BIA Ch. 111

“So, the gist of what you’re saying is to just let you keep living in this birdcage? So you can guard your dead father’s grave?”

“…He’s not dead yet.”

Flustered, Isaiah quickly sat up.

“Don’t just declare him dead. He has no spontaneous respiration, but his heart is definitely still beating.”

“That’s what we call the living dead.”

“Bran.”

Isaiah clicked his tongue.

“Alright, that remark was out of line. I apologize.”

Bran apologized as he took a cigarette from the pack. But his voice held no sincerity whatsoever. Isaiah was about to say something but stopped and lay back down on the bed. It was the kind of thing no one could truly understand unless they were in the same position. And honestly, the term ‘living dead’ wasn’t entirely wrong either.

“Just so you don’t misunderstand, Bran, I don’t hate this life in a birdcage that much.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Yeah. Sleeping with a gun under my pillow every day isn’t that bad either.”

“That’s what you want to believe.”

Bran smirked, the cigarette held between his lips.

“Maybe so. If you think you’re unhappy, you feel endlessly unhappy.”

“Conversely, if you think it’s okay, everything feels more or less okay?”

“Yeah.”

Instead of lighting the cigarette, Bran lay down, pillowing his head on his clasped hands.

“This isn’t being positive, it’s just rationalization becoming a habit.”

His pronunciation, slightly muffled from biting the filter with his teeth, was strangely cute. Even his usually neatly combed-back bangs had fallen naturally, making him look much younger than usual. Once noticed, even his messy dress shirt took on a new feel. Inappropriately, a slight tension tightened in his lower abdomen. Isaiah surreptitiously pulled the blanket up to cover his lower body and spoke.

“It doesn’t matter what you call it. What’s important is that I’m reasonably satisfied with this life now, that it’s livable.”

“Satisfied, huh.”

Bran repeated Isaiah’s words, chewing on the filter.

“Yeah. To put it bluntly, I like moving according to orders. It suits my disposition. I don’t really like having choices given to me.”

“A soldier’s constitution, perhaps.”

“No need to put it so grandly. Making any kind of decision requires using your head again, right? I hate that.”

“Simple.”

Bran chuckled through his nose.

“Yeah. I hate troublesome things. I can’t even be a soldier type. Too lazy.”

Isaiah admitted frankly.

“I just like doing as I’m told. Go where they say go, wait if they say wait, kill if they say kill,”

“Die if they say die?”

Bran cut Isaiah off. Isaiah let out a low sigh.

“They don’t give orders like that.”

“I heard they didn’t give the retreat order until the very end, even when you got shot. Eliminating the remaining hostiles was the priority.”

“That story.”

Just as Isaiah started to sit up, Bran moved the cigarette from his mouth to his hand and spoke. Right, that wasn’t exactly an order to die.

“If the enemy had used hollow-point bullets like you do, you would have died on the spot, but luckily, the round they fired was a Winchester 308. That humane bullet didn’t bloom like a petal inside your body, severing blood vessels and nerves, nor did it tear apart your organs. Of course, even with a Winchester 308, if the velocity had been just a bit faster, an artery could have been severed, but fortunately, the enemy shot you from too far away. Thanks to that, you didn’t even break a bone, just bled an enormous amount from the bullet quietly lodged in your flesh. So even if the higher-ups ordered you to pursue the remaining group without even assessing the severity of your gunshot wound, and even if you, after killing six more men with a bullet lodged in your shoulder, eventually went into shock from excessive blood loss, that wasn’t an order to die. After all, you were still breathing when you were carried off to the hospital. Right?”

“……”

Isaiah had nothing to say. No, actually, he could have come up with various excuses if he wanted to. There had been a lot of talk about this incident within WD too; there was confusion in the chain of command as orders passed through several layers; broadly speaking, it was a communication error between the military and the mercenary group; he knew the responsible parties eventually faced disciplinary action; this incident led to the withdrawal order for the mercenary group stationed in Kabul… All these points had been raised during the blame game between the military and WD.

But no matter the circumstances, from Bran’s perspective, it was just an excuse. Of course, from Isaiah’s perspective too, it felt close to an excuse. WD and the US military had promised sufficient compensation, and thankfully, there were no lasting aftereffects, so he had decided to take what was offered and move on. But truthfully, if he had grabbed a machine gun and gone after his superiors at the time right after being discharged from the hospital, no one could have stopped him. It was that serious an incident.

“And yet, you call it a decent birdcage?”

Bran laughed, gnawing on the cigarette filter.

“Because they give you water till your belly bursts, provide feed, and even install fancy toys? It’s okay because even if they occasionally shove your head into the mouth of a snake or a crocodile, they know you’ll come back alive? Even if the snake or crocodile swallows you whole, it’s the snake or crocodile’s fault, not the owner’s. Isn’t that right? Because they didn’t deliberately push you in there to die.”

“……”

“Why? Say something if you have something to say.”

Bran urged him with an expressionless face.

“No…”

Isaiah felt completely drained. He was inherently weak in these kinds of arguments. That’s why he usually tried to avoid confrontations. At most, he would shut down the conversation by showing irritation first or scowling, but that was usually enough. Everyone avoided him, thinking, ‘That bastard has a nasty temper.’

Of course, he couldn’t pull such tricks on Bran. Bran wasn’t the type to fall for that, and besides, Isaiah had just shown his absolute rock bottom—unreasonable stubbornness, screaming, tears—during his earlier rage attack. His brain had finally emerged from its agitated state, allowing for proper communication. He wanted to resolve things through conversation as much as possible.

But no matter how hard he thought, nothing came to mind. Isaiah, rubbing his face repeatedly with dry hands, ended up changing the subject.

“By the way, that cigarette… why have you just been holding it in your mouth all this time.”

“This?”

Bran moved the cigarette he’d been holding in his mouth to his hand. The filter was completely mangled, showing just how much he’d been chewing on it. Bran looked at the brutally crushed filter, then put it back in his mouth and said.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a substitute for your lips.”

“What…?”

“You’ve been saying so many cute things, I’ve wanted to kiss you, but I’m holding back because I’m worried it’ll hurt.”

His words said one thing, but the cigarette filter in his hand told a different story. It sounded more like he actually wanted to bite and chew Isaiah’s lips until they bled every time he spouted nonsense, but since doing so now would leave his lips shredded, he was holding back.

“……”

Isaiah unconsciously touched his swollen lips with his fingertips. They were already split and torn in several places; if they were chewed on any further, his lips might disappear entirely.

“So, what? Go on, keep talking.”

Bran said, putting the cigarette back in his mouth. Seeing him chew the filter between his teeth again, Isaiah couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“I’m not going to talk.”

Isaiah mumbled, covering his lips with his hand.

“I have nothing more to say.”

“It really shows you haven’t dated before.”

Bran slowly sat up. Leaning his back against the headboard cushion, he finally tossed the ruined cigarette into a ceramic object.

“In a situation like this, that’s the worst possible answer. Avoiding the issue is basically the same as saying let’s break up.”

“Then what on earth am I supposed to say.”

Isaiah sighed.

“Looks like you really are thinking about dating me.”

“Obviously.”

Bran smirked, taking a new cigarette from the pack. Isaiah worried he might chew the filter again, but thankfully, this time he lit it as soon as he put it in his mouth. After taking a long drag to ensure it lit properly, Bran exhaled just as slowly and spoke.

“You need to find the answer yourself.”

After thinking for a moment, Isaiah said.

“Fine. I’ll quit WD.”

“Excellent answer. A.”

“Sorry. That was a test.”

“F.”

“I need to know my partner’s preferences, don’t I? What kind of answer you’re looking for.”

“If you didn’t know that by now, that’s also a deduction.”

Isaiah pressed his hand to his forehead and let out a long sigh. He didn’t know if dating was complicated or if his partner was complicated, but for someone with his personality, this was something he couldn’t do twice.

Still, he was starting to get a rough idea. Isaiah first straightened his posture. It only amounted to sitting up straight and covering his lower half with the blanket, but even doing that solidified his resolve. Then, he turned to Bran, who was sitting next to him smoking, and said with a serious face.

“We’ve strayed too far, but my point is this: you’re the first thing I’ve ever truly desired.”

“Hmm…, A.”

Bran stated the score along with a puff of cigarette smoke. Having achieved a high score on his first try, Isaiah felt slightly elated. He decided to be even bolder.

“It might sound strange coming from me, but this is a huge deal, Bran.”

“Triple A plus.”

“…The score suddenly jumped too high?”

Isaiah was taken aback. He had expected an A or maybe a B, but with the score jumping so drastically, he started to get confused about where he had earned the points.

“You need that kind of pride and confidence. Try bragging as much as you can. You’re the world’s best sniper.”

Aren’t you? Bran blew out smoke and gave him a charming eye-smile. While wondering why this man smiled so seductively even in a situation like this, Isaiah found himself nodding as if mesmerized.

“Um, well, that’s true.”