Seoha’s vision went dark.
The fluorescent light on the ceiling shattered and fell, then soon sank into pitch-black darkness. Around the time his senses dulled so much that he could no longer even feel the coldness of the floor, hurried footsteps sounded from outside the door.
“Seoha! What was that noise?”
“Oppa?”
Miyeong’s and Seoeun’s voices.
Normally, out of consideration for her son, she never opened his door without permission, but she had a bad feeling.
Bang.
The moment the two of them saw inside the room, screams burst from their mouths.
“Seoha! Wake up! Hey, Seoha!”
Miyeong wrapped her trembling arms around her son, who had collapsed on the floor. His forehead was burning hot like a fireball, yet his fingertips had gone cold, something that did not fit with her medical knowledge and left her confused.
Seoeun stood blankly with a hand over her mouth.
The older brother she knew had always been relaxed and steadfast. He was smart enough to seem as if there was nothing in the world he did not know, yet infinitely gentle only to her.
Seeing him collapsed on the floor, groaning, came as an enormous shock to Seoeun. Her lips trembled, and then she hurriedly grabbed her phone.
“We have to call 119, Mom!”
Beep, beep, beep.
Her fingers kept missing the numbers. Her vision blurred, but Seoeun gritted her teeth and explained the situation to the paramedic. The short time until the ambulance arrived felt as long as eternity.
As the emergency responder instructed, Seoeun calmly unbuttoned her brother’s shirt and supported his head with a pillow. Then, suddenly, her gaze turned to the desk.
The doll sat there, looking no different from usual.
For some reason, Seoeun thought the duck’s expression looked sad.
Wee-woo, wee-woo—
The sound of the ambulance echoed through the quiet neighborhood.
The neighbors had all come out to the roadside, wondering if something had happened. The paramedics entered swiftly and loaded Seoha into the vehicle.
Seoha was moved beneath the blue lights above an emergency room bed. Medical staff rushed over, checking his vitals and placing an oxygen mask on him.
“Sir, can you hear my voice? Could you tell me your name?”
Even at the doctor’s shout, Seoha gave no answer.
Mother and daughter sank weakly into chairs outside the treatment room. Miyeong sat with her eyes closed, hands clasped together as if in prayer. Only then did the tension leave Seoeun, and she looked at her and asked,
“Mom! Didn’t you get a business card from some man before?”
At Seoeun’s voice, Miyeong came back to herself.
Business card.
Wallet.
Miyeong sprang to her feet and turned her bag upside down.
Receipts and coupons spilled onto the chair. When she picked up her wallet and opened it, she saw a business card neatly tucked inside.
Park Hyeonseok.
He was the civil servant who had repeatedly and earnestly asked her to contact him first if anything happened to Seoha.
Ring, ring.
The call connected before the tone could even ring twice.
—This is Park Hyeonseok.
“I, I’m Seoha’s mother, Yoon Miyeong.”
A brief silence passed.
—Ma’am, where are you right now?
“The hospital. Seoha collapsed. We called 119 first and came to the hospital, but…”
His voice changed.
As if he had been waiting for this very day, he spoke calmly, without a trace of panic.
“Please wait just a moment.”
His voice was low and quick. Over the phone, she could hear him giving orders to someone.
Miyeong felt a chill run down her spine.
—Ma’am, are you in the hospital lobby right now?
“Yes. The hallway in front of the emergency room.”
—Do not move from that spot. And you must not tell anyone except the doctors about Director Yu’s condition. The same goes even if acquaintances contact you.
“What? Ah… understood.”
—People will arrive shortly. I’ll be there soon as well, so please don’t worry too much. Director Yu is someone who must receive the most stringent protection in the Republic of Korea. We’ll do our utmost, so please trust us and wait.
Click.
Less than ten minutes after the call ended, the sound of military boots came from the entrance.
Patients and guardians who had come to the hospital turned their heads in surprise. Men in black suits began surrounding the emergency room area in perfect order.
But Miyeong saw none of it. All she wished was that her son would wake up without anything being seriously wrong.
* * *
Bzzzt—
Joseph stopped mid-yawn and opened his cell phone.
“Gasp!”
The moment he checked the message that had come in through the secure channel, his sleep vanished completely.
[Operation Inherit]
—Irregularity detected in Tier Zero’s movements. Currently believed to be in transport by helicopter.
—Condition unknown. Information gathering underway.
—Assigned agents are to remain on standby, ready for mission execution immediately upon receiving orders.
—No independent action until orders are issued.
His legs trembled.
“Operation Inherit.”
An operation to be executed in the event that Tier Zero died or suffered an equivalent incident.
Its purpose was to secure all unpublished research materials, experimental data, and personal records belonging to the target and transfer them through American channels. Naturally, it was an illegal operation, and if exposed, it could escalate into a diplomatic issue between nations, so it had to be carried out with extreme secrecy.
He had received thorough training before deployment and come here, and yet.
Calculations spun rapidly through his head.
If his condition was serious enough to be transported by helicopter, he had to be in critical condition. How much time until the research institute was shut down?
He had already memorized everything he needed to do.
In his own opinion, he was a spy of innate genius.
After infiltrating, he had succeeded in gaining the trust of Seoha and the other core members, and had even risen to the position of Utopia Operations Team Leader. Of course he had identified which servers he would need to search, and he had memorized the locations of emergency exits and the security shift rotations.
But it was an operation he had never once seriously believed would actually be carried out.
Slide.
He slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his gown.
What his fingers caught was a single cigarette inside a pen case.
It was something he had put there with the intention of asking for one last smoke if he were ever exposed as a spy. He took it out, placed it between his fingers, and rose from his seat.
Step, step.
He climbed the emergency stairs leading to the rooftop.
His back looked grim and resolute.
Creeak—
When he opened the door, the clear sky over Daejeon came into view.
“I’m a patriot.”
He murmured in a low voice, as if repeating it to himself.
That was sincere. It was also true that a considerable portion of Seoha’s research had American interests tied to it. The necessity went without saying, and even legally speaking, the operation was not completely without grounds.
Click, click—
On the second try, the cheap lighter flared to life.
Inhale.
Harsh smoke pushed deep into his lungs.
“Cough!”
How long had it been since he quit smoking? Years.
The world spun dizzily before his eyes.
Hoo.
Exhaling cloudy smoke, Joseph thought,
‘Why am I hesitating?’
It was just a mission.
Coming here in the first place had been a mission, and nothing had changed now. He had not volunteered in order to become close to Theo, nor had he come here to trade silly jokes with Ben.
He certainly had not been working on the other side of the world in order to eat delicious meals and enjoy hiking.
“Why!”
Hoo.
Smoke spread into the sky.
If the execution order came down, he would have to betray everyone. If Seoha happened to wake up, and if the team members found out, what expressions would they make?
Was this the anguish that double agents had suffered during the Cold War?
Shameful as it was, his honest feeling was that he did not want to disappoint them. The world’s greatest mathematicians. He had been indescribably happy that they had acknowledged him.
The questions would not stop.
Could Operation Inherit be ethically forgiven?
Even if the research was stolen, who would have the ability to continue it? Was there any guarantee that it would not be used for a purpose contrary to the national interest?
His head felt so complicated it might burst.
Suddenly, Seoha’s innocent face came to mind.
‘Joseph, I think you’re someone who really fits in well with this team. My little sister packed this for me this morning. Would you like some?’
The dried persimmon he had placed in Joseph’s hand.
He had said his mother had picked and dried them herself. The sweet taste of the dried persimmon seemed to flicker at the tip of his tongue.
“Joseph, what are you doing up here? Were you smoking?”
At Ben’s voice, Joseph’s shoulders flinched.
When he turned around, Ben was standing by the door in his usual wrinkled shirt. Normally, with the instincts of a born spy, Joseph would have sensed his presence, but right now Joseph’s head was a mess, caught in a battle between national duty and human compassion.
“Ben?”
He hurriedly ground the cigarette out against the railing.
Ben stretched as if nothing were wrong and asked him,
“After work, do you want to go visit him in the hospital with everyone? I heard Seoha was hospitalized from overwork, and Theo’s really worried.”
“Se-Seoha is!”
At Joseph’s intense reaction, Ben looked puzzled.
“Yes?”
“How is Seoha’s condition?”
“I told you. Overwork. Ah! Joseph, you probably don’t know this, but Seoha has had times when he pushed himself too hard since his MIT days.”
Thud.
The strength went out of Joseph’s rigid legs. He sank to the floor, sniffling as he repeated, “Thank goodness.”
Ben tilted his head, then approached with a gentle expression and comforted him.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. But I didn’t know you cared about Seoha that much.”
“That’s not it, so go away! Sniff.”
“You’re going to visit him with us, right?”
“I’ll go, so just leave me alone! Sniff.”
“You don’t have to be so embarrassed. And smoking is bad for you, so make sure you quit!”
Ben patted his shoulder comfortingly, then withdrew.
Bzzzt—
[Operation Inherit]
—No threat to Tier Zero’s life.
—Operation suspended. Standby lifted.
“You could’ve sent that sooner!”
He shouted at the sky as if resentful, but in his heart, he truly felt relieved that he would not have to betray anyone.
* * *
Beep— beep—
A machine made a steady sound, drawing a regular graph on the monitor.
Morning sunlight seeped thinly in through the window. The smell of disinfectant came from somewhere.
‘A hospital?’
Seoha was conscious.
But he had no strength in his body, so he could not open his eyes.
‘Strange.’
It did not seem like anything special, and yet something was different. It was the sensation of the world becoming clear, like a person with poor eyesight putting on glasses with the correct prescription for the first time.
The complex flow of thought that usually caught and snagged in his mind ran smoothly, like driving down an empty road.
Seoha felt an inexplicable sense of liberation.
‘Balance, is it?’
“Seoha! Are you awake? Are you conscious?”
His mother’s cracked voice reached him.
When he struggled to open his eyes, gazes poured down on him all at once. A dozen or so doctors in white coats were surrounding him.
“What is your name?”
Among them, a doctor who appeared older asked while looking at Seoha.
“Yu Seoha.”
“Do you know what month and day it is today?”
“Yes. Based on when I fell asleep yesterday, March 4th.”
The doctors exchanged glances.
He heard his family let out sighs of relief from behind them.
“Excuse me.”
Someone pushed his way through the doctors.
Seoha recognized his face. The author of the clinical psychology textbook he had studied. The world’s foremost psychiatrist and psychologist, Ezra Davis.
He suddenly leaned his face in and stared intently into Seoha’s eyes.
“Mr. Yu, have you recently heard a voice in your head that did not belong to you?”
“…No.”
For the first time in his life, Seoha told a lie.