Chapter 83

“Ah, fuck this miserable life…”

The blistering heatwave that had been melting Seoul had finally broken. Autumn had supposedly arrived, yet the midday sun still pricked at bare skin. Through the gates of Seoul Airport emerged a man wearing a vicious scowl, foul temper radiating from every pore—hardly recognizable as the same person who had clocked in with ‘Safe’ day after day for weeks.

The business trip had dragged on far longer than planned. He had been forced deep into inland China, chasing brokers who bought and sold high-grade jewels. He had managed to secure a lead, but once the grueling bullshit stretched beyond a month, rage and sickening irritation seemed to seethe through every vein in Gye Do-hyeop’s body. The returning headache was no better. Within half a day of leaving the country, he had burned through his entire supply of headache pills, and he had been chain-smoking almost from the moment he set foot on foreign soil.

Scritch.

Now was no different. The moment Gye Do-hyeop climbed into the waiting vehicle, he pulled a silver case from his breast pocket and flicked a flame to a short, hand-rolled smoke. A bitter herbal scent filled the vehicle’s interior along with a cloud of white smoke.

“Ssshh…”

Slouching so low his massive frame was nearly horizontal, his back sunk deep into the seat, Gye Do-hyeop drew a long breath. What he pinched between his fingers, what he held bitterly on his tongue, was nothing more than a cheap substitute. Dead grass. Inexpensive dried leaves that only blunted the sharpest edge of a mind already howling and frayed.

At sixteen—an age when he was no longer an innocent sprout—the day he had burst from the earth, he had sought out that first bitter scent, and he had been smoking it for thirteen years now. Lingering in his viciously flaring headaches, his insomnia, and his recurring empty dreams was a smell of dust, clinging to him like an olfactory hallucination.

He had never seriously tried to rid himself of it. By now it was practically a companion, one he would drag along until the day he died. He simply kept the herbal smoke close, letting its languor thin those phantom smells whenever they grew too vivid. Drawn all the way to the bottom of his lungs, the smoke drifted there as though life and death were tangling together, dulling his symptoms just enough to endure.

Yet by now, this alone had become insufficient. What he had once resolved to live with as a chronic affliction had turned into a nuisance instead. That single moment when a forest bursting with life—so vivid a spirit might leap out at any second—had appeared before his eyes proved hundreds of thousands of times more potent than every rolled leaf he had ever held in his hands. It was the effect of Geum Seoul’s pheromones.

Rolling the white smoke in his half-parted mouth before swallowing it down, Gye Do-hyeop pushed up his glasses with an open palm and rotated his wrist. A few taps on his terminal connected the call.

“Deputy Director, exceptional work out there.”

“Who the fuck are you to commend my hard work? Why don’t you grant me an imperial cash bonus while you’re at it?”

Even with that snarling voice snapping the instant the call connected, Yu Jeong-ham only smiled faintly and quipped, If only I could, sir… Gye Do-hyeop answered by shoving a filthy curse straight down the line.

“Where’s Geum Seoul.”

“Today’s Seoul-ssi’s first practical assignment. He just sat down in the monitoring room. Would you like me to patch him through?”

The arrogant expression that had been plastered over with sheer irritability shifted. One of his eyes narrowed slightly.

“What’s the task.”

“We got intel that Node is frequenting an abandoned subway platform. He’s providing recon support.”

“Patch in the channel.”

“Right away, sir. Patching it to your vehicle now.”

Yu Jeong-ham answered briskly while working the console. Assigning Geum Seoul to the support team today had, of course, been entirely deliberate. Deputy Director Gye had spent a substantial stretch overseas on what was essentially disciplinary exile, so his mood upon return was guaranteed to be foul. Until now, Jeong-ham had survived by using his own body as a meat shield for the man’s temper. Now, however, he possessed a secret weapon capable of smothering that fury at the source. For an entire month he had bided his time, planning to stage Geum Seoul’s operational debut at the exact hour the deputy director cleared customs, and at last the day had arrived. He had originally intended to give Geum Seoul the day off, but once the boy heard that the deputy director was coming back, he volunteered to work with such enthusiasm that Jeong-ham hadn’t bothered resisting.

Whirrr.

A monitor rose before Gye Do-hyeop’s eyes, displaying the live tactical feed. Since it was being streamed from a bodycam mounted on a field operative, the field of view was narrow and the lighting dim.

“Team Selene has breached. Moving straight ahead.”

Gye Do-hyeop took another drag from the already shortened cigarette.

Krrk.

“There’s a conduit fifteen meters ahead.”

It was Geum Seoul’s voice. At the faintly cracked, weary tone, Gye Do-hyeop let out a low chuckle, engaged the recording function, and blew out a plume of white smoke.

“Copy. Checking now.”

With no intention of correcting his indolent posture, he stayed right as he was. Gye Do-hyeop tilted his chin askew and flicked the glowing ash off the tip of his roll through the crack of the half-lowered window.

In addition to the bodycam feed, the display showed the headquarters tactical screen that Geum Seoul was likely looking at. The schematic map of the abandoned subway platform was shifting in increments.

“It’s locked. No sign of anyone coming or going.”

“Take a left three meters ahead and there’s another one right away.”

It was an inconsequential mission, yet Geum Seoul quietly and methodically guided them along the route. Across the map he had displayed, a purple line was drawn. Even to Gye Do-hyeop’s discerning eyes, the movement route was remarkably efficient.

“He mapped this route, didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He put it together in three hours—he has real talent. For now, I assigned Da-ol as primary and put him on secondary. It’s nothing complicated, so I told Da-ol to step back.”

“Mm.”

All the way to headquarters, Gye Do-hyeop listened to Geum Seoul’s voice. In his characteristically calm, orderly cadence, Geum Seoul guided the team along the prepared route. Gye Do-hyeop even chuckled with satisfaction at how the boy made sure to direct them through a drainage culvert that had been decommissioned years ago and left uninspected for quite some time. It was a one-way audio feed, so Geum Seoul couldn’t hear him.

Thud.

“Fifty meters ahead is the final turn.”

“All clear.”

‘Eco-Friendly Energy Research Complex’

A familiar sign came into view through the car window. With a long, groaning screech, the massive gate swung open, and after crossing the sprawling grounds, the car drew to a halt in front of the main building. Gye Do-hyeop stepped out of the rear seat with the comm-bug still tucked into his ear. He intended to head straight for the monitoring room. He saw right through Yu Jeong-ham’s deliberate timing in stationing Geum Seoul at this exact hour, but because the strategy had proven quite effective, he didn’t feel like cussing him out.

Beep.

● SYSTEM ACCESS

ID: NSSD-DIR-2

ACCESS GRANTED

Security offered no drawn-out greeting. They simply dipped their heads and retreated into the background. Everyone here knew that ruffling the feathers of a Gye Do-hyeop fresh from disciplinary exile never ended well. Hands buried in his pockets, he sauntered into the main building with his usual insolence, nudged his glasses higher, and stepped into the elevator.

“All clear. We’ll sweep out one hundred forty meters east and return to base.”

“Understood.”

All the while he strode down the corridor, Geum Seoul’s voice drifted intermittently into Gye Do-hyeop’s ear. The operation was almost wrapped up, so should he just haul the kid off and shove him into the deputy director’s office? His heart thumped hard with anticipation. Even his fingertips felt as if they were prickling with an itch. He pressed his palm against the monitoring room’s security scanner.

Beep.

Click.

“Ah, excuse me…”

Plucking the comm-bug from his ear just as Geum Seoul spoke, Gye Do-hyeop stepped into the monitoring room. A colossal main display consumed an entire wall, while rows of desks and individual monitors faced the bodycam footage streaming across it. At the center table sat a small head bent in total concentration. Yu Jeong-ham, lingering near the door, started to greet the deputy director, took one look at the venom hanging from Gye Do-hyeop’s eyes, and quietly slunk back.

On ordinary days, these bastards spent their time doing their own work or slacking off unless assigned to a mission, yet today they filled quite a few seats in the monitoring room despite it being a mere recon sweep. It was the debut of the temporary recruit brought in under Gye Do-hyeop’s special hire. Rumor had it he got in on his face alone. Others said he stood out because he was a genius. Word even circulated that he was originally a precious jewel Gwak Chun-young had kept close. They were curious to see just how well this hot potato would perform.

“That corridor where you turned left about three minutes ago. One section of the wall looks slightly off. Can we rewind the footage?”

Geum Seoul asked, looking at Choi Da-ol beside him. Leaning against the back wall of the monitoring room, Gye Do-hyeop took off his glasses and tossed them carelessly onto a nearby table. Picking them up where they landed was Yu Jeong-ham’s job.

“Stand by. Checking now.”

“Yessir. Standing by.”

Choi Da-ol, seated right next to him, relayed the instruction through the mic, then leaned over to maneuver the trackball in front of Geum Seoul’s monitor. The footage rewound a few minutes.

“Here?”

The corridor they had just passed appeared on the main screen. Although dim since the operative’s handheld tactical light was the only source of illumination, a one-meter section of the wall unmistakably exhibited subtle differences in its cracking. While roughly similar in gray tone, it was in remarkably pristine shape compared to the rest of the wall, which was thoroughly rotted, crumbling, and shedding flakes of peeling paint. Geum Seoul answered crisply.

“Yes. I watched all the way to the end of the corridor to see if there was another spot like it, but only that section looked that way.”

“Mm… Give me a second. I need to check when the last maintenance was done.”

Yu Jeong-ham crossed his arms and locked his focus on the monitor. Overhearing their exchange, an operative at the desk in the front row checked the archives and turned around.

“I checked the records. There used to be an emergency evacuation bulkhead at that point, but it was sealed off during repairs six years ago. The map we’re currently using only dates back five years, so that’s probably why it didn’t show up.”

Gye Do-hyeop’s gaze deepened. Meanwhile, Choi Da-ol, who had been staring wide-eyed at the map, sat back down and keyed the mic.

“I just transmitted the coordinates Seoul-ssi pointed out. Check the left wall, and MQ1 is authorized if necessary.”

“Copy that.”

Unable to tear his eyes from the main screen, Geum Seoul pulled back slightly in his chair. A mechanical clatter sounded through the speakers, showing the team on the move. Even at a brisker pace than before, the men didn’t let out a single ragged breath, retracing their steps with flawless precision as if synchronizing their stride.

Gye Do-hyeop’s eyes were pinned not to the screen, but to the back of Geum Seoul’s head. Even looking at the nape of his neck and shoulders from behind, it was obvious the boy had lost weight. Had he even been eating properly? His voice was subdued and frail.

Though the sight grated on Gye Do-hyeop’s nerves, it wasn’t displeasing. Seeing that Geum Seoul wasn’t doing particularly well gave him a strange, faint sense of relief. Rather than seeing the boy plump and thriving in his absence, he preferred him looking slightly precarious.

If he had to describe his own condition, this entire fucking disciplinary trip had been hell on earth. The reason was simple: Geum Seoul had not been there. For nearly a month, Do-hyeop had wanted nothing more than to devour the boy whole. It wasn’t some ticklish, sentimental longing to see his face. It was starvation with teeth, a hunger that gouged his insides hollow. The urge to chew Geum Seoul up, swallow him down, and digest him into his very lungs and stomach had eaten through every corner of him.