Ch.243243. The Female Sea

The naval officer who introduced himself as Yeohae had the appearance that one would typically associate with a “Joseon Dynasty naval commander.”

If that’s difficult to understand, imagine the kind of figure commonly depicted in biographical books of great historical figures.

He wore a red-dyed helmet and military hat imbued with magic, and on his belt—decorated with what appeared to be jade-colored gems and black metal—hung several weapons.

By our standards, he carried a short sword similar to a one-handed military blade, along with two Joseon-style pistols that seemed to be standard-issue weapons. Additionally, he had a magical quiver and bow neatly attached.

The leather-finished quiver was likely a common type that supplied arrows and increased storage capacity, but that bow seemed to be among the higher-quality items in this commander’s arsenal.

I suspect it was made from iron buffalo horn, golden heartwood, and glue derived from the air bladder of a single-horned fish. This composite bow was probably the secret to hunting mid-tier magical beasts with a single arrow.

The structure, which coils backward when not strung, provides overwhelming tension—the most crucial element that establishes this composite bow as a mid-tier weapon.

But more than his attire, I was deeply impressed by the face of this naval commander called “Yeohae.”

Perhaps due to constant exposure to sea winds and strong sunlight, his reddened, wrinkled face seemed to tell the story of his life while simultaneously reflecting his character.

His wide-open, clear eyes revealed his dignified attitude, and this expression likely wasn’t intentional but rather his natural countenance.

Particularly, his equipment appeared to be standard issue rather than custom-made, and given how well-maintained and unblemished it was, he was probably an extremely meticulous type of commander.

But beyond these external aspects, what caught my attention more was a certain atmosphere emanating from him and his soldier subordinates.

Strict military discipline. Calm order. Perfect control. These mere naval soldiers exuded an aura comparable to the royal guards of an Elven kingdom—perhaps even surpassing them in terms of sheer presence.

While it wouldn’t be strange for soldiers selected to guard a commander to maintain a certain level of discipline and order, I was utterly amazed that these ordinary soldiers could form such an orderly formation.

Especially considering that naval soldiers are almost certainly synonymous with disorder and chaos, seeing them like this was enough to give me a fresh shock.

And the atmosphere emanating from Commander Yeohae, the source of this discipline, was at an impressive level.

It was like… an ancient tree standing somewhere in a rural village.

He didn’t seem to be using or possessing any special abilities like aura or mana, yet the feeling we got from him was fundamentally akin to facing something greater and transcendent.

If there were such a thing as the presence of a guardian spirit, a patriotic martyr, or a great hero, it would feel like this. His dignified atmosphere made even high-tier beings like myself and Sophia feel this way.

“Greetings, distinguished foreign visitor and guest. I am this country’s naval commander and coastal patrol officer who will determine your entry… No. Please call me Yeohae.”

This atmosphere reached its peak when he opened his mouth and addressed me with a deep, weighty voice.

It wasn’t a particularly beautiful voice. Weathered by sea winds and harsh environments, and from not sparing his throat, his cracked voice was merely heavy except for a slight depth.

But his low voice inherently contained a certain dignity, and his attitude was both gentle and resolute.

To put it somewhat flatteringly, he clearly displayed the aspects of a virtuous and brilliant commander.

Anyway, after being momentarily overwhelmed by the majesty he exuded, I soon looked at him directly and spoke in turn.

“Lord Yeohae, of course. We are travelers and guests from the Western Continent visiting your homeland, so I ask that you please do what you must.”

“I appreciate your courtesy. So…”

“…Gregory, Gregory Aleinos. Aleinos is my family name, and Gregory is my given name.”

“I understand, Lord Aleinos.”

Perhaps he was worried that I, as a high-tier being, might take offense at the entry inspection and cause trouble. When I spoke with a soft voice indicating my willingness to cooperate, the commander continued with a somewhat relieved expression.

And… after that, nothing particularly noteworthy happened.

The naval soldiers inspected our luggage quickly—perhaps out of fear of me, a high-tier power holder—and accurately, possibly out of fear of their superior.

Normally, it would be an implicit bad practice to allow soldiers to secretly pilfer items during such procedures, but the fact that this didn’t happen at all revealed their military discipline to me.

Also, the simple entry inspection proceeded smoothly.

“So, you impulsively decided to tour our kingdom?”

“That’s right.”

This might seem like an excessively base and unreliable reason to present during an entry inspection, and in some ways, it is.

But precisely because of that, Commander Yeohae and his soldiers seemed to understand my intention.

Even at the mid-tier level, there are many people with strong individuality and self-identity, so it’s natural for high-tier individuals to possess tremendously powerful egos.

There would be an abundance of eccentrics and oddities that the word “weirdo” would be insufficient to describe, but compared to their whims, my behavior would seem angelic.

…Additionally, turning away a guest who has come from a distant land simply because they wanted to visit once would go against their sensibilities.

Throughout history and across cultures, mistreating visitors or guests has been condemned, and this principle seems particularly strong in the Kingdom of Corea.

“…Very well. I welcome your entry. I hope you have a pleasant time in our Kingdom of Corea.”

And so, after about 10 minutes of questioning, Commander Yeohae wrote me an entry permit and stamped it with what appeared to be his seal.

‘….Hangul?’

Although the feel, letter forms, and grammar were slightly different, the familiar script could be understood if one could read Hangul, so as I read the document intently…

[Therefore, I, Yi Sun-sin, Three Provinces Naval Commander Yeohae, permit this person’s entry.]

‘….Huh?’

After reading that phrase at the very end of the document, I felt my mind growing distant and lost consciousness.

※ ※ ※

The naval commander, Yeohae, was lost in thought as he watched a ship sailing away.

He was contemplating the free-spiritedness and solemnity of that high-tier magic user, presumably a foreign sage, who had left a deep impression in many ways.

What particularly caught his attention was the nostalgia in the man’s eyes—similar to the emotion of a soldier returning home from a long deployment.

So much so that he cautiously wondered if perhaps that person had spent his childhood in the Kingdom of Corea.

Moreover, the emotion that the foreign high-tier displayed toward him after seeing the entry permit he had written was incredibly curious.

Respect—that emotion difficult for a high-tier to feel toward a mid-tier was clearly perceptible, a fact that was enough to complicate the feelings of the man called Yeohae.

And it was around that time.

“Are you really sure this is acceptable?”

When his adjutant and staff officer—a magic user who had received a “permit” from the royal court—asked this question, Yeohae, after brief contemplation, opened his mouth.

“There won’t be any problems. That man had no malice, and above all, how could we mistreat a guest who has come to visit our homeland?”

“If the Commander says so….”

The adjutant, who normally would never trust or credit such visitors, spoke as if to say he would believe it since Yeohae himself had said so.

After all, any soldier in this kingdom would be convinced by the words of Yi Sun-sin, the Three Provinces Naval Commander Yeohae.