Chapter 113

What Geum Seoul wanted, selfishly, was a selfish kind of love. Down in those depths, he had genuinely hoped the deputy director would be the first one out, and when he believed that was going to happen, relief had flooded him without even a trace of bitterness. He wanted Do-hyeop to live. He wanted that enormous, consequential life to continue moving through the world. Until the last possible moment, Seoul had been grateful that the man was selfish enough to abandon somebody like him without looking back. He had believed that selfishness would save him. He truly had.

The man had not hesitated. For the sake of an insignificant life, he had buried himself beneath the earth once more. Geum Seoul could not bear that truth.

84.

If the deputy director reappeared, Geum Seoul intended to strike him across the face with his fist. The man had told him to hit him if he ever tried to use him. This was just another form of using him. Without conferring with him in the least, he had simply calculated on his own and used him. To keep him alive. Whatever the purpose, it made no difference.

Rumble.

A thunderous sound rolled up from beneath the earth. Seoul’s eyes, held open for far too long, burned gritty and dry, and a dull ache had begun to pulse behind his temples. Still, he did not move. He stood there as rigidly as if the ground had rooted him in place.

90.

In truth, Geum Seoul knew. He knew he could never lay a hand on him. It wasn’t a question of whether it was possible. If he demanded it, the man would offer his cheek, but there was no way he could strike someone who had chosen sacrifice and suffered yet another burial for his sake.

The surrounding laborers were murmuring among themselves. Heavy lifting equipment was gradually arriving near the structure, and people divided up duties for the rubble-clearing operation about to begin. Only the space around Geum Seoul remained dead silent.

94.

When the deputy director came back, what should Seoul do first? He clung to that question because it allowed him to imagine a future tense. He could not hit him. He could not resent him for choosing as he had. He could not demand to know why Do-hyeop had saved him, nor spit out that the man should have lived instead of leaving a worthless Geum Seoul behind. Those words might be what his rotting, festering heart wanted to vomit first, but saying them would cheapen the feeling behind Do-hyeop’s choice. Some emotions, Seoul was beginning to understand, had to be swallowed before they could be expressed.

Beside him, he heard Bae Seo-woo mutter that it was almost done. Geum Seoul turned his gaze toward the monitor once more.

99.

I should tell him thank you. Later, once he was back inside that familiar embrace, Seoul could ask whether the deputy director understood how unbearable these days had been. But the first words had to be gratitude. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you for deciding that this insignificant life was worth so much. If his life had been bought at the price of Do-hyeop’s own, then Seoul had to promise that he would live it more fully, more carefully, more worthily than he ever had before.

‘Aren’t you curious? Just how brightly you can shine.’

You truly made me into that. Right now, I am truly shining. The deputy director made me this way. Because you refused to give up on me. Because you kept wiping me clean, polishing me, washing me, and dressing me, and because you raised me up and placed me inside the ring, I haven’t given up on you now either.

Beep—.

● SYSTEM

—”100% —“

“It’s finished! It formed with no critical hazards, and now that shoring is complete, you can bring in the heavy equipment!”

At the man’s words, the workers on site turned their eyes to Geum Seoul in unison. They were waiting for his permission. The moment Seoul gave a nod, everyone began moving in lockstep precision.

Now, all that remained was hoisting out the crushed debris and collapsed concrete. Priority went above all else to the exact spot where Geum Seoul had erected the rescue dome. The plan was to excavate this section first, leaving the rest to be cleared step-by-step later.

“Seoul-ssi, step back now. It’s too dangerous.”

Right then, Seoul’s legs gave a tremor, and Bae Seo-woo and Jeong Tae-eun immediately caught him under his arms.

Whirrrrr.

Groaning with massive mechanical strain, the crane hoisted up the pillar it had held suspended all this time.

Craaash!

With that, the surrounding rubble caved inward with a deafening roar. All three widened their eyes and whipped their heads around toward the collapse.

“It’s all right. It’s okay. You said it would hold, remember?”

Jeong Tae-eun was the first to soothe him. Watching Geum Seoul’s twitching eyelids, she hastily tugged his arm to guide him further away. After two or three firm pulls, Seoul, who had stood frozen stiff, finally let himself be led along.

***

Shwaaaaa.

Stained pitch-black and smothered in ash-gray, the sky was nearly indistinguishable from the earth. Before long, rain poured down in sheets, slowing the rescue operation. Everything grew slick with moisture, and the scent of damp earth tangled thick in the air with the stench of pulverized dust.

Splash. Splash.

Whenever someone walked, murky black water clung to their feet and tore away like shadows. Geum Seoul pulled on a thick navy raincoat Jeong Tae-eun had handed him. Tae-eun had smiled, pointing to the massive bag she had hauled along, saying she had checked the full week’s forecast before packing.

“Setting the supports right from the start definitely sped things up.”

The man, who claimed to have done this work for decades, had said as much. Though the rain caused a snag, he assured them they would be able to clear everything out in a day and a half. Since they were clearing only a single designated section rather than the entire site, that would be enough.

They had already spent two days on the search. Another day and a half would push the total close to four. Geum Seoul did not even return to the nearby lodging. Workers rotated in and out, ate meals, drank coffee, disappeared for rest and came back again, but Seoul stayed rooted to the same strip of ground, watching heavy machinery peel the ruin apart layer by layer. At intervals he opened the books Bae Seo-woo had brought, skimmed the specifications and blast yields of explosives commonly used by Node, then shut his eyes and rebuilt the Deputy Director’s last position in his mind.

Drip. Drop.

Rainwater dripping from the eaves tapped against Seoul’s raincoat. As he lifted his head, a stray droplet beaded on his cheek. Pushing up his glasses, he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“Senior Jeong-ham says he’s on his way. He’ll probably arrive around evening.”

Bae Seo-woo spoke after stepping away for a quick call. Seoul answered that he understood, gently massaging his wrist.

It throbbed with a dull ache. It was where he had scraped against protruding rebar while shoving the machinery in. The skin had not torn, leaving only a red welt, yet the persistent sting suggested a deep bruise underneath. Noticing him rubbing it, Seo-woo coaxed him gently.

“Why don’t you catch some sleep? It’s going to be the exact same work until tomorrow morning anyway.”

“She’s right. The wind is chilly too. I’ll wake you up in exactly three hours.”

Jeong Tae-eun chimed in, but Seoul made a reluctant face. He wanted to keep his eyes on every single piece being pulled up, but by now his hands were trembling right alongside his thighs.

“Come on, you can come back out once the end is in sight. Right now is when you should be resting inside.”

“Exactly. If you collapse again and miss the moment Do-hyeop is pulled out, imagine how heartbreaking that would be.”

Seoul flinched.

Tae-eun’s words struck squarely at Seoul’s weakness. Ever since the Deputy Director was buried beneath the rubble right before his eyes, he knew his physical condition had deteriorated drastically. Unable to sit properly, he would occasionally lurch on his feet, and his vision would wash out in blinding white.

Now was the time he had to rest. Yielding to their urging at last, Geum Seoul turned his body around.

“Instead, I’ll keep both eyes wide open and watch over everything here. I’ve got work to take care of anyway.”

Bae Seo-woo shrugged, lifting a small handheld terminal. Seoul offered a quiet word of thanks.

Clatter.

“Goodness. Why is it pouring like this? I brought along some of my husband’s clothes. Weather like this is practically tailor-made for catching a cold.”

On the way to the house, Geum Seoul carried Tae-eun’s bag for her. Though she adamantly refused, she finally nodded when he begged her to let him do at least this much.

The moment they reached the house, Tae-eun rummaged through the bag and handed Seoul a few clean garments. The scent of fabric softener, the scent of detergent—all gentle, cozy things. Offering his thanks once more, he stepped into the bathroom.

Click.

“Oh dear, I tried to pick the smallest size, but they still look big on you.”

When Seoul emerged from a quick wash, Jeong Tae-eun was already in the kitchen. A cutting board waited on the counter, and white steam curled steadily from a pot on the stove. Something warm was simmering.

“Thank you.”

“How many times are you going to thank me? Hurry inside and get some rest.”

“…”

Instead of heading into the bedroom, however, Seoul lingered. He seemed to have something to say.

“Do you need something?”

“…Can I rest… in the living room?”

At those words, Jeong Tae-eun pressed her lips together tightly. A lump rose in her throat. This young boy was finding the reality before him unbearable to endure. Having lost the sole person he could lean on, with nothing he could do, all he could manage was to stand forlorn in that swirling vortex of dust and wind.

Shutting himself away in a room behind a closed door would not be rest—it would be isolation.

She knew. She understood what he was going through. She could measure the depth of his ache. The reason Jeong Tae-eun went to such lengths to help a boy she had never met before was that seeing him felt like looking at her own past.

Now, her husband worked alongside the head of state at the Grand Inspectorate, but before that, things had been very different. Back then, if he was even an hour late returning home, she would toss and turn all night, clutching her pounding chest. Injuries were a constant reality, and once, he had nearly had an entire leg amputated. Even now, two of his fingers were shorter than normal, the joints having been blown off.

There had been many nights when Do-hyeop came home and reached first for strong liquor. Whenever he returned from some brutal operation and drank with that hollow, punishing intensity, Tae-eun knew he had lost a subordinate. Once, he stumbled in flushed red with alcohol and broke down, saying his own incompetence kept getting his people killed. Startled, she had smacked him on the back and told him never to speak that way again. But before dawn, she and her husband had ended up drinking with him, the three of them clinging to one another and weeping until there were no words left.