DP Side Story 2, Episode 7

Deep Pivot Side Story 2, Episode 7

“Oh, I like that.”

“Something like Romantic Cat.”

“Romantic Cat? What’s that, hyung?”

“…You guys don’t know Romantic Cat?”

“Seriously, did you come here from the 80s?”

At Do-young’s remark, Min-geon and Si-hwan stood up in disbelief, demanding how it was possible they didn’t know Romantic Cat. But aside from the two of them, no one else seemed to relate. Min-geon glared around at the team until his gaze stopped on Seo-joon.

“Hey, Lieutenant Ji, don’t tell me you don’t know Sweet Rie’s Kitty?”

Why are you asking me… Seo-joon silently shook his head, a little dumbfounded that he was singled out. Why him? Did he look like he’d know the song? Maybe he would recognize it if he heard it, but in front of Cha Yeon-woo, he had to pretend he didn’t know, even if he did. He was starting to understand Yeon-woo’s embarrassment about being called baby in front of his superior.

“I know that song.”

That’s when Yeon-woo cut in. Seo-joon turned his head and stared at his partner in disbelief. He knew it? Min-geon’s eyes lit up.

“Baby, how do you know Romantic Cat?”

“The MeTube algorithm…”

The magic word that ended all suspicion. Min-geon and Si-hwan started throwing out other oldies to test Yeon-woo. But the fleeting connection between them and a 21-year-old—discovered by algorithmic chance—couldn’t go any further.

Around the time they had exchanged about 20 more indecisive song candidates, Hee-min arrived.

“Ah, sorry, sorry I’m late.”

Hee-min, who’d been busy shuttling between NASA and local research centers, looked slightly slimmer than a few weeks ago.

“The schedule’s out, everyone.”

He smiled as he spoke, and the team broke into cheers.

“It’s a two-week trip starting mid-June. Official activities will take three days, and after that, you can stay in Florida as long as you’re accompanied by local soldiers…”

Disney! Some of them shouted like kids, waving their hands. Second Lieutenant Kang Chae-won couldn’t contain her excitement and banged her fists on the table. The chaos looked more like an elementary school trip announcement than a mission briefing, and Hee-min tried to calm everyone down while handing out printed materials.

‘Two weeks is really long. We can’t come back in the middle, right? Or maybe we could bring Jeong-woo…’

Yeon-woo leaned toward Seo-joon and whispered softly.

‘I’ve never been apart from Jeong-woo for this long.’

Seo-joon nodded quietly. Up until now, the longest time the Cha brothers had spent apart was just a few days during their time at the Safe House.

Even when Yeon-woo had been unconscious after the final gate incident, Jeong-woo was in the same hospital wing and visited every day. Except for the sterile room treatments three times a week, when visitors weren’t allowed, there hadn’t been a single day he didn’t see his brother.

But this time, they were central figures in the mission and couldn’t just bow out. All the more reason they wanted to bring Jeong-woo along. They wanted to show him a world beyond the hospital room and the center’s small park—his only range of activity.

There had been one instance where, with great effort, they got Dr. Yoon’s permission to visit a theme park near District 1. Jeong-woo had smiled so much that day.

Covering his mouth, Seo-joon whispered back:

‘Let’s talk to Doctor Kang. Dr. Yoon didn’t say it was completely out of the question…’

In truth, Dr. Yoon had sounded a bit skeptical last time. He was worried a long flight might be too much for Jeong-woo.

‘We’ll figure something out.’

Seo-joon placed his hand gently over Yeon-woo’s and reassured him. Meanwhile, Hee-min, now done handing out the printouts, began his explanation.

“You have to attend the NASA seminar for the first three days, no exceptions. And their so-called ‘no-namer’ Eric Donovan is offering to cover your accommodation and meals with his own money…”

He went on to explain precautions at the research facility, that the official mission for the trip was to guard Seo-joon and Yeon-woo, and that the team should operate around them. Because of this, their whereabouts and status needed to be reported to headquarters regularly.

“This is technically a deployment to a potential gate-risk zone, so try not to get too carried away.”

“Sir! What do we do if a gate opens?”

Lieutenant Jang Su-ho raised his hand like an obedient student. Hee-min replied solemnly.

“Let’s hope that never happens, but if it does, you’ll all be removed from duty and evacuated to a safe area. They don’t want foreign espers getting hurt—or worse—on their soil either.”

In other words, they needed to be careful not to act out of line and cause incidents—even if unrelated to the gate itself.

Still, the warning hardly fazed the awakened, most of whom hadn’t left the country in over a decade due to international travel bans. Watching them shout and holler like kids, Hee-min could only smile in resignation.

It felt like a lie that SAU had once been the most elite, envied special forces unit of awakened espers in South Korea. This wasn’t even elementary school anymore—it was preschool.

“Seo-joon, Yeon-woo—let’s have lunch together later. I need to speak to you two separately.”

Looking like a teacher summoning problem students to the staff room, a visibly drained Hee-min left the room. While Yeon-woo stepped out with Su-ho to grab coffee, the rest of the team broke into casual conversations.

“How long is the drive from Palm Beach to Orlando…”

“We’re doing a wedding shoot there. So we need to head out early that day, no matter what…”

Seo-joon wasn’t interested in their chatter. Instead, he browsed his phone gallery: Yeon-woo sleeping cutely, Yeon-woo with his bangs tied like an apple stem while washing up, Yeon-woo making fried rice at 2 a.m. after waking up randomly, Yeon-woo’s eyes wide as saucers while watching a horror movie… Hundreds of little moments, now collected into photos.

“…And then the bridal consultant suddenly says I’m a ‘Fall Warm.’ I always thought I was a ‘Winter Cool.’”

“Fall Warm? What kind of monster is that? A mutated mealworm?”

“Ah, Kang Chae-won… It’s a personal color thing. Fall Warm, Winter Cool…”

“Oh, that? I know that. Fall tone, winter tone, or whatever. I like summer, so I’m summer tone.”

A quiet smile spread across Seo-joon’s face as he looked at the photos from their last trip to Mukho Port. Yeon-woo’s crown was adorable—completely unaware of the cherry blossoms messily stuck in his hair, all his attention was on petting a cat. The picture taken at the café was so pretty he still had it set as his lock screen. The ones taken at the beach were a bit shaky, though…

“What are you talking about, Kang Chae-won… It’s not about what you like, it’s about what colors suit you.”

“Oh. Well, green looks best on me, so I’m Green Tone 1.”

“Unnie, what kind of tone is that? Are you a cargo truck?”

“Let’s just not talk, Chae-won. Why do I even try to talk to you…”

“Cha Yeon-woo is cherry blossom tone.”

That was when it happened. Seo-joon, lifting his head as the room around him suddenly quieted, found himself staring into the stunned faces of his teammates. Do-young tugged at his own ear and echoed in disbelief.

“Ch—… What did you just say, Lieutenant Ji?”

“What tone? Cherry blossom?”

Only then did Seo-joon realize he had spoken his thoughts aloud. But he made no effort to take them back, and instead stated plainly:

“Cha Yeon-woo suits cherry blossoms. So he’s cherry blossom tone.”

It was a tone of sheer madness. And yet the man in question said it so calmly and naturally that the audience lost all will to argue.

“Ah… Yes, sir… If you say so…”

Yeong-gyo nodded with an awkward expression. Chae-won raised her eyebrows in open protest.

“What, that’s allowed? Then I’m RPG-7 tone. When I’m carrying that thing, I’m afraid of nothing in the world.”

“Yes… Lieutenant Kang… It suits you well…”

“I’m Bald Tone.”

“Must feel nice and breezy, Lieutenant Park…”

Yeong-gyo let out a sigh and shut her mouth. What was the point of talking personal colors with people who didn’t even know what they were? Still, it was a wonder how this team managed to function together for so long with such completely mismatched vibes.

“Coffee’s here.”

Jang Su-ho came in, arms full with coffee carriers. Yeon-woo followed behind him, also holding one.

“Lieutenant Kang, your Americano. Captain Yoo, vanilla latte, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Extra syrup.”

“Here’s the syrup.”

Yeon-woo helped Su-ho distribute the drinks from the carriers, moving busily around the room.

“And team leader, your iced tea. Master, your chocolat…”

And in that moment, a hush fell over the meeting room—like the air had frozen. In all of SAU’s history, there had never been a silence quite like this.