“Hilde.”
It was Ska, standing beside Yun, who called my name.
I answered at once.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I am aware that I acted stubbornly.”
Ska raised an eyebrow.
My blurred vision cleared. The fog lifting from my senses made the pain sharper, but at least I could register everything else.
First—the sound of people outside the room. They weren’t Badgers. Civilians.
And the three in the room with me—the Commanders—had likely been watching the news on the wall monitor. Someone had adjusted the screen’s angle so I couldn’t see it from my bed.
What happened while I was out?
“When you make a report, don’t leave out important details.”
Yehyeon’s cold voice jolted me fully awake.
“I don’t recall hearing that Jaeyeon neglected to treat your abdomen.”
Terrifying.
There was anger beneath his tone—restrained but boiling. That was the kind that shattered you if you didn’t flatten yourself fast.
I hurried to confess.
“I’m sorry.”
“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have let you take the test.”
“I’m sorry. I was impatient.”
“Don’t ever do it again.”
“Yes, sir.”
When I answered obediently, Yehyeon snorted softly through his nose.
He studied me with those half-lidded eyes. Then, in his usual businesslike tone, he broke the silence.
“There’s going to be an announcement soon.”
I didn’t understand.
I wanted to sit up, but I didn’t have the strength, so I blinked to show I was listening.
“An announcement?”
The Supreme Commander looked down at me impassively. His face betrayed nothing. I couldn’t guess what he was about to say, so I kept quiet and waited.
The room was silent, but the corridor outside buzzed with activity.
Footsteps, hurried voices. Someone knocked on the door.
“What?”
When Yehyeon asked, the door opened slightly.
I recognized his secretary.
“The video division’s report, Commander.”
“Ah, thank you.”
The brown-haired aide stood and went to take it from her.
Yehyeon accepted the report and glanced down.
It wasn’t long. He skimmed the first page and lifted his head.
“Have the spokesperson proceed with the announcement as planned.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll relay that.”
The door closed again.
The suited figures waiting outside disappeared from view. I turned my gaze from the corridor back to the three executives.
Judging by the atmosphere, this wasn’t a light announcement.
Yehyeon handed the report to Ska, then slid one pale hand into his pocket and looked back at me.
“Territory reclamation.”
The Commander’s businesslike tone struck my ears.
“We’re announcing which regions will be reclaimed this year.”
I kept my mouth shut.
There was a bitter taste in my mouth. I didn’t even know why that word—reclamation—always made me feel this way. When Yun had once said, “We have to take back what was stolen,” I’d felt it too—a strange heaviness.
Maybe because of Kyle.
The one who had to run and conquer just to survive.
Thinking of his black, curly hair whipping in the wind, I pulled myself back to the present.
I nodded to Yehyeon.
“I’ll act as you command.”
“We’ll discuss it in more detail later. If you sense anything unusual about the Titans’ movements, report immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else to add?”
He asked.
I met his eyes, thinking fast, but there was nothing urgent to report.
Kyle’s presence was faint as ever. Distant, unchanged. Nothing worth mentioning.
And those complicated feelings the word “reclamation” had stirred—no need to speak of them either.
Ah.
A memory flashed—something I’d heard during the kidnapping.
I looked at Yehyeon.
“This time, be careful not to get shot.”
His eyes went round.
He stared at me, speechless. I gave him a faint, rueful smile.
“I’m sure the others have prepared well, but still.”
The room fell silent.
Eyes turned toward me where I lay. The sudden quiet felt awkward, so I looked away, up at the ceiling.
That wasn’t what I’d meant to say. I just wanted to ask if there was anything urgent. Guess I missed the mark.
I should’ve realized sooner that I’d lost the chance to look after the man standing before me.
Footsteps echoed hurriedly down the corridor.
Yehyeon broke the silence.
His voice was tight with anger.
“Worry about your body first.”
I’m sorry...
I gave a helpless smile at his furrowed brows. Ska and the brown-haired aide both clicked their tongues at me. I knew why—they thought I was being reckless again.
But honestly, I didn’t regret it.
Everything had turned out fine in the end, hadn’t it?
That, of course, only made them angrier.
Yun rolled his eyes blankly.
I flashed my mentor a cheeky grin.
“We should discuss the internal announcement before you go.”
At my tone, Yehyeon sighed and glanced at his watch.
The official announcement must’ve been close.
I nodded, waiting for him to continue. Apparently, there would be two announcements—one public, one internal.
But why tell me the internal one first?
I put the thought aside and listened. He wouldn’t have come all the way here for something trivial.
Maybe it was about the kidnappers?
But that had already been made public....
I was retracing the memory of the ambulance when Yehyeon spoke.
“The Science Division has developed a Titan Detector.”
My eyes widened.
“To be precise, Yun and John did. It’ll be issued to all personnel leaving the Core.”
“A detector?”
“Some of you are nearly indistinguishable from humans.”
“Wanna test it?”
Yun smirked and pulled something from his pocket.
I blinked stupidly at the device in his hand. My mind lagged behind the words; I’d never expected to hear that even in my dreams. But pressed for time, they didn’t wait.
It was the size of a smartphone.
Before I could ask to see it properly, Yun flicked his finger.
An AI voice filled the room.
[Warning. Humanoid Creature detected one meter ahead. Humanoid Creature one meter ahead.]
The same voice from the Creature Codex.
And—great—it even had a red targeting laser.
I stared at the bright beam dotting my chest.
Dazzling.
Yun saw my sour expression and grinned.
“Seems it works perfectly.”
“Indeed.”
“While you were out cold, I tested it several times—it screamed every time.”
“How wonderful. Did you harvest my cells while I was unconscious to make that?”
“No. We had your head.”
My heart [N O V E L I G H T] sank at his flat reply.
“We showed it to you and got your consent, remember?”
Ah....
That. So they’d studied it. The head in the sterile chamber—the man whose face had been half-consumed by wood.
The memory I’d shoved away came flooding back, turning my stomach worse than the territory talk had.
I blinked several times to hide it.
Judging by Yehyeon and Ska narrowing their eyes, they’d noticed anyway.
Still, at least my voice didn’t shake when I spoke.
“No wonder you’re both called geniuses. To make this from a single sample....”
“To be fair, the research started before you appeared. We just didn’t have an accurate sample back then.”
“That’s not the point.”
Yehyeon cut in, his tone all business.
I turned toward him.
Hand in his pocket, his gaze steady.
He was right; I didn’t need to know the details of the development process. Nor did they owe me an explanation. It was considerate enough that they’d told me in advance—especially with the global broadcast looming.
Yehyeon fixed his eyes on me.
“We’ll issue the device to all units leaving the Core, but we’re not disclosing your identity.”
...Is that possible?
“We’ll reveal it only to a few Badgers—you’ll operate exclusively with them.”
Ah.
I understood instantly.
A reasonable decision. I would’ve done the same in his place.
Hiding the existence of humanoid Creatures was no longer possible. Kyle had awakened, burning with revenge, and he was gathering our kind outside the Cores. The Badgers would inevitably face more Titans.
They needed a way to tell us apart.
This device gave them that. The yellow sclera was a trait, yes, but not all Titans had it—and “shoot anything with yellow eyes” wasn’t exactly a viable policy.
Of course, the problem was that the thing reacted violently to me too.
Yehyeon’s solution—limiting the knowledge of my identity to a few—made sense.
A small task force, essentially.
“The device won’t be used inside the Core. It’ll be retrieved once teams return.”
“I understand. So outside, I’ll move only with those who know what I am.”
“Right. The world’s big—you’ll rarely cross paths with others.”
“Sounds good.”
I smiled up at him.
“I’ll do as you say. Thank you for the consideration.”
Yehyeon stared at me again.
Reading the mind of Yehyeon-the-Commander was impossible. His pale face gave nothing away.
A good leader, I thought, mentally filing away everything he’d said.
Really, this was the best possible plan under the circumstances. Who knew how long I could keep my secret?
Who exactly would be told about me?
I opened my mouth to ask, but someone knocked on the door.
“Time to leave, sir.”
Ska switched off the TV with a remote.
Yehyeon nodded. The aides moved toward the door. Yun slipped the device into his inner pocket and gave a small bow as the executives left.
Before stepping out, Yehyeon turned back to me.
“Sorry. You’ll have to hear the rest from Yun.”
“No, sir. Thank you for telling me personally.”
“Take care of yourself.”
For a moment, sorrow flickered in his eyes, cracking the usual mask.
“The scar will stay....”
I smiled at his pained expression.
“It’s fine. I passed the test.”
“Drink plenty of water.”
“Yes, sir. Have a safe trip. I’ll be watching the broadcast.”
I lifted my elbow slightly and waved.
Yehyeon gave a faint, sad smile—then was gone.
Off to deliver the announcement the whole world was waiting for.
