Chapter 26: Jjunni
Gamal ran breathlessly toward the village outskirts. At first glance, nothing seemed wrong, but it was unnaturally quiet. Her heart thundered as if it might shatter from the ominous premonition.
The moment she arrived, her eyes widened in shock. Everything lay in ruins, reduced to a wasteland. Gamal frantically sprinted toward her home.
“Matty! Tawa!”
The house stood half-burned and partially collapsed. Scattered around were Matty’s cherished bowls, the chest that held her clothes, Gamal’s own accessories and carpets, even Tawa’s ritual masks—all strewn chaotically across the ground.
No trace of Matty or Tawa remained.
“Tawa! Matty!”
Gamal roamed the village, truly grasping what it meant to teeter on the edge of madness. But not a single living soul lingered there.
As she ran, she tripped over debris. Under normal circumstances, the impact would have shattered her knees—yet she felt no pain.
Sobs erupted uncontrollably.
Gamal clawed at the grass and wailed like a beast dying in a trap. This was her fault. Her negligent judgment had killed Matty and Tawa.
Rustle.
A sound. Even mid-sob, Gamal froze. Kunis might have predicted her path and followed.
She pushed herself up, trembling head to toe, but forced herself to stand. She had to flee. From the hypocrite who murdered her while claiming love…
From her own twin.
“After wandering endlessly, I found this island. It was empty. I lived alone… until meeting Torra and Rato.”
Though the long story had ended, Doyoung sat speechless. Gamal knelt before him, gaze steady.
“That’s why I can’t leave.”
Torra, standing nearby, pityingly wrapped an arm around Gamal’s shoulders.
“Matty.”
Gamal lightly grasped Torra’s arm as if to say I’m fine. Watching them, a storm of emotions raged in Doyoung’s chest—pity, fury, grief, frustration, all swirling without escape.
He pressed a hand to his forehead and bowed his head.
Where to even begin?
Should he marvel that the woman before him was kin to the international terrorist who’d once terrorized the world?
Or recoil at the Grand Duke’s narcissistic incestuous obsession with his own twin—a notion too warped for modern sensibilities?
Or perhaps balk at her twin’s rock-solid patience, hiding for millennia on this island to vanish himself?
“Doyoung…?”
Gamal’s uneasy voice snapped him back. He struggled to compose himself.
“But the Grand Duke’s imprisoned now. Why still refuse to leave?”
Gamal blinked. “Imprisoned…?”
Doyoung frowned. “He was arrested three years ago.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
Gamal stared mutely, honey-tongued. Doyoung pressed, “He’s serving a 780-year sentence—no parole, no reduction.”
“Meaning…”
“He won’t step outside for 780 years.”
Gamal’s lips quivered before she whispered, “So… Kunis won’t chase me?”
Her fearful tone ignited Doyoung’s anger. “You’ve stayed here this long just for that?!”
She nodded. Torra interjected, brow furrowed, “Rato never mentioned this.”
“But you took turns leaving the island?”
Torra shook his head. “Recently, Rato insisted on going alone. I prefer staying.”
Her voice lowered. “Matty… we need to find Rato. Something’s wrong.”
Doyoung and Gamal stood on the beach as Torra surged through the waves with motor-like speed, her freestyle strokes textbook-perfect.
She emerged moments later, shaking seawater from her hair like a drenched dog.
“Tawa was right. The Grand Duke was arrested by MCTC forces three years ago. The ICC sentenced him to 780 years.”
Gamal swayed, dazed. Torra steadied her.
“Your wretched twin’s locked away, Matty. You’re free to leave.”
Doyoung uncrossed his arms. “I don’t believe in gods, but I’d thank one now.”
He turned to Gamal. “But twins? Why the age difference? We’d have identified you earlier otherwise.”
The Grand Duke’s face was infamous, yet Gamal’s aura differed entirely. Who’d imagine he had a living sibling?
Torra answered, “Luat who consume flowers age.”
Doyoung scowled. “No reports mention such side effects.”
“Has any Luat eaten flowers as long as Matty? I’ve consumed them for centuries, yet my aging crawls.”
“But sunlight? No blood? What kind of vampire—”
Torra shrugged. “Perhaps we’re evolving. Who’s to say this isn’t Homo bibens’ natural progression?”
“Evolving toward mortality? That’s regression.”
“Maybe eternal life isn’t evolution’s pinnacle. Most ‘immortals’ don’t survive forever anyway.”
Gamal listened, lost in their rapid, jargon-filled exchange. Island life hadn’t required modern language mastery.
Torra rested a hand on her head. “Matty and her twin are ancient even among Luat. X from the stars miscalculated—humans wither in solitude.”
Wind whipped Torra’s hair as she added, “X never grasped that to former humans, immortality’s a pearl on a swine’s neck.”
Doyoung stayed silent.
“Matty, ready?”
After a hesitant nod, Torra produced a mysteriously pristine radio from her sash. Doyoung accepted it under Gamal’s watchful gaze.
“Doyoung…”
Helicopter blades hurled sand into a stinging haze. Doyoung squinted as the aircraft landed.
Armed soldiers emerged. “Major Doyoung Defer?”
“Confirmed.”
The soldier lowered his rifle. “You’re alive. We mobilized after your signal.”
Doyoung asked, “My team?”
“All rescued. You were our last DUSTWUN case.”
Relief washed over him.
Gamal watched from the bushes, unnerved by Doyoung’s ease among armed men—a stranger from the “civilized world.”
“Gamal.”
She flinched.
“It’s safe. Come.”
Torra nodded encouragement. Gamal emerged hesitantly, trailed by Torra. The soldiers showed no surprise—they’d been briefed.
Doyoung waited patiently until she reached him. He grasped her hand and led her aboard. Torra followed last.
As the helicopter ascended, Torra murmured, “I’ll find Rato.”
Through the window, Satadi Island shrank rapidly—a god abandoning its realm.
The warship loomed like an oil rig on the horizon.
“Landing,” the pilot announced.
The ramp lowered, bathing them in light. Doyoung stepped onto steel plating, greeted by smells of oil and engine steam—civilization’s stench.
“Major!”
His team sprinted over, voices overlapping:
“You’re alive?!”
“We thought you were dead!”
A familiar voice cut through: “Doyoung Defer!”
Nikola shoved through the crowd and seized him. “You bastard!”
Doyoung laughed weakly. “Not dying that easily.”
Nikola shoved him. “Captured by terrorists, missing in the Pacific—what are you, some Luat—?”
He froze, staring past Doyoung.
