2
I’ll kindly escort you to headquarters
Even though the reporter glared with fierce eyes, the guy didn’t blink. When he nodded for me to look in a certain direction, I saw his team members and an SUV. I realized he had come to pick me up.
It was noisy inside the headset.
“Is that person from Team 4?”
“Yeah, the Team 4 leader.”
“Why is Team 4 here?”
“Did the manager call them?”
“Huh? So are we going to headquarters?”
“I don’t think so.”
The situation in Maderke was still a mess for us to return, and some of those who had caused this were on the run. We needed to track them down immediately, so being called back to headquarters didn’t make sense. It would mean leaving the cleanup to another team, but would any team be willing to take that on? There’s no kind neighbor in the Security Bureau who would volunteer for the boring task of chasing down remnants when our team has already claimed the credit.
“Ah, they’re just taking over the tedious work? That can’t be right.”
“You’re right. I was having a sweet dream for a moment.”
The team members who had been stuck in Maderke for over a month seemed desperate to go home now that the major task was over.
Only after we were quite far from the reporter did the guy bow playfully, as if in an 18th-century court.
“I’ll kindly escort you to headquarters.”
“…Just me?”
“Yeah. They want you right away. The bigwigs are in an uproar.”
I had heard that the President’s approval rating had hit rock bottom due to this protest, so everyone seemed anxious.
Ah, not good.
I was already feeling tired. Despite doing a good job, the thought of having to justify every action and provide evidence made my head throb.
I kept wearing the helmet until Team 4’s car departed, just in case. I could only take it off about 5 minutes after the car started moving.
It’s good that the equipment is improving, but it’s really annoying that it’s getting heavier. Every time I take off the helmet, I think of Sisyphus. Half thinking that the rock he pushes up must be this heavy. Just as he gets a brief rest while the rock falls down the mountain, we forget this weight when we take off our helmets, but we have to put them on again when working. Because without this weight, we’d die.
The guy sitting across from me grinned.
“It’s been a while. Your face looks better. Did the Maderke air agree with you?”
This man, who looked like a middle-class male but surely had a brain different from others if you could open his head, was Lee Martin, the leader of Team 4. We had become friendly as we often collaborated, being in the same department, but he had the amazing talent of making me think, “Right, he was this kind of weirdo,” every time I saw him.
“How could air filled with gunpowder and the stench of blood agree with anyone?”
“I thought the Team 9 leader liked that sort of thing.”
“You bastard, have you been drinking?”
Lee Martin was a known heavy drinker. There was a rumor that if you added up the prices of all the alcohol in his house, you could buy an F-brand sports car.
Could he really have come after drinking, making him even more unhinged than usual?
As I looked at him suspiciously, Team 4 members awkwardly laughed and apologized to me.
“We’re sorry, Team Leader.”
“We apologize on his behalf. Despite appearances, he’s not a bad person, and…”
They seemed to want to make more excuses but didn’t know what else to say. A team member laughed mechanically and then glared at their team leader. It was clearly a signal to shut up at that point. Seeing this, I understood.
“You’re sober, aren’t you?”
I’m telling you, he has the talent of always being more of a weirdo than I expect.
As I smiled bitterly, Lee smacked his lips and said, “Your body’s gotten better, that’s what I mean.”
“Ah, stop it.”
“I wouldn’t mind being crushed by you.”
“Cut the crap.”
“Let’s take it off first.”
I was about to glare at him for crossing the line when Lee gestured with his eyes, saying, “I’m serious.”
Only then did my gaze shift to the man sitting next to me, not Lee Martin sitting across from me. The man who had said Lee wasn’t a bad person despite appearances but couldn’t continue was opening his bag. Steel cases came out of the bag, and syringes came out of those.
What’s with the syringes?
As I blinked, Lee explained.
“They say they’re going to extract various things from your body. Seems like it’s for the parliamentary hearing.”
“Ah, what…”
This is ridiculous.
At times like this, I really feel the urge to quit. After risking my life to complete the mission, they start picking it apart. Of course, I’ll just get scolded by the manager and have some blood drawn with a syringe, but the manager will be torn apart nationally at the parliamentary hearing and appear in newspapers, news, and YouTube. Or the director will be torn apart instead of the manager, and the manager will be scolded by the director.
“Do they suspect I’ve taken drugs or something?”
“There’s not a single bastard who hasn’t, right? Don’t act innocent, just strip off nicely.”
Cursing at the implication that there wasn’t anyone who hadn’t taken drugs, I started taking off my clothes. Since I had boarded the car fully armed due to the reporter’s presence, I was even carrying a gun. I first handed over the gun, then started unfastening my plate carrier. Lee opened the window and put a cigarette in his mouth.
“Want one?”
“I quit.”
“Trying to live long?”
“As if I could.”
When I asked back, gesturing at the gun, Lee smiled and said, “You might live long.” There was a hint of comfort in his voice.
Even though I’m in the anti-terrorism team and have lost several team members, Lee in the analysis team has also lost subordinates. My team members died or got injured, while Lee’s team members went to prison or were socially buried.
This is a kind of ritual. When someone tries to become cynical, the person next to them quickly comforts them to save them from the trap of cynicism. If we don’t help like this, the Security Bureau would become darker than the funeral industry.
As I extended my arm, the syringe approached. I suddenly got goosebumps and quickly pulled my arm back. The eyes of the man holding the syringe sharpened.
“Are you from Team 4?”
Of course, Team 4 probably knows how to handle syringes to some extent, but I still don’t like it. No, why should I receive treatment from an unqualified person when it’s not even an unavoidable situation-
“I have a medical license. And I’m not from Team 4.”
Ah.
I quickly extended my arm. Thinking the man might consider me fickle based on my attitude, I explained, “Well, qualifications are important, aren’t they?”
“Yes. I graduated from Fates Medical School.”
“Oh, I’m from Fates too. Law School.”
Lee tried to act familiar. The doctor, while inserting the needle into my arm and drawing blood, pushed back Lee’s attempt at friendliness, saying, “Aren’t there plenty of Fates graduates in the Security Bureau? Isn’t the manager of Department 1 from Fates too?” Lee responded with a “Yes” and blew cigarette smoke out the window.
“You’re a senior from the Law School, right? The manager and the director too. All from the same line. Lambs born from the same ship, I guess.”
As Lee smiled and spoke smoothly, I interjected.
“Isn’t it ‘dogs born from the same ship’?”
“Was it dogs?”
“My father often quotes it, isn’t it Rimbaud? If it’s Rimbaud, it’s ‘dogs’.”
My father liked the poet Rimbaud. Thanks to him, I’ve read his poetry collection “A Season in Hell” several times. My father even often quoted Rimbaud’s verses during his sermons.
“Dogs are too unromantic. It suits even less for your father to quote.”
“Why? Just because he’s a priest, does he have to always go on about lambs?”
“It would be cute if there was a priest cat that went meow meow.”
“Ah, that somehow feels like a bad pun, it’s unpleasant.”
The doctor who had been listening to our contextless conversation made a disgusted face. He cut off the conversation between me and Lee, saying bluntly, “Show me your back.”
“Ah, why the back now?”
“Just shut up and do it. What kind of soldier has such a lax mentality?”
“Why am I a soldier! I’m clearly- Ah, shit, it hurts.”
The injection in the back was quite painful.
“Ah, this feels really weird. Ugh, it feels like something’s going in.”
What kind of examination needs to be done from the back too?
As I grimaced, the man sitting in the passenger seat turned around.
“This is unexpected. I heard Team 9’s leader was really scary.”
“Why, do I seem like a pushover in person?”
“No, it’s not like that…”
When people hear “analysis team,” they really think we just analyze, but we’re half official spies. Unlike undercover agents, they officially operate as Security Bureau agents.
People think unofficial spies have a harder job than official ones, but in my opinion, both are difficult. I couldn’t do either. One requires completely hiding oneself while pretending to be someone else, while the other involves walking a tightrope with one’s life on the line – how could either be easy?
The Team 4 member in the passenger seat also smiled pleasantly.
“You seem used to it. And you give off a good vibe.”
Seeing that political tongue, I definitely couldn’t do it.
“Yes, I suppose you’d be used to it. After all, Team 4 has the biggest pushover in the history of the Security Bureau.”
As I nodded towards Lee Martin, the employee naturally turned his body forward, laughing.
“What’s this, why can’t you answer? You should say, ‘Our team leader isn’t a pushover, he’s full of human charm. The only pushover is Team 9’s leader,’ you bastard.”
Lee kicked the passenger seat, bang, bang.
Glancing out the window, I could see all sorts of vehicles rushing in the opposite lane. Broadcast vans, ambulances, police cars. Vehicles that signify disaster were speeding ferociously. Not one showed any sign of yielding to another.
“It’s going to get brutal.”
As I muttered, Lee mocked me, saying, “Just worry about putting out the fire on your own feet.” He was right.
I turned my gaze from the window.
When we arrived at the headquarters in Lumiere, the capital, Lee patted my shoulder at the building entrance.
“Call me when you’re done. I’ll buy you a drink.”
One of the worst things about being an adult is that there are moments when you have to take a beating even when you clearly didn’t do anything wrong. Seeing my face crumple, Lee comforted me, telling me to cheer up. He may be a weirdo and rough, but he’s fundamentally a good guy. That’s probably why we can be friends in a brutal place like the Security Bureau.
As I entered the headquarters with Lee, I asked:
“Are you offering drinks from your house?”
Lee immediately flared up.
“Why are you coveting my precious babies? I can’t give my babies to someone with no taste like you. Don’t even dream about it. Not before I’m dead and buried.”
I usually don’t care about the alcohol at his house, but when he acts like this, it always rubs me the wrong way.
“Just wait and see, someday you’ll have to offer me those drinks from your house.”
“I’d rather die.”
Lee, who had been sneering that such a day would never come, looked at his smartwatch and said he had to go, adding, “I’ll call you later” before disappearing.
Maybe because it’s been a while. The inside of the headquarters is confusing. Where is he going now?
What was over there again?
I checked the guide on the wall. Department 2 and the Director’s office and… the Civil Affairs Office?
This bastard, he’s not going to the Civil Affairs Office because of that reporter from Maderke, is he?
I pressed the elevator button for now, but I feel really uneasy.
Is it okay to just go?
“He won’t cause trouble, right?”
I voiced my concern out loud, feeling anxious. There’s no one to answer, of course.
