DP Episode 103

Deep Pivot Episode 103

An alien crash-landing on Earth.

It sounds like something out of an 80s sci-fi movie with cheap special effects. However, Seo-joon didn’t find it all that unfamiliar. He had been abandoned on the streets, unable to identify his parents, and was teased for his gray eyes, even being called a monster. Even after being declared an esper, he couldn’t fully fit in.

For someone who lived his whole life feeling like an outsider, this wasn’t such a far-fetched comparison.

“Do you see yourself like that?”

Instead of answering directly, Seo-joon deflected with a question. In a situation where information was limited, revealing what the other wanted could easily expose his vulnerabilities.

―[No, I have a child. I have a wife and a good family. I’ve never felt like an outsider.]

Eric’s response was firm, with a hint of agitation. He looked slightly away at Seo-joon’s face on the screen but eventually fixed his gaze on the camera.

Their eyes met through the screen. Seo-joon looked at Eric’s gray eyes with a strange feeling, while Eric was also staring at his.

―[But there are already two precedents—Sergei Onopko and Noel Cruz.]

Noel Cruz. Seo-joon tried to remember. It was a name he had seen in Hee-min’s documents. Wasn’t he Australian? He didn’t fully understand even half of what Eric was saying.

“…Are you saying Noel Cruz ended up like Sergei?”

―[You don’t know yet? Well, I’ve heard that your lab chief and the deputy director of IGTS have been at odds lately. It makes sense that information would be slow.]

Why was Hee-min suddenly being mentioned?

“Are you talking about Noel Cruz, the ‘No-named’ from Australia?”

With his arms folded, Eric leaned back and shook his head.

―[It’s been over a month since it started in Australia. Unlike Russia, their media isn’t controlled, so it’s already causing a stir. People are speculating whether the Gate will close entirely.”]

Seo-joon could no longer feign ignorance or try to fish for information. To go along with someone, you need to know something first. He knew practically nothing, so even keeping up a conversation was challenging.

“What do you mean by ‘the Gate closing’?”

Eric’s gaze slowly changed as he observed Seo-joon’s expression meticulously. His eyes, shaken by confusion, darkened in shock.

―[…You really don’t know anything.]

After a long pause, Eric spoke quietly. The camaraderie that had lingered in his eyes now shifted to a complex mix of envy and jealousy. He let out a bitter laugh and murmured repeatedly.

―[It’s amazing you’ve remained so unaware. Your lab chief must really cherish you. What’s your relationship with them, family?]

“I wish you’d explain so I can understand.”

Eric seemed ready to say something but eventually clammed up. After a few seconds of silence, he awkwardly ruffled the back of his head.

―[Well, I think …… just made a big mistake.]

“What…”

Seo-joon stopped himself. He instinctively ended the call and turned off the tablet.

“Lieutenant…”

A sleepy mumble grew closer from the bedroom. Seo-joon watched Yeon-woo, eyes barely open and staggering out.

“What are you doing out here…?”

“You’re awake? Sorry, was I too loud?”

Seo-joon put down the tablet and approached. Had Cha Yeon-woo overheard the conversation?

“No… You weren’t there, so I came out.”

It seemed he hadn’t heard anything. After all, the conversation was mostly one-sided in English, so there wasn’t much Yeon-woo could infer.

“I just came to get some water and check the internet.”

Seo-joon admired his partner’s sleepy face, softened in the haze of drowsiness.

Anxiety began to coil like a snake in his gut, tightening with the thoughts of Noel Cruz, Sergei Onopko, and the closing of the Gate, all gnawing at his insides.

Seo-joon gently brushed Yeon-woo’s disheveled hair, then kissed his eyelids, still half-dreaming. Yeon-woo clasped Seo-joon’s fingers, placed his palm on his cheek, and mumbled.

“Your hands are cold…”

It wasn’t until he felt Yeon-woo’s warmth that Seo-joon realized how cold his hands had become. Holding Yeon-woo close, he shivered at the sudden chill.

“Let’s go back to bed.”

With Yeon-woo leading the way to the bedroom, Seo-joon’s tablet remained on the table, its screen dark. Though their conversation was interrupted by Yeon-woo’s appearance, Seo-joon didn’t feel much regret.

He had already gathered the necessary information.

Chapter 6: Trolley Dilemma

Thirteen years ago, in the summer.

Hee-min was a college student, and sixteen-year-old Seo-joon was a high school sophomore. As tutor and student, they met twice a week.

“Hey, is this kind of topic really being covered in the ethics assignments for ninth graders these days?”

Seo-joon leaned back casually and shrugged his shoulders. Hee-min flicked his forehead with the pen he was holding.

“No matter how tricky it is, you should be doing this on your own. Who taught you to shamelessly hand your homework to your tutor?”

“Didn’t you tell me to ask for help with anything I don’t understand, no matter the subject?”

“What don’t you understand? The questions are all in Korean.”

“I can’t figure it out, so I’m asking. If I can’t use my tutor now, then when should I use you?”

“You little punk, fix your attitude.”

Despite his reprimand, Hee-min looked over Seo-joon’s assignment.

“Your comprehension skills are lacking. You can’t understand this?”

“It’s not that I don’t understand; I submitted an answer, but they told me to do it again.”

The problem was familiar to Hee-min.

A train with faulty brakes is racing down the tracks. There are two rails: one with five people and another with one person. The train will inevitably run over someone on one of the two rails. The only thing you can control is the switch to change tracks. Will you sacrifice one to save five, or sacrifice five to save one?

This ethical problem is known as the “Trolley Dilemma.”

While different examiners may vary the situation slightly, the central question remains the same: Will you sacrifice the few for the many, or the many for the few? It requires a deep ethical analysis.

“What did you write?”

Hee-min put down the paper and looked at Seo-joon, whose towering height made him appear like a lanky kid with a still-youthful face.

“Of course, I wrote that I’d save the five. There are more of them.”

“And that’s all?”

Seo-joon nodded with a disgruntled expression. Hee-min sighed and crossed his arms. As a teacher, he would likely have given Seo-joon another chance if he had submitted such a simple answer.

“Even if you’re saving the five, you need to give a more thoughtful justification.”

“So you’re saying we should kill five people just to save one? How else can I explain this obvious thing?”

“It’s not that simple. Can you really measure the value of human life just by numbers and weight?”

Seo-joon replied confidently, “The five weigh more than one.”

To Hee-min, it was nonsensical coming from a head empty of reasoning.

“Trolley Dilemma”

“Hee-min, if I were you… you shouldn’t use social media if you become a celebrity later.”

Hee-min playfully remarked as he teased Seo-joon.

“Just stay silent and rely on your face. From what I’ve seen, that’s your best shot at making a living.”

He shook his head and then took on a more serious tone.

“Okay, think about it like this. What if the one person on the track were your friend? Could you kill your friend just to save five strangers?”

Seo-joon looked at Hee-min with a puzzled expression, pondering the question.

“How close a friend are we talking about? I don’t have any friends that close.”

Yeah… it was no wonder he didn’t have friends. From Hee-min’s perspective, Seo-joon was an aloof kid who rarely smiled. When they first met, it was difficult for Hee-min to befriend him because Seo-joon was so guarded, and it must have been even worse with his peers.

“Okay, then what if it were your mother or a family member on the tracks? Would you still save the five strangers instead of your mother?”

A frown creased Seo-joon’s flawless forehead. He seemed to be deep in thought as he stared blankly for a few seconds, then shook his head.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“See? You can’t measure the value of life so easily.”

“So what’s the right answer?”

Hee-min tossed the ethics paper back at him. “I don’t know. You’ll have to figure it out yourself.”

“What? How can a med student not know this?”

“What did you say? Watch your mouth, huh?”

Seo-joon dodged Hee-min’s hand playfully. “You’re lucky I’m your tutor. Anyone else would’ve slapped you by now, kid. Watch what you say.”

“Well, it’s because you’re my hyung. Do you think I’d be like this with anyone else?”

In other words, Seo-joon knew how to pick his battles. Tilting his head, he caught Hee-min’s gaze and gently shook his hand, smiling. Hee-min watched Seo-joon’s eyes curve with warmth. Even though he rarely smiled, when he did, he showed that youthful innocence typical of his age.

No matter how rude Seo-joon was, Hee-min never truly resented him.

He’d watched Seo-joon ever since he was adopted at thirteen. Due to his unique eye color, Seo-joon was often teased and avoided eye contact. Being thrown into an unfamiliar environment made him timid, a memory that still lingered with Hee-min.

Perhaps that was why he always had a soft spot for Seo-joon.

And now, 13 years later.

“Geez, Ji Seo-joon, what’s up with you showing up unannounced?”

Even now, at twenty-nine, Seo-joon was still the same.

“Why aren’t you keeping the lights on? What are you doing?”

Hee-min looked at the figure seated in the dark corner of the lab. Lately, he had wanted to avoid meeting Seo-joon whenever possible.

“You scared me this morning…”

When Hee-min turned on the lights, he stopped talking. An open document on Seo-joon’s computer looked familiar to him. Seo-joon’s expression, as he stared back at him, seemed almost emotionless.

Breaking the silence, Seo-joon spoke calmly.

“There’s a typo here. Eric Donovan. The ‘a’ is missing.”

Hee-min’s eyes widened as he scanned the documents on the desk. Files he had neatly locked away yesterday were now scattered in disarray, all opened and rifled through by Seo-joon.

“Seo-joon, these are classified documents.”

“And I’m the subject of that classified information, so what’s the problem?”

Hee-min took a sharp breath and tried to speak, but the words failed him.

“Hyung.”

He was too exhausted from lack of sleep and shocked by the unexpected situation to think of a plausible excuse. His gray eyes were filled with a faint sadness.

“Maybe I’ve trusted you too much all this time.”