay down on the bed.

Now that my finger had regrown, I should ask Klevins to let me return to the field after rehabilitation when he arrives. I should also contact my family, Pippin, Jake, and the others who must be worried.

After tearing up the discharge papers I had been filling out and throwing them in the trash, I met Veronica’s gaze as she continued to stare at me without leaving.

“You’re still here? Go quickly. Shoo.”

Veronica tilted her head. Her expression said, “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“What? Why would I go alone?”

“Do I need to escort you out?”

“No, wait a minute, Major. Did your head injury affect your reading comprehension? What are you talking about? We should go together.”

“What?”

“Let’s discharge you.”

“What?”

“Stop arguing and quickly remove that IV. Get up. We need to leave before sunrise.”