DP Episode 112

Episode 112

“Whoa!”

Startled by an unexpected push on his back, Hee-min turned sharply to see Song-hee standing there.

“Director Kang, you’re in early today?”

“It’s the same time as usual. What are you talking about?”

“Well, still… You just got back from your trip to the U.S. I thought you’d take a little time off because of the jet lag.”

Song-hee placed a takeout cup of Americano on the desk next to him, one of two cups she carried. Seeing the extra cup offered to him, Hee-min asked casually, “Who was the other one for?”

“It’s yours, of course. I was going to leave it in the fridge.”

As she turned on the lights throughout the lab, Song-hee suddenly stopped and gasped.

“Oh my gosh, what is all this?”

She was staring at a tangle of thick cables, chips, communication devices, and batteries. Letting her eyes sweep over the equipment, she let out an excited exclamation.

“NASA’s latest tech!”

“Yeah, so they say.”

Still glued to his computer screen, Hee-min replied indifferently.

“Isn’t it a major upgrade compared to what we had before?”

“Don’t touch it. I need to show it to Major General Park later.”

“Why not send it to the field? Who knows? Maybe it could even survive past the ‘horizon,’” Song-hee quipped, echoing a metaphor he’d heard from a researcher abroad.

Hee-min let out a dry chuckle. “That’s not happening. A gate is essentially a massive black hole. Do you really think equipment made from byproducts of those creatures could handle that?”

As much as Song-hee’s excitement was endearing, the truth was that the equipment was more of a showpiece—a symbolic souvenir to justify the trip.

After all, when you’ve risked exposing a No-Name abroad and deployed a private aircraft to visit NASA, you need something tangible to show for it.

In other words, beyond this “souvenir,” Hee-min had gained no real answers from the meetings.

“Well, it’s not fair to compare it to the old days,” Song-hee argued. “If the creatures are evolving, wouldn’t it make sense that equipment made from their byproducts would also be more advanced?”

Hee-min turned to her and nodded slowly. “…Maybe.”

Perhaps he could ask Colonel Jin to take the equipment to a gate site in the future. Not to attach it to a person—that would be madness—but if they encountered humanoid creatures like ghouls, they could deploy a tamer to test it.

Even capturing bio-signal data from a creature entering the gate could yield insights about the environment inside: its temperature, atmosphere, and so on.

Over time, data like this might pave the way to ending gates without sacrificing No-Names.

But that faint hope was quickly dashed during his meeting with Major General Park just hours later.

“NASA can wait; this is more urgent.”

Time wasn’t on their side.

“We’ve received intelligence that the No-Name in Côte d’Ivoire is untraceable. And it turns out that Turkey’s No-Name has been missing for over a month now.”

Starting with Russia’s No-Name, then Australia, and now Côte d’Ivoire and Turkey—No-Names around the world were disappearing one by one.

“It’s classified, so the news has been slow to reach us. There could be more missing No-Names that we don’t even know about.”

More accurately, they weren’t disappearing—they were being sacrificed. Whether by choice or coercion, their deaths were undeniable.

Less than a year after Sergey had set the precedent, countries were already arriving at their own conclusions.

“Director Kang, isn’t it clear by now? With No-Names being disposed of left and right, do you really think Korea can afford to sit idle?”

Currently, the sacrifice of No-Names was the quickest and most definitive way to end gates.

“And yesterday, China’s Chief of Special Awakener Forces made an official announcement,” Major General Park continued gravely.

“You wouldn’t have heard it since you were on the plane, but he declared that they would eliminate all gates within a year.”

Hee-min’s jaw dropped.

China didn’t possess any No-Names.

However, as a country geographically adjacent to South Korea—a No-Name holder—it was within the sphere of influence if Korea’s No-Name disappeared.

“What do you think that means?”

To the uninformed public, it might seem like empty boasting. But the reality was more insidious.

It was a veiled threat—a warning aimed at No-Name-holding countries.

If Korea failed to act, China was signaling its intent to step in and eliminate both South Korea’s No-Name and its gates.

The message was chillingly clear.

✽✽✽

― Doctor, what are your thoughts on China’s recent statement?

― Well, it’s been over ten years since the gates first appeared, hasn’t it? We’ve been living in a global disaster ever since…

Yeon-woo, tossing in his sleep at the faint sound of voices, habitually reached out to the side. His hand met the cold sheets instead of Seo-joon, who had returned just yesterday.

― …so, I suspect it’s a form of political performance. Claiming to end the gates in just one year is an overly far-fetched statement…

Was it a dream? The fleeting thought was dispelled by the sound of the TV in the living room. Yeon-woo sat up and stumbled out of the bedroom.

On the sofa, Seo-joon sat curled up, silently watching the news. The TV screen showed a conversation between a news anchor and a political science professor.

― In addition, foreign media have expressed concerns that such statements may create false expectations, though local responses remain deeply divided…

“Lieutenant, you’re up already?”

― It’s not entirely baseless, though, is it? Australia, for instance, has seen real progress…

Seo-joon, who had been staring at the screen with an expressionless face, slowly moved, a beat too late. Picking up the remote, he turned off the TV before finally glancing at Yeon-woo.

Yeon-woo met his gaze and noticed Seo-joon’s bloodshot eyes, as if he hadn’t slept a wink. Despite his love for sleeping in, Seo-joon had been awake early, watching TV—news, no less. Yeon-woo had learned during their short time living together that this was entirely out of character for him.

“…I got a call from an Awakener legal representative. It woke me up early.”

Seo-joon’s voice was absentminded, his face visibly drained. Concerned, Yeon-woo kissed the corner of Seo-joon’s eye and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him closer.

“What was it about?”

Seo-joon’s expression, blank until now, twitched ever so slightly.

“…What?”

His gray eyes, suddenly dazed, darted around as if lost. His gaze shifted to the now-black TV screen, then back to Yeon-woo.

“What did I just say, Yeon-woo?”

“You said you woke up because an Awakener legal representative contacted you.”

“…Ah.”

His complexion looked worse than before. After a brief pause, his voice came out hollow.

“It’s nothing. …I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Ding.

A notification buzzed from Seo-joon’s phone. Yeon-woo watched silently as Seo-joon lowered his eyes to check the message.

Yoo Seong-jun, Legal Representative
[Sorry for the early message.]
[Regarding the guide-exclusive contract revisions you mentioned.]
[The documents are ready.]
[You wanted to modify the pairing agreement clause, correct?]
7:13 AM

[We’d like to meet with you and your exclusive guide in our office.]
[When would be a convenient time for you?]
7:14 AM

Ji Seo-joon
[The request to amend the contract is no longer necessary.]
[I’ve changed my mind.]
[Apologies.]
7:21 AM

[However, I’d like to request a meeting regarding another matter.]
[Could we schedule it for sometime this week?]
7:22 AM

Seo-joon turned off his phone after reviewing the conversation with the legal representative. He then opened a new message from Hee-min, which had just arrived.

“…Yeon-woo.”

Seo-joon finally looked up. His bloodshot eyes met Yeon-woo’s. For a moment, those weary eyes curved into something resembling a smile.

“Hurry and get ready for school.”

Kang Hee-min
[Don’t watch the news.]
[Don’t think about anything, Seo-joon.]
[It’s just the Chinese putting on a show.]
7:34 AM

You just need to trust me and wait│

“……”

The blinking cursor at the end of the unfinished message pulsed black on the screen. Hee-min couldn’t bring himself to write ‘wait’.

…It might take years—or even decades—to find a solution. Simply telling him to wait would be irresponsible.

There was a vast difference between understanding something through lines of a thesis and witnessing a realized specimen with your own eyes. The overwhelming presence of “that thing” he had seen at NASA’s research base was still an unforgettable shock.

What purpose could that massive unknown being possibly have for dropping No-Names onto Earth, then suddenly attempting to collect them along with the gates?

…No, is it even correct to call it “collection”?

No-Names emerged on Earth. Gates followed. Then came the mutated awakeners with their extraordinary abilities.

Was it all intentional?

Or, like humans who breathe, eat, and whimsically decide on a vacation—Canada last week, Da Nang this week—was this catastrophic event merely natural order or trivial caprice to that unknown being?

How could human reasoning ever hope to comprehend it?

In the face of that colossal existence, Hee-min felt nothing but overwhelming despair and helplessness.

But unfortunately, humans were too small and too fast; their time would not wait idly while he leisurely searched for a solution.

This was, in essence, a race to see who would reveal their cards first.

Would Seo-joon’s guilt surface first, or would the selfishness of the masses? Whatever the case, the faster collective selfishness reared its head, the more inevitable it became that Seo-joon would be forced to make a choice.

Before Hee-min could finish typing his message, Seo-joon’s reply arrived.

Ji Seo-joon

[Hyung, I’m fine.]
[Don’t worry.]
7:36 AM