⚠️🔥 WARNING 🔥⚠️
This chapter mentions events from World
War II 🪖⚔️ and the Cold War 🥶🔫.
It includes Sino-Japanese wars 🇨🇳🇯🇵, the
conflicts in Korea 🇰🇷🇰🇵 and the
Vietnam War 🇻🇳🪖.
It touches on sensitive themes such as
poverty and vulnerability 👨👩👧💔🌏.
The author is not seeking shock value 🙅♂️.
All events are fictional 📖✨.
Reader discretion is advised 👀🙏.
📝✨ AUTHOR'S NOTE ✨📝
Guys, thanks for sticking around 💛🙌.
I appreciate your support after two
weeks away ⏳🤍.
I'm searching for a platform with fewer
restrictions 😣🚫✂️.
Posting this as a webtoon would be
a disaster 😓💥.
I think GlobalComicsx might be a
solid option 🌐💡.
I'll keep you all updated 📢👀.
Once I finish the Kosmogenesis
volume 🌌⚙️, the web format will come
before continuing Ancheronbound
🚀🔥.
Thanks for being here ✨🌠❤️.
_______________________________________________
June 8, 1965 — Vietnam
It was break time at the Quin Nhon base,
the shop lights were off and the soldiers
could finally unwind for a moment.
Some drank coffee, others smoked the devil's
lettuce, and a small group had set up a poker
table on top of engine crates.
They'd placed three ridiculous prizes on the
table, but they were perfect for that kind
of night: a tape player, a photo of an
actress… and a used thong. One of the
soldiers had brought it.
"My girlfriend's," he said proudly.
Nobody really cared, but they bet on it as
if it were a national treasure.
Private Harris was fired up:
"Loco, give it up already! Come on, brother,
just quit! We are the way we are for a
reason!"
The recruit Adams, already fed up, fired back:
"Please, man! Why don't you shut up and suck my dick?
Look, look! Let's just show the cards! Come on, show
them! You're not scaring me! What, you think I'm afraid
of little Black guys?"
Harris snapped:
"Oh yeah, sure… like I'd be scared of a pink little girl."
The others at the table cut in:
"Easy, easy! Don't kill the suspense! The cards aren't
out yet!"
A few meters away, Collin was sitting on a tire,
writing in a grease-stained notebook. He jotted down
everything: engines, spare parts, logistics, ideas for
a prototype crusher for a chocolate business… and if
that failed, maybe going back to the university idea.
He'd never cared before, but now it felt like a slightly
open door.
He thought:
"I'm tired of this routine. I want something more.
Maybe reenlisting was a bad idea… or the only right
one."
"When this ends, I'm not coming back."
"Mom's gonna be happy to have me home. And I've only
been here a few days… fantastic choice, Collin."
Then Carl called him from the poker table:
"Collin, Collin! Idiot, drop that notebook! Come here!
Harris is about to win the thong!"
"Seriously?" Collin stood up.
"Yeah, yeah! Come on, let's go!"
"Ready, ready! Drumroll! Drumroll!" they shouted,
slapping their legs like drums.
And finally, the cards fell on the table.
Harris had a straight flush to the nine.
Absolute victory.
The guy grabbed the thong triumphantly, ran it under
his nose, and said:
"Mmm… your sister smells delicious."
Everyone burst out:
"You're such an idiot, man!"
But the mood froze when the workshop door swung
open.
The Sergeant walked in with that same threatening,
unnerving stare of his. The most disturbing thing
was the sinister way he moved; it was as if his
boots let out a faint squeal, almost the dry
whinny of a death horse.
Behind him came the Chief Mechanic. He didn't say
a word; he just crossed his arms like someone
who already knows somebody screwed up… and is
waiting to see who breathes first.
The Sergeant looked at everyone and spoke with a
dangerous calm:
"You know what bothers me? A man tries to read,
peacefully… and on the other side of the wall
it sounds like there's a Congo tribe. I don't
know if you're worshipping the sun, the moon,
or whatever the hell."
The Sergeant paused. He saw Recruit Harris
shaking with fear. Worse: the pink tip of the
thong stuck out clearly from his left pocket.
"Recruit Harris," the Sergeant said.
"Yes, sir."
"What do you have in your left pocket?"
"A handkerchief, sir."
"Oh? You love pink handkerchiefs that much?"
The Sergeant reached in and, with total
delicacy, pulled out the thong.
"Recruit Harris… serious question: what is
this?"
"It's…"
"What is this, you damn monkey?!"
"It's a thong, sir. It's a thong!"
"Oh, a thong. Is it your mother's?!"
"No, sir."
"Your sister's?!"
"No, sir."
"Are you contradicting me, monkey?!"
"No, sir…"
The Sergeant slapped him without a second
thought.
"For this stupidity you made all that noise.
Bunch of fairies. I'll count to three for you
to get to your bunks or I'll line you up and
shoot you."
"One!"
"Two!"
"Now! Move!"
Everyone bolted instantly.
Before Harris crossed the door, the Sergeant
shouted:
"And you, Harris! Stop flirting with Recruit
Davis! Or are you gonna tell me you like
choco-malt shakes too? Get out of here, both
of you fairies!"
As everyone scattered, the Sergeant placed a
hand on McKenzie's shoulder.
"You stay, McKenzie. I want to see you in my office."
"Your name is on a letter waiting in my office. There's
something we need to talk about."
Collin was confused; he had no clue why they were
calling him.
"Oh shit… what did I do now? I didn't screw up…
right?"
Meanwhile, several kilometers to the north,
Kamei-san and Jack were heading toward
Haenam-gun, in the Jeolla district of South
Korea. Kamei-san was strangely cheerful, almost
skipping as they walked.
Jack watched him, curious.
"Why are you so excited?"
Kamei-san let out a soft laugh.
"Before leaving the port, I learned something, Jack.
The place we're going to... is no longer Japanese.
And you have no idea how happy that makes me."
"What? It's not Japanese anymore?" Jack asked,
surprised.
"When I first came here," Kamei-san continued,
"the Japanese navy occupied these lands. They
seized farms, took everything. Those same
farmers were the ones who helped me reach
where Dechen was."
"Really?" Jack replied.
"Yes. We'll be there in a few minutes," Kamei-san
said, adjusting his coat. "Sorry for the delay in
Fukuoka. Getting a boat today is almost
impossible. Before, you could just pay and go,
but now there are papers, notaries… even the
boat we used isn't under my name. The owner is
some Hashimoto."
Jack let out a tired laugh.
"Oh, so that's why it took you so long. But you
would've told me, right?"
"And what would you have done, Jack?" he replied
with a sad smile. "Come with me, I guess. But it
wasn't necessary. Getting there is what matters."
"And what's the place like?"
"Beautiful. Or I hope so. They say it improved a
lot after the war. At least there are no Japanese
troops here anymore… and believe me, that
relieves me."
Jack watched him in silence as Kamei-san
lowered his voice.
"My wife and my daughters were against the war," he
said. "They knew I was Chinese, and they knew war
only brings death."
Even though they were Japanese, they never fell for
the Empire's propaganda.
He looked at the sea for a moment.
"Yes, we needed money. We were poor. But killing,
seizing… people just like us… was inhuman. It only
breeds hatred."
"The Koreans learned to hate the Japanese, and with
good reason."
"And you?" Jack asked softly.
"I couldn't do anything. They were armed. If I
resisted, innocents died. I obeyed… waiting for my
chance. I promised I'd return, but maybe they found
their own path."
He sighed.
"I guess it's my habit… leaving people behind."
Jack looked at him seriously.
"Stop saying that, will you? It's not pleasant."
Kamei-san smiled sadly.
"You're right. Look, we're almost there."
Jack gazed at the coast and smiled, almost in
disbelief.
"Great… I can't believe it. I hope there are still
people who remember you."
"Of course there are. Many helped me, you know?"
Kamei-san said. "If it weren't for the rice they
gave me or the person who secretly lent me a raft,
I never would've reached China."
He fell silent.
"I crossed the whole country, from Japan to
Yunnan, then to Nepal. If it weren't for them,
I'd be dead. The strange thing is that, even knowing
I was Chinese, they helped me without hesitation."
When they reached the shore, Kamei-san and
Jack secured the boat so the tide wouldn't drag
it away. Then they walked toward the coast.
The sky was darkening; rain was coming. Fishermen
were returning quickly, and the kids playing nearby
ran home.
But something unsettled Kamei-san. The Rising
Sun flag no longer flew, and that relieved him.
Still, as he looked closely, he noticed something
sad: despite nearly forty years, everything looked
the same.
Time felt frozen there.
Kamei-san studied the place with confusion and
melancholy.
"It doesn't look like civilization has changed much
here," he said.
He thought for a few seconds and sighed.
"It doesn't matter… let's find shelter now."
They walked past several houses. Some were empty; others half
collapsed. Kamei-san recognized a few of them.
They had belonged to people who once gave him rice, bread… even
a dagger to protect himself. Now they were gone.
It was as if they had vanished from the map.
As they moved on, he froze. A little girl, with two other kids,
was entering a house on the verge of falling apart.
The silence of the place blended with the rain.
Jack noticed them too.
"This can't be…" he murmured. "This rain's stronger than in the
United States. Or maybe it's just because we're in the fields?"
Kamei-san paused, remembering.
"It didn't rain like this in Vermont… in the woods it was
always sunny. I don't understand why."
"It's normal, Jack. Don't worry," Kamei-san said softly.
They walked deeper into the village. The huts were made of mud
and straw; there were barely roads, only slippery paths. People
hurried past, afraid they would give way under the rain.
They knocked on a door. An old woman appeared.
"Yes? Good… evening," she said cautiously.
"Good evening, ma'am," Kamei-san replied, showing a stack
of bills. "Would you let us stay here for the night?"
She stared at him with suspicion.
Confused, Jack whispered in English,
"Why didn't you ever teach me Korean?"
Kamei-san whispered back,
"Please don't speak Chinese."
The woman frowned, but finally said,
"Come in. You're not from here, are you?"
"Ah… no, ma'am," Kamei-san answered respectfully.
"What is your name?"
"Sun-hee," the old woman replied.
Kamei-san looked at her in surprise.
"Sun-hee? Daughter of Hyang-sook? Little Sun-hee…"
Her eyes widened.
"Who are you?"
Kamei-san gave her a faint smile.
"You don't recognize me?"
"By Buddha! It can't be!" she cried, covering her face.
"Kamei-san! You haven't changed at all! So it's true?
Are you immortal?"
He nodded with sarcasm.
"Yes… but please don't tell anyone."
Jack let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Man, you're such a liar."
"What? Why?" Kamei-san said, genuinely surprised.
"Because half the world already knows you're immortal."
"Well… maybe I revealed a tiny bit too much," he admitted
with irony.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"A tiny bit? Nearly half the world knows immortals exist."
"Yes, but only a tiny bit," Kamei-san insisted, shrugging.
Sun-hee looked at Jack with curiosity.
"And who is this young man? Your son?"
Not understanding, Jack muttered,
"I have no idea what she's saying, ma'am."
"Obviously not," Kamei-san chuckled.
"She's speaking Korean.
And yes, he's my son."
"I've heard the Japanese no longer rule this land," she said.
"And you can't imagine how happy that makes me."
But her face darkened.
"Yes… though maybe their departure was the least of
our problems."
Kamei-san frowned.
"What do you mean?"
The woman sighed and sat down.
She began recounting what had happened in recent years.
She told how the Japanese resisted to the end and how many
died, among them her father and mother.
She fled to Seoul, married, and had children…
But those children went to war as well.
Now she was caring for her grandchildren in the barn.
She said, her voice breaking, that Korea was no longer
the same, that the country had been split in two. And that
had happened barely a decade ago.
She explained how many farmers fled when they saw the
situation.
Others moved to shelters, but after months they had to
return.
When she finished, Kamei-san felt a sharp sting in his chest.
Not only because of what he heard, but because deep down he knew
all of this had always been possible.
He had believed Japan had dismantled the place, but now he saw
they weren't the only ones responsible.
"Sun-hee…" he whispered sadly.
"It's all right," the old woman said, wiping her tears.
"What hurts the most is caring for these children alone."
She sighed, staring into nothing.
"I still have my father's land, so I chose to return.
The farther south, the better. It keeps them away from the war."
Her voice trembled.
"If you had seen Seoul ten years ago… corpses everywhere.
Men, women, children. Not even that was enough to stop them."
"The Northerners were cruel," she went on.
"They planted bombs on the bodies to kill anyone
trying to bury them. Not even the dead rested."
She lowered her gaze.
"My friend Yeon-shil was accused of being a communist.
We had no choices. The Northerners arrived, threatened us,
wanted everything. We were only looking for food…
and they still killed her."
She swallowed hard.
"They executed her in a ditch, without a trial.
This war shattered us. I'd rather live poor here, without blood,
than return to that nightmare."
She fell silent, then added:
"Even if the war ended, I'm afraid it'll come back.
The North provokes the South constantly, and I'm exhausted."
She let out a bitter laugh.
"It may sound absurd, but… I'd rather the Japanese return
with their empire than watch us kill each other."
Tears ran uncontrollably.
"I saw it, Kamei-san. I saw how the war destroyed us.
Now we just hope something changes, even if no one
believes in that anymore."
She looked at the horizon, defeated.
"If things stay this way, I'd rather remain here.
From this side of the country we could flee to Japan…
or even China. Anything would be better than watching
my grandchildren die."
Sun-hee broke into tears. Kamei-san looked at her with
deep compassion.
She was no longer the child he remembered, but a woman marked
by grief.
He looked at the old frames on the wall: some burned, others cracked.
One showed Sun-hee young, getting married; another with her
small children. And then he understood everything.
He walked closer.
"Sun-hee… come here. Let me hold you, please."
Kamei-san felt guilty. He hadn't known everything she'd lived.
Seeing the map with "North Korea" and "South Korea," he had
never imagined the country was truly divided.
Meanwhile, Jack stepped outside. He didn't want to interrupt.
The rain had stopped, and the air smelled of wet earth.
He saw kids running from the old abandoned house he'd noticed
earlier with Kamei-san. He walked toward them, curious.
He thought about what he'd heard. He didn't understand the
words, but he understood the pain. "No entendí nada —pensamiento—
pero por su voz… algo aquí se rompió."
He watched the rain fall again, softer.
"No sé —pensamiento— tal vez en cualquier país pasa lo mismo.
Siempre hay guerra. Siempre alguien pierde."
He lowered his head.
"What is war, really?" he whispered. "I never understood it
until I left this place."
There was a war in Vietnam. There had been a war in Japan.
Wars in China and in Korea. Jack had never seen any of
those places; he only knew them from old maps.
Nuriel came from a war. She said she escaped the one between
Germany and Poland, where Jews were enslaved and treated
like animals.
Adelaida came from a war too: nearly all of Europe.
Her city was bombed until nothing was left.
Dánae, as well, had lived through a war. Also against
Germany. They lost everything there.
People walked from place to place, only searching for something
to eat.
Jack didn't understand that concept. He didn't know what
war truly was or how it worked. He only kept thinking about it
as his steps carried him toward an old hut.
He entered carefully. The house had barely two rooms and looked
abandoned for a long time.
The air was heavy, and the floor creaked under every step.
In the back room, behind a half-broken door, he heard
soft crying. When he opened it, he saw a girl of six
or seven, curled in a corner, trembling.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked.
The girl flinched. Her nervous voice snapped,
"Who are you? What are you doing here? Go away!"
Jack knelt slowly.
"I'm not going to hurt you. Just tell me what's wrong."
She didn't answer. She cried in silence.
Then the air shifted. A bright light cut through the
ceiling, flooding the room. The warmth grew heavy,
almost thick.
From that light descended a shining figure, calm
and silent. An angel. Its presence wasn't human,
yet it wasn't frightening either.
The girl stopped crying. Jack watched without moving.
The angel reached out, touched their foreheads,
and spoke with a steady, gentle voice:
"You're staying here for a few days, Jack. Use them well.
God wants to see what you'll do with this gift."
The glow faded slowly.
The girl, still shaking, whispered,
"Is that… some kind of God?"
Jack looked at her softly.
"I can understand you."
She lifted her gaze.
"Who are you?"
Jack answered quietly:
"The question isn't who I am,
but why you're crying."