23
“Sunbae, here’s an iced Americano for you!”
“I don’t want it.”
“Oh, does caffeine not agree with you? Then how about peppermint tea?”
“…Hey.”
Despite Minjae’s sour expression, Jihwan remained persistent. Discovering a tray full of six takeout cups, Minjae let out a loud sigh.
“What are you trying to do?”
“I didn’t know what you’d like, so I prepared everything!”
“I don’t like anything.”
Jihwan pouted his lips. Minjae didn’t even blink.
“Since you said you’d go on missions with me, and also… that you don’t hate me.”
“……”
“I’m grateful. If you don’t like anything here, I can get you something else.”
Jihwan stood in front of Minjae with his hands respectfully clasped together. Seeing Jihwan smiling at him, Minjae closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. Ah, did I overdo it? Jihwan watched Minjae’s reaction carefully.
Minjae reached out and took the cold peppermint tea from the tray. So he likes peppermint. I should remember that. Jihwan made a mental note.
“And you.”
“Yes?”
Minjae didn’t repeat himself. Oh. Jihwan hurriedly picked up a lemonade.
Glancing at Jihwan, Minjae took the remaining four cups and opened the training room door. Minjae could see an esper passing by who was startled when Minjae opened the door.
“Director…?”
“Hey, take these and share them.”
“Pardon?”
Minjae handed the four drinks to the bewildered esper and closed the door. Jihwan had to make an effort to hide the sudden feeling of disappointment that washed over him.
Watching Minjae turn around again, Jihwan worked hard to force a smile.
“Are you rich?”
Minjae asked. What? No. Jihwan blankly shook his head.
Hah. With another sigh, Minjae took a small card from his pocket and held it out to Jihwan.
Jihwan stared blankly at the card. It had a slightly younger-looking photo of Minjae on it. It was an access card that could also be used for payments.
“Buy and drink six cups before the next training session.”
Huh? Confused, Jihwan waved his hands and shook his head.
“No, it’s fine!”
“I have plenty of access cards anyway. But if you lose it, you’re dead.”
Minjae put the card in Jihwan’s pocket. Um… Jihwan stepped back, flustered. The back of his neck felt warm.
Was my disappointment that obvious? Did I seem too childish? Jihwan deliberately cleared his throat, trying to hide his expression.
Minjae made no comment about Jihwan’s burning face and just pointed with his chin toward the corner of the training room.
“Now, pick that up.”
What is that? Jihwan looked at a large iron bucket that came up to just above his knees. He knew it was a bucket, but somehow didn’t want to know more.
“What… is that?”
When Jihwan looked at Minjae hesitantly, Minjae’s eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Getting more questions, are we?”
That meant shut up and pick it up. Jihwan reluctantly approached the bucket. The bucket was empty. When Jihwan picked up the bucket easily, Minjae immediately ordered:
“Now fill it with water.”
“…Kongjwi and Patjwi.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Under Minjae’s sharp gaze, Jihwan moved quickly. Fortunately, it wasn’t a bucket with holes, so he didn’t need a toad’s help. The water filled to the brim in the bucket rippled, gradually soaking Jihwan’s chest.
Jihwan slowly flew to Minjae.
“Don’t let that spill.”
“Again…”
Jihwan sighed. Another mission like this! First carrying boxes, now buckets! When he got drunk and went to his sunbae, he thought his feelings had been understood. Jihwan felt depressed.
“This time I can’t give you as much time as I did with the box. You have to master it within three days.”
“Huh…”
“Because you and I have to do a flight demonstration. We need to somehow… make it work on schedule.”
“Yes, I’ll… Wait, what??”
Expecting to be scolded with words starting with “because you can’t fly properly,” Jihwan’s eyes widened at the unexpected phrase.
“If I didn’t hear wrong, you said flight demonstration, right?”
Flight demonstration! Images flashed through Jihwan’s mind of himself flying through the sky with Minjae, receiving cheers from people. Jihwan eagerly grabbed Minjae’s hand.
“I’ll work really hard!”
“…Sure.”
Jihwan hugged the bucket that suddenly seemed so lovely. Cold water spilled onto his chest, but Jihwan was happy.
***
Ojun arrived at work 30 minutes earlier than usual. After organizing his desk for the first time in a while, he spread out the materials he had prepared overnight and checked them again. His eyes were dry. Hah. Ojun let out a deep sigh.
A single reporter had published negative news about the Hero Center. The brave reporter pointed out that the Center’s attitude of indiscriminately deploying young children on missions to appear ‘heroic’ was quite deceptive.
The criticism was quite sharp, noting that as negative perceptions of espers still existed, the Center was attempting to create an image of young, noble beings who were overworked or sacrificed for the country and citizens.
At the end of the article, it even mentioned that if Center Director Kim Jinsung, a politician who always claimed to stand on the side of progress while talking about human rights, was behind this situation, it could be interpreted as already being conscious of the presidential election two years away. It was an outright critical article.
Ojun had searched through all the articles published over the past week to find this kind of content. He meticulously examined articles from newspapers that people rarely read. The article was being uploaded on a newspaper that only dealt with insignificant gossip.
Of course, naturally, it was buried. No one was interested in such articles. But Ojun had clipped the full text. And he included it in the “Collection of Reports on the Center” that he submitted in his daily report.
“Having such a capable talent makes me very hopeful.”
That’s what Jinsung had said to Ojun on his first day at work. But Ojun knew. That statement was a warning.
Ojun was quick-witted. The reason he had survived until now after taking the position of Hero Center Director’s secretary right out of college, knowing nothing, wasn’t because he was smart, outstanding, or especially capable.
To sit in this position, one had to be stupid and incompetent. That was what Ojun had realized on his first day.
Ojun had done quite well for a long time. He didn’t try to know anything and acted moderately incompetent. He diligently performed his role as a gatekeeper. He could have continued doing so. Why. Ojun banged his head on his desk.
“Bastard.”
Ojun cursed. He could have continued living like that. Pretending not to hear anything, not to see anything.
But Wooseok had grabbed him by the collar and told him. That there’s a difference between staying quiet because you don’t know and pretending not to know when you do.
After placing the report materials on the Center Director’s desk, Ojun closed the door and headed to the bathroom. There were CCTVs installed in Kim Jinsung’s office. It meant that once submitted, it couldn’t be taken back.
“Stupid idiot…”
Ojun splashed cold water on his face. His nose stung.
[Secretary Yoon.]
As soon as he returned to his seat, Jinsung called for Ojun. Ojun stared at the small speaker connected to his desk.
“Yes.”
[I checked the press materials.]
“…Yes.”
A moment of silence followed. Ojun felt that time stretching very long. The clicking sound of Jinsung turning on the microphone was heard again.
[…This was quite an impertinent act.]
Ojun closed his eyes. The answer he had to give was already determined.
“I’m sorry.”
No more sounds came from the microphone.
***
Wooseok stood leaning against a bed in the guiding room. He had been busy for a while as espers who had been deployed to regional sites returned and flooded into the guiding room. Wooseok massaged his stiff neck with his hand. When he turned his head, there was a cracking sound.
“You’re going to break your bones.”
A passing junior spoke to Wooseok. Wooseok waved his hand as if shooing away a fly.
“The shift change team has come in, so Director, please go in and rest a bit.”
Having not slept all night, his mind was fuzzy. Wooseok nodded and took out his phone from his pocket.
-From now on, there will be fewer cases of children being deployed. I thought you should know.
Wooseok rubbed his eyes. But the text on the screen remained the same. Secretary Yoon. Wooseok stared at the sender name he had saved.
-What did you…
Wooseok started typing but then deleted it. It didn’t seem like an appropriate situation to ask probing questions now.
But it was strange. Wasn’t Secretary Yoon clearly on the Center Director’s side? Though a coward, he had always quite firmly stood in Wooseok’s way. That man was faithful to his role as a gatekeeper, and because of that, Wooseok was convinced he was the Center Director’s man.
Was he not a loyal dog who sympathized with and agreed with the Center Director’s actions? If so, then why?
-What happened?
Wooseok deleted the completed sentence again. It wasn’t as if he had no idea what might have happened.
That secretary had done what he could. Although Wooseok couldn’t know exactly how he had done it, it didn’t seem meaningful to ask about those detailed processes right now.
Would the Center Director have accepted it readily? A question arose in Wooseok’s mind. That was impossible. Kim Jinsung did not like it when people defied him.
Had there been anything that wasn’t broken among the things that displeased the Center Director? Thoughts tangled complexly in Wooseok’s mind.
Ah. Wooseok groaned. His chest ached. He bent over and buried his head in the makeshift bed. The sheets, without any human warmth left, were cold. The feeling of pressure on his crown made his head feel a bit clearer.
What had that fragile secretary done? Wooseok recalled the face that had turned pale when he grabbed him by the collar. And the eyes that had remained downcast until the end. When he had wanted so badly to pretend not to know. Why.
From Wooseok’s perspective, it seemed unlikely that he would ever act on his own no matter what happened. That’s why Wooseok had gotten angry without thinking of consequences.
No, was that really the case? Wooseok had wanted Ojun to do something, at least in the moment when he was angry. He wasn’t unaware of why Ojun had been keeping quiet all along.
Wooseok had thought Ojun was shameless and hypocritical. But that didn’t mean he wanted him to be in danger. Wooseok was angry at his own contradiction.
Wooseok tilted his hand back and struck the back of his head with his fist. He hadn’t put much strength into it, but it made a thumping sound. From behind Wooseok, the sound of curtains being pulled back was heard.
“Director? Are you alright?”
Someone asked.
“Get out.”
Wooseok said without lifting his face from the bed. Oh, yes. The bewildered junior’s reply was heard. The curtain covered Wooseok again.
Wooseok is a guide. Whether he wanted it or not, he would be affiliated with the Hero Center for life. That was a curse to him, but he realized that to someone else, it could be an object of envy as “a job with guaranteed stability” after becoming an adult.
The secretary was different from Wooseok. Yoon Ojun was an ordinary person. That meant he had a weak body without any special abilities, and it implied that his affiliation with the Hero Center couldn’t be permanent. It meant he could be cast out anytime if he fell out of favor.
With a long sigh, Wooseok picked up his phone again.
-Are you okay?
This was an even more inappropriate question to ask. It was shameless. But Wooseok pressed the send button.
How much time had passed? A reply came. Words floated over Wooseok’s eyes, which had been staring at the phone screen the entire time.
-For now, yes.
Just curse at me instead. Wooseok swallowed a curse. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
