DP Episode 106

Deep Pivot Episode 106

Recently in Australia, shopping sites have taken to displaying countdowns on their homepages, marking the days since the last Gate opening. They announce celebratory events when 100 or 200 days have passed without a Gate.

“It’s been well over 200 days since a Gate opened near Moscow. People aren’t stupid—they’ll know something’s up, even if the media tries to cover it up.”

Colonel Jin bit his lip, swallowing his dismay. The time for secrecy was coming to an end.

You can’t cover the sky with your hand. The higher-ups weren’t oblivious to the situation, and there were limits to what could be hidden.

“Could the group that tried to assassinate Lieutenant Ji be linked to this series of incidents?”

“… I can’t say for certain about that yet—”

“But think about it.”

Major General Park interrupted.

“After the No-named in Russia died, Gates disappeared in the Moscow area. Now, the same is happening in Australia. Do you think that’s just a coincidence?”

“….”

“Do you have any idea how anxious the higher-ups are right now? South Korea has a No-named too. If removing them can close the Gates, then our country—”

“Director Kang is investigating. Please refrain from jumping to conclusions, sir.”

Colonel Jin firmly cut him off. Deep wrinkles furrowed Major General Park’s brows. His eyes widened as he stared intently at Colonel Jin.

Colonel Jin, feeling like he was being dragged through hell, cast his gaze downward and, struggling to control his shaking breath, finally spoke.

“There are only two cases so far. It could still be a coincidence.”

“But it’s a fact that the Gates are disappearing.”

“Yes, that’s true. But we shouldn’t get swept up in assumptions based on inconclusive information. We might end up targeting the wrong person.”

Major General Park knew exactly who that “wrong person” was. Leaning back and resting his clasped hands over his protruding stomach, he fell silent.

“Lieutenant Ji… He doesn’t have any family, right? An orphan, if I recall.”

Colonel Jin knew too well the thought process now unfolding in Major General Park’s mind.

If the sacrifice of one person could end all this disaster…

Everyone is faced with that moral dilemma. What naturally follows is the attempt to justify their actions to avoid guilt.

Does Lieutenant Ji have any family? Would his parents grieve if he died?

If he were a young man supporting a widowed mother and many siblings, his death would be a great tragedy. But if he had no ties, if he were a lone orphan, it might seem less tragic.

From a detached observer’s perspective, at least.

“Does it matter if Lieutenant Ji has a family or not? Nothing has been conclusively proven yet.”

Colonel Jin knew how cruel that line of thinking was.

He wasn’t a saint, but he wasn’t a villain either. He was an ordinary man with a conscience.

If it were up to him, he would be willing to sacrifice himself. But if it meant sacrificing someone else to protect the many…

Well.

Most people couldn’t easily give an answer.

Colonel Jin wasn’t selfish enough to willingly sacrifice another, nor ruthless enough to allow the deaths of many. For him, this was a deeply challenging and brutal dilemma.

“Either way, the disappearance of the Gates is a good sign. We’ve discovered immense potential.”

Colonel Jin redirected the conversation, steering it away from Lieutenant Ji’s sacrifice.

“Director Kang is working diligently to find a solution for ending the Gates.”

Major General Park nodded vigorously, welcoming the hopeful change in topic.

“Exactly, that’s right! The higher-ups have high hopes. We only have one No-named, and there’s not much we can do on our own. The cost is astronomical.”

Major General Park often lamented that South Korea was like a minor player when it came to Gate-related disasters.

From specially made combat uniforms and weapons to something as small as a mask valve used at Gate sites, everything had to be imported from abroad. So his assessment wasn’t exaggerated.

Unlike Brazil, which exports sensors, or Russia, which sells weapons, South Korea didn’t have the same capabilities. The resources required to manage Gate disasters domestically were significant.

So it’s no wonder that the military leadership and the heads of national institutions were desperate to see an end to South Korea’s Gates.

“It seems the Gates can be eradicated after all.”

A sense of relief appeared on Major General Park’s face.

“Let’s put an end to this miserable disaster as soon as possible. Your wife would wish for that too, from above.”

He pointed upwards, a gesture of encouragement and solace to Colonel Jin, who had lost his wife in a Gate accident more than a decade ago.

With a pat on the shoulder, Major General Park straightened his uniform and headed for the door. Colonel Jin saluted as he left, but even after the door closed, he remained motionless for a while.

Eventually, his large frame collapsed onto the sofa.

“….”

In the silent office, his instinctive sigh was the only sound lingering in the air.

✽✽✽

“Lieutenant!”

A small, frail figure came running with an IV line trailing behind him. Seo-joon quickly strode over and scooped up Jeong-woo. Even with his nasal cannula still in place, Jeong-woo was already panting heavily after just a few steps.

“Cha Jeong-woo, is it okay to be running like that?”

Yeon-woo, who was managing the dragging IV line on the floor, scolded Jeong-woo in a stern voice. Jeong-woo, who had buried his head deep into Seo-joon’s chest, giggled and looked over at Yeon-woo.

He could always tell who would scold him and who wouldn’t.

Holding Jeong-woo securely, Seo-joon brushed his cheek and sat down at the table. On the large TV screen, Jeong-woo’s favorite cartoon was playing.

“Do you like ice cream, Jeong-woo?”

“Yes, I do!”

“What flavor?”

“Strawberry.”

Yeon-woo liked strawberry too. Perhaps because they were brothers, their tastes were identical. Seo-joon laughed as Yeon-woo opened the ice cream container. Jeong-woo’s eyes widened as he saw the family-sized tub filled with pink ice cream.

“Wow.”

“All of this is for you, Jeong-woo.”

Excitedly, Jeong-woo rocked back and forth, his heels tapping against Seo-joon. His small slippers slipped off his feet and fell to the ground.

“But you can’t eat it all at once. You have to take it little by little.”

Seo-joon spoke as he sat Jeong-woo on his lap, scooping some ice cream into a paper cup. Jeong-woo pointed to the layers of syrup swirling through the ice cream.

“Get me lots of the red stuff.”

Yeon-woo put the slippers back on Jeong-woo’s feet and firmly reminded him.

“Jeong-woo, you need to say thank you first.”

“Mmm…”

Leaning against Seo-joon, Jeong-woo cupped his hand and whispered a “Thank you” into his ear.

Seo-joon laughed and handed him a spoon, when the hospital room door creaked open, and a head poked in.

“Hello.”

Yeon-woo stood up and greeted him first. Hee-min smiled awkwardly and nodded.

“Long time no see, Yeon-woo. Could I have a quick word with Lieutenant Ji?”

“Sure, I’ll wait outside.”

Seo-joon, who readily agreed, stood up and gently placed Jeong-woo on the chair before leaving the room. Yeon-woo turned his attention to Jeong-woo.

He tapped Jeong-woo’s spoonful of ice cream with his own spoon.

“Didn’t I say not to eat that much all at once?”

Jeong-woo pouted and divided the ice cream in half.

“Hyung always gets mad…”

“You had a sore throat last time, remember? Take your time and eat slowly. You can have more tomorrow and the day after too.”

To Yeon-woo, Jeong-woo was a mischievous nine-year-old who never listened, always making him anxious even when he lay still in bed. It was hard not to nag.

“Oh, right! Hyung, look at this!”

Giggling suddenly, Jeong-woo slipped off the chair and went to a drawer beside the bed. He brought out a small photo album, which he’d used to collect stickers. There was something new in the back.

“Oh, what’s this?”

Yeon-woo pulled Jeong-woo onto his lap as he climbed up and took the album from his hands. On the left page was a photo the hospital nurse had taken of them a few years ago, and next to it was a new photo of Seo-joon and Jeong-woo, taken in the hospital room.

“When did you take this?”

“The other day. I was having lunch with the lieutenant, and Song-hee noona was showing off her new Polaroid camera.”

Ah, right. He had signed Jeong-woo’s family relationship change documents back then. Yeon-woo gazed at the picture of Jeong-woo and Seo-joon. He flipped through the pages and found another photo.

“This one was a mistake.”

Out of focus and blurry, the photo showed them laughing at each other instead of looking at the camera.

What had been so funny? Seo-joon was laughing so hard his face was all scrunched up—something even Yeon-woo hadn’t seen often.

As Yeon-woo brushed his thumb over the photo, tracing Seo-joon’s face, he noticed the faint dimple beneath Seo-joon’s left eye that only appeared when he laughed wholeheartedly, giving him a youthful look.

Whenever he saw this elusive, shallow dimple, it filled Yeon-woo with pride, knowing it wasn’t something easily noticeable or often seen.

But Jeong-woo had a photo capturing that very moment.

“…It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful, and so is the lieutenant.”

‘I’m jealous. I haven’t taken a single photo with the lieutenant yet…’

“Hyung, are you sulking? Your lips are sticking out.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Let’s ask Song-hee nuna to take more pictures.”

“It’s okay. We shouldn’t bother her if she’s busy.”

“Then you can have this one.”

With his tiny hands, Jeong-woo pulled out the Polaroid photo from its sleeve. Yeon-woo’s eyes went wide as he accepted it.

“Really? I can really have it?”

“Yeah. I just need one.”

Yeon-woo’s smile grew as he hugged Jeong-woo tightly.

“Thank you.”

“…Hyung, can I eat my ice cream now?”

Still smiling, Yeon-woo pulled the cup of ice cream closer to him. In a good mood, he didn’t notice Jeong-woo sneakily taking heaping spoonfuls of ice cream while he admired the photo.