I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun Chapter 314

"Why does it feel like it’s been so long since I’ve been bathed in natural light…?"

"That’s how the world works. You’ve seen the upper brass making a fuss plenty of tis, haven’t you?"

Two days later.

Finally, I was able to leave the interrogation room located over a hundred ters underground in Central Park HQ, legally. In truth, I hadn’t done much of anything. It was just that I hadn’t received any sunlight, as I could use the entire underground facility.

The place I had been staying for two days was both an interrogation facility and a detention center. As I had ntioned before, it was where they interrogated Fallen and high-ranking personnel from various factions to extract information. Naturally, the prisoners wore plain clothes resembling prison uniforms, and als were automatically delivered at set tis.

Of course, as I said, that didn’t apply to . I had heard that those detained were literally locked in clean solitary cells with nothing to do, but I was rather distracted by the constant visits from Lorentina and Logan.

Still, perhaps because of that, we had plenty of conversations. They asked what I had been up to, what they had done while I was gone, and what I had been doing since returning to my original world… The questions were all similar, but ultimately, those two were simply curious about those things.

After spending two days there, the two of them, who had co to visit since early morning, finally said that I no longer needed to stay here and gave permission to leave.

The result was this: the cold winter wind of New York welcod . The sky was unnecessarily bright, and the tall buildings, which blocked the sky, still stood firm in their places.

The facilities, not much different from before, greeted . The sturdy buildings and the facilities that delved deep underground. Above ground were several support offices where people worked tirelessly day and night to support the operational operators in the field.

If I turned my head to the side, there was a massive four-lane road leading to the underground facility. That place was where all the technological prowess of Central Park HQ and Icarus converged. In simple terms, it was a massive underground space, the size of an aircraft carrier, capable of various tactical training. Naturally, there were lodging and convenience facilities that could accommodate tens of thousands of people.

"There really isn’t much that’s changed here."

This was the place where I had burned one-fifth of my life.

The mories were too rough to be simply labeled as such, but at the sa ti, precious mories coexisted that I couldn’t erase from my mind. New York, where it felt like I could reach out and touch it but could no longer approach recklessly—the remnants of my past. Perhaps now was the ti to let go of this place.

But if I were to look back at the past, the past would also look back at .

A truck loaded with boxes of apples suddenly stopped nearby, rolled down its window, and looked my way—naturally, it was soone all the mbers of the Dagger Team knew, and we unexpectedly received a box of apples. With nowhere to put it, I rolled the box up with my tail, but it went without saying that this was the prelude to attracting attention.

"My goodness. I thought you were dead."

"Ah, it just happened that way…."

The second person I t was my forr dedicated gunsmith.

I heard that after I was declared MIA, he had been reassigned to other operators. It was only natural, but facing the world again after my disappearance was a rather peculiar feeling.

Of course, before I could add anything, the two of them spoke up.

"It’s a sha. It’s a bit late for our youngest to grab a gun again."

"Haha, it doesn’t matter. Tuning sothing that kills people isn’t exactly fun. It might even be a blessing. So what’s this kid doing now?"

"I guess I should send her ho."

At that, both the gunsmith and I chuckled, but it wasn’t exactly a lie.

I had a lot to talk about and many conversations I wanted to share, but sadly, this wasn’t the ti. For now, all I had to do was let people know that I had returned. And the box of apples rolled up with my tail was certainly enough to announce that I was back.

It didn’t take long for people to approach after noticing my presence from afar, and the crowd gathered even more. After wandering around outside for a while, we finally made it back to the quarters.

Of course, that wasn’t the end.

Knock, knock, knock!

"Yes, it’s open. Co in… Oh my, Richard!"

"I should be the one surprised, but it seems the parties involved are the ones more astonished."

It was Richard Barrio, a forr Icarus operator now serving in the headquarters due to injury, previously belonging to Task Force Laser. Certainly, it felt like I was eting many people from my past today.

Swallowing the apple that Logan and Lorentina had been sharing, I responded. He had co in wearing simpler yet neat clothing instead of gear, as if he had just finished working. I wondered what was going on, so I brought over a chair, and as soon as he sat down, he launched right into the conversation.

"Let’s get straight to the point. All seven mbers of Task Force Dagger are coming to New York. They should be passing through the Midwest right about now."

"…Has the situation in Los Angeles improved that much?"

"Not really; it’s pretty much the sa as a few days ago. The third faction continues to expand, and the enemies flooding into Los Angeles are being swept away helplessly. For now, we’re just observing the situation…."

At the sa ti, he unfolded sothing in the air.

A holographic electronic certificate.

However, the elegant signature and eagle emblem beneath it, along with the text at the top of the docunt, made its weight heavier than anything else in this world.

This afternoon at 7 PM, all mbers of Task Force Dagger are to gather at the Central Park main hall.

It was a presidential order.

"…There’s a command that must be conveyed."

"That raccoon, what is he up to this ti…."

A chuckle escaped.

It was quite bold to refer to the president as a raccoon in front of soone who had brought a presidential order, but no one there aside from seed to care. After all, that guy was probably the hardest-working person in the U.S. right now.

In any case, the news that the Dagger Team was crossing over to New York was quite exciting. After all, it ant all ten mbers were gathering together after such a long ti.

However, the next part of the ssage was sowhat troubleso.

"You’re to wear your dress uniforms. I figured you’d understand what that ans with this hint… Ah, my bad."

In that mont, a few glances exchanged between us.

For so reason, everyone except seed to turn somber. And I quickly realized why.

"…It seems our youngest will need to get her dress uniform adjusted."

In other words, it ant that my dress uniform had been reduced to ashes along with my personal belongings at my funeral.

I couldn’t even count how many tis I had let out a wry laugh today. The three of them, with expressions that didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, were just an added bonus.

Sohow, I felt I was beginning to understand why resurrection was a thing that shouldn’t happen at a funeral.

The world was truly a strange place.

"Mr. President, Task Force Dagger is expected to land at JFK Military Airport in 30 minutes. The dals are also being kept at my location."

"Understood."

As he gazed at the gradually darkening outside, he opened his mouth.

"Recently, God has advised many tis that instead of regretting, I should rather act in advance."

"Is that so?"

"Since an agent has co back to life under God’s protection, there’s no reason to hesitate any longer."

Dressed neatly in a tie, he exited the office.

A dal ceremony awaited him.

"It might be a bit different in size, but no matter how hard I look, they say there are no won's dress uniforms. Since I had to rush to get the decorations and rank insignia, just wear it for an hour or so."

"Ugh, the chest part is too…!"

"I go through this every ti I wear a uniform, so just bear with it a little."

The dal of Honor, known in Korean as "명예 훈장." With only ten minutes left until the ceremony, Lorentina banged on the door as if it were a re formality. As the door opened, she threw a black outfit at . It was pure black. Of course, the right chest area was filled with insignia. I realized that more than two-thirds were mission participation insignia.

I wasn’t particularly interested in the shapes of the insignia, but thanks to Icarus Gear kindly explaining each one, I could understand.

Of course, there were many other insignias as well. All kinds of service dals, cross dals of honor, silver dals… Counting them one by one was overwhelming—but at the very top of all the insignias, on a sky-blue background, were five stars.

The dal of Honor.

"…This."

I couldn’t help but laugh wryly, wondering if anyone could receive the dal of Honor twice in their lifeti.

Anyway, I put the dress uniform over my dress shirt. Strangely enough, this uniform had the effect of reducing my lung capacity as soon as I put it on. In other words, it was absurdly small. If I inhaled and strained, all the buttons might pop off, so I had to be careful.

Of course, Logan and Lorentina, who had also co in wearing their uniforms, were in a similar situation.

In any case, it was fortunate that both of them looked quite nice since they were both original models.

anwhile, a long trapezoidal piece of fabric fell to the floor, and when I wondered what it was, it turned out to be a skirt made for . It was a style that wrapped around the waist and secured with a button on one side, threading my tail through the hole at the back, then fastening the button on the bottom.

Logan, watching that, threw in a comnt.

"Damn it, I should’ve asked them to adjust the rear part too."

"What’s the issue?"

"The back part is loose!"

And as he said, sothing that looked more like a white cotton ball than a tail was awkwardly stuck inside the skirt. It looked rather uncomfortable.

Moreover, it was really hard to adjust to seeing these forr n wearing skirts. It was quite maddening. But what could I do? I had to wear it because I was told to. I couldn’t ask for pants at this point… Though I would certainly make sure to ask for pants later for these two.

I hurriedly dashed outside. The sky was dark, but the base was bright. Since there hadn’t been any enemies within a 10km radius, I had ignored my bladder. Of course, if they hung a satellite above the enemy state, I wouldn’t have any argunts, but they’d figure that out on their own.

As the air do blocked the cold wind from outside, the surroundings were filled with lights. I had heard that there would be a total of ten recipients of the dal of Honor today. In other words, it was the entire Dagger Team.

I soon welcod the Dagger Team mbers whom I had greeted a short while ago.

It was naturally a structure that allowed for greetings again since ten people would line up side by side and go up to the podium.

All of them, excluding , had quite impressive careers. So had even participated in operations against ISIL, so it wouldn’t be wrong to say they were decorated.

Of course, it seed they weren’t particularly interested in such things.

"By the way, is this your first ti wearing a dress uniform? It really looks great on you. You could be a cover model for a defense magazine."

"Surkins, please. The expressions on her face are getting worse by the second."

"Anyway, you all look like such manly n; it must be hard for you since the sizes don’t fit."

Surkins, Morgan, and Rapier… Their lineup was dazzling.

After warmly exchanging greetings with them, I sat down and looked straight ahead. With the people working at Central Park HQ and refugees filling thousands of seats to watch the dal ceremony, ti converged to 8 PM, and the lights that had been off illuminated the podium engraved with an eagle emblem—and one person stepped forward.

Henry Michael Brayton. The most unfortunate president. However, there wasn’t a trace of any anguish, anxiety, or psychological pain on his face.

Perhaps he was the president who had gone through the hardest tis, but he might not be recorded as the president who struggled the most with his duties.

"Ladies and gentlen, distinguished guests. Today, let us offer a prayer to honor the courage of those who fought valiantly for the nation."

With an opening greeting no different from the one when I received the dal of Honor in New York not long ago, the ceremony began the mont 8 PM struck, without a single delay.

The dal of Honor. This country, founded by soldiers, beca powerful through its soldiers, and thus beca the strongest nation in the world. The highest honor a country can bestow upon a soldier is that.

As proof, Henry repeatedly ntioned the honor during his opening speech, discussing the value of the dal of Honor and the actions of those deserving of it.

Operation North Spears, Torch, Steel Rain, Lost Archive, Bluefield, Chariot… and even smaller-scale tactical operations that weren’t officially recorded. It wasn’t without reason that the Dagger Team was referred to as the president’s pocket knife, Icarus’s vanguard, and the torchbearers of freedom.

"…Really, how are we still alive? All of us."

A small mumble.

But instead of an answer, Logan, who sat right next to , just smiled and held my hand tightly. The warmth transmitted through the hand was truly comforting despite the winter chill.

The president gestured for everyone to rise, and everyone seated stood up. However, a few seats in the front row were empty.

Henry began ntioning them one by one. The nas of both the living and the deceased crossed over repeatedly. The forr were the chairman of the joint chiefs and the defense secretary, while the latter included the vice president and the commander of USSOCOM. There was a reason for intentionally leaving those seats empty.

Our gazes crossed.

It was ti to go up to the podium.

"And now… I am honored to present the dal of Honor to all mbers of Task Force Dagger."

The four original mbers, along with the additional six who had joined later.

After lining up in perfect order, the president called out each na.

"Antony Owens."

"It’s an honor."

"Christopher Lorentina."

"There’s not much left until we reach a complete Arica, Mr. President."

"Logan Blemis."

"It’s a glorious day."

And when it was my turn, Henry placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke.

"Staff Sergeant Yujin Lee. Due to my oversight in delaying the ceremony, you almost received a posthumous award instead of the dal. I won’t delay any longer."

"It’s an honor."

I bowed my head.

Thus, with a smile, he moved on to the next.

Edwin Surkins, Morgan A. Gilliam, Marcus Lampert, Susan Rapier, William Chester, Michael Kissinger… The mont every na was called, everyone turned their heads to face forward. Thousands of people packed into the seats were all gazing at us.

At that mont, resounding applause erupted. Henry, with trembling hands, began placing the dal of Honor around Owens’s neck first. Next was Lorentina, then Logan… and finally, it was my turn.

I swallowed hard. Thankfully, I was relieved that I didn’t cry during the second dal of Honor ceremony. Instead, my heart swelled with joy, and an irresistible smile appeared on my face—though I couldn’t really say I felt it yet.

With each person added as the awardee, the applause grew louder, and when all of our dals were draped around our necks, the roar of cheer was loud enough to shatter eardrums.

As the event neared its conclusion, Henry stepped up to the podium to deliver his closing remarks.

"Today, we have gathered for this precious occasion to honor the courage of those who have fought bravely for our nation. May Task Force Dagger be forever rembered in the hall of heroes, and may their leadership and legacy resonate with future generations.

May freedom, honor, and the blessings of God be with you all always. I would like to once again thank everyone who has attended today’s dal of Honor ceremony and assure you that I will not cease my dedication until Arica becos a livable country once again. Thank you."

With cheers and blessings, we descended from the podium with dals around our necks, each one of us holding a certificate of gratitude.

The thousands of stars visible beyond the air do shone brilliantly.

The winter of New York had never looked so beautiful.