Chapter 77

It had been the deputy director who saved him after all. What had seemed like miraculous timing had in fact been meticulously calculated by the man from the start. That day, there had never been any chance of him suffering at Park Gil-pyeong’s hands. Because that man had stood ready to save him at any moment.

Tracing the apple-scented lining of his mouth with his tongue, Geum Seoul cast his eyes downward.

“…I miss him,” the quiet confession slipped past his lips.

It had already been several days since he last saw the deputy director. True to his warning that communication would be impossible due to security protocols, not a single call had come through since the man departed the country.

He missed him. And he wanted to ask him so many things: starting from why he had left Bae Seo-woo behind in the neighborhood that day, all the way to whether he might harbor even the slightest feelings for him.

“Ugh…”

He shook his shoulders vigorously. The mere thought made him cringe with embarrassment. Shaking his head briskly, Geum Seoul lifted his chin with renewed determination and took another bite of the apple. Then he picked up the stack of papers resting on the living room table.

This was a special request he had made to Yu Jeong-ham upon first reporting for work. The sheaf of papers was covered with countless printed photographs. Flipping to the next page, Geum Seoul closed his eyes a single second after taking in the photo, slowly reviewing every detail he had just seen. His eyebrows twitched and wriggled before smoothing out into calm once more, followed by a soft, deflated sigh.

“Hopeless… I can’t remember anything…”

It was an awkward training regimen Seoul had devised for himself. Nothing like the abduction should ever happen again, but if another crisis came, he did not want survival to depend entirely on luck. If he truly possessed the ability to preserve a scene like a photograph after a single glance, then he wanted to train until he could call that image back whenever he chose. And if he could learn to use the gift deliberately, perhaps the quality of his gemstones would rise with it.

Chewing on his apple, Geum Seoul picked up the terminal resting beside the papers. Having been safely retrieved from Gye Do-hyeop’s apartment, the device had made its way back into Seoul’s hands through Yu Jeong-ham. A gemstone appraisal report was displayed on the screen.

“Hmm…”

The gemstone he had produced as a test after returning home yesterday was graded B-6, identical to the last one. Yet there was one difference:

“This one has no color again…” he mused aloud.

Tilting his head to the side, Geum Seoul set the apple on the table and picked up the tiny gem instead.

The gemstone was transparent. While it had been cloudy and murky back when graded D, it was now far brighter and clearer. It was so minute that floating impurities might show up under proper inspection, but it was still an incomparable leap forward from before.

“I’ve never even heard of colors changing…” he murmured, rolling the bead across his palm.

Why am I such an oddity? Geum Seoul puffed out his cheeks slightly. While finding a purpose thanks to this anomaly was certainly a blessing, it left him utterly in the dark about everything else.

Every gemstone omega was born with a fixed color. Some produced green stones, others blue, red, or yellow. Until recently, Seoul’s had always appeared white. More precisely, they were probably colorless; the low grade left them so cloudy with tiny imperfections that they resembled drops of milk hardened into stone. The tears he shed yesterday had looked just as colorless to the naked eye.

Yet when he shed tears before the deputy director, the gems had been pink. The morning after they had sex, a few beads were always wedged in the gap between the mattress and the headboard, making them impossible to miss. They were unmistakably gemstones he had dropped.

When he had tested the grade alone back at his previous residence, it had hovered at the lower edge of C-grade, so its cloudiness and tiny grains had made it confusing; now that it had surged into the middle tier of B-grade, the color distinction was unmistakable.

“I have to show him once he returns…” Seoul vowed softly.

He mumbled to himself as he set it down. Despite bringing out the apple with ambitious intent, he had taken merely two bites. Lifting the photographs with empty hands once more, Geum Seoul practiced several more times, and only after swallowing the bitter taste of defeat did he pop his toothbrush into his mouth.

Beep.

Moving at an unhurried pace as he rinsed his mouth, tidied the apartment, and prepared for bed, Geum Seoul startled at the faint electronic chime. Flipping his wrist over at once, he checked the miniature display. The device, which had remained quiet all day, was blinking.

Across the black screen, three small digits illuminated. A gentle warmth bloomed across Geum Seoul’s cheeks. This was the solitary signal sent by Gye Do-hyeop, who had warned that contact would be entirely impossible while abroad.

The message had first arrived on the night following the deputy director’s departure and Seoul’s first day reporting to NSSA headquarters.

● SYSTEM

213.

It was the exact numeric sequence he had transmitted once before. Having perhaps affixed the transmitter somewhere on his person rather than wedging it into a molar as Seoul had, the man sent the identical transmission precisely once every night.

Abduction. Infiltration. Trap. Under fire. Wounded. Isolated. Compromised. Amid status codes teeming with such grim realities, this was the sole affirmative entry. Geum Seoul stared at his wrist for a long while before letting out a slow, deep breath. Only now could he truly bring the day to a close.

The few days spent at the NSSA had been genuinely intriguing. Having never done anything in his life other than run petty errands, sitting at an office desk and dedicating his day to purposeful tasks—just as he had once heard people describe—was far more rewarding than he had imagined.

Kneading his earlobes between his fingers, Geum Seoul switched off the lights, retreated into the bedroom, and slipped beneath the sheets. The digits still glowed faintly upon his wrist.

“…I really miss him,” he murmured softly into the dark.

It felt as though he had become an ordinary person over these past few days. To think that he was living in Seoul. At times, it felt remarkably like drifting through a dream.

And yet, without the deputy director, it remained an amputated half-life. What if the man was undertaking dangerous assignments in foreign territory? What if he got hurt? Since the deployment was framed as disciplinary action to begin with, the assignment could hardly be ordinary. Surely he would return unharmed. After all, tonight’s signal had been 213 as well.

After weathering the whirlwind of each half-day, Geum Seoul unfailingly carved out his remaining hours to dwell on thoughts of Gye Do-hyeop.

In doing so, Seoul often found himself digging back into the past memories the man had once shared with him—something Gye Do-hyeop had never technically granted permission for.

It was presumptuous worry, clumsy and entirely unauthorized. Yet once he had fallen for the man, avoiding it became impossible. Standing beneath sunlight cast a shadow. Dousing oneself in water left the body soaked. Drawing breath filled the lungs. In the same unavoidable way, night after night, Geum Seoul worried over Gye Do-hyeop until his chest hurt. Perhaps that was simply another shape love could take.

And at times, Geum Seoul also replayed the day his heat had arrived. This too was a recollection that his tingling chest unfurled of its own volition. Whenever he pictured the face of the man who had succumbed entirely to his pheromones—losing his reason, eyes unfocused and languid—a thrill of satisfaction blossomed so intensely it sent a shiver down his spine.

Could this also be considered another phrasing of affection? It was hardly pure; perhaps it was far too eerie, dreary, and shadowed an inclination.

Harboring such thoughts toward the most eerie, shadowed man imaginable, Geum Seoul curled his body inward as if embracing the myriad swirling emotions deep within his belly. He laid his palm over his wrist.

Resting upon the bed was the deputy director’s clothing—the sweatshirt he had borrowed back at the previous safehouse. On the first night, clutching another man’s garment so presumptuously while drifting off had filled him with unbearable embarrassment, but now he buried his nose into the fabric with practiced familiarity.

Though the scent of the man had faded to a faint whisper, merely pressing his face against something that belonged to him brought an uncanny sense of calm. He pressed his nose so firmly into the cloth that his breath hissed like a whistling reed, yet Geum Seoul drifted off into deep, motionless slumber just like that.

***

“What is this place?” Geum Seoul asked, looking around the hallway.

After several days spent doing little beyond eating meals and drilling operational codes into his head, Geum Seoul finally rose from his desk and followed Yu Jeong-ham out. Jeong-ham had asked whether he was getting bored and offered to show him something interesting. Bae Seo-woo came along as well. Since being pulled aside the previous day and sternly warned to watch his mouth, he had been unusually subdued, hovering near the pair while gingerly reading their expressions.

“This is the Technical Center,” Yu Jeong-ham explained as they walked. “We test national security technologies here, whether imported from overseas or developed domestically.”

Leaving Bae Seo-woo trailing a pace behind them like an obedient pup, Yu Jeong-ham elaborated on their surroundings. Though they had walked a considerable distance from the office, they had never stepped outside the complex. After navigating a labyrinthine series of corridors, they took an unfamiliar elevator deep underground. ‘We tend to hide far more things subterranean than above ground…’ Jeong-ham added with a chuckle.

Beep-beep.

● SYSTEM ACCESS

ID: NSSD-SUB-3

Access Granted

Only after Yu Jeong-ham repeatedly pressed his palm against security barriers spaced along the lengthy passage did an immense circular chamber finally reveal itself.

“Ah, Jeong-ham-ssi, you’re here? Seo-woo-ssi too?” a technician called out with a welcoming smile.

“Hello,” Seoul greeted politely.

“Yes, just taking a quick look around,” Yu Jeong-ham replied amiably.

“Ah! In that case, could you take a look at this for a moment? There was something the deputy director mentioned earlier…” the technician requested, waving him over.

While Yu Jeong-ham exchanged warm greetings and conversed with the staff member, Bae Seo-woo edged hesitantly toward Geum Seoul, whose eyes were wide with wonder as he took in the facility, and gestured further inward.

“I’ll show you around. It’s this way,” Seo-woo offered in a hushed tone.

“Yes. Thank you.” Seoul nodded, following his lead.

The area was remarkably luminous despite being deep underground. Even though they had undeniably ridden the elevator down, down into the subterranean levels, bright sunlight was pouring through the windows. How was this possible? It felt as though a fracture had formed across what he understood of reality.

Geum Seoul paused before an observation railing overlooking the floor below. Glancing down, he saw a compact machine beeping steadily as it scanned beyond a tangled mound of rebar. A moment later, with a soft pop, it inflated a massive transparent sphere, inside of which rested a human-sized heap of rubble.

“…What is that?” Seoul asked, leaning slightly over the rail.

“It’s a life-saving rescue artificial intelligence,” Bae Seo-woo explained. “It extracts living organisms trapped behind debris and encloses them in a pressurized capsule, but it’s still under development.”

“I see… And what about that apparatus mounted on the wall?” Seoul asked, looking up.

“Ah. That combines environmental lighting, projected imagery, and ambient audio so personnel don’t perceive the space as an underground bunker,” Seo-woo noted. “It’s installed throughout our entire facility. You know how our lounge is blindingly bright? Ah, have you not visited it yet?”

Having started slowly, Bae Seo-woo’s voice grew gradually animated, his pace quickening with enthusiasm. When he demonstrated the Skin Wave—a dermal patch concealed on the body that transmitted numeric codes upon pressure—Seoul’s eyes had sparkled, murmuring that it was something he knew. Watching Geum Seoul look on with wide-eyed fascination at every explanation filled Seo-woo with an unwarranted burst of pride.

“It’s truly incredible,” Seoul marveled softly.

Continuing to marvel in quiet awe, Seoul parted his lips and shifted his index finger toward another partition. What about this? And that? At his barrage of inquisitive questions, Bae Seo-woo beamed proudly and explained each fixture one by one.

“That’s a training program artificial intelligence called Deep Cell.” Seo-woo pointed out. “It scans your biometric parameters and generates combat opponents matched to your specific skill tier. Want to give it a try?”

“Pardon? No, thank you…” Seoul demurred instantly, shaking his head.

At the resolute refusal, Bae Seo-woo chuckled.

“If you plan to keep working here, you’ll probably have to run through it at least once, Seoul-ssi. You have to achieve a baseline qualification score here before you can be deployed in the field.”