DP Episode 111

Episode 111

Seo-joon stared at the Deputy Director in utter disbelief. He’s insane—he had heard this many times before—but he hadn’t realized just how deranged the man truly was.

“That’s clearly murde—”

“Murder? Why?” The Deputy Director cut him off smoothly. “Thanks to me, Australia is now celebrating.”

He continued with a twisted smile. “They’re living in the miracle of gate-free days, joyously praying to their gods. If the No-Name hadn’t been eliminated, Australia would still be losing countless lives.”

The two stood close enough to touch. The Deputy Director, with his hands tucked casually into his pockets, tilted his head slightly as he spoke.

“With just one case, everyone hesitates. But when there are two, three, or four… it becomes a matter of time.”

“…”

“Everyone knows that gates and No-Names share the same beginning and end. How long do you think humanity will allow No-Names to live?”

Soon, the whole world will demand your death.

Seo-joon finally understood Viktor’s prophecy in its entirety. The words, long lodged in the back of his mind, now resonated deeply, cutting into his very skin.

In the Deputy Director’s gaze, Seo-joon saw himself reflected as nothing more than a pest, a monster—an unwelcome anomaly that had brought disaster upon the Earth.

From his eyes, his expression, and his voice, Seo-joon could clearly discern how much he was despised.

“At least,” the man continued, “God has granted us the mercy to eliminate calamities with our own hands.”

At that moment, the Deputy Director extended a hand toward Seo-joon.

“What do you think you’re doing to my researcher?”

Seo-joon staggered slightly as Kang Hee-min suddenly appeared, stepping between them and pushing Seo-joon behind him. The tense atmosphere shattered instantly with Hee-min’s intervention.

Seo-joon, who had been wholly focused on the Deputy Director, now turned to see the IGTS researchers who had accompanied Hee-min. They seemed to have come to see him and Hee-min off but were startled by the ominous scene they had stumbled upon.

“Dr. Kang, it’s been a while. This is our first time meeting in person,” the Deputy Director said, smiling.

“I heard you were out on a trip. A shame we meet like this,” Hee-min replied icily.

“I rushed over as soon as I heard someone important was visiting.”

“We have nothing to discuss with you. From now on, we will only communicate through the IGTS Director. Leave.”

Hee-min’s voice was sharp, brimming with hostility, as if he were ready to throw a punch. Seo-joon grabbed his arm, feeling embarrassed by the scene.

The Deputy Director’s past atrocities against Korea’s No-Name were not common knowledge among the researchers here. The IGTS Director had only learned of the Deputy Director’s rogue actions after corresponding with Hee-min to arrange their visit, but he was not present now.

Since the Deputy Director hadn’t harmed Seo-joon or shown any aggression, the researchers who lacked context might think Hee-min was picking a fight for no reason.

“Hyung, I’m fine. We were just talking,” Seo-joon said, trying to calm him.

“What could you possibly have to talk about with that bastard?” Hee-min snapped, his anger flaring even more.

Seo-joon, frustrated, turned to the researchers and tried to diffuse the situation with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry. There seems to have been some misunderstanding.”

“It was an honor to speak with you, Jun,” the Deputy Director said, smiling at Seo-joon past Hee-min. He extended a hand as if for a handshake, but Hee-min’s sharp glare cut him off before he could proceed.

The Deputy Director, still smiling, slowly backed away, exchanging a few words with the stunned researchers before disappearing into the base. Hee-min glared at him until he was completely out of sight.

“Hyung, you’re going to drive me crazy,” Seo-joon muttered under his breath.

He understood Hee-min’s anger, having personally experienced the Deputy Director’s atrocities, but he also felt Hee-min’s reaction was excessive in such a public setting.

Even if the Deputy Director had tried to harm him, Seo-joon was certain he wouldn’t have succeeded in laying a finger on him.

“As the director of Korea’s Awakener Research Institute, can you really afford to pick a fight with the Deputy Director of IGTS? What if this escalates into an international issue? You could lose your job,” Seo-joon joked, trying to lighten the mood.

But Hee-min wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“There’s no need to worry about that. That bastard’s going to be fired soon. Do you think the IGTS Director will let him off after learning what he’s done?”

Hee-min’s sharp eyes, fueled by exhaustion and anger, remained fixed on the spot where the Deputy Director had disappeared. Seo-joon sighed and ran a hand over his face.

For the first time, Seo-joon realized that it wasn’t the Deputy Director who held the lever to the switch—it was his own guilt. Perhaps the Deputy Director was right about one thing:

It was only a matter of time.

The tightening grip of guilt was pushing Seo-joon steadily in one direction.

✽✽✽

Leaving the brief incident behind, the two finally embarked on their journey back home.

The private aircraft they boarded was loaded with equipment exclusively developed by IGTS, including various bio-monitoring chips, thick cables, and remote communication devices.

Beyond the gate’s hole, shrouded in darkness, lay the unknown from which the monstrous species emerged.

Humans could never see beyond the gate’s hole, but the creatures always came from within. In other words, the creatures had the ability to traverse the gates.

In pursuit of obtaining observational data from within one day, the researchers consistently upgraded their equipment with byproducts extracted from the evolving creatures.

“It’s still early, but someday, as we continue to push forward, we humans will eventually observe beyond the ‘horizon’ of the gate directly,” a researcher commented optimistically.

Even if projects failed repeatedly, the continuous evolution of the creatures opened up endless possibilities. For the researchers, chasing those possibilities without giving up was their mission.

A colleague nudged Hee-min playfully with her elbow.

“Think this will be enough to save face with Major General Park?”

Hee-min, his face drawn with exhaustion, managed a faint, wry smile and nodded.

While they discussed the equipment, Seo-joon bid farewell to other researchers.

“It was an honor to meet you,” Seo-joon said, extending his hand. A white researcher who had earlier excitedly explained the gate specimen to him smiled and shook his hand.

“I hope you find a good answer,” the researcher replied.

A good answer.

What exactly is a “good answer” to you? Seo-joon wanted to ask but held back, simply nodding in response.

Finally, the two boarded the private aircraft. Hee-min, who had spent hours in discussions and meetings with the researchers, showed clear signs of weariness. His face was pale, and dark shadows loomed under his eyes.

Sitting down, Hee-min opened his laptop and instinctively clicked on a research paper. Terms like “over pivot,” “deep pivot,” “healing cases,” and “life resonance” flashed across the screen. His tired eyes skimmed the words before finally succumbing to fatigue, his eyelids drooping shut.

Seo-joon, however, didn’t sleep for a single moment during the 15-hour flight.

✽✽✽

The quiet of dawn was broken by the faint sound of a door lock clicking from outside the bedroom. Yeon-woo stirred awake, sitting up as he checked the time. Before he could process what was happening, the bedroom door swung open, and a dark figure rushed toward him.

Startled, Yeon-woo instinctively spread his arms wide, catching the body that collided into him and falling backward. The warmth of his half-asleep self was instantly chilled by the icy embrace of the figure. The scent of winter lingered on the outerwear that hadn’t even been removed.

“Lieutenant…?”

Still bewildered, Yeon-woo cradled the familiar figure that had buried itself against him.

“When did you get here?”

“Just now.”

“You didn’t mention you’d be on a plane.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Seo-joon’s voice, low and steady, cut through Yeon-woo’s foggy mind as the sleepiness began to fade. For hours, he had thought Seo-joon was too busy to reach out. Now it was clear he hadn’t been unreachable but rather in transit to see him.

Without warning, Yeon-woo flipped them over, pinning Seo-joon beneath him.

“Mmm… What is this? Really…” he grumbled, his voice tinged with playful complaint. He rubbed his warm face against Seo-joon’s neck, nuzzling him fervently.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve picked you up.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“I missed you, Lieutenant. I missed you so much…”

Yeon-woo’s arms and legs wrapped Seo-joon in an unyielding grip, holding him as tightly as he could. The longing he had suppressed poured out in the form of endless kisses and shared breaths.

It wouldn’t be long before Seo-joon complained about being suffocated and tried to push him away, but for now, Yeon-woo had no intention of letting go.

“…”

Yet, no protests came. Curious, Yeon-woo raised his head to look at Seo-joon.

Even in the dim light, Seo-joon’s bloodshot eyes were unmistakable. Yeon-woo gently touched his forehead, temples, and chilled cheeks. He felt as though they hadn’t seen each other in months rather than just a few days.

Planting kisses on Seo-joon’s face, Yeon-woo tried to warm him up with his own body heat. Carefully, he captured Seo-joon’s parted lips and tasted him. Seo-joon tilted his head, deepening the kiss, their tongues intertwining as he exhaled a quiet sigh through their joined lips.

“I missed you too, Yeon-woo,” Seo-joon murmured, his voice trembling.

His body quivered faintly in Yeon-woo’s arms. Gently, Yeon-woo peeled off the cold outerwear and pulled Seo-joon closer, enveloping him in his warmth.

“Should I skip school today?” Yeon-woo whispered.

“And what will you do instead?”

“I’ll spend the whole day with you. Just lying here with you.”

A soft laugh escaped Seo-joon, his bloodshot eyes crinkling slightly.

“You don’t even bother coming up with convincing excuses anymore.”

Despite the teasing tone, Seo-joon reached up and gently caressed Yeon-woo’s face, his fingers brushing against his eyes and his palm cupping his cheek. His hands were still cold.

“I… really like you, Lieutenant. I like you so much that it feels like my insides are in chaos every time I see you. My chest feels like it’s going to burst, and sometimes I can’t even breathe.”

Yeon-woo pressed a kiss to the cold palm resting on his cheek, his voice filled with tender vulnerability.

“I can’t live without you anymore. Even being apart for a moment is unbearable.”

Seo-joon stared at him intently for a long while before finally speaking.

“…Me too.”

But the words that followed faltered, swallowed by an overwhelming silence. Seo-joon’s lips moved faintly, curving into a weak, melancholic smile.

“Because of you, Yeon-woo… my heart aches so much.”

Unable to contain the flood of emotions, Yeon-woo wrapped Seo-joon in his arms again, hugging him tightly. Seo-joon, offering no resistance, nestled into the embrace, his breath warming Yeon-woo’s chest.

The chill of the early winter dawn seemed to cling only to Seo-joon, no matter how much warmth Yeon-woo tried to share. His trembling refused to subside, leaving Yeon-woo to hold him even closer, as if his warmth alone could make everything right.