It was 7:00 a.m. The soldier was still sleeping. I couldn't leave him here in his current state — could I?
I guessed that meant no school today.
Last night, after bringing the soldier home and treating his wounds, I took his uniform and gun and hid them somewhere safe so no one could find them. But I kept the dead man's gun close, just in case I had to defend myself.
At around noon, I went out to get something to cook for dinner.
On my way, I passed the same alley — now blocked by police cars and packed with reporters. They were doing live broadcasts, telling people there had been a gang war or a shootout in the alley.
The police said they would do everything in their power to find out what had happened and who was responsible. So far, they'd found one dead man in the alley and fifty more armed bodies a short distance away.
I walked past without drawing attention and headed to my workplace to buy groceries.
When I entered, I saw two police officers talking to Bob.
Bob saw me and immediately asked, "Are you okay, Alex?"
I pretended not to know what they were talking about.
Then Bob told me about the shooting nearby.
One of the officers came closer and asked if I had any idea what had happened, since I was the one who closed the shop last night.
I said no — that I didn't know anything.
After they left, Bob asked, "What are you doing here at this hour instead of being at school?"
I lied and said I wasn't feeling well, so I stayed home.
He looked concerned and said, "You should rest, Alex. Take the day off. Especially after what happened last night."
I thanked him, bought what I needed, and headed home.
When I got back, I started cooking.
A message from school popped up on my phone, asking why I hadn't shown up. I replied that I hadn't been feeling well and apologized for not informing them earlier.
Just as I finished replying, I heard a noise from the room where the soldier was resting.
I rushed over and saw him trying to stand up, struggling in his weak state.
"Hey, don't move," I said quickly. "Save your strength. Food will be ready in twenty minutes."
He didn't say anything, just nodded slightly and leaned back.
When the food was ready, I helped him eat.
Afterward, we sat together in silence for a while before I finally spoke.
"So… who are you?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Just stared blankly at the wall.
Frustrated, I reached for the dead man's gun, pointed it at him, and said,
"You'd better tell me what I want to know — or I'll put you out like I did him."
The soldier turned his head slightly, calm but cold.
"I know you put him down," he said. "Three shots to the chest."
Even though my hands were shaking, he played along.
"Lower the gun," he said, "and I'll tell you everything you want to know."
"I'll lower it," I replied, "when I know everything I want to know."
He nodded once.
"Fair enough."
I asked, "Who are you? And why did that man call you the legend, the GOAT — Death Eye?"
The soldier took a slow breath.
"My name is John Thunder," he said finally. "I'm a captain in the army. 'Death Eye' is my nickname."
"Why that name? And why is your uniform different from the regular army?" I asked.
He leaned back and said, "They call me Death Eye because if I have my eye on you — and you're an enemy or a threat to world peace — there's a ninety percent chance you're dead. My uniform's different because I'm part of Task Force 101."
"Task Force 101?" I repeated.
"It's a team made up of the best officers from different countries," he explained. "We handle the missions other special forces don't want to touch."
After hearing that, I slowly began to lower the gun.
I'd finally convinced myself I'd done the right thing saving him.
I lowered the dead man's gun and said, "I'm not going to shoot you."
John looked at me with a faint smirk and replied, "I know — but the other you would have."
I frowned. "What do you mean by 'the other me'?"
He just shook his head. "Forget that part — trust me, kid. You'll understand someday."
Before I could say anything else, he glanced around and said, "How the bloody hell do you live in a place like this?"
I looked at him. "However I live, it's up to me," I said quietly.
He only grinned and shook his head again.
"Anyone else living with you?" he asked.
"No," I replied. "I live alone."
He stared at me for a moment. "How do you pay for this place? And food?"
"I work a part-time job," I said.
"What about school?"
"I go to school. Then work."
John nodded slowly, still looking thoughtful. Then he asked, "Where are my gun and uniform?"
"I hid them for now," I said. "If you want, I can bring them to you."
"Please," he replied. "And hand me that gun first."
I looked down at the gun for a few seconds, then handed it to him.
After that, I brought out his uniform and weapon and placed them beside him.
He tried to get up to leave, but his legs failed him.
"Stay," I told him. "At least until you're strong enough to walk."
He hesitated. "I don't want to be a burden any longer than I already have."
"It's fine," I said. "Just rest. You saved my life last night — now let me return the favor."
He looked at me quietly for a few seconds, then nodded.
As he leaned back, I cleaned the dishes and sat down with my books to study for an hour or two.
I noticed John staring at the ceiling, lost deep in thought — something heavy was clearly on his mind.
Eventually, both of us drifted off to sleep.