Chapter 32

The moment he beheld that tearful face, Shin understood. When he had suggested ending things, this was the Cha Se-woong he had secretly longed to see. Not a Cha Se-woong who cautiously inquired about the reason and nodded indifferently, but a Cha Se-woong wearing this exact expression, declaring fiercely that they could not break up. Having entered a relationship only to watch Se-woong act perpetually cautious and guarded around him, Shin had simply wanted to confirm Se-woong’s true feelings—that was his honest, underlying motive.

“Forget it. Let’s drop it,” Se-woong choked out, turning away. “How on earth did I think we could try again when you act like this? I must have lost my mind for a moment.”

At Se-woong’s blurted admission, Shin’s eyes flashed with predatory brightness. In contrast, Se-woong looked utterly appalled that the slip of the tongue had escaped his lips.

Shin pressed, stepping forward. “Try again?”

“I said forget it!” Se-woong snapped, glaring up at him.

Shin murmured softly, “If you want to do it, we should, Se-woong-ah.”

Grabbing Se-woong by the nape of his neck, Shin crashed his lips over Se-woong’s mouth. It was a savage kiss, as though releasing all the fury that had accumulated throughout the sleepless night. Though Se-woong tried to pull his head back each time he caught a breath, cursing ‘you crazy bastard,’ before long he was clinging tight around Shin’s neck.

In hindsight, they had essentially broken up over a brief game of ping-pong with a classmate. Even so, it had been an era when returning to where they were before proved effortless with just one fierce kiss.

In the past, parting could be undone so easily.

While the two men were frantically lost in each other on the landing, the clatter of a heavy iron door swinging open echoed several floors above. Like an operative conditioned by years of training, Se-woong immediately tried to tear himself away, but Shin refused to release him. Instead, Shin pulled Se-woong’s waist flush against him with force greater than before.

Sensor lights tripped by human presence flickered to life, their glow cascading down to the ground floor. In that dim illumination, Shin did not take his eyes off Se-woong’s face. That neat countenance was contorted, as though on the verge of tears.

“No, honey, that’s not it—I really am working overtime tonight,” a male voice echoed down the stairs. “Why wouldn’t soldiers have overtime? What? Most modern warfare starts at night. I’m serious. Huh? In that video game… ah… when they let their guard down in the morning… I see. Well, yeah, real life certainly lacks that kind of cinematic drama.”

The heavy footsteps of the man on the phone receded as he climbed upward. Interspersed with the footfalls, muffled phrases from the caller on the other end drifted down. Had that man not been engrossed in his call, the ragged sound of their breathing would have certainly reached his ears.

The emergency exit door clicked open once more, and the man’s voice vanished completely. Given that he had been chatting up until the very moment the door shut, the abrupt silence indicated he had almost certainly exited the stairwell.

Even so, wary of that one-in-a-million chance, Shin focused his senses on their surroundings. He had no wish to make Se-woong anxious over such petty matters.

“I think he’s gone,” Se-woong whispered hurriedly. “Let… let go of me for a second.”

“Why?” Shin hummed softly against his ear.

“What do you mean why? You right now, this…” Se-woong faltered, blushing in the dark.

Se-woong squirmed to pull his lower body away from Shin. It was because of the solid weight pressing against his abdomen. He had almost reached out instinctively toward Shin’s casually erect member.

Shin drawled, “What about it? Isn’t this only natural?”

Unbothered, Shin simply buried his lips back into Se-woong’s neck. Teasing the smooth skin with the tip of his tongue, Shin exhaled a long breath.

“So hurry up and come back to me,” Shin murmured against his skin. “I’ve been doing crazy things lately. I wasn’t even like this in my teens.”

Meeting again, their lips exchanged hot breaths. The Shin who had pushed with such impatient urgency moments ago now began to torment him with tantalizing tenderness. Moving lightly across Se-woong’s straight forehead, nose, and the corners of his eyes, Shin planted gentle kisses before burying his face against the side of Se-woong’s neck.

Shin whispered sternly, “Cha Se-woong. Don’t you dare do this half-heartedly.”

* * *

Spring rain drizzled gloomily outside.

Reviewing the recordings of past interrogations ahead of tomorrow’s supplementary questioning of Subject 330, Se-woong pulled the earphones from his ears. Having listened to the identical segment over and over, he felt as though a Pyongyang accent might tumble from his own mouth at any moment. To say nothing of Shin’s deep, low voice—at this rate, Se-woong could memorize every syllable Shin had uttered and type it out verbatim without missing a single word.

Finishing a dry wash of his face, his fingertips dragged his features downward before releasing them. Merely rubbing his face showed no signs of diluting his exhaustion.

“Oh? That look right there is perfect, sir!” a cheerful voice piped up.

Turning around at the playful voice, Se-woong found Officer Lee Hee-chan grinning brightly and waving a hand. While the Task Force headquarters was not entirely forbidden territory, it remained a sector under strict security protocol, making Hee-chan’s presence without a specialized badge rather unexpected. Spotting Sergeant Kim standing beside him with an access badge draped around his neck, Se-woong gave a faint, understanding chuckle.

“If you could keep your face scrunched up exactly like that,” Hee-chan quipped, strolling forward with an easy swagger, “it would do countless men a tremendous service!”

Se-woong asked, “Officer Lee, how are you here already? Isn’t it a bit early?”

“Come now, why pretend you didn’t hear me?” Hee-chan teased playfully. “I’m especially requesting that scrunched-up expression later when Yeo-jin arrives.”

At Hee-chan’s lighthearted banter—invoking his fiancée’s name with shameless flair—Se-woong flashed an OK sign with his fingers and checked his watch. Though nearing six o’clock, it had not yet struck the hour. With the concept of clocking out having lost meaning long ago, preparing to leave at six felt utterly surreal.

Checking the digital clock on the wall, Hee-chan cheered, “Oh, it just hit six! I timed my arrival knowing that by the time we finished exchanging greetings, it would be exactly six. Hurry up and stand. Traffic will be brutal even if we leave right now. Sergeant Kim is driving today, correct?”

“Yes, that is correct,” Sergeant Kim replied, saluting smartly. “Captain, I’ll head down to get the vehicle ready. Please give me the car keys.”

Se-woong reached for his coat with a shake of his head. “We’ll go down together. No need for that.”

Finding the lively chatter surrounding the normally quiet, serious Captain Cha curious, several passing TF operatives cast inquisitive glances their way.

Hee-chan had traveled here today because of a dinner promise he had made with Se-woong and Sergeant Kim. Though formal invitations were not yet printed, and celebratory gatherings within the Secretariat were to be omitted out of deference to Major Kang, Hee-chan wished to treat them to a meal now that his wedding date was finalized.

Just as Major Kang perpetually droned, both Se-woong and Sergeant Kim were on rotational postings. To Hee-chan, who was effectively a permanent fixture, they were colleagues whom he had to send away just as fond affection took root. The time they spent together was typically two years, three at the absolute most—yet not a single person had ever completed a full three-year tenure. In some cases, he barely saw them for a single year.

During Hee-chan’s seven years at the Joint Chiefs, four people had already cycled through Se-woong’s post alone. Factoring in other positions, countless individuals had arrived and departed across innumerable welcoming parties and farewell banquets.

Under such circumstances, it was true that arrivals and departures no longer stirred deep emotion. Yet after observing so many people from the same vantage point, certain truths revealed themselves naturally: whether one knew someone for a single year or three, a genuinely good person could be recognized by instinct without needing decades of observation.

As the saying went, every task had its share and every horn its shape. While some people merely drifted by over long stretches, there were those upon whom pouring affection in a brief period felt entirely worthwhile. To Hee-chan, Se-woong was precisely that sort of person—inspiring a wish that their brief acquaintance might endure for years to come. Sergeant Kim, too, felt like a lovable youngest brother.

Speaking of whom, Sergeant Kim had fallen remarkably quiet. Wondering how he could be so still, Hee-chan looked over to find him staring intently at Se-woong with an exceedingly solemn expression.

Sergeant Kim mused thoughtfully, “Still, Captain Cha is remarkably handsome. No, wait, you’re rather pretty. Actually, no… You are handsome, sir.”

Se-woong paused in the middle of affixing a security sticker to his tablet PC and looked up. Out of nowhere, Sergeant Kim was wrestling with a deeply solemn dilemma all on his own. From the look of it, this was not the first time he had pondered the question. Seeing him so desperately serious over something utterly useless and unsolvable was absurd beyond measure.

“Tae-jin-ah,” he said, thrusting his briefcase forward with a helpless look. “What are you doing? Hold this instead.”

“No, Captain, at first glance you look handsome, but when you smile like this, you look rather pretty, sir!” Sergeant Kim protested with earnest conviction.

Hoping to cut off the conversation, Se-woong handed his briefcase to Sergeant Kim. Taking the bag with both hands, Sergeant Kim narrowed his eyes and demonstrated a soft, crinkling smile, attempting to mimic how Se-woong’s eyes curved when amused.

Hee-chan chimed in playfully, “Captain Cha, why don’t you print a photocard for Sergeant Kim? What do they call it? I hear these days there are chats where idols communicate with fans. You should open one of those too. If you two hold a private fan meeting, I’ll gladly be the MC.”

Sergeant Kim puffed his cheeks in mild indignation at Hee-chan’s relentless teasing.

“How old do you think I am to be carrying photocards around?” Sergeant Kim grumbled, crossing his arms. “I’m quite fine, thank you.”

Hee-chan laughed heartily. “Twenty-six is practically a baby! Wouldn’t you agree, Captain? What do you say, Sergeant Kim, shall I buy you a photo album to collect photocards?”

“I only said it because Captain Cha is handsome yet pretty at the same time,” Sergeant Kim protested, flushing to his ears. “Why must you tease me?”

Listening to this exchange, Se-woong felt ready to lose his mind. Having never given deep thought to his own looks in his entire life, hearing his appearance evaluated aloud by others was excruciatingly embarrassing. To make matters worse, their voices were far too loud. Operatives who had merely cast curious glances earlier now had their eyes fixed squarely on them.

A low voice drawled from behind, “Is this an evaluation session for Se-woong’s face? I give him a ten out of five.”

Se-woong’s face paled with pure shock. The very voice he had been listening to through earphones all afternoon had slipped between them. Three heads whipped around simultaneously. It appeared the surrounding gazes had not been directed at them, but at Lee Shin approaching behind.

“Good evening, Major!” Hee-chan offered a bright salute with a laugh. “Ten out of five is practically a marriage proposal, wouldn’t you say?”

Having already exchanged greetings throughout the day, Se-woong and Sergeant Kim simply offered light, respectful bows.

Smoothly, Shin remarked, “Even when I propose, he refuses to accept. Se-woong is quite conservative, you see.”

“Ah, so you already tried!” Hee-chan teased with an amused grin. “As expected of our Captain Cha—unbending like bamboo.”

Checking his wristwatch, Shin inquired, “It seems the three of you are leaving together. You mentioned heading home early today—did you have plans? I was thinking we might grab dinner together. We could prepare for the 330 interrogation as well.”