"Wow, this airplane is something else. I remember riding something like this during a school trip to Jeju Island... Never thought I'd be taking one of these to the U.S. though. It's kind of surreal."

"And it's first class, no less."

As Dice descended the stairs step by step, he checked three times to make sure no one was around before leaning closer to whisper in my ear.

"…Eugene, you've probably ridden other types of aircraft too, right? Like transport planes or tactical helicopters or something…."

"Seems like you've developed a habit of getting curious about things you shouldn't, Dice."

"Oops, sorry about that…."

After giving Dice a piece of my mind, I continued down the stairs. The winter day was clear and crisp, with uniformed staff waiting at the gate connected to the airplane.

As I walked through the gate and entered the somewhat narrow aircraft interior, three flight attendants greeted me warmly. Upon reaching first class, I saw Ink, Mikael, and Gambit already seated and waiting.

One of the flight attendants approached me.

"Mr. Eugene, please follow me."

Guided to a seat in first class, I couldn’t help but smile as I nodded in appreciation. My name was printed in English on the seat, and there was even a special compartment to accommodate my tail. It seemed they had modified the seat based on my specific physical features after receiving prior notice.

They kindly showed me how to recline the seat fully, making it over two meters long with a full 180-degree recline, ensuring absolute comfort. I swapped out my shoes for the provided slippers and placed my warm feet into them. Afterward, I hung up my jacket in the storage closet.

But then…

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yeah, my coat won’t fit in the storage."

"Oh, we can take care of that for you."

I removed my thick winter coat and changed into a comfortable wool sweater. It took me about five minutes to get settled before I could finally sit back and relax.

Once my tail was comfortably positioned in the dedicated space, I experienced the luxury of a proper seat for the first time in ages. Four windows greeted me, providing a panoramic view of the outside.

This reminded me, though, of an unpleasant memory. A transport plane with oppressive gear weighing down on me, the siren wailing, and barely any light except from the open ramp below. Dropping weapons first, then plunging into a pitch-black void…

"…What are you thinking about so deeply?"

"Just counting stars on the ceiling."

"Liar."

Welcome drinks and nuts were served. Dice returned to his seat, and the hologram display came up, showing a live feed of our activities. Thanks to whoever was manning the onboard cameras, the wait for departure wasn’t too boring.

The seats were spaced far enough apart, and there were soundproof curtains. We could speak freely without disturbing anyone, and we even had the option to set up a voice or streaming channel, restricted to first-class passengers only. In other words, the setup was perfect for tactical preparations during the flight.

The doors closed, and the takeoff sequence began.

As the engines roared to life, a strange stillness filled the cabin, isolating us from the outside world. The high output from the four engines transformed into a booming noise, propelling the aircraft forward. Skimming the runway, we soared into the sky, lifting off from Incheon Airport and setting a course across the North Pacific.

The screen in front of me displayed our altitude, direction, and speed in real-time, along with the estimated arrival time at JFK Airport. Fourteen hours and thirty-three minutes. Departing at 9:30 a.m., we’d reach New York by 9:30 a.m. local time. Flying for long enough to swap day for night and still arriving in the morning... no wonder people struggle with jet lag.

Notification: The aircraft has reached cruising altitude.

My Icarus gear automatically sent the alert as the plane stabilized, leaving Korea's landscape sprawling below. According to GPS, we had already passed Namyangju and were heading toward Gangwon-do. I took a deep breath, sinking deeper into the seat, thinking I might get some sleep to make up for the lack of it.

Knock, knock.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"We’re about to serve the first meal. Have you chosen your menu?"

The allure of endless in-flight meals in first class began.

Code Name 'SOAP' is airborne. Repeating, Code Name 'SOAP' is airborne. Currently passing through the eastern region of Korea. Estimated to enter the Third Fleet’s jurisdiction in one hour and twenty-two minutes. Reconnaissance satellite 'Patmos' is tracking coordinates and altitude in real-time. Do you copy?

Copy that. Three Columbia-class nuclear submarines are positioned along SOAP’s flight path. Even if it crashes in the Bering Sea, we’re prepared to rescue everyone within five minutes. In seven hours and eleven minutes, we’ll pass jurisdiction to the Seventh Fleet for further tracking.

Confirmed. The rescue teams are positioned under the guise of emergency drills.

Can I ask something? Who came up with this code name 'SOAP'?

It's an acronym for Snake On A Plane. There’s a B-grade movie by that name—have you seen it?

I sincerely hope this nonsense gets to the higher-ups and results in a pay cut for you. Will report if there’s any further development.

Understood.

"Man, it's dirty cold in the early morning, don’t you think?"

"You're asking a lot from December in New York."

Brooklyn’s 24/7 Irish Pub.

With its LED clock pointing to 6 a.m., the usually empty pub opened its doors to reveal a solitary customer. Pulling off a heavy winter coat, she revealed a thick sweater underneath, outlining her slender neck and ruby-red eyes glinting under the ceiling lights.

Sitting down, her pale hand with a trident tattoo caught my eye, as did the half-finished Florida cocktail on the bar in front of her.

"Care for a drink?"

"No thanks, I don’t want to freeze my insides. It’s my first time back in New York in a while, and I’d rather not cause any trouble."

"First time hearing about a shark catching a cold."

They joked back and forth until a timer read 3 hours and 30 minutes. Outside, snow was falling. New York’s first snow of the season was piling up, transforming the city into a soft blue.

It was the season of silence, when everything seems to fall into a deep sleep. A season that, not too long ago, was filled with uncollected corpses scattered all over New York. As if people’s greed wasn’t already too much, the number of dead only grew.

Watching four seasons change, they learned that winter has a way of keeping people on edge. But that was the past.

Christopher changed the topic as if to wash away those memories.

"I visited Times Square yesterday. I’ve never seen so many people there. That used to be a major kill zone, didn’t it?"

"You mean when we were moving the relay equipment?"

"What else could it be?"

Bullets once rained down in that very area. Chuckling to himself, he lifted his glass, savoring the sweetness.

"Fancy an early breakfast? Scotch eggs?"

"Hmm, bring ten."

"It’s always terrifying how you people eat."

He ordered five servings, knowing that each came with two eggs, for a total of ten. The frying scent filled the pub as they awaited the meal, reminiscing.

"So, where’s Logan?"

"Said he'd be here in twenty. Something about his car sliding in the snow."

"Figures, classic Logan."

He added another order of Scotch eggs, anticipating Logan’s appetite. The scent of fried food soon filled the pub, marking the arrival of the North Pole’s own Logan Blemis, an EM-ranked mutant, in nothing but shorts and a T-shirt.

"Just thought I'd bring a little gift from outside. You know, for this grumpy guy."

With that, the ridiculous, yet familiar morning unfolded, with a snowball fight turned wrestling match. Finally, they settled down as the Scotch eggs arrived, ready to continue their mission planning.

Winter had truly arrived.