Discipline || Yoonmin

Colonel Choi

"Does this hurt?"

There was only one answer to this seemingly concerned tone.

However, no one, and especially not Colonel Choi's nurse, would spell it out for the General.

"Does. This. Hurt?" General Park pushed on as he peered down at the Colonel.

Correction.

General Park's tone had prodded on.

However, his finger had only pushed further down into the gaping wound on Colonel Choi's shoulder. Hence, earning him another heart-wrenching cry as she desperately clutched the sheets beneath her.

"It does, doesn't it?"

No shit.

The thought had probably crossed the minds of everyone present in the room.

Colonel Choi included.

Unfortunately for her, General Park had heard her thoughts loud and clear.

"Compare it to the pain in my heart when I assumed that my son was dead."

The pain coursing through Colonel Choi's body only seemed to be going crescendo.

Just as her voice.

"Then."

Unlike General Park's platonic tone.

"Then, Colonel Choi." He could only pause before lightly scoffing. "Colonel, do use whatever spec of intelligence that got you where you are today and explain to me why it took you three whole days to get back here. Don't leave out the fact that you were supposedly attacked five days ago."

Excruciatingly brief.

Humiliating.

"But do finish crying first."

It was clear that General Park had yet to deliver the finishing blow to this charade.

"I am in no mood to decipher whatever it is that you will be trying to say through your sniffles."

Ah.

Private Kim could only raise a hand to his lips as General Park wiped his hands on Colonel Choi's back.

Clearly peeling away whatever was left of her dignity.

Bit.

By.

Bit.

Until his finger was rid of any sign of the uncomfortable matter.

All but for one last persistent spec of blood, that he all but slowly sucked off of his thumb.

More than slightly disgruntled with the taste, General Park still managed to turn towards the rest of the room.

Needless to say, vacating the infirmary's entire main hall had been quite of a stretch on their part.

The reality of it all jarring as he counted off the five remaining heads on each bed.

Correction.

The seven heads.

No words could describe the look of contempt on his face as he took in the two body bags huddled in a corner.

They too mattered in this situation.

For a millisecond or so.

Well.