Chapter 80

Yu Jeong-ham spent the entire morning shut inside a conference room finalizing assignments. With Deputy Director Gye’s absence nearing a full month, restlessness was spreading among the operatives. Noh Pil-gyu remained conspicuously quiet, as though occupied with matters no one else was meant to see, but the sycophants clustered around his faction had become noticeably bolder in the vacuum. Jeong-ham eventually rebuilt the duty rotation around that problem, deliberately splitting Noh’s people apart and sending as many of them as possible onto external field assignments.

“Ah, Seoul-ssi, heading down for lunch?” Yu Jeong-ham greeted as he entered the office.

Spotting Geum Seoul offering a polite bow, Jeong-ham struck up a conversation.

“I packed something from the cafeteria,” Seoul answered, holding up a small paper bag.

A small bag dangled from Geum Seoul’s hand. Since Gye Do-hyeop’s departure, Yu Jeong-ham had remained stationed on agency premises as much as possible. It was an explicit directive handed down before the man left: never leave Geum Seoul unattended at headquarters.

As a result, Seoul had routinely taken his meals alongside Jeong-ham, Choi Da-ol, or Bae Seo-woo, rotating in pairs or trios depending on their shift schedules.

Recently, however, Geum Seoul had immersed himself in a new pursuit.

‘By any chance, is there somewhere I can read books here?’

Truthfully, Yu Jeong-ham had been delighted to see him show interest in something.

Geum Seoul was sharp. Explain a task once and he absorbed it. Give him a reconnaissance route to plot and an unexpectedly good tactical instinct emerged, flexible enough to adjust when conditions changed. What astonished Yu Jeong-ham most, however, was the boy’s observation. At times Seoul reacted to details no one else in the room had even realized were there.

Yu Jeong-ham would have liked to train Seoul into a capable operative and keep him with the team permanently, but hostility from several quarters remained a real obstacle. Rumors followed the boy everywhere, and most team members still regarded him as a protected temporary dependent rather than a colleague. Considering that he had originally been brought in for protection—and remained exempt from biometric logging—the assumption was understandable. Jeong-ham could not erase it overnight. For now, all he could do was make certain no one voiced those judgments where Seoul could hear them.

“Did you find something interesting to read?” Jeong-ham asked warmly.

At any rate, Jeong-ham had directed Seoul to the agency’s small archive library. What began as visits two or three times a week had evolved into spending every workday lunch there, taking advantage of boxed meals prepared for field operatives to read in solitude.

“Ah, I used to read nothing but old newspapers,” Seoul explained softly. “I’d only ever read discarded books before, so reading fresh volumes is truly captivating.”

Yu Jeong-ham smiled fondly at the confession, though worry soon crept into his eyes.

“Even so, you’re making sure to rest and sleep properly, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Seoul nodded.

“And eating well too?”

“…Yes. I have this,” Seoul replied, gently rustling the paper bag.

As Geum Seoul lifted the bag, Bae Seo-woo promptly hopped up from his nearby desk to chime in.

Scrape.

“I feel like I’ve only been training muscle lately. Maybe I should accompany Seoul-ssi to the archives to cultivate my intellect?” Seo-woo offered eagerly.

“Today’s cafeteria special is bulgogi,” Jeong-ham remarked dryly.

“……”

At Yu Jeong-ham’s quiet counter, Bae Seo-woo’s face twisted in intense agony. Chuckling, Jeong-ham rested a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Stop bothering someone who wants quiet time to rest, and go mix your rice with bulgogi like a good boy.”

“…Yes, sir,” Seo-woo grumbled, slumping his shoulders.

Deflated, Bae Seo-woo slouched back to his desk. Laughing softly, Jeong-ham waved Geum Seoul along. Hesitating for a moment, Seoul looked back before taking a tentative step toward Yu Jeong-ham.

“I…” Seoul began in a small voice.

“Yes?” Jeong-ham leaned in.

“My grade hasn’t moved for days,” Seoul murmured with downcast eyes. “I’m truly sorry.”

At that subdued apology, Yu Jeong-ham waved his hands in immediate protest.

“Not at all. Why should you apologize, Seoul-ssi?” Yu Jeong-ham protested immediately.

“Because you seem so burdened with worry lately,” Seoul observed softly.

It appeared Geum Seoul’s acute perception wasn’t limited to operational work—or perhaps Jeong-ham had worn his anxieties too openly on his sleeve. Jeong-ham rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward grimace.

“I’ll admit my head is a bit cluttered…” Jeong-ham began sheepishly. “but none of this is your doing. To be exact, it’s all on Gwak Chun-young for having the audacity to target us. And if we botch this because we couldn’t secure a gem, that’s our own shortcoming. So please don’t think that way.”

‘Please don’t,’ Jeong-ham prayed inwardly. Deputy Director Gye was notoriously touchy regarding anything related to Geum Seoul. If the boy fell ill from stress, there was no telling what manner of rampage the deputy director would unleash upon his return.

“You must prioritize your own health above mine, Seoul-ssi. There’s a specialized fatigue recovery tonic at the pharmacy downstairs that only agency personnel can buy—it works wonders. Please get some of that.”

At Jeong-ham’s urging, Geum Seoul reached up to touch his own cheek. Catching his murmured “Is my complexion really that bad?”, Bae Seo-woo, who was waiting for the right moment to leave for lunch, immediately piped up.

“I thought the same thing earlier,” Seo-woo noted. “You’ve looked a bit gaunt lately…”

“Have I?” Seoul asked, touching his face.

“You’re still breathtakingly handsome, of course, but I worry…” Seo-woo trailed off.

When Bae Seo-woo dragged out his words, Seoul answered, “I’ll make sure to eat even more diligently.” Bringing simultaneous smiles of satisfaction to both men’s faces.

B-5. That was Geum Seoul’s latest appraisal grade. Yu Jeong-ham had already seen more than enough to suspect the boy possessed enormous potential. Aside from a slightly pale complexion, Seoul carried an almost ethereal air lately. He had always been strikingly handsome, but now a brighter, difficult-to-name radiance seemed to cling to him. Under fluorescent light, his irises occasionally caught an enigmatic shimmer that Jeong-ham had never seen back in the old district. If these changes were a sign that Seoul’s gemstone grade was preparing to climb again, then even without an immediate shift in the numbers, it was promising news.

“I’ll head over to the archives now as well. Enjoy your lunch,” Seoul said with a gentle nod.

“Sure. See you in a bit,” Yu Jeong-ham replied amiably.

Offering a light parting bow to the two men, Geum Seoul slipped down the corridor branching off in the opposite direction.

The reference archive occupied a distant corner of the library complex, well away from the main office. Reaching it felt almost intentionally inconvenient: three hallway turns, an elevator transfer, another corridor. The first day Yu Jeong-ham guided him there, Seoul had ended up writing the route down step by step. Jeong-ham was so uneasy about letting him navigate it alone that he personally escorted him back to the doorway the next day as well.

Ten days in, the route had become second nature. Stepping off the first elevator and traversing the lengthy corridor, he waited before the second lift.

Ding.

When the elevator doors opened, several employees were already inside. Their faces were unfamiliar, probably personnel from other floors. During his time at headquarters, Seoul had learned that countless people worked throughout the compound beyond the operatives directly attached to the Deputy Director. He dipped his head in a modest greeting and stepped in. The others returned the gesture with the slightly uncertain nod reserved for someone they recognized but did not actually know.

“Ah, right. I was processing expense receipts today, and the merchant name was Allok,” one operative remarked.

“What is it? A restaurant?” his companion asked.

“No idea. When I searched it, some cactus boutique in Busan popped up…” the first agent muttered.

“Maybe they boiled cacti for stew,” the other joked with a snicker.

Standing behind Geum Seoul, the two operatives appeared to have just finished their meal, bantering back and forth while sipping beverages from paper cups.

“……”

Geum Seoul’s nose twitched. He pressed the back of his hand beneath his nostrils, rubbing firmly.

The smell of cooked food hit him. It was the faint, natural aroma of warm rice and savory side dishes that inevitably trailed off people who had just eaten, yet mingling with their perfume, it turned sickeningly foul. Without warning, a rush of clear saliva flooded his mouth.

Queasiness surged through his stomach without warning, followed by a strange and violent wave of nausea. Startled by the intensity, Seoul squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath, and swallowed the saliva flooding his mouth in desperate gulps. The hand that had risen to cover his nose shifted instinctively over his lips. He knew how rude the gesture must look in a crowded elevator. There was simply no alternative unless he wanted to vomit onto the floor.

Ding.

The instant the elevator doors parted, he bolted out with lengthened strides. With brisk, echoing footsteps ringing down the corridor, he rounded the corner, tore his hand from his mouth, and gasped for air.

“Haaah!”

Doubling over, he hacked violently, expelling the coughs he had suppressed. Sucking in ragged breaths, he braced his shoulder against the wall as cold sweat beaded densely across his spine.

“Ugh… what’s wrong with me?” he muttered in distress.

Having drained of all color in less than a minute, Geum Seoul clenched and unclenched his trembling hands. Striving to regain his composure, he slowly assessed his condition.

“Phew…”

He drew another deep breath and slowly exhaled. While it had felt as though he would heave on the spot just moments ago, the sickening dizziness was gradually receding.

Debating whether he should turn back to the office, Geum Seoul glanced toward the door at the far end of the hallway. His destination was right before him. Having come this far, he decided to step inside and sit down to rest. He moved forward along the corridor.

Beep.

● SYSTEM ACCESS

ID: NSSD-TEMP-53

Access Granted

Pulling his wrist back from the sensor scanner, Geum Seoul walked through the sliding entrance. The frosted glass door bore the inscription ‘Reference Archives.’ Once he crossed the threshold, the door clicked shut behind him with the faint whisper of its hinges.

The archive housed an exhaustive collection spanning physical volumes to digital databases. While certain classified wings were barred from entry, the shelves available for immediate reading were overflowing.

Tap.

Setting the paper bag down on a wooden table, Geum Seoul pulled back a chair and took a seat.

“Haaah…”

He drew a long, deliberate breath first. The motion-sickness-like revulsion was undeniably settling. Closing his eyes, he waited several seconds for his racing pulse to steady.

He had loved this quiet sanctuary from the first day Yu Jeong-ham showed it to him. Most personnel could retrieve whatever references they needed from databases at their desks, so few bothered visiting the physical archive. That emptiness suited Seoul perfectly. The aged fragrance of paper drifting from shelf after shelf settled something deep inside him. Better still was the sunlight. It poured through the tall windows in broad, warm columns, turning even the pale dust motes wandering through the beams into something gentle. Whenever he sat there, the tension seemed to leave his shoulders of its own accord.

“Phew… I can finally breathe,” he murmured softly to himself.

Rustle.

Opening his eyes, Seoul rustled through the paper bag and retrieved a paper cup sealed with a plastic lid. Steam drifted gently from the hot water steeped with a teabag. Taking a quiet sip, the crisp mint aroma warmed the interior of his mouth.