Chapter 52

Horne stood with his head bowed, saying nothing. In the corner of his vision, the iron stool lay beside him, its legs bent from the heavy impact.

“Usually acting however you please is one thing, but screwing up on something like this?! What were you thinking? Huh? Tell me!” Ganal strode up to Horne, his voice like an impending tsunami, shaking the entire conference room into deathly silence.

Dozens of people sat in the conference room, their expressions grave. The cool lighting and yellow-green walls made their faces look ghastly pale.

Horne raised a hand and wiped the spittle from his face, lowering his eyes without a word.

“Do you know what a huge disaster you caused!” Ganal raged. “It was only at the last moment that the electromagnetic net recovered—what if it hadn’t? What if something had gone wrong? Could you bear that responsibility?”

Ganal paced back and forth, his footsteps hurrying from left to right, then right to left, before finally stopping in front of Horne again.

“Acting however you please, utterly disregarding rules, with no sense of responsibility at all! You, you, you… you’re simply a total mess!”

Spittle sprayed onto his face again, but Horne bit his lip, said nothing, and didn’t wipe it with his sleeve this time.

Occasionally, one or two people passed by the door outside, their footsteps lightening as they reached the conference room door to avoid angering those inside, only resuming normal pace after moving away.

The room was utterly solemn.

After a moment, a sigh sounded, and You Wangwang said softly, “It was indeed improper, Major. Reflect on it properly.”

“Reflect? What could he possibly reflect on?” Ganal shot back at You Wangwang’s calm expression. “Every time, you protect him—just like the late General Al, General Yaro, and you, spoiling him!”

Hearing his parents’ names, Horne couldn’t help but speak up. “It has nothing to do with them…”

“Bang!” You Wangwang slammed the table, saying sharply, “This is not the time for you to speak!”

Horne shut his mouth.

“And you, Han Ya. You lot fooling around as usual is one thing, but how could you treat something like this as a joke?” You Wangwang turned his criticism toward Horne’s adjutant. As he spoke, his gaze inadvertently flicked toward Ganal, who had a ghastly pale face but said nothing more.

Han Ya sat below, head bowed, lost in thought.

You Wangwang rarely lost his temper, and only after he showed anger did Ganal finally calm down, slowly returning to the main seat and coldly eyeing the culprits below.

“You too.” You Wangwang let out a breath and shifted targets again, sharply jabbing at Ben Yian.

Only Wen Yu wasn’t there; she hadn’t been involved in this incident. Everyone else got called out one by one.

You Wangwang continued berating Ben Yian. “I even praised your city defense work before. How could you join in the nonsense and sneak out in the middle of the night? Looking for a kid? What kid? Does finding a kid require abandoning your post?!”

His gaze swept the room, the bullets landing back on Horne.

Ben Yian sat next to Han Ya. He glanced sideways at him and saw no intention to speak, then looked up at Horne standing by the door like he was enduring punishment, head raised and expression blank. He took a deep breath and spoke. “It was my mistake that led to yesterday’s incident. I could have gone alone; I shouldn’t have rashly told the major.”

His voice sounded somewhat soft in the office.

Han Ya immediately tugged at him from below, but he shook it off.

You Wangwang glared at him and slammed his fist on the table with a muffled “bang.”

“Did I say you could speak?”

Ben Yian also fell silent.

Outside the door, childish footsteps circled twice, paused, then took a few more steps, strikingly clear in the tomb-like silence of the conference room.

Not two seconds later, a very faint sound came from the door. Horne, standing close by, could tell what it was—someone was pressing their ear to the door, trying to eavesdrop.

“It was my negligence.” Horne’s throat tightened as he spoke up immediately, covering the faint noise.

Fortunately, no one else heard the sound at the door. After a moment, You Wangwang finally calmed his tone. “Good that you know. I suggest Major Horne receive a major demerit, be suspended from duty, and submit a written self-criticism within a week for review before further penalties are considered.”

No one in the conference room spoke. The distant mechanical hum became noticeable, and the air grew heavy.

Horne felt some regret. He hadn’t thought much at the time, but looking back, it was irresponsible. But… who could have predicted it would be so coincidental?

General Leon stood from his seat, saluted the two leaders, and said gravely, “It was my failure in management. I will reconsider discipline matters.” He paused, looking at Horne. “Major Horne abandoned his post: two weeks’ demerit and confinement, plus a reflection report to be posted on all military district terminals as a warning to others. Matthew gets a demerit, indefinite work suspension, and three months’ confinement.”

Horne was somewhat surprised and was about to speak when You Wangwang frowned. “I believe the major should face harsher punishment too—suspension or dismissal.”

A few people murmured softly, but it was too brief for Horne to catch what they said.

He wasn’t surprised; he had prepared for the worst. But he hadn’t expected General Leon to defend him somewhat. “Though it was a serious error, it caused no major consequences. Loch City was safe last night, and the operational mistake was Matthew’s. I believe Matthew’s punishment should be heavier; the major needs more ideological correction.” He scanned the people in the conference room.

Silence lasted a long time, with no objections.

General Leon waved his hand and added, “If there’s a next time, I’ll consider whether to continue recognizing your major rank.”

Horne was stunned for a while before murmuring, “Yes, sir.”

The meeting ended, and people dispersed slowly, the tension easing somewhat.

Outside the door, the little boy waited for Horne. When he emerged, the boy looked up at him.

Horne’s heart was a mix of emotions, but he only said flatly, “Let’s go.” Then he left.

Ben Yian had just followed him out when General Leon called him back and said sternly, “I saw your application to transfer to the outer district. No issues; the paperwork will come through in a couple days. Get ready.”

Ben Yian murmured a “Yes, sir.”

Ben Yian hurried out and followed Horne with Han Ya. Horne said nothing the whole way, letting others’ cheerful or heavy moods brush past him.

Back home, Horne stir-fried some vegetables at random, heated a glass of milk, and placed it on the dining table. He said flatly to the boy, “Eat.”

He hadn’t slept all night, handling the aftermath, and the child had been with him the whole time under high stress. Horne felt exhausted, and only upon returning home did he feel a bit alive again.

The boy walked over from the corner of the dining room and slowly approached Horne, stopping at the table’s edge without sitting. His eyes probed tentatively.

Noticing the gaze, Horne smiled helplessly and said wearily, “What’re you looking at me for? Not hungry?”

The boy sat down, carefully picked up knife and fork, and slowly brought food to his mouth. Whenever Horne sat across from him, he’d eat two bites, then sneak a glance up.

Horne said nothing. Even his usual cheese-broccoli stir-fry tasted bland. After a few bites, he got up, went to the living room, and sank into his usual black single-seater sofa, utterly drained.

He had never been punished before, never written a self-criticism. This was all a first, a new experience. If the two former generals knew…

General Al might say: Reckless!

Then General Yaro would find a way out for him: It’s immature, but our son defied the rules to save a life—not so bad, right?

And General Al would agree with her.

Horne closed his eyes, thoughts swirling.

The door sounded twice and opened. A gust blew into the living room, hitting Horne’s face. He opened his eyes just as Wen Yu turned to close the door.

Han Ya, who had been sulking on the living room sofa, finally calmed down. He smelled the aroma from the dining room and grumbled, “Why haven’t you sent this brat away yet? If not for him, would you be getting punished?”

Ben Yian shoved him. “Shut up.” He felt a bit awkward now—the kid had been entrusted to him by Horne, but he hadn’t watched him properly, leading to all this mess.

Han Ya rolled his eyes, displeased. “Isn’t that the truth?”

He clenched his fist and pounded the coffee table a few times, producing heavy “thuds,” deliberately raising his voice. “We kindly rescued him from the snow, fed him, clothed him, took care of him—who doesn’t have their own duties? One trip out, and this happens? Isn’t that harming people? Repaying kindness with ingratitude.”

His voice carried from the living room to the dining room. The boy, slowly eating, froze, halting his movements and gripping his utensils tightly.

He quickly finished the rest, stood, put his plate and utensils in the sink, and silently washed them.

Horne listened to the water sounds, eyes closed, biting back words.

He couldn’t blame anyone; all actions had been his own initiative. Last night, whatever the choice or outcome, it was his fault alone.

Wen Yu walked over and sat down. She glanced at Horne’s expression, at the veins bulging on his neck, and quickly cut off Han Ya. “Enough. It’s happened—focus on handling the follow-up. I checked the main control tower logs; there are issues.”

Horne slowly opened his eyes and pulled his attention back. “What do you mean?”

Wen Yu said, “You left at 12:10 a.m. The control towers detected the aliens at 12:21. The main control tower’s electromagnetic signal restarted successfully at 12:26.”

Horne looked at Wen Yu and fell silent for a moment before saying, “So?”

“The control towers issued an alert. With all towers on guard, Matthew restarted the electromagnetic signal. But with that number of aliens, the towers didn’t need any manual input—the automatic lasers could have handled them. And…” Wen Yu’s voice lowered. “Accessing control tower logs requires authorization—only you and those above you can. You handle all alien-related matters externally, so logically only you could check. For an extra alert option, you gave me access too, which no one else knows about.”

Wen Yu suddenly asked Horne, “Didn’t it occur to you to check the control tower logs?”

Horne was taken aback. He truly hadn’t thought to check the logs. First, Matthew was a soldier he had personally brought from the city gate to the military district and trained gradually. Though new to the control tower shift team, he shouldn’t have ulterior motives. Second, he hadn’t had time to go to the towers.

“One more thing.” Wen Yu pulled up her terminal and sent the file to Horne.

“Let me see too,” Han Ya said. “Send it to our group of four.”

The file showed that Matthew hadn’t simply restarted the control tower—he had manually shut it down first, then started it again.

Back when their family arrived in Loch City, his parents were beyond saving, but Matthew could be. So when Horne sent the family of three to the hospital, Matthew’s parents tearfully entrusted their son to the military district. Horne had agreed.

After the two elders passed, with Matthew’s consent, he joined the military, becoming one of the people under Horne’s command.

In two years, he had never slacked off. Horne had watched him grow.

Horne stared at the log entries and fell silent.

Indeed, after detecting the aliens, he had manually shut it down and restarted.