Obviously Seojun, known for his prickly attitude, wasn’t suddenly overcome with compassion. He idly played with the binoculars slung around his waist, lost in thought.

Seojun’s gaze was locked onto the raging inferno before him, his eyes stinging from the intensity of the blaze. The heat scorched their skin, but he and his group couldn’t bring themselves to leave.

It had to be Christina, no one else. The decisive role in defeating the monster was meant for her. Johan’s eyebrows sagged a bit at Seojun’s unwavering response, almost sounding defeated as he quietly mumbled.

“….Beware the damp, many-legged creature that emerges from the spot where a pig narrowly escaped death. In that instance, hurl a yellow fruit.”

Thankfully, Seojun managed to keep his composure, avoiding the embarrassment of staining his worn-out jeans. The reason behind it was as clear as day.

Seojun barely had time to process the soldier’s gruesome end. His golden ratio appearance was like a fleeting work of art. Monster X, the man-eating alien, shook the ex-soldier so violently with its tentacles that his limbs were ripped off. The force was too much - his neck couldn’t withstand the strain and tore off.

In the chaos of battle, Golden emerged as an unexpected trump card.

Even if Brass had been captured, killed, or interrogated, Gas Mask could have only known about Golden fleeing the Hamon campsite following Richard’s death. But surprisingly, Golden returned for some reason. Maybe his judgement was a bit off thanks to his drug use.

As Seojun hurtled downwards in that spinning, dizzying descent, a pang of regret hit him. His mind raced, replaying the confrontation with Gas Mask, filled with what-ifs and second thoughts.

Gas Mask instinctively stepped back, his heel scraping the floor in a sound that seemed to echo ominously. His eyes landed on the thin, tangled mess of hair slipping through his gloved fingers, the damp strands long like a rock star’s wild hair, clinging to his glove like strands of seaweed.