Chapter 107

Blink. Blink.

Pitch-black darkness.

And a dusky glimmer of light.

Geum Seoul drifted between the two visions, agonizing for a fleeting moment. Which one was reality? In which one did the deputy director exist?

Even with consciousness barely flickering back, that was the first thought to surface. He wanted desperately to erase it, but the memory had been carved too deeply. Every bone, every drop of blood, every organ in his body seemed to remember.

The deputy director had left him behind and sunk down into the dark. Even as the sharp prick of a needle entered his skin and his consciousness plunged into blackness, that single truth had remained searingly vivid. It was terrifying, horrifying, agonizingly real.

Rustle.

Geum Seoul’s shoulders gave a small shudder. Through the hazy cracks of his drifting awareness, he sensed someone else’s presence. Perhaps it was the deputy director. Maybe everything had just been a terrible nightmare. That threadbare sliver of hope forced his heavy eyelids open.

“Are you awake?”

“I hope I didn’t wake you. They told me you need plenty of rest, but…” The man speaking possessed rugged, coarse features and was well into middle age. Scratching roughly at his bluish, stubbled jaw, he took a hesitant step closer from across the room. But the moment their gazes met, he froze in his tracks, faltering with a flicker of embarrassment. That fluster was gone in a flash, however.

“…Ah. Did I startle you? Er, well, my name is Hwang Gi-dong. That bastard Gye Do-hyeop’s—no, wait. I’m the guy who first brought him into the Security Division, his… boss? Mm. Yeah. An old boss of his, you could say.”

What the rambling man had been holding was a newspaper. Geum Seoul’s gaze drifted past him and fell upon the printed pages.

Iljeong-dong Logistics Warehouse Collapses

No Casualties Reported, but City Center Gripped by ‘Fears of Terror’

Rustle.

As Geum Seoul’s eyelids fluttered, the man hurriedly folded the newspaper in half twice and put it away. He stepped in closer, only to back away again at the wary guard rising in Geum Seoul’s expression. Instead, he pulled a business card from inside his coat. As if to prove that was his only intention, he reached his arm out, set the card atop the blanket right in Geum Seoul’s line of sight, and backed away with long strides.

Hwang Gi-dong

Chief of Staff to the Grand Magistrate

A large Rose of Sharon and the insignia of the Grand Magistrate were stamped prominently across it. Having not spoken a single word since opening his eyes, Geum Seoul let his gaze drop heavily. An IV line was taped to the back of his hand.

“…I think it’s been what, forty-eight years since the code for discovering a Rank A gem was last triggered? That’s what they’re saying, at least.”

The man muttered, ‘Ah, back then it had a different code name. What was it? Started with Gem, I think.’ His eyes rolled upward as though he were genuinely searching his memory, but none of that answered the question Geum Seoul actually wanted to ask.

“…What about the deputy director?”

“……”

At those words, the man fell silent. Geum Seoul knew what that silence meant. It meant that even now, the man was still trapped beneath the collapsed building. Geum Seoul’s face crumpled as his lips began to tremble violently, yet no tears fell. He bit hard into his lower lip and clamped his jaw tight.

“…For now, you ought to worry about your own body first. The baby is fine, but you need absolute stability right now—”

“If you’re the Chief of Staff to the Grand Magistrate, that’s a very high position, isn’t it?”

A faint swell of hope seeped into his voice as he spoke. Come to think of it, he had seen it in the papers. Both the name and the title were familiar. His trembling gaze lifted.

“Please let me go back to the deputy director.”

At Geum Seoul’s plea, Hwang Gi-dong scratched at his forehead with a troubled grimace.

“That falls under the Special Security Division’s jurisdiction, so it’s not really my place to say…. And besides, now that you’re awake, we need to make sure you’re in good health first, Seoul-ssi—”

“No.”

Cutting him off this time, Geum Seoul abruptly threw his upper body upright and dropped to his knees on the bed. Startled by the sudden burst of agitation, Hwang Gi-dong glanced around in panic. Geum Seoul gripped the bed rail tightly.

“My gem isn’t Rank A. The deputy director lied just to save my life. I swear it.”

Geum Seoul had previously witnessed the vehicle’s artificial intelligence ranking people when he rode with Yu Jeong-ham. That was why he understood precisely what Gye Do-hyeop had done for him. Gye Do-hyeop had lied that he carried a Rank A gem, forcing the rescue pod to prioritize and save him.

“I heard from Jeong-ham. He said it’s Rank A.”

“No, it’s not! The rescue pod could only save one person, so the deputy director lied—!”

“He said they tested the gem retrieved from the rescue pod.”

“……”

“For now, only Jeong-ham and I know about it.”

With that, he set something down on the edge of the bed. Resting beside a black leather glasses case was a terminal.

“Jeong-ham figured you wouldn’t believe it otherwise, so he told me to pass this along.”

There was no way he could fail to recognize the scanner he had clung to day after day to test his gem grade. It meant it was the truth.

Rank A. Still kneeling, Geum Seoul’s pupils quivered violently. Seeing how badly shaken he was, Hwang Gi-dong scratched his eyebrow.

The scanner almost seemed unnecessary. Geum Seoul’s appearance was evidence enough that something had changed. It was not simply that he looked prettier or more handsome. It was his eyes.

“……”

Hwang Gi-dong recalled a story he had once heard from someone in the highest echelons of power.

‘I was the one who brought that gem and had it placed in the museum.’

Over tea after a luncheon, the white-haired elder had spoken while gazing into empty space. One could see his faded eyes groping through the past. He had been reminiscing about a gem omega.

‘It rose to Rank A just once, and after that, it never appeared again.’

He said that omega had been born a Rank B-1 and lived nearly their entire life under state surveillance in the name of national security. And in the end, they shed a Rank A gem only once, never to produce another.

‘I witnessed that moment myself. Ah, those eyes…’

Hwang Gi-dong still remembered how vividly the old man’s eyes had shone in that moment. As he described how clear and deep the gem omega’s originally dark brown eyes had become, his throat had constricted, choking off his words until he took a sip of tea.

“……”

Right now, the eyes Hwang Gi-dong was looking into were exactly like that.

Beneath his long eyelashes, the round irises were a rich, vivid amber that closely resembled gold.

The colors of the gems shed by gem omegas were remarkably diverse, but that did not mean their eye color mirrored the gems. It was said that their eyes took on the color of their gems after death, yet few had ever witnessed that firsthand.

In other words, Geum Seoul’s eyes were anything but ordinary now. Their color, much more saturated than his light-brown hair, had announced something extraordinary from the instant he opened them.

“Tsk, look…”

Hwang Gi-dong hesitated before picking up the thread.

“…Even though the official examination hasn’t taken place yet, the code has already been triggered. As someone who might be a Rank A, they won’t allow you near a dangerous site.”

“Even if I go on my own two feet, even if I insist on going myself, you’re saying they won’t let me? How is that protection? When I’m the one telling them I want to go!”

As Geum Seoul’s voice rose, Hwang Gi-dong let out a heavy sigh and stepped in closer. Seeing the IV line pulled taut by his rigid posture, he gently supported the boy’s back and rolled the IV pole closer.

“Geum Seoul-ssi. I’ve watched that bastard Gye Do-hyeop ever since back when he went by Gwi-chang.”

At those words, Geum Seoul lifted his fluttering gaze, looking as though he might pass out at any moment.

“Is that crazy bastard the type to go and die when he’s got his mate and a child waiting for him? So for now, think of your own health and just rest a while. And look, this is strictly between us, but…”

Up close, Geum Seoul’s eyes were faintly unfocused, looking ready to slip into unconsciousness at any second.

“……”

“Don’t shed any tears for the time being. And tell them you’re postponing the ophthalmic exam as well.”

At those words, Geum Seoul’s gaze slowly drifted downward. Hwang Gi-dong was a man occupying a key government post. Geum Seoul had expected him to insist on rushing through the tests to register as a Rank A now that he was awake, but instead the man spoke with surprising resolve on his weary face. Yet despite his resolute tone, his voice remained a low, cautious whisper.

“The moment it’s confirmed you’re Rank A, your hands will be tied. They’ll try to keep tabs on your every move. That’s why you have to stall, no matter what. That’s the only way you’ll have any room to maneuver.”

“……”

“The law was revised seven years ago, so they can’t forcibly test your tears without your consent or your guardian’s permission. Which means if you don’t want the examination, Seoul-ssi, no one can force you into it.”

“…You believe the deputy director is still alive, don’t you?”

Geum Seoul asked softly. The middle-aged man’s gaze was clear and deep. As their eyes locked for several uninterrupted seconds, a chill crept up Hwang Gi-dong’s spine.

“That bastard will probably live till he’s a hundred, I reckon.”

Geum Seoul could tell that wasn’t empty comfort. The man genuinely believed it. Ridiculously enough, it was an assurance Geum Seoul hadn’t been able to give himself. The man said he had known Gye Do-hyeop since his days as Gwi-chang. This was the conviction of someone who had known him longer, and known him far better, than he did. Only then did Geum Seoul give a faint nod. This man was on his side—no, on the deputy director’s side.

“…Yes. I’ll do that.”

Repeating his answer, Geum Seoul covered his eyes with his palms.

“That said, if you outright refuse the test and declare you aren’t Rank A, we lose our card. Not that they’d believe you anyway, but with the law in place, they’d have to go through the motions and pull all the guards out of the hospital. Right now, we need to take advantage of that, too. So—”

“You mean I just need to buy time.”

“Yes.”

“…I’ll try.”

Only then did Hwang Gi-dong nod. That tiny flame, which had flickered violently against the world’s harsh winds, was struggling to kindle its resolve once more. Hwang Gi-dong knew what to call that emotion. Its name was hope.

Geum Seoul exhaled slowly, very slowly. The deputy director wouldn’t die. A man who knew him better had vouched for it with absolute certainty, and Geum Seoul had no choice but to trust him, too.

And yet.

Even so.

‘— — — ——— —.’

The moment artificial light flared up just before the rescue pod shot upward. Even if he hadn’t heard what the deputy director was saying, he could recall the man’s face and the shape of his lips with absolute clarity. He had been smiling.

A searing agony tore through him, as though shards of broken glass were scraping down his airway and mangling his internal organs.

In the end, Geum Seoul squeezed his eyes shut, panting as he choked out ragged breaths. The hope he had to dilute the surging dread was far too faint. Over and over, he bit hard on his tongue to keep the sobs from breaking out.

“Then who has the authority to send me back there?”

At the trembling question, Hwang Gi-dong let out a low grunt, drawing out his answer.

“Right now, they haven’t even verified that you’re Rank A and you’re still in a temporary position, so… probably your superior at work?”

It was Noh Pil-gyu. But Geum Seoul knew the man would never grant his wish. Noh Pil-gyu had always treated Gye Do-hyeop as a thorn in his side. Seeing Geum Seoul wince in torment as he drew shallow breaths, Hwang Gi-dong wore a troubled expression.