Cat, now freed, lunged forward. In an instant, the one it snatched—B32C97—was hurled far into the distance.
Thud!
The monstrous beasts crashed to the ground in a tangled heap, rolling across the floor. Just moments ago, B32C97 had been attacking its prey—only to be interrupted. It now let out a piercing shriek.
— Kyaaaaaaah!
Panting heavily, he pushed himself up using his elbow. His body, having rolled and sprinted under the weight of the protective suit, trembled uncontrollably. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his temples.
He watched the scene before him: a one-sided assault rather than a fight. Cat wrapped its tail around its opponent to restrict movement, then swung its claws. B32C97, critically wounded, thrashed about in a frenzy. But Cat easily subdued the wild resistance, pinning it down with its front paws and burying its snout into the writhing body beneath. Shlck—its long, razor-sharp teeth sank in deep.
B32C97 flailed, its limbs spasming as its innards were devoured. But it couldn’t escape from beneath Cat.
— Keeeh…
The desperate struggle slowly came to a halt. With its mouth agape, B32C97 exhaled a ragged death rattle.
— Grrrrrk…
Before long, Cat raised its head. Blood drenched its face, though its dark fur masked most of the gore. Still perched atop the twitching B32C97, it rubbed its eyes with its paw, almost as if washing its face, then swiveled its head. Gleaming eyes locked onto him.
Leaping off the lifeless corpse with ease, it began to approach. He stood still, eyes fixed on Cat.
Its large body closed the distance in only a few steps.
“……”
— Grrng.
A wet nose touched him. Cat cautiously tapped his chest, then stepped back slightly and looked down at him.
He reached out toward Cat. The beast lowered its body just a bit.
“You did great.”
He wrapped his arms around its thick neck—barely able to encircle it. Cat let out a slow, steady breath, remaining still. It knew that careless movements could hurt him.
He patted Cat’s back as it let out a soft, seeking whimper, as if asking for more praise. He resisted the urge to take off his gloves and feel it with his bare hands, instead scratching at its fur before turning around.
“Simulation complete.”
His voice rang out through the external speaker of the cage.
One by one… then all at once, the observers rose from their seats and began to applaud.
***
Long ago, the world had been struck not by a natural disaster, a plague, or war—but by a horde of monsters of unknown origin.
They emerged all over the globe without warning. Though they resembled animals familiar to mankind, their massive, unnatural sizes and ferocity left no better name than “monsters.”
Against these creatures—impervious to conventional weaponry—humanity was nearly wiped out. In Korea’s case, the only known survivors were the five thousand aboard this “ship.” Had flying monsters existed, the ship would have been doomed as well.
Of course, just because humanity had found refuge didn’t mean it had stopped longing for the earth. The ship’s inhabitants had been doing everything they could to reclaim their homeland.
One of those efforts was the very project he had taken part in.
The “Military Beast Project”—an initiative to tame monsters and use them as living weapons against those still on the ground.
Having just finished a related demonstration, he now attended a reception in the research facility’s lobby, following a series of interviews. It was time to greet each observer personally.
“Researcher Seo Suho.”
An elderly woman with neatly slicked-back white hair approached, leaning on a cane. She was accompanied by a sizable entourage.
“Captain.”
He offered a respectful bow, and the captain returned a smile through her wrinkled face.
“I saw your performance today. You’ve got nerves of steel. It was beyond expectations.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I should be the one thanking you.”
The captain genuinely seemed pleased.
“A monster that protects humans… it’s practically a finished military beast already, don’t you think? Kuh-hk, kuh-hk! Excuse me. Just a moment—”
As if used to the routine, someone beside her quickly handed over a handkerchief. The captain covered her mouth and broke into a fit of coughing—harsh enough to make one worry she might collapse. As the moment lingered, the man supporting her spoke up.
“My mother’s quite ill… I ask for your understanding.”
Seo Suho turned his gaze to the man. Tall, strikingly handsome, with finely textured chestnut-brown hair—if he was the captain’s son, then he was likely the vice-captain. While he had seen the captain once or twice before, this was their first time meeting.
He gave a small nod.
“Shall I prepare a place where you can rest comfortably?”
“Ah, well…”
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
The captain let out a sigh, cutting off the vice-captain’s reply.
“I was planning to leave right after speaking with you anyway. I’ve got another engagement to attend to.”
“…I see.”
“A shame, really. I would’ve liked to share a meal together.”
“Even the thought alone is an honor.”
Responding politely to the elderly woman’s sincere-sounding regret, Seo Suho glanced at the bony fingers gripping the cane. As the busiest person on the ship, it seemed her schedule took precedence over her health.
“How about dinner together another time?”
The captain suddenly offered.
“With the vice-captain, too. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the young people who’ll lead the next generation could form strong bonds?”
Smiling, she held tightly onto the vice-captain’s arm—a gesture that made it clear their relationship as mother and son was a warm one.
Seo Suho chose his words carefully.
“I’d be happy to, but I’m not sure if I should take up time from someone so busy.”
“Take up my time?”
The vice-captain widened his eyes.
“If anything, I worry that I’m the one stealing your precious time, Researcher Seo.”
“Well then, since it’s come up, I’ll go ahead and reserve a good place.”
At the captain’s instruction, one of the aides activated the device they were holding and displayed its screen, presumably showing the captain’s schedule.
“But tell me, Researcher Seo, you’re not married yet, are you?”
The question slipped out naturally as the captain skimmed the screen. Seo Suho was momentarily at a loss for words.
“Pardon?”
“Ah. Of course someone so upright must already have someone. That was a silly thing to ask.”
“…No. I’m single.”
“Is that so? Not seeing anyone either?”
“No.”
For some reason, the captain nodded with a satisfied look.
Once they coordinated their calendars and settled on a date, the captain folded her handkerchief and tucked it back into her pocket, glancing fondly between Seo Suho and the vice-captain.
Just as the atmosphere shifted toward farewells—
“There you are, Captain.”
A familiar voice reached him. Turning his head, he saw the warm-faced director of the research facility, Min Sanghan, walking toward them.
“Director Min.”
The captain called his name with evident fondness. Min Sanghan shook her hand with a delighted smile.
“It’s been a long time since you’ve visited the lab in person, hasn’t it? We’re truly grateful you made the time.”
“I had to come. I’ve been looking forward to today more than anyone.”
“I’m relieved to hear you’re satisfied.”
Min Sanghan gave Seo Suho’s shoulder a proud pat.
“As you saw for yourself, Captain, Team Leader Seo deserves the credit. The beasts only respond to him.”
“Haha. Anyone would think Researcher Seo is your own son, Director Min.”
“If it comes across that way, I’m honored. I hope it’s not inappropriate to say this here… but he’s as good as a son to me.”
Min Sanghan finished with a hearty laugh, his gaze brimming with affection.
To Seo Suho, Min Sanghan wasn’t just a superior at work. In the past, when he had lost his family and been consumed by grief, unable to do anything, it was Min Sanghan—an old friend of his parents—who had conducted their funeral and stood by him as an elder.
“Hm…”
As they stood there, the vice-captain suddenly spoke up with a faint smile.
“But blood doesn’t lie, wouldn’t you say?”
“Sorry?”
Min Sanghan froze mid-chuckle. The vice-captain tilted his head slightly.
“Researcher Seo’s parents were also renowned, after all.”
“Yes. They were the ones who first initiated the Military Beast Project. And now, Researcher Seo is carrying on their legacy.”
The captain chimed in, her expression wistful as she looked at Seo Suho.
“You may be what they left behind for the world, but still… we lost two incredible talents far too early.”
“……”
“…Did this old woman speak too much out of turn?”
“Not at all.”
There was no reason to feel uncomfortable knowing that someone still remembered his mother and father. Yet even with his denial, the mood grew faintly solemn. A few more words were exchanged, and as he’d mentioned earlier, the captain—unable to stay long—soon departed the lobby at her secretary’s cue.
“Then I’ll see you on the day of our dinner, Researcher Seo.”
The vice-captain, his gaze lingering on Seo Suho with a touch of regret, also left with the captain. Now alone with Seo Suho, Min Sanghan watched the vice-captain’s retreating figure.
