DP Episode 20
by BrieChapter 3. Over Turn
Deep Pivot Episode 20
[Reporter]
Recently, the nematode-like creature that appeared at Myeongjeong Station has also been found in Hyoseok-dong. Is this due to improper management of the gate?
[Lieutenant General Park Jin-cheol]
No. Our Special Disaster Management Headquarters always thoroughly manages gate sites.
[Reporter]
Then how did the nematode from Myeongjeong Station manage to appear in Hyoseok-dong?
[Lieutenant General Park Jin-cheol]
That is… currently under investigation.
[Reporter]
Is it possible someone intentionally leaked it?
[Lieutenant General Park Jin-cheol]
That is also under investigation…
[Reporter]
What if it’s an inside job?
[Lieutenant General Park Jin-cheol]
We’re convening the relevant departments to identify the cause, so please refrain from unnecessary speculation and wait for further information.
[Reporter]
This incident has caused numerous casualties in Hyoseok-dong—
The reporter’s voice suddenly cut off. The face of Lieutenant General Park, lit pale under the relentless camera flashes, vanished into darkness. In the abruptly quiet laboratory, only Kang Hee-min’s sigh was audible as he set down the TV remote.
“All this chaos because of one damned M-tuber,” Cheong-oh complained, sipping his Americano. It had been ten days since the Hyoseok-dong incident. Officially, the matter was still under investigation, but they knew why the nematode eggs from the Myeongjeong Station gate had leaked into Hyoseok-dong.
An internet content creator, who had infiltrated the Myeongjeong Station gate site, had secretly collected the nematode eggs and incubated them.
Nematodes breed and hatch quickly. An egg, no bigger than a fingernail, can generate dozens of larvae overnight. Those larvae reach adulthood in less than two days, releasing hundreds more eggs.
The culprit, who lived in a luxury apartment in Hyoseok-dong, hatched the eggs in his own bathtub for a “Nematode Egg Raising” segment. When the situation became unmanageable, he fled. They arrested him just two days ago at a nearby motel. The investigation wasn’t complete, so an embargo was placed on some media outlets.
“I almost got demoted because of that. They said I didn’t handle the Myeongjeong Station gate properly. Lieutenant Colonel Kwak lost it on me,” Cheong-oh muttered angrily.
“They think we’re real soldiers just because we work for the government. Like demotion is some big punishment. Am I supposed to be scared? Even if they sent me to the brig, I wouldn’t flinch.”
Hee-min clicked his tongue as he watched Cheong-oh casually spout things that would shock Colonel Jin. The special unit composed of the awakened was initially formed solely to deal with aberrant creatures.
The “military” title was added only because the government needed to control disaster situations, but their system didn’t conform much to military standards.
In practice, the teams were controlled by leaders like Jin Cheong-oh, who each had their eccentricities.
“Shouldn’t the ones under Lieutenant Colonel Kwak be the ones disciplined? We tackled the gate, but we weren’t in charge of managing the on-site quarantine.”
Hee-min just sighed at his complaint. It was a catastrophe with countless casualties. The SAU, the main team responsible for tackling the Myeongjeong Station gate, couldn’t claim to be completely free of responsibility. The team under Lieutenant Colonel Kwak had failed to secure the area, allowing civilians to wander in.
“So many of our team members were exhausted at Myeongjeong Station…”
But Cheong-oh, who had been burdened with meeting grieving families and overseeing compensation procedures for the guides who died there, was understandably frustrated.
“The internal atmosphere is tense lately. Kwak is likely just as on edge right now,” Hee-min consoled.
“A while back, some strange information came from Russia. With the higher-ups already tense, this incident only made things worse.”
“What information? My father didn’t mention anything about it.”
After a pause, Hee-min lowered his voice and spoke with a serious expression.
“Recently, one of the No-Named disappeared in Moscow.”
There are only twelve No-Named in the world. The countries that possess them keep that fact strictly confidential, so the exact numbers aren’t known. However, combining intelligence and various data leads to this conclusion.
One of those twelve was South Korea’s Ji Seo-joon.
“If a No-Named could die or go missing, how big of a gate would have to open? Or did they go on a rampage? But there haven’t been any incidents like that in Moscow recently.”
“We wouldn’t know. Russia is so secretive that even a major disaster could happen without a trace, and it wouldn’t surprise us.”
Hee-min continued, but his eyes flickered away when he saw Seo-joon next to Cheong-oh.
“We don’t have concrete information yet. But from recent rumors, that’s the story. It shouldn’t be taken at face value.”
Cheong-oh, who had been lounging back in his chair, turned to Seo-joon.
“Ah, but our little Seo-joon shouldn’t go missing, should he? Still fluffy like a baby chick, I’m not sure he can protect himself well.”
Seo-joon brushed off Cheong-oh, pushing him aside and responding with a chuckle.
“Even No-Nameds are human. Sometimes they die. What’s the big deal? Don’t get all worked up over uncertain information.”
The three of them were in Hee-min’s lab, each preoccupied with their own tasks. Hee-min was busy organizing training materials for Cha Yeon-woo, who would be coming in today. Seo-joon skimmed through those materials nearby, passing the time.
Cheong-oh, who had unexpectedly joined them at the lab due to staying over at Hee-min’s place the previous night, was the most relaxed. Seo-joon shook off his arm and said,
“Captain Jin, I heard you said something weird in front of the new recruits last week.”
Cheong-oh folded his arms and leaned back, pretending to look stern after being suddenly addressed by his rank.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lieutenant Ji.”
“You don’t know what? You’re the one dealing with the complaints that are pouring into HR from people refusing to join because of you,” Seo-joon said, poking Cheong-oh’s tablet screen with a pen. He knew exactly what kind of nonsense Jin Cheong-oh had spouted about Cha Yeon-woo during the last induction ceremony.
“It’s not damage control, it’s pruning! Those who can’t handle it should leave early. Look, read this nonsense: ‘I didn’t become a guide just to be a spare tire’? You’d think he earned this position through hard work.”
Cheong-oh added that those types should be weeded out before hitting the field, and he looked to Hee-min for agreement. But Hee-min was engrossed in his own tasks, uninterested in their conversation.
Seo-joon punched Cheong-oh on the shoulder, criticizing him, “When you do that, what does it make the other recruits look like? They’re all necessary. I’ve already tested some myself.”
After all, those people had been chosen for him. By publicly treating Cha Yeon-woo as his only personal guide while demoting the other recruits to spare tires, Jin Cheong-oh had put Seo-joon in an awkward position.
“Oh, come on. Captain Jin isn’t wrong. If you have Cha Yeon-woo, the rest are just extras…”
Hee-min chimed in without lifting his gaze from his tablet. Buoyed by his support, Cheong-oh looked at Seo-joon with wide eyes, as if to say, “See, I told you so.”
“If you keep shielding Cha Yeon-woo like that, I’ll stop using him.”
“Look into his eyes. Do you really want to abandon him for another guide?”
Seo-joon gave him a look as if questioning how he could even consider that.
Clicking his tongue, Seo-joon eyed Cheong-oh, who was treating him like some kind of shameless person. But who was really the shameless one here?
Jin Cheong-oh’s actions ultimately made Cha Yeon-woo struggle, alienated by his peers. SAU, the first special unit created after the gates opened, was known for its S-grade espers and had earned a strong reputation.
Plus, their hazard pay was double that of other teams. So, as Jin Cheong-oh said, there weren’t many who would drop out easily. It just increased the number of colleagues who would hold a grudge against Cha Yeon-woo.
“If Cha Yeon-woo gets bullied by his peers, will you carry him around?”
“Why would I carry him? You do it, Seo-joon.”
Cheong-oh leaned on Seo-joon, who pushed him away with a cold expression. Whenever this bulky guy did his odd version of flirting, Seo-joon felt so nauseous that he almost wanted to vomit out the liquid meal he hadn’t fully digested.
Just then, Seo-joon’s phone rang. He turned away from Cheong-oh to check the message.
Cha Yeon-woo:
[Lieutenant,]
[What time can you come today?]
9:06 a.m.
A faint smile appeared on Seo-joon’s lips as he got up and tapped on his phone.
Ji Seo-joon:
[What time do you want me to come?]
9:06 a.m.