DP Episode 22
by BrieDeep Pivot Episode 22
▶ I can definitely feel it.
▷ Like something out of an obscure science fiction novel,
▷ A Cthulhu myth.
▷ Absurd.
The interviewer’s voice carried a hint of disbelief. The man smiled slightly at his words, the first time his expression changed.
▶ That’s right. It’s like a supernatural phenomenon.
▶ A nearly perfect metaphor.
After a moment of silence, the sound of pages turning signaled the interviewer’s return to the conversation.
▷ Now,
▷ Tell us more about
▷ What you’re describing.
The man’s gaze drifted back into space at the interviewer’s request. The smile had vanished, leaving only an expression of anxiety and fear.
▶ I know nothing.
▶ It is very threatening, yet very kind.
▶ And it has no form.
▶ Yet it has form. Everywhere.
▶ I often feel overwhelmed, caught off guard.
▷ Hold on. Your answers are vague. We need clear information.
▶ One thing is very clear.
▶ It is searching.
▷ What is it searching for?
▶ What it desires is…
“Ji Seo-joon.”
The dimly lit lab brightened all at once. Seo-joon turned his head to see Hee-min walking in.
“Finished with training?”
“Yeah. What’s this?”
Looking over Seo-joon’s shoulder at the tablet, Hee-min furrowed his brow.
“This is that old No-Named interview footage, isn’t it? Is it right for you to be digging through classified videos in someone else’s lab, Lieutenant Ji? Even Captain Jin doesn’t mess around like this.”
“It just suddenly crossed my mind.”
“Man, this is really old. Look at the poor subtitles.”
Hee-min touched the screen to turn off the video and took the tablet with him. Seo-joon quietly watched him leave before speaking up.
“It’s that person, right? The No-Named who went missing recently?”
The hand that was organizing papers on the desk stopped. After a brief pause, Hee-min answered.
“…We can’t be sure.”
Seo-joon knew that Hee-min was intentionally avoiding a clear response. All No-Named individuals worldwide are barred from traveling abroad, placed under strict surveillance and management by their respective countries.
Reportedly, even in nations where espers can travel freely, the No-Named are never exposed to foreign territories.
So, if a No-Named went missing in Moscow, it was highly likely that it was the pale Russian man from the interview.
“Hey, like I said, we don’t know yet. It could be incorrect information. Intelligence can be like that. Oh, right. Cha Yeon-woo, the guide, is waiting outside. You’re giving him a ride home again, right?”
Hee-min adjusted his glasses as he changed the topic.
“Hey, you might be favoring him more than Jin Cheong-oh does. Look at you doting on that precious guide.”
He playfully tapped Seo-joon’s shoulder. Watching Hee-min for a moment, Seo-joon gave up pressing for more answers and stood up.
“Hyung, did you know?”
“What?”
“Every time you’re hiding something, you adjust your glasses.”
“Do I? What are you talking about out of nowhere…”
His hand, unconsciously reaching to adjust his glasses, ended up awkwardly scratching his nose.
“I’m heading out.”
Seo-joon left the lab with a casual smile. The smile gradually faded from Hee-min’s face as he stared at the closed door. He opened his tablet and accessed his email.
After opening an attachment and entering a security key, a screen with the NASA-Korea IGTS (Institute of Gate Technology and Science) logo appeared. A world map with clusters of red dots was displayed on the 12-inch screen.
It was a distribution map of all the gates opened worldwide in the last three months. Zooming in revealed more detailed locations, with dots color-coded by scale. Since the map only recorded officially reported gates, it didn’t fully reflect the actual situation.
Hee-min swiped over to Moscow, where a blank, clean area was visible, devoid of any dots. The empty zone extended to Saint Petersburg, Kazan, Yekaterinburg, Chelyabinsk, and even parts of Belarus and Ukraine.
In other words, no gates had opened in that region for the past three months, coinciding with the time when a No-Named had gone missing from Moscow.
Swiping across the empty region and scrutinizing it from different angles, a shadow fell over Hee-min’s face.
✽✽✽
The midday city streets were quiet, with only a few cars. The afternoon sun slanted across the streets, creating a golden glow. Seo-joon, one hand resting on the steering wheel as he gazed outside, suddenly asked.
“What are your plans for today?”
“Since training finished early, I should probably head back to school, right?”
Seo-joon chuckled at Yeon-woo’s response, wondering whether this was due to his dedication or a lack of flexibility.
“You’re really diligent, Yeon-woo. It’s probably already marked as an absence, so there’s no need to go back. Usually, people your age would do anything to avoid school.”
“Oh… in that case…”
After thinking briefly, Yeon-woo quickly made up his mind.
“I’ll go see my brother.”
“The one in the hospital?”
Seo-joon asked while tapping the GPS. As he asked for and entered the hospital’s location, he thought Yeon-woo’s daily routine seemed far too simple.
Since Seo-joon had volunteered to chauffeur Yeon-woo for his training sessions, he had a rough idea of how Yeon-woo’s days went. School, home, or the hospital where his brother stayed. In ten days of observation, that was it. There was no gaming or hanging out with friends like others his age would do.
He spent most of his free time watching animal videos online—a pretty uneventful life for a 20-year-old high schooler. But Seo-joon suddenly realized that his own routine wasn’t much different.
“Hmm.”
After a brief pause, Seo-joon finally voiced what was on his mind.
“Should I come along?”
“What?”
“To your brother’s hospital.”
“Oh.”
“Let’s grab a bite together afterward.”
Seo-joon could sense that he was crossing a boundary. He had been the one to draw the line and warn Yeon-woo not to get too close.
“Oh… Is that really okay? I’m not stealing your time even though you’re busy?”
“I don’t have much else to do.”
But with Cha Yeon-woo, the lines seemed to blur. No, he felt that it was okay to cross them with Yeon-woo.
Thinking of past guides he’d met—those who would touch him on a whim, surprise him with flowers and a love confession, or persistently pressure him into intimacy, even secretly spiking his meal with drugs—Cha Yeon-woo seemed incomparable.
It was almost as if he could erase the line altogether, and Yeon-woo would still stand loyally on the other side, like a puppy obediently waiting after being told to “stay.”
“…But you don’t eat, do you, Lieutenant?”
At that moment, Yeon-woo hesitated before speaking up.
“During training earlier, I learned that if the pairing rate is high, just holding hands can temporarily relieve the pain.”
“…”
“How about you have dinner with me today, Lieutenant? Not just a liquid meal.”
Seo-joon turned his head and looked at Yeon-woo.
“If you’ll allow me… I’ll hold your hand while we eat.”
Yeon-woo’s eyes shifted toward Seo-joon, softened by the slanting sunlight, before returning to their original position.
“…Don’t you think you could eat a little if you had my help?”
Internally, Seo-joon chuckled. Why does he glance around after saying that? It’s exactly this kind of behavior that makes Seo-joon keep crossing the line. If it was some elaborate ploy or act, Cha Yeon-woo would be up for an award for Best Actor.
“I wasn’t planning to just watch you eat like last time. Still, I’ll consider your offer.”
Facing forward, Seo-joon turned the wheel and asked.
“Are you good with your left hand, Yeon-woo?”
Yeon-woo looked at Seo-joon with puzzled eyes at the unexpected question. Seeing he didn’t understand, Seo-joon explained.
“If you’re going to hold my hand while we eat, you’ll have to use your left hand to eat.”
“Oh.”
Yeon-woo shifted slightly to face Seo-joon.
“I’m good with my left hand. I used to be ambidextrous when I was little.”
His enthusiastic response made Seo-joon burst into laughter.