Chapter 114

The man had finally begun returning home with a smile only after Gye Do-hyeop joined his unit. She still remembered the night he gave a hearty laugh, saying he’d picked up some crazy bastard who was anything but ordinary, and that now his boys might actually make it out alive.

To Jeong Tae-eun, Gye Do-hyeop was the man who had brought back her husband’s smile. When an outside assignment brought them nearby and they dropped by the house together, Tae-eun had laid out a lavish feast until the table legs groaned, treating him with the utmost warmth and affection. Strictly speaking, he was Gi-dong’s subordinate, but such formalities never mattered to her.

Jeong Tae-eun liked Gye Do-hyeop. She even liked his foul mouth and rotten personality. Whatever kind of man he was, simply giving her more days where her husband came home unharmed made him Tae-eun’s benefactor. Do-hyeop-ah. Do-hyeop-ah. She deliberately addressed him like an estranged eldest son. She knew full well the disgusted grimaces and crumpled expressions he made, looking at her like she was a lunatic, but even that had been pure amusement to her.

That history was why Tae-eun could not look away from the boy in front of her. Even if Gye Do-hyeop were recovered as a corpse, the public would never be told. His appointment might once have appeared in newspapers, but his death would have to vanish into silence. Announcing that the Deputy Director of the Special Security Department had died in an attack could compromise national security. Just as there were no reports now that he was missing, there would be no grand obituary later—only some dry notice about personnel reassignment, if even that. Jeong Tae-eun knew exactly how thoroughly a life like his could be erased from public view.

“I’m thinking of cooking something. Won’t it be too noisy for you?”

“No, it’s fine. And…”

Having gotten that far, Seoul hesitated slightly.

“…You can speak comfortably with me.”

“Shall I, then?”

At Seoul’s words, Tae-eun gave a gentle smile and nodded. Geum Seoul moved quietly to the sofa and switched on the television. It seemed he wanted to fill the room with even the faintest murmur of sound.

—”With the recent spate of terrorist threats, concerns are mounting over the upcoming summit scheduled in just a few days. While the government has declared the highest state of alert and issued statements vowing zero security lapses, officials have also announced the arrest of key figures behind the attacks, orchestrated by ‘Node.’ However, with President Gwak Chun-young of Iljang Trading—identified as the primary financial lifeline of Node—having gone into hiding—”

Not once lifting his head at the anchor’s voice, Geum Seoul sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, scribbling something into his notebook. Then, he stared blankly into empty space.

Meanwhile, unable to soothe the prickle behind her stinging eyes, Jeong Tae-eun chopped busily. She was making porridge that would be pleasantly warm and easy to swallow, requiring hardly any knife work, yet she found herself slicing innocent tofu into tiny, crushed bits.

She deliberately avoided looking toward the living room. Fearing he might not rest easily if he felt watched, Tae-eun kept herself moving briskly in the kitchen.

Before long, the porridge bubbled gently. Loaded with plenty of tofu and egg while keeping the aroma minimal, it was mild enough that even a pregnant woman with severe morning sickness could stomach it. Intending to let it cool, she turned off the burner and looked back toward the sofa.

Geum Seoul had fallen asleep with the pen still clutched in his hand, curled tightly into himself. Tae-eun remembered seeing the same posture when he fainted before; apparently his body folded into a ball whenever it finally surrendered to sleep. The sight made her throat tighten. How could every inch of one person evoke this much pity? She turned off the television, brought a quilt from the bedroom, and draped it carefully over him. At least he had managed to close his eyes for a little while. Sniffling, Tae-eun sank into the single armchair opposite the sofa and pulled out her phone. She intended to badger her husband until he found something—anything—that might lessen this child’s burden.

Geum Seoul woke before the three hours were up. Still, he was not as startled as the time he had awakened in bed after fainting. It helped that Jeong Tae-eun was right in front of him, and this modest living room had grown somewhat familiar.

“You’re awake? You should have slept a little longer. They’re still hauling rubble out, and they say the dome isn’t visible yet. Still, looks like there’s been plenty of progress. Want to see the photos Seo-woo just sent over?”

“Ah… Yes. Let me see.”

Geum Seoul blinked, wondering if she had read his mind. She had rattled off every single thing he was wondering and wanted to ask before he could even utter a word.

“Here.”

“They really cleared out a lot.”

“Right?”

There were several photos. As if Bae Seo-woo had indeed remained at the scene the entire time, the pictures had been taken and sent from various angles.

“So let’s rest for another two hours before heading out. I asked the site foreman, and he said we won’t see anything until dawn. I made some porridge, so eat that first.”

This time, Seoul nodded. Seeing the progress in the photographs allowed him to set down a sliver of his anxiety. The guilt of resting in a warm house while the Deputy Director lay trapped in the freezing earth still gnawed at him, but he had to conserve his strength. If he wanted to witness it with his own eyes when they cleared away everything and pulled the man out. If he wanted to meet him directly.

Rising to his feet, Geum Seoul headed into the kitchen. A bowl of porridge and simple side dishes were set out quickly atop the narrow kitchen island. Thank you. He had repeated those words countless times. It was almost to the point of blurting it out whenever Jeong Tae-eun said a single sentence, but he had no other way to express what he felt.

“Eat up, quickly. I just reheated it and let it cool a bit, so it’s just the right temperature.”

“Yes. Thank you for the meal.”

It was just as she said. The porridge, rich with egg and tofu, was pleasantly warm, and Seoul filled half a spoon and pushed it into his mouth.

“Is all this… making you feel burdened?”

Jeong Tae-eun’s tone was cautious. Chewing the soft porridge, Geum Seoul lowered his gaze for a moment, then quietly opened his mouth.

“…I’m truly sorry to say this, but…”

He even set down his spoon. As he pressed both hands down firmly onto his knees, Jeong Tae-eun’s eyes widened instead. Worried she had burdened him, she wanted to tell him he didn’t need to think that way, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut off what he said next.

“Right now, I need other people’s help very desperately.”

From Seo-woo-ssi, the others from the Special Security Department, and Tae-eun-nim. He followed up with awkwardly attached honorifics, but Tae-eun could not smile. She was simply amazed that he had remembered her name after only a single, fleeting introduction during that frantic initial encounter.

“So, more than any other feeling, I am simply deeply grateful. I’m sorry. Right now, I can’t afford to worry about saving face or nursing my conscience. Other things have to come first. We have to… get the Deputy Director out quickly. If that’s what it takes, I will accept even more help from people. Later… later I’ll thank you properly. Right now, words like this are all I can offer. I’m sorry. …I’m so sorry.”

“…”

Tae-eun’s eyes reddened. Tears rose before she could stop them, and she abruptly sprang to her feet, talking too brightly: “Oh dear, look at my head. I toasted some seaweed earlier, too.” The thing she had meant to say no longer mattered. Using the open refrigerator door as a shield, she wiped her eyes quickly with her sleeve. She did not want to cry where Seoul could see. He was already holding back more emotion than one person should have to contain. Tae-eun refused to add her grief to that weight. The person who had the right to break open those floodgates was not her. It was Gye Do-hyeop.

Geum Seoul fidgeted with his hands on his knees for a moment, then went back to finishing his porridge. Three spoonfuls were all he managed, but considering he had been throwing up even water lately, it was decent enough. Leaning his back against the chair, he took slow, deep breaths to see if nausea would surge, then drank a couple of sips of water before returning to the living room to flip through his notebook.

After resting for about an hour, Seoul could no longer bear the anxiety twisting inside him and left the lodging with Tae-eun. The rain had weakened, but it was still heavy enough to soak through clothing within minutes without an umbrella or raincoat. Today Seoul wore Gye Do-hyeop’s jumper. Until now he had kept it folded away, afraid of grinding dust into the fabric or letting the man’s scent thin in the wind. This morning, finally, he had put it on.

No one left the site when night fell this time. Work lights blazed on every side, turning the rain silver. During shift change, Seoul overheard the workers say they intended to finish everything within the day. He rubbed the stinging bridge of his nose. Part of him wanted to ask why they had not moved like this from the beginning, when he first begged them. But the argument would accomplish nothing, and these were the people he still needed. Seoul pressed a hand to his feverish forehead and swallowed the resentment.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to come earlier, but I couldn’t get away.”

“Not at all. I know how busy you’ve been, and you’ve already helped so much.”

Yu Jeong-ham arrived at the site near midnight. Standing beside Bae Seo-woo, who had guarded this spot all day, his face was carved with deep exhaustion.

“They say once they clear just a little more, we should be able to open the dome.”

“That’s a relief.”

Yu Jeong-ham knew the location Geum Seoul had pointed out would be exact. The real question was not whether Gye Do-hyeop was inside, but whether he was alive or dead.

By now, the debris had sunken deeply into a hollow on one side. It resembled a massive sinkhole, but this was the product of clearing away rubble that had collapsed all the way down into the basement levels. For hours on end, countless trucks and machinery had moved in and out of the area.

“Seoul-ssi.”

On the monitor peering into the interior from above, a black steel floor—bent and dented at various angles—was gradually revealing itself. It looked distinctly different from the adjacent rebar and concrete. It was the rescue device Geum Seoul had personally pushed inside. Looking away from the lift hoisting out chunks of concrete, Seoul turned his head to Yu Jeong-ham.

“Yes?”

“I… searched your quarters, Seoul-ssi. I’m sorry. I should have told you beforehand, but with the risk of wiretapping or hacking, I couldn’t relay it over the phone.”

“It’s fine. It was because of the ledger, right?”

Yu Jeong-ham nodded.

“Did you find it?”

“No. I searched every plausible spot, but there was nothing.”

Nodding, Geum Seoul toyed with his wrist.

“Could the Deputy Director be carrying it on him?”

“Likely, right? No matter how much I thought about it, that seemed to be the only possibility.”

“Yes. That seems probable. Since it’s so important.”