Chapter 104

Since they couldn’t see anything in the pitch black, they had to rely solely on Geum Seoul’s memory. Geum Seoul furrowed his brow slightly and let out a soft murmur, clearly picturing the space he had taken in moments earlier.

“There were about three switches in the center of the wall. Not ordinary light switches, either. They were fairly large, with handles on them…”

“What else?”

“And the wall sconce—I know I’ve seen something just like it in the underpass. Oh, it’s similar to the lamps that came on in the corridor during the explosion at headquarters earlier. It must be for emergencies, right?”

Gye Do-hyeop nodded.

“Or a warning light.”

This place was effectively their main headquarters. They would have rigged it with defensive countermeasures against an intrusion by anyone—more specifically, by the Special Security Department.

“They rigged the shit out of this place.”

It could be traps set to detonate if an intruder snuck in, or defensive mechanisms meant to repel an assault from outside. Gye Do-hyeop raked his mind for a breakthrough. Had he been alone, a solution would have surfaced long ago, but right now, clarity eluded him.

Weee-eee-ing—.

Just then, a green siren mounted to the wall began spinning violently. It was likely the wall light Geum Seoul had mentioned. Pulling Geum Seoul tightly against his chest, Gye Do-hyeop scowled.

“Deputy Director, this—!”

“Get down.”

BOOM—.

Once again the floor vibrated, but unlike the previous blast, this explosion was far removed from their chamber. The reverberating roar sounded dull and muffled.

Thud—, rumble—.

Whatever had been engineered into this place, it was no isolated detonation.

Bang!

Crash!

A pair of concussive roars rocked the space yet again. Tightening his grip around the small of Geum Seoul’s back, Gye Do-hyeop gauged the direction. They were on the fourth basement level. Likely two floors up, to the west. The distance to the blasts was shrinking slightly. He caught Geum Seoul’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Hold on to me. Tell me the second you feel any pain.”

“Yes.”

Geum Seoul’s reply came out clipped, his eyes darting frantically from side to side.

Trickle. Patter.

From the corners of the concrete ceiling, dust showered down like grains of sand. Cradling Geum Seoul in his arms, Gye Do-hyeop braced himself to move.

The building itself was a massive deathtrap. Someone had planted explosives everywhere and was evidently triggering them in sequence, making it impossible to predict what debris would shear off or where it would collapse.

Boom!

This time, the explosion erupted from terrifyingly close range. Geum Seoul threw his arms around the nape of Gye Do-hyeop’s neck, burying his face deep into the crook of his shoulder. Supporting the young man’s back, Gye Do-hyeop fixed sharp, calculating eyes on the ceiling, tracking the fault lines of the cracks. Ninety seconds. All around them remained choked by massive steel plates, concrete walls, and fallen rubble.

Whoever had designed this was cutting off escape routes and detonating the structure methodically from the outside inward, almost as though they were playing a game. This did not feel like an ordinary terrorist strike. It reeked of personal vengeance.

Gye Do-hyeop had survived countless crises since his days on the counterterrorism team. Enduring one hundred and twenty hours trapped in a deep-sea submersible or being locked inside a tunnel erupting in plumes of fire didn’t even qualify as boasting material in his book.

Yet this time was different. This was a crisis unlike any he had faced before. What had once been just another job tackled because it was doable or sounded amusing now had a central pillar of purpose: the existence of Geum Seoul, clutching the fabric of his clothes in his arms.

The probability of Yu Jeong-ham escaping the building and hailing the rescue cell aboard the transport craft before this entire subterranean bunker crushed in around them. Numbers churned and tangled in his mind.

“Deputy Director, look over there.”

Geum Seoul tugged at Gye Do-hyeop’s clothes. Gye Do-hyeop’s gaze snapped toward where he was pointing.

As the green emergency beacon flashed erratically, a lever mounted to the wall was revealed in full. Encased in a clear plastic protective cap, it was the very switch Geum Seoul had remembered seeing.

“Have you seen it before?”

Walking over and pulling it would have been child’s play, but with no way of knowing what secondary mechanism might be primed, moving blindly was out of the question. At Gye Do-hyeop’s question, Geum Seoul narrowed his brow slightly, staring into the empty air. Once again, he was searching through his memories.

“There was an identical one there, too. In the Node stronghold I found before.”

Gye Do-hyeop nodded. Geum Seoul’s memory was never wrong. If it had been present in other locations besides this headquarters, there was a high likelihood it wasn’t a newly rigged trap, but rather a fail-safe device originally installed for Node’s emergency use. That was more than enough justification to take the gamble.

BOOM—!

“Rrrrumble!”

“Hold on tight.”

Another colossal roar tore through the space, shuddering the walls. Clatter, patter. As if the epicenter of this blast was right on the floor above or somewhere close by, a massive groan reverberated as one corner of the ceiling began to cave in. Clutching Geum Seoul tightly to his chest, Gye Do-hyeop broke into a sprint.

Screeech—.

Flattening himself against the wall in a split second, Gye Do-hyeop stepped atop a mangled pile of mechanical debris on the floor and yanked down a lever. This room wouldn’t hold out for eighty seconds. His instincts screamed it.

Huuu—ummm—.

Baaang!

A tremendous boom rolled through the room with another violent tremor. The guillotine-like steel partition that had split the chamber earlier suddenly shot sideways from the wall and braced itself beneath the ceiling like a colossal canopy. The slab, easily more than two spans thick, looked strong enough to turn aside falling debris—but it did not reach far enough. Do-hyeop’s eyes snapped to the lever mounted on the opposite wall. An old-fashioned safety system. Two supports meant to extend from either side and interlock at the center, but only if both levers were pulled at the same time.

Gye Do-hyeop narrowed his eyes. At this rate, the ceiling would collapse in two or three more blasts, yet he couldn’t let go of the bucking lever. Wedging Geum Seoul securely between his body and the wall, he checked the time.

Meanwhile, Geum Seoul planted his feet firmly and peered over the man’s shoulder. The moment that thick steel canopy buckled, it would come crashing down squarely on Gye Do-hyeop’s back. It could shatter his spine or crush his shoulder.

“Geum Seoul, within one minute from now—”

Craaash! Groooan!

Another explosion ripped Gye Do-hyeop’s words apart. The opposite side of the ceiling groaned and began to buckle beneath the blast. Do-hyeop turned toward the sound—just as Geum Seoul tore himself free of the embrace.

“Geum Seoul!”

His eyes had left him for only a split second. In that fleeting instant, Geum Seoul ducked low under the falling debris, darted across to the opposite wall, and pulled down the other lever with all his might. Instantly, with an immense grinding roar, a protective steel barrier shot out to form the second half of the canopy, shielding the space over their heads.

KABOOM!

At last, the ceiling came crashing down in a thunderous roar, but the falling mass only battered and dented the steel barricade above them. The structures, which were supposed to interlock seamlessly, screeched under the onslaught of heavy wreckage, groaning to a halt with their center caved inward. Even so, it had served its purpose admirably.

Hummm. Hummm.

A strange vibration shuddered through the space, and even the flashing green siren died completely.

Huuuuum—.

It was as if darkness itself had acquired a sound. Then even that low, lingering drone—drawn out like a dying breath—faded and stopped.

“Haaah…”

Every breath pulled in a mouthful of dust. Geum Seoul coughed softly a few times.

“Deputy Director, are you all right?”

Pitch darkness enveloped them, making it impossible to see where the deputy director was. Shielding his face from the haze of dust with the back of his hand, Geum Seoul collapsed onto his trembling knees without letting go of the lever.

—”Geum Seoul. You… did you just,” the man’s voice came in broken halts.

Though Seoul couldn’t see a thing, he could clearly tell the man was furious. “I’m sorry. If we stayed like that, I was afraid you’d get hurt.”

Gye Do-hyeop took a long time to answer. “…Don’t let go.”

“Yes.”

Heat tore through Gye Do-hyeop’s esophagus as though he had swallowed molten metal, burning all the way into his skull. Any section of this chamber could collapse without warning, and Geum Seoul was no longer in his arms. That fact alone provoked a panic more violent than anything he had felt while staring down an actual ticking bomb. His heart, usually dead calm at the edge of death, thrashed wildly against his ribs. If he released the lever now, the ceiling could come down over Seoul. Do-hyeop’s mind raced, clawing for a solution. Pressure surged through his temples like an electrical current. For perhaps the first time in his life, his thoughts returned nothing. No plan. No angle. Nothing—and that blankness was more terrifying than the collapsing room.

Kzzzt.

The pinbug lodged in his ear gave a faint whine.

—”Deputy Director. Do you— me? It’s Yoo—.”

As if the radio signals that had been dead were trickling back through the fissures opened by the blast, a familiar voice drifted through the static. Gye Do-hyeop stared into the impenetrable darkness on the opposite side where Geum Seoul would be, then opened his mouth.

“…Report your status.”

—”jamming is— …debris confirmed, rescue cell— …fifty— …danger of collapse—”

The words kept breaking up, but he could piece together the gist: they had deployed rescue cells. Creeeak. Creeeak. Like a broken waterwheel, Gye Do-hyeop’s thoughts barely managed to turn. He turned his wrist to check his watch. The red ‘No Signal’ icon flickered orange, then very rarely flashed green.

Counting silently, Gye Do-hyeop timed the window when the signal came through cleanly. Seven to eight seconds. His eyes narrowed.

“Deputy Director.”

Even in the midst of this, Geum Seoul’s voice remained endlessly gentle. A feeling like a massive sledgehammer crushing his stomach gripped Gye Do-hyeop.

“Is it too much?”

“…No. Deputy Director, are you all right?”

Geum Seoul’s voice wavered with cautious hesitation.

“Because… it’s so dark in here, and we’re underground.”

Ah. This time, unable to endure his churning stomach, a low sound slipped from his throat. Geum Seoul was worried about him. Because they were underground. Terrified that the memory of being buried alive in a coffin might trigger his trauma. Gye Do-hyeop swallowed dryly, choking down the rising nausea. It wasn’t the torment dredged up by memories, as the boy feared. It was the sheer, breathtaking loveliness radiating from Geum Seoul.

“…I’m fine.”

Time and again, countless disparaging insults had tumbled from his mouth. As if those vicious cells were distributed more densely than his salivary glands, he could spew them as effortlessly as breathing.

“If it gets too hard, please tell me.”

Yet every time Geum Seoul revealed the vast capacity of his heart nestled inside that small frame, Gye Do-hyeop felt as if his own tongue were being severed piece by piece. Normally, he would have scoffed and told him to worry about his own damn self, but right now he couldn’t even manage a smirk.

“Geum Seoul.”

“Yes?”

“A rescue cell will be here within a minute.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Gye Do-hyeop quietly stared in the direction where Geum Seoul sat. Even with his eyes adjusted to the dark, he couldn’t gauge the distance at all. Reaching out wouldn’t touch him. Roughly seven long strides away.

Craaaash!

Another explosion detonated nearby. Along with the crash of falling stone came a grotesque, screeching groan as steel buckled right overhead. The two canopy halves slanted toward the center, sagging even deeper inward.

“Listen to me. I’m going to explain how we get out.”

Gye Do-hyeop pressed his free hand firmly against his temple. From across the dark came a quiet, “Yes.”

“The rescue cell is built for one person, and two of them will arrive one after the other. It homes in on the vitals linked to your smartwatch, and once it detects a person, it deploys a massive air barrier and shoots straight upward. Got it?”

“Like an inflatable ball?”

“Yeah. Just think of it as getting inside one.”

Having explained that much, Gye Do-hyeop bit down hard on his lower lip and dragged a hand over his face.