DP Episode 104

Deep Pivot Episode 104

In the winter of 2000, around the same time, twelve children were discovered on different streets. A few years later, Gates and Awakened individuals began to emerge across the Earth.

Among the twelve children, one of them was the “No-named” Sergei Onopko, who was the first to sense something, claiming he had to return to where he “originally belonged.”

After Sergei Onopko went berserk and disappeared, Russia and neighboring countries stopped experiencing new Gates for several months.

“Following that, the No-named in Australia went berserk too. Now, Australia is experiencing the same phenomenon as Russia.”

Isn’t that right? Seo-joon looked at Hee-min, seeking confirmation. The lab was drowned in deep silence.

Recalling the situation he had inferred, Seo-joon spoke slowly, “From this, I can conclude that the No-named and the Gates are not unrelated. When the No-named disappear, the Gates―”

“Seo-joon.”

Hee-min, who had been silent like his mouth was glued shut, interrupted Seo-joon. His voice was hoarse, worn out from accumulated fatigue and mental stress.

“We don’t know for sure yet. Don’t jump to conclusions so quickly.”

His tone was reminiscent of a decade ago when he tutored Seo-joon.

If you keep studying like this, you won’t get into any college. Don’t worry your parents. Make as many friends as possible…

Though it was all affectionate nagging, Seo-joon didn’t mind. That gentle voice still admonished him.

“I’ll handle it, Seo-joon.”

To Hee-min, whether Seo-joon was a sixteen-year-old high schooler or a twenty-nine-year-old adult, he still looked like that thirteen-year-old boy from when they first met.

“So don’t think about it too much―”

“And what exactly will you handle?”

However, Seo-joon was no longer at an age where he needed to be protected like a child. The way Hee-min treated him, as if he were still that high schooler from a decade ago, infuriated him at that moment.

“What do you think you’re going to handle?”

“….”

“Did you think you could solve everything by holding onto it yourself without discussing anything with me?”

For the first time, Seo-joon realized that his relationship with Hee-min could be a disadvantage.

Because their relationship wasn’t simply between a lab director and the No-named, but rather infused with personal feelings, there were significant challenges they had to face.

“When did you start hiding things?”

Seo-joon had vaguely sensed that Hee-min was keeping something from him. But he hadn’t thought it was that serious, because he trusted that Hee-min would never harm him.

Ultimately, that trust wasn’t broken. And that made it even more terrifying. He had remained ignorant while being blissfully wrapped in a false dream under Hee-min’s desperate silence.

“Did you know when Viktor came looking?”

“Seo-joon, I was just―”

“You should’ve told me earlier.”

The anger he had been holding back began to spill out.

“If you had told me sooner… if you had just said something, everything would’ve been much simpler.”

His words, filled with reproach, slipped through his clenched teeth. Had he known the truth earlier, Seo-joon would’ve made the easy choice without regret.

Even if the information hadn’t been confirmed, it wouldn’t have mattered. His life had been devoid of hope, just waiting for the moment to disappear. At the very least, he could have vanished with a sense of peace, knowing he left the world wishing for the safety of those he knew in South Korea. It would have been the best ending he could hope for in his otherwise hateful life.

But Hee-min had selfishly delayed his death, and in that time…

He met Cha Yeon-woo.

And now, he held onto that absurd dream.

“What would be easier, huh?”

Hee-min spoke with a trembling voice.

“Ji Seo-joon, tell me! What would be easier? I didn’t tell you because I knew this would happen―!”

All the emotions Hee-min had suppressed and kept hidden poured out like a storm at Seo-joon’s words.

He knew Seo-joon would resent him. The mere fact of hiding everything and keeping it to himself had made every moment he faced Seo-joon a continuous feeling of guilt.

But even with everything else, he couldn’t hold back after those words.

“That’s incredibly selfish thinking! Do you think it’s fine as long as you’re at peace? What about the people left behind? Would your adoptive parents have raised you to act this way, Seo-joon?”

Hee-min, unable to contain his anger, grabbed Seo-joon by the shoulders.

“Don’t you realize that if you give up on yourself first, you’re undermining everyone who cares about you?”

With a snap, Seo-joon shook off Hee-min’s grip. In the commotion, Hee-min’s glasses fell to the ground and clicked against the floor, and his nose, scratched by the frame, swelled red.

“So this is all you could come up with? To make someone into a fool?”

The stark difference in their perspectives sharply divided them.

“Do I really have to hear about this from another country’s No-named? Being treated like a clueless greenhouse flower?”

Bang! The scattered documents and keyboard were shoved aside by Seo-joon’s forceful hand.

“What has this secrecy solved? What problem has it fixed?”

“It solved one thing! You’re still alive!”

No one understood better than Hee-min that Seo-joon wasn’t someone attached to life. After the accident that killed his guide nine years ago, Seo-joon had been plagued with guilt.

From his perspective, Seo-joon was precarious, like a person who could easily abandon life at the slightest trigger. He was a fragile point that Hee-min couldn’t look away from, even for a moment.

Tears welled up in Hee-min’s bloodshot eyes.

“I’ll find a way.”

He swallowed his emotions and tried to speak calmly.

“There aren’t many precedents, so we don’t know what will happen. But no matter what, no one has to die, right? The world isn’t that cruel. There has to be a way! Just wait a little longer. If I have a bit more time, I can figure it out.”

But as he continued, Seo-joon’s face crumbled in a direction Hee-min didn’t want. Seo-joon turned his head, scoffing at the emptiness, then fixed his gaze back on Hee-min.

“How much time do you need? A week? A month? A year? Ten years?”

In Seo-joon’s twisted gray eyes, disgust and hatred festered.

“Have you considered all the people who are dying out there during that time?”

The chilling, contemptuous stare he directed at Hee-min was unlike anything he’d shown before.

“You wouldn’t know, being inside here.”

Just yesterday, several disaster alerts rang out. It was so common that even significant casualties elicited little response—it was an everyday occurrence.

“Every time a Gate opens, how many die on the spot? You’ve never seen those people begging for their lives.”

Seo-joon could no longer ignore those disaster alerts.

“Is saving me worth turning all those people into ants to be crushed? Is that your idea of justice?”

“I want to be the person who fixes the brakes on the trolley!”

The stagnant air of the lab shattered in the face of Hee-min’s intense cry.

“I don’t believe it’s right for one person to shoulder the burden for the many, Seo-joon.”

Hee-min believed in his principles. He cared deeply about Seo-joon, but he was also a researcher studying national disasters.

From the moment he decided to become a physician, he had lived by a strong ethical compass.

A medical researcher who truly understands the ethics and honor of medicine should never make the cowardly choice of sacrificing one for the safety of many.

Hee-min grabbed Seo-joon’s arm. His voice, broken and torn, pleaded.

“Do you think I earned my degree just to helplessly choose between two paths behind a broken trolley? I worked hard to get here so I could be the one to fix the brakes when this kind of situation happens!”

Seo-joon gripped Hee-min’s wrist and shoved his hand off. His face twisted in anger, his tear-filled eyes brimming with guilt, despair, fury, and sorrow.

“You’re so selfish.”

His voice trembled with rage, carrying a bitter sneer.

“Do you think you’re some kind of god? Why do you believe you have the right to decide? You’re just one of the five people on the other track, don’t kid yourself!”

Hee-min was shoved back, knocking over the table with a loud crash. The oppressive silence between them was deafening.

Ding.

Seo-joon’s gray eyes drifted down to the phone screen. The window automatically opened to reveal a string of incoming messages.

Cha Yeon-woo
[Lieutenant]
[A cat came into the classroom]
[Photo]
[Cute, right?]
10:06 a.m.

[I wish class would end quickly]
[I miss you]
10:07 a.m.

“….”

Seo-joon sank into the chair, head bowed. He held his face in his hands, fingers gripping his hair as if trying to tear it out in despair.

He had lashed out excessively at Hee-min, who didn’t deserve it. At that moment, he felt most angry not at Hee-min or anyone else but at himself.

He regretted everything he’d done.

If only he hadn’t signed that exclusive contract with Cha Yeon-woo, hadn’t delved into his thoughts, hadn’t grown closer to him, hadn’t discovered how wonderfully radiant and lovable Cha Yeon-woo was.

He wished he had never allowed himself to long for a life together, to dream of living happily ever after.