DP Episode 117

Episode 117

“I don’t want to go to school.”

A sullen voice came from the passenger seat. It was a complaint Seo-joon had heard repeatedly all morning. Even while waiting for the traffic light, Seo-joon kept his eyes fixed ahead, gripping the steering wheel without turning toward Yeon-woo.

“I want to stay with you, Lieutenant. I don’t want to go to school.”

“You’re so close to graduation. What are you going to do if you don’t go?”

Earlier in the dawn hours, Seo-joon had secretly swallowed dozens of tranquilizers, stuffing them down his throat in handfuls. For an ordinary person, it would’ve been a lethal dose, but not for Seo-joon. After emptying one box, then a second, and finally a third, the hallucinations tormenting his senses had only marginally subsided.

Driving in a state of overdose was insane, but this was when Seo-joon felt most stable behind the wheel.

At least he could pretend to be normal in front of Yeon-woo.

“Does it really matter if I skip a few days this close to the end?”

“Don’t you know about finishing strong? You’re throwing away a precious, once-in-a-lifetime moment. Later, when you want to go to school, you won’t be able to. Trust me, when you get older, you’ll miss high school.”

“That’s not it…”

A long sigh came from beside him. Despite Seo-joon’s persistent nagging, which had gotten Yeon-woo into his school uniform and on the way to class, Yeon-woo continued to resist.

“…I don’t want to be away from you, Lieutenant. I’m worried about you.”

Beep. The phone mounted on the dashboard chimed, sending a jolt down Seo-joon’s spine. His gaze shot to the screen.

Thankfully, it wasn’t an emergency alert.

Screech. Both of their bodies lurched forward. Seo-joon, missing the timing to brake, reflexively extended an arm to brace Yeon-woo’s torso, stopping just in front of the crosswalk.

“…”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, Seo-joon cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m fine now. Really.”

“Then I’ll stay with you just for today. I’ll make sure you’re okay and start going to school again tomorrow—”

“I said I’m fine.”

Seo-joon’s frayed nerves snapped again, his sharp tone cutting through the air. He took a shaky breath, forcing his voice to steady as he continued.

“…I’m really fine. I’ll drop you off and head to the center. I’ll see Doctor Kang for a checkup, so don’t worry.”

His tone, raised in a failed attempt to sound casual, felt slightly off. Still, Seo-joon hoped it sounded normal to Yeon-woo.

“I’ll eat with Jeong-woo at the center and even send you pictures so you won’t worry.”

“…”

“I want you to be the kind of adult who finishes strong, Yeon-woo. Someone who can see things through. How can someone who doesn’t even attend school take responsibility for anything later in life? What about being my dedicated guide? You can’t even manage school—how are you going to manage Jeong-woo?”

Even to his own ears, the argument sounded nonsensical. But in his addled state, Seo-joon believed he was being utterly logical. Before long, the car pulled up near the school.

“…Let’s do this then.”

After a long silence, Yeon-woo finally spoke without stepping out of the car.

“Go to the center and see Director Kang. I’ll attend my morning classes and head to the center right after. I’ll stay with you for the afternoon. Once I’ve confirmed you’re really okay, I’ll keep going to school until graduation day.”

“…Alright.”

“Go ahead, you’ll be late,” Seo-joon urged, keeping his gaze on the road ahead.

“Look at me before I go, Lieutenant. I want to say goodbye properly.”

“…”

Very slowly, Seo-joon turned his head toward Yeon-woo. His blue eyes scanned the younger man, as if trying to read him. Feeling as though his vulnerabilities were laid bare under Yeon-woo’s clear gaze, Seo-joon’s heart, which he had barely calmed, began to race.

“I’ll be back, Lieutenant. See you later. Don’t forget to send me pictures from the center.”

Seo-joon nodded silently. He was afraid that if he spoke, his words might come out jagged, like the earlier outburst.

✽✽✽

【Japanese Foreign Minister: “China’s remarks pose no issues. The end of the Gates is a global aspiration… Hopefully, it will be realized.” Positive response to the Chinese Chief of Staff’s statement.】

“You damn yellow bastards!”

Crash! The phone flung across the table bounced off and landed on the floor. Captain Jin Cheong-oh, who was having breakfast with Colonel Jin, looked up in surprise.

“Wow, Dad… you’ve been getting angry a lot lately.”

Bending down, he picked up the fallen phone, glancing at the article on the cracked screen.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s the first day China and Japan have been spouting nonsense. What’s gotten into you?”

Placing the phone back beside Colonel Jin’s meal tray, Cheong-oh spoke casually.

“It’s not that! These bastards are—!”

Colonel Jin, his anger flaring, abruptly stopped mid-sentence. Cheong-oh, spoon in hand, raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“…What about now?”

Clicking his tongue instead of replying, Colonel Jin quietly resumed eating his soup. Damned opportunists, stirring up chaos from both sides. He swallowed his rage and thought, ‘They’re betting on gaining something if South Korea’s No-named forces disappear.’

The neighboring countries had started subtly pressuring nations with No-named forces. To the untrained eye, these subtle shots would seem innocuous, but they were anything but.

‘Sneaky little rats.’

After finishing his meal with Cheong-oh and stepping outside the cafeteria, Colonel Jin let out a long series of weary sighs. ‘What on earth has Kang Hee-min been up to?’ He had an uneasy feeling that the higher-ups wouldn’t let his lieutenant be for much longer, and as for that damned research… where was it even headed?

The longer the delay, the heavier the pressure from China and Japan. It wouldn’t be surprising if another assassination group, like the one sent after Viktor, showed up.

And it wasn’t just the external threats. As more people in the upper echelons became aware of the situation, the dynamics within their ranks were bound to shift. By then, even Colonel Jin might struggle to see Lieutenant Ji Seo-joon purely as a comrade.

‘73 dead.’

His thoughts drifted, unwillingly, to the officially recorded death toll from the Sinheui-dong Gate incident a few days prior. Seventy-three lives that could have been saved if Lieutenant Ji hadn’t been there.

For Colonel Jin, who had spent years witnessing lives lost on disaster sites, it was something he could neither condone nor change.

“Hey, Seo-joon!”

Cheong-oh’s booming voice echoed down the hallway, startling Colonel Jin from his thoughts.

At the mention of that name, Colonel Jin quickly turned his head. Seo-joon was hurrying somewhere and seemed not to hear Cheong-oh’s loud call. Even from afar, his face looked pale.

…Where the hell is Lieutenant Ji rushing off to now?

At that moment, a commotion broke out. From the opposite stairwell came the sound of Kang Hee-min’s voice.

“I have legs, you know! I can walk on my own. I haven’t committed a crime or anything—”

“Keep moving.”

Two men were practically dragging Hee-min down the stairs. Looking disheveled and exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept, Hee-min was still wearing his lab coat, likely coming straight from the lab.

“Director Kang…? What’s going on—?”

As Colonel Jin’s eyes met Hee-min’s, the latter clamped his mouth shut and quickly averted his gaze, acting as though he didn’t know him. It was as if he desperately hoped Colonel Jin wouldn’t acknowledge him.

From Hee-min’s expression, Colonel Jin sensed it immediately.

Things were going wrong.

✽✽✽

Sizzle.

Major General Park lit the end of his cigarette, shielding himself from the bitter winter wind as he took a long drag of smoke.

“So, what’s the deal with Director Kang? Why the hell has he been hiding something this critical until now?”

“How would I know?”

White smoke swirled between the four middle-aged men gathered in the outdoor smoking area of the center. The icy wind cut across their crisp uniforms and tailored suits.

“If this keeps up, won’t we have another incident like last time? If Japan and China team up and send assassins again, we’re screwed. Absolutely screwed.”

“Exactly. When the safe house got raided back then, all those regular soldiers who died—it was pointless. Looking back, it was all for nothing. We lost manpower, resources, and money just to protect one No-named. What the hell was that all about?”

One of the men clicked his tongue, brushing off the ash from his cigarette.

“Still, if sacrificing one No-named could get rid of the Gates entirely, that’s a golden opportunity. It’s simple and efficient.”

“Come on… isn’t calling it a sacrifice a bit of a stretch? The Gates appeared because of them in the first place.”

“True, true…”

Major General Park nodded repeatedly in agreement.

“So, Major General Park, how do you plan to move this forward?”

“With approval from the top already secured, it’s time to start laying the groundwork. Did you see what happened in Sinheui-dong a few days ago? Those casualty numbers were horrifying…”

White ash crumbled from the half-burned cigarette. Listening to his colleague, Major General Park furrowed his brow deeply and let out a sigh.

“Damn it, no matter how you look at it, we’re still people. Basic human decency should apply.”

He tapped the ash off his uniform pants against the bench leg as he continued.

“From a humanitarian standpoint, you know? There has to be a process of persuading the No-named.”

“Humanitarian my ass. From what I’ve heard, No-nameds aren’t even human. Do we really need to treat them like people just because they look like us?”

“If something goes wrong later, we’ll need to say the No-named made the choice willingly. That’s the only way we’ll have plausible deniability.”

“Plausible deniability? We’ve got plenty of justification already. Just look at Sinheui-dong. If Director Kang had initiated the disposal of the No-named earlier, none of those people would have died.”

“That bastard Kang. The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off. He’s been hiding this since summer, hasn’t he? That so-called lab director…”

The man muttered a string of vicious curses, glaring toward the research labs as if Kang Hee-min were standing right there.

But Kang Hee-min couldn’t stay in that place any longer.

“Considering all the people who’ve died since then, Kang Hee-min is practically a mass murderer. Damn lunatic, lost in his own research.”

“Yeah, academics who lose their minds are the scariest. They think they’re gods or something.”

The connection between the Gates and the No-nameds, the possibility of ending the Gates—knowing all this and concealing it was a weight Kang Hee-min could no longer bear. His actions, or inactions, would not go unpunished.