Yoga, a wanderer who no longer had anyone, lived in a fragile old house barely standing with age. The villagers called him "the fisherman" not because of his skill, but because he spent his days casting lines, depending entirely on the sea for survival.
They also called him "the child of the wind" a nickname born from his habit of sitting alone by the shore, gazing at the waves with nothing but small hopes and quiet thoughts.
Every morning, the village would awaken to the sound of waves. With sleepy eyes, Yoga would walk past the coastal huts. The sea breeze whispered through the palm trees. Fishing was his favorite activity. He knew each day would be a struggle. If the waves didn't bring fish, he'd return home with an empty stomach. Still, Yoga would rather go hungry than beg from the villagers.
Some people had offered him food and shelter. But Yoga always refused.
"Good morning, myself," he muttered softly that morning. It had become a habit to quietly greet himself, building his own spirit before picking up his fishing pole and heading to the harbor, just like always.
But that morning was different.
When he arrived at the harbor, his eyes widened. Rows of foreign ships were docked along the coast ships he had never seen before. White flags waved proudly atop their masts.
People in foreign uniforms disembarked from the ships.
The air suddenly turned tense.
From the direction of the watchtower, a man appeared. A tall man in a long cloak, flanked by several large-built companions. He stepped forward and introduced himself in a loud voice:
"I am Yereom Deli, mayor of Kulsest!"
Before him stood a man who looked like a military leader, who then spoke:
"I am Tin Quebe. We are former soldiers of the Second World War. We are exiled and now seeking new land to live on. God brought us here... under the protection of Mayor Yereom."
Yereom observed them closely, then asked in a calm but firm tone:
"Where do you come from?"
Tin Quebe replied confidently:
"Germany."
For a moment, the atmosphere froze. The fishermen began murmuring, and hushed whispers spread among the people at the port.That name Germany brought back old memories: the scars of war, reopened once more.
Rumors began to swirl. Some said that German troops had once tried to seize London. They wanted to kidnap General Nail during the peak of the Second World War. And now, the descendants of that nation had docked at the humble port of common people.
The evening air in London felt heavy, as if carrying the remnants of past explosions that had once shaken the city. The gray sky hung low, adding gloom to the central market square, filled with restless citizens.
"Germans have no place here!" shouted someone"
"Enough! This city has suffered enough because of them!" another cried.
Tin stood silently, speechless. He understood.The trauma was too deep to erase with just an apology.
The unrest grew. Even the mayor's words were drowned by waves of anger.But then suddenly a man stepped out from the crowd.He wore a dark gray uniform. His posture was firm, his hair slicked back.On his chest was a small badge shaped like a black bird.
"Mr. Quebe?" he asked, walking closer.
Tin turned. He hadn't yet answered when
"Alright," the man said shortly, then turned to face the towns people with a cold glare. "Listen. He is not here to conquer. He came for something far heavier: redemption."
The murmuring slowly faded. The crowd calmed.Although suspicion lingered, they chose to remain silent for now.Tin looked at the man someone he would later know as Galdar and for the first time since stepping on this land, he felt something that almost resembled hope.
"Are you sure that Mr. Galdar is the one, Yereom?" he asked quietly, standing beside the emergency stage built in the town square. Like he couldn't believe the voice he was hearing.
Galdar looked up at the gray sky. Then he walked up the wooden planks and looked at the silent citizens before him. He spoke loudly and firmly:
"I have witnessed too much suffering befall my people. So many were lost in the retaliation. Wounds from it took many lives, even my brother Nail Fernando Zich fell without a chance to say goodbye. Every time I remember him, it feels like a part of my soul is buried with him."
Galdar bowed his head. "Then... do we deserve to do the same?"
Silence.
Everyone present fell quiet. Not a single word was spoken.
From that silence, a boy's voice rang out:
"Then what if they actually want to invade this land?"
His voice pierced sharply like a small knife stabbing the chest of anyone who heard it.
The people murmured. They recognized the boy. His name was Yoga, an orphan who had lost his parents during a surprise attack. The crowd began whispering:
"Hey, isn't he the one we caught peeking at the intelligence meeting last time?"
Galdar looked at him in silence. "Your name is Yoga, isn't it?"
The boy nodded slowly.
"Hey, isn't your father a great man who managed to capture the mastermind of the infiltration? General Nail. Your father is a hero. He saved this country. Be proud."
Yoga stared blankly. "Does being the child of a hero also make me a hero?"
Galdar gave a faint smile.
"No. But you are proof that their spirit still lives."
With a serious face, Yoga replied calmly:
"If so…
Can you erase this loneliness?"
"I cannot erase that loneliness, because that loneliness is your heroism," Galdar immediately answered sincerely and said with deep concern,
"If you want to erase that loneliness, then let your soul become strong again. If you can rise from your sorrow, that means you are a hero of this nation and you are a hero to yourself."
Then, Galdar returned to the quiet crowd and said to them, "Look ahead! There are so many who are weak and need help. Would you be heroes and save them?"
The people were moved and awakened by Galdar's words.
"Yes! We are heroes!" shouted the citizens as they rushed to help the children captured by the German soldiers.
In the end, Galdar managed to convince the people that everything would be alright.
Tin Quebe and his followers bowed to Goldar and everyone else.