DP Episode 69
by BrieDeep Pivot, Episode 69
The sky was clear and cool, embodying the full spirit of fall. After parking in the center’s lot, Seo-joon slipped on his coat and stepped out of the car.
A season he disliked, with its chilly weather, was fast approaching, and it felt like autumn would end even sooner this year. He was sure it would be particularly cold.
“Hyung.”
Entering Hee-min’s lab, Seo-joon called out to him, noticing the serious expression on his face.
“Oh, you’re here?”
Momentarily glancing up from his documents, Hee-min greeted Seo-joon before returning his attention to the papers. Seo-joon, peering over his shoulder, asked, “What’s this?”
“Oh, Dr. Yoon sent over the results for Cha Jeong-woo and Cha Yeon-woo’s tests. There’s something strange.”
“Like what?”
Pulling over a chair, Seo-joon sat close to Hee-min.
“We included Cha Yeon-woo in the test this time because Jeong-woo’s diagnosis isn’t clear, and he might need a transplant.”
Hee-min tapped the documents in front of him.
“But they’re not brothers.”
“…What?”
“They’re not biological brothers. Not even half-brothers. There’s not a single drop of shared blood.”
Seo-joon looked at Hee-min. He had noticed that the brothers didn’t resemble each other much. While their personalities and behaviors might seem similar due to living together, side by side, their physical appearances weren’t alike at all.
He never thought they’d truly be unrelated. Hee-min frowned, arms crossed, sighing in bewilderment.
“This is a delicate issue, isn’t it? Does Yeon-woo even know?”
He must not. Seo-joon thought grimly. If he knew, he wouldn’t have worked so hard to care for his brother, despite their difficult circumstances.
Jeong-woo’s hospital bills, which Seo-joon had covered once, were far beyond his expectations. Yeon-woo had to work multiple jobs just to afford a month’s worth of payments.
Even as self-sacrificing as Yeon-woo was, he couldn’t imagine him living like this for someone unrelated. He wasn’t some kind of saint…
“What are we going to do, huh? How do we tell this to Yeon-woo?”
“Let’s just pretend we don’t know for now. He doesn’t need a transplant right away.”
“But he’ll find out eventually, right? What will happen to Yeon-woo? And Jeong-woo, for that matter? This kind of thing only happens in dramas…”
Hee-min clicked his tongue in disbelief. Seo-joon thought back to the two brothers, who seemed so similar aside from their looks. He hadn’t always sensed it in Yeon-woo, but considering his circumstances objectively, it was pitiful.
Their father, who occasionally appeared, didn’t seem to be much help to them. The burden of life rested entirely on Yeon-woo’s shoulders.
“Give me the test results. I’ll deliver them to Yeon-woo myself.”
If he was going to find out eventually, Seo-joon wanted to be the one to tell him. He wanted to soften the blow and offer support.
When your love for someone grows, you can’t help but want to embrace every part of them. Even if Seo-joon only took from Cha Yeon-woo, he still wanted to be there for him.
“You sure?”
Hee-min, relieved, handed the file to Seo-joon. He had felt obligated to share the shocking truth with Yeon-woo but was glad to have someone else shoulder that responsibility.
“Lieutenant Ji, you’re here?”
Song-hee entered, holding a board game. Seeing it, Hee-min frowned deeply.
“You brought that board game again after everything that happened? Didn’t the security team say anything?”
“Oh, this one’s already been checked. The security team has been thorough since then…”
Song-hee hid the board game behind her back, casting nervous glances at Seo-joon. She felt awkward and guilty, standing before the person most affected by the incident.
However, Seo-joon held no grudges against her, and his gaze fell on the board game before he turned to Hee-min.
“Hyung, show me the video.”
He had come to Hee-min’s lab for that purpose initially, but the sudden revelation about the Cha brothers had made him forget.
“What video?”
Hee-min, still sorting the test results, paused. Seo-joon slowly turned to him and nodded. Yes, that video. The one you’re thinking about.
“Ah, that one.”
Pushing his glasses up, Hee-min began to rummage around.
“Where did I put that tablet… I might have left it in the training center lecture room.”
“Director Kang, it’s right here.”
Song-hee, standing behind them, held up Hee-min’s tablet. His face flashed with frustration.
“Oh, right… Thanks, Song-hee. You’re always on point.”
Seo-joon stretched out his hand toward Song-hee, who naturally passed the tablet over to him.
“The video’s on here, right?”
Hee-min, reluctant, tapped the tablet’s screen and then played a video file. Seo-joon pulled the tablet closer.
“What do you keep wanting to see in that video?” Hee-min muttered grumpily.
“Just curious, like I said.”
Seo-joon gave a short reply and quickly skipped through the video. What he wanted to see wasn’t at the beginning, which he’d already seen, but in the middle, which Hee-min had turned off last time.
▶I know nothing.
▶It is very threatening and, at the same time, very kind.
▶And it is without form.
▶But also with form. Everywhere.
▶Often overwhelming. In moments we don’t realize.
▷Wait a moment. All of your answers are vague. We need clearer information.
▶One thing
▶Very clear.
▶It is searching.
▷What is it searching for?
▶What it wants is…
“Hey.”
Seo-joon tapped the progress bar.
“Hyung, the file seems to be corrupted.”
“…Huh?”
Hee-min looked at him with confusion. Seo-joon pointed at the tablet screen.
“Look at this. The latter part of the video is completely cut off.”
“What are you talking about? That video was like that from the beginning.”
Seo-joon checked the progress bar again. The video abruptly ended, as if it had always been that way, with no continuation. He distinctly remembered seeing that there was still a significant portion left when they had watched it earlier.
“See? It’s cut off. I’m sure that last time…”
“Oh, no. This is all of it. We didn’t get the full video.”
Hee-min adjusted his glasses. Seo-joon was certain at that moment.
The case wasn’t over yet. Colonel Jin and Kang Hee-min were both lying to him. Viktor wasn’t just a terrorist, and those who attacked the safe house weren’t part of a mere cult.
‘Soon, the whole world will want your death.’
Viktor’s words, which had haunted Seo-joon’s nights for some time, echoed in his mind.
“Seo-joon.”
Hee-min called out softly, breaking Seo-joon’s thoughts.
“Don’t read too much into small things. It’s just an old video. Sure, we found out about Viktor’s identity thanks to this, but other than that, there’s no useful information here.”
“…”
“If this were crucial, you wouldn’t have been able to view it so easily on my tablet.”
…So, the really important information is in the missing part.
Seo-joon thought this quietly while watching Hee-min. Clearly, this wasn’t the entire video. For some reason, Hee-min was hiding it from him, even to the extent of tampering with the original.
“…Hyung.”
“Yes, Seo-joon?”
“Wipe the dust off your glasses.”
Hee-min hurriedly took off his glasses.
“Can you see anything with them that dirty?”
Seo-joon chuckled and teased him. Hee-min grabbed a cloth and sighed.
“You with your perfect vision can’t understand us bespectacled folks…”
He meticulously wiped his glasses and then put them back on.
“Ah, now I can see your handsome face.”
Seo-joon returned the smile.
‘Soon, the whole world will want your death.’
What is it? What are they hiding?
…What was Viktor trying to tell me?