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Something was wrong. Something was different.
He was at his desk, looking over a computer message that was addressed to Kim Soleum, a D-squad rookie from Baekilmong. His mind was foggy as he blinked at his monitor's white and black pixelated screen.
When did he get here?
Choi could admit that he often looked into Baekilmong employees, and that he could forget a few from how many of them entered each batch, but he felt like he had never heard of Soleum in his life.
A D-squad employee would be deemed as important to him since they were set next to the elites. The messages were pulled up on his screen for a reason, weren’t they? Yet, he couldn’t remember opening the logs.
He frowned at the screen, backreading their messages. Soleum seemed like a polite, blunt little shit. Choi saw that he even referred to Soleum as Lee Jaheon in the making, but the thing was, he never remembered a person like that.
He frowned as he continued to click through the various messages he sent as K.LEE. It was all so strange. Most of them he knew, but a few he did not. His stomach churned as he investigated it, but soon enough, he was fed up.
He checked his phone and his mission reports, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Day by day, he clicked through the logs, and found that it all made sense. It seemed normal. Hyeonmu-1 team was sent out on a mission, and it was a standard mission in comparison to those of the past.
If he read Jaekwan’s reports and felt some part of him shatter, that was for no one to know. He was always like that. Maybe he was concerned while Jaekwan was out on a mission. That’s all this was. This guilt and the raw, oozing fermentation of dread in his chest meant nothing.
What the hell, he couldn’t be contaminated, could he?
Choi massaged his head, confusion and annoyance filling his mind. It would be fine. He was just stressed, probably.
He stood up, subconsciously reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He froze when he saw a newly written message on his notepad. His fingers twitched toward the note instead, picking it up because it was in Ryu Jaekwan’s handwriting.
He didn’t know why he was shaking. He denied the fact that he was shaking, actually. He was an old guy compared to the other agents at the bureau. It was his arthritis acting up—that sounded believable, right? If he lived to 35 that would be counted as a record. Choi lasting past his mid-twenties was already a miracle.
He saw Jaekwan’s handwriting on the note and felt something in his stomach twist. Maybe it was even deeper than that. His cells turned frenzied, like they understood that something was off. Something was wrong.
I’ll be back soon, took a mission with Agent Grape.
The world was torn apart, merely crumbs and ashes. It was dust, spread wide and far across the universe, infecting the dark mass in the sky. But somehow, the note glued all the particles together, and Choi was given a moment of bliss.
“This isn’t real,” he murmured, feeling like he had been broken, and then remolded, in a single moment.
He was a mask, a statue. He was nothing, and had never been something. He was a mash of spare parts and dedicated hard work. He was not who he said he was. He was not real, not human. He was not alive, nor was he dead. He existed in between the planes of reality as an obscuring fog, no direction in sight for him or those who neared his presence.
Yet, he was whole. He had been grounded like a lightning rod, and forced to stand amongst the others, a human-like appearance keeping him in a single form.
The note wavered in his trembling hand.
Jaekwan-ie was his special little hubae, the one who always showed him polite respect even when Choi wanted something closer, more personal. Was it bad that he wanted Jaekwan to stop him and just take? He wanted Jaekwan to either tell him, perhaps even force him, not to be so personally affectionate, or whisper Choi’s name with reverence in kind.
Jaekwan was alive.
Why did that thought seem foreign? He knew who Jaekwan was. He had seen him off not that long ago—Jaekwan was with the rookie, actually. The new rookie, who was given the name of Agent Grapes. They went on a mission together, a civilian help call.
Jaekwan had been excited to enter the field with the rookie. Choi’s gut churned and wracked, leaving him feeling ill. His shoulders hunched as he read the note, muscles trembling as he felt like a corpse with rigor mortis setting in.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even see like he had moments before. The darkness obscured him, a pit welling up from the inside out. He was dying even while his lungs flexed in and out as he breathed in air. He was dying for no physical reason, just another statistic for improbability.
He had been left for dead, surely. His emotions staggered, shifting and easing in different directions based on how bizarre his vision fluctuated. The dark overwhelmed him, yet it also brought him peace.
He would rather be in this darkness than feel trapped, morphed into something else. He was molded and sculpted by those who were unholy and never considered divine. He wasn't breathing; he wasn’t even the same species. He was nothing but an abyss who sucked others into its vortex and welcomed them home.
But he was also here, alive and well. His fingers brushed over the note, some of the ink almost seeming to smear, black and wispy. He knew it was wrong, though. The note wasn’t old—this was all in his mind.
He felt like he must run. He needed to run away while he could. He had arms and legs, why not use them?
He opened his mouth when his feet did not move. He glanced down, his brow furrowed and shaking. He was alone in the room, yet a pressure was keeping him rooted in place. The soles of his shoes were glued to the floor, combined into one. He was stuck, becoming a part of the bureau in a way no others had before.
♪♬♪~
His cell phone was ringing.
Choi choked, an anguished noise leaving his throat in pitiful bursts. He fought against the pull and reached for his phone. Nothing else mattered except for his ability to have control over his body and being able to answer whoever reached out.
It was the bureau. Choi accepted the call, though he would have accepted it even if it was spam. However, a spam call may not have made him press down as quickly and answer it.
The room was too small and clogged. He would do anything, even breathe in water, if it meant he could be pulled away instead of lulled into a drowsy state of rest.
He held it up to his ear, fingers trembling against the phone’s sides. “Agent Choi,” he murmured, voice rougher and much softer than he intended.
He was fearful of disrupting the peaceful state of the room. It wasn’t alive, there was nothing to offend, but he still didn’t change his actions. He kept his voice low and soft when he repeated his name, only accentuating the syllables instead.
“This is Agent Choi,” he repeated.
“There has been a civilian rescue call. It’s in the same district as a call earlier that had agents sent out to it.”
Without conceptualizing it, or listening to the message further, he already knew who it was. Agent Bronze and Agent Grape had been dispatched to the same Disaster. Looky Mart had been a bane to so many—more than any of them could entirely save.
Choi shook his head as he clicked off his phone. He had to help Jaekwan. He needed to reach him, watch over him in a way that others never could. Choi was the only one who could protect Jaekwan’s back, and even then, he did a shitty job. He was mourning Jaekwan—
Choi bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood, letting the metallic taste fill his mouth. He’d do anything to stop thinking about such morbid things. Jaekwan was not dead. Clearly, Jaekwan was still alive, and had sent a distress signal. That was the only acceptable answer.
He zipped up his blue government jacket, feeling the texture against his fingers. The bumpy grooves and the slick fabric were nice, but they caused him to zip his jacket up and down repeatedly a few times before he snapped out of it. Now was not the time to be disastrous.
He must focus. He had to save Jaekwan.
He didn’t know why he felt like he knew how this would end. Choi wasn’t anything special. He was simply another number on the roster, collecting a paycheck and hoping to one day reach retirement age. He was no better than anyone else.
But Jaekwan was something special. Of that, Choi knew for certain. Jaekwan had a heart—he had emotions and sympathy that Choi was never able to amount to. Jaekwan cared about saving as many lives as he could, always looking at things in black and white. The most lives saved was the best option.
Choi couldn’t see the world in the same way. It was selfish of him, he knew. He was a cruel man, vindictive and ashamed. He wanted to care in the way that Jaekwan did, but then he saw the stress Jaekwan was under, and decided that it was too much. The responsibility of carrying those emotions was too much.
Choi would never amount to the same level of civil servant that Jaekwan was. He was nothing in comparison to Jaekwan, so he would do whatever was needed in order to save that man. His hubae, technically.
Sometimes he felt too old for this job. He would haggardly walk into Disasters, thinking nothing of what was occurring. He’d sometimes take things seriously, and at others, he would half-ass it. It was just a routine call, so there was nothing to fear.
But there was always something to fear in his job. The hazard pay he received was proof of that. The retirement plan and health insurance was just another excuse for him to continue for a few more years until he was set for life.
He had planned to retire at some point. Or maybe he would die on a job, his jakdu undrawn since he did not pay attention to what was going on around him. It would surely be an idiotic moment that he would never have the chance to regret.
The dead could not mourn what had occurred. That’s what Choi thought—that’s what he knew.
The death rate at the bureau was nothing in comparison to Baekilmong, but that did not mean he did not see his fellow agents die. They walked into Disasters of major scales, ones that always had known casualty events. Walking into their possible deaths was expected.
Yet here he was, arriving at the location of the Looky Mart, and feeling like he had regret. A lump was in his throat, hard and oddly-shaped. He was warped and wrong. His body and his skin no longer felt like it was right.
He opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t know what the words were supposed to be. A cheer, perhaps? Something that required him to be loud. He was going to yell, but he stopped himself before he could.
Lost in a daze, he climbed out of the emergency vehicle the bureau issued to the location, and stepped out to see a small group of people.
There were teenagers, all of whom looked like they were going to keel over with the slightest breeze. Choi felt like them on the inside, though he wore a faux mask instead. He couldn’t break down in front of these victims.
He did not look at the Looky Mart sign. He didn’t look at the doors. He didn’t think about how he had once passed through the doors. He knew how it looked inside already. He shut his eyes, trying to shove the memory down.
Something was wrong with him. He was scrambled, a mixture of forgotten and newly implemented memories in his brain causing him confusion. He was nothing, he was everything, he was not human, he was the only human alive.
When he opened his eyes, it was to look at the people next to the teenagers. A woman was hovering by her fellow agent, looking at him like he was going to collapse. Agent Mint was probably right—Agent Grape looked like a mess who shouldn’t have made it out alive. Choi wondered why Soleum would go so far for a job he just started.
It was insane to look at the two rookies. Choi felt like he didn’t know who they were. He had never met either of them, or interacted with them at all. Yet, the messages on his computer proved that false. He knew them, and maybe he knew them too well.
They were both something they did not appear to be. Soleum was not truly a bureau agent, and Choi was not just simply Choi anymore.
When his eyes landed on Jaekwan, he understood that his world had been changed. Fate had changed. Ryu Jaekwan, that bastard who greeted Choi with a relieved smile, was supposed to be dead.
Choi was supposed to be dead too, he thought in the back of his mind, and then dismissed it.
His body quivered as he approached the group. The teenagers were not doing well, yet somehow, Soleum was even worse. Yeongeun released an oddly pitched noise, panicked and in disarray, as she caught Soleum’s falling body.
Choi wanted to focus on Jaekwan—the man he missed more than anyone, someone who made him strive to care more about the others here. But instead, he was forced to watch Soleum lose consciousness as Yeongeun desperately checked on his vitals.
The emergency vehicle was here for more than one reason. 4 of the 6 people who escaped Looky Mart needed to be cared for. It was a large number to some, but Choi had seen worse. He had seen cases where 4 out of 6 people were dead by the time he arrived. This alternative wasn’t bad.
He tried not to look at Soleum’s missing arm. His own neck itched. His hand reached up automatically, scratching the scar softly, reminding himself that he was here. He was here. He was alive and breathing, a state of which he would never take for granted.
Choi couldn’t even properly speak with Jaekwan during the ride. It was a blur.
Jaekwan focused on Soleum, the rookie who risked his life to get the group out alive. Yeongeun was no better, talking in a rush as she spoke about how Soleum lost his arm. Choi was horrified, not truly taking in the detailed story.
He was going to burst into a bubble of confusion. It should not be so hard to figure this out. They were working well together. Jaekwan, if nothing else, could praise Soleum for staying cool under the pressure. It was just Jaekwan-ie to deny his own involvement in what happened.
But that, too, felt false, especially when Yeongeun was word vomiting, scared and afraid of what had happened in the Disaster. She looked weary, more so than Jaekwan.
She was part of the first batch of agents dispatched to the Looky Mart in this area, and Jaekwan and Soleum were the second. Choi was part of the third and final group to appear on site, but there would be others who went missing, he was sure.
More civilians would disappear, but how many of them would call the Disaster Management Bureau to receive help?
Many did not believe in ghost stories, the things that nightmares could not hold up to. Choi didn’t have many nightmares, if he was being honest. He didn’t dream much at all, a mere side effect of not sleeping regularly.
There was one thing off about him, though; the dread in his chest never left. He fought against it with witty remarks and smiles, choosing to focus on the good, like teasing his hubaes and annoying his co-workers.
When they arrived back at the bureau, the teenagers and Soleum were taken away in a blur of people and limbs, some of them lost or lost-looking, Choi finally had a moment to rest.
He looked at Yeongeun, who was biting her thumbnail, a nervous woman trying her best not to fall apart. She had been the one to look at Soleum during the ride, her voice authoritative as she commanded items to help stop the bleeding of Soleum’s arm. She had medical knowledge, and did a decent job.
There was no limb to save. Choi flinched when he recalled the way that Yeongeun had blurted out that Soleum chopped his arm off—she looked horrified, struck by the idea of Soleum acting irrationally. She gestured to her arm, mimicking the movements as if it was burned into her brain, never to be forgotten.
How many days passed while inside? he wanted to ask.
He did not end up asking that.
Yeongeun was taken in for a check up, a rookie in the end, so she was looked after more closely. Choi waved at her, hoping he seemed like a calm and rational seonbae. Oddly enough, Yeongeun did not wave back, though it wasn’t her fault—she was practically being carted away, ushered with soothing pats to her shoulders.
Choi breathed out and then breathed in. The air felt crisper even though they were inside a building with no open windows in the room. He met Jaekwan’s gaze and sucked in an air of relief.
You’re alive, he felt the need to blurt out. You didn’t leave me alone.
No one acted rationally when they were presented with a choice of living or dying. They did things that they normally wouldn’t, all in the name of survival. People did not want to die. Dying meant that things came to an end. Dying was terrifying to those who did not have the knowledge of what happened next.
Choi was wondering if he did have some knowledge. He rolled his shoulder gently, trying to sense how his body worked. Things were still so wrong, his memories and his body being one of them. But how could he be upset when—
Jaekwan was alive and breathing in front of him.
It was the soft, meager smile that drew him in. It was warm and touching, and maybe a bit desperate as well. Jaekwan looked tired, haggard in a way he did not look before he left with Soleum on the mission. However, he was alive, so Choi saw it as a win.
“What has Jaekwan-ah been up to?” asked Choi, trying to go for something teasing, but it didn’t strike the right chord.
Jaekwan’s face was pale, his shoulders stiff. He looked at Choi like he had never seen the man before. There was a lack of warmth. Choi wanted to cry. He didn’t remember Jaekwan ever being so stiff toward him, but he had to remember that Jaekwan was stuck in a Disaster for a number of days that no one truly realized.
The reports would have the numbers and facts, but they would not erase the memories.
The need to scratch his scar increased. His fingers twitched, desperate and nearly violent. He walked toward Jaekwan, smiling softly, something encouraging, he hoped. Jaekwan did not move away, but he did not smile in kind, or soften.
“Jaekwan-ah,” he said, this time with more reverence.
He was unable to hide how much he had enjoyed seeing the man even if this was all a dream. Some part of Choi understood that where he was now was false. Things did not line up well. This world was off, like something he dreamed up or concocted in the afterlife. Yet, things were also not as pleasant or sweet as he would have wanted.
He couldn’t decide if this was reality or not yet. He was leaning on the side that he was going insane while still inside Looky Mart.
What were the chances that the place he died in was also the location where Jaekwan was dispatched to? This was his way of denying his fate, wasn’t it? He did not know what else this could be. If this was real, then what did he experience before?
It was a bad dream. That’s what he had to say as he looked at Jaekwan. There was no possibility that Jaekwan wasn’t real—not when Jaekwan’s tense, shaking shoulders halted in their place when their gazes met.
Jaekwan’s eyes were cornflower blue, vivid enough to make Choi feel like he was hallucinating at times. People’s eyes were not supposed to be so bright, so alluring, but Jaekwan’s were. They were the deep blue sea, they were the lakes, they were the sky at the right time of the day, and the only color that could bring Choi back down to Earth.
Choi was not the one who went through a terrifying experience. He was not the one locked inside Looky Mart—he couldn’t be, since he was standing right here instead of trying to reach the fourth floor of that convenience store. He was alive, breathing, and just fine.
It was Jaekwan who had spent time in Looky Mart, being exposed to who knew what, and trying to protect as many lives as possible. Jaekwan was the one with trauma. Choi just slept weirdly, maybe even on the wrong side of the bed.
Three teenagers were rescued, and two other agents survived. That wasn’t bad by any means. Choi didn’t think about how many others were still trapped inside with no way out, and he also did not mention Soleum’s missing arm, or the way one of the teenagers seemed damn near catatonic.
“You’re a crazy bastard,” Choi found himself saying fondly, lifting his hand up with wide eyes and awe.
His hand landed on Jaekwan’s shoulder, gentle, not too tight. He wanted to sink his nails in, be rid of the suit, and feel the warmth of Jaekwan’s skin. That would not be appropriate for work, however, so Choi just smiled as Jaekwan shuddered and slowly let himself relax.
Choi expected only a look. He expected Jaekwan to smile at him, and then make up an excuse to go work on a report. He was wrong, though. He had been wrong so often lately.
Jaekwan leaned forward—it wasn’t a lunge, it was too slow and hesitant for that. Choi was the taller of the two of them, but Jaekwan was broader and stronger, his muscles more apparent despite him using smaller tools than Choi’s blade.
Choi blamed his lack of muscles on being older and not keeping up with his routines. Jaekwan still had his youth, and he used that youth to break Choi’s back, squeezing Choi until he felt like his lungs would become crushed and his back would snap in two.
Such a kid, Choi wanted to say.
When was his Jaekwan-ie like this? What had to happen to cause Jaekwan to behave like this, desperate for the companionship of another? Choi’s heart broke, but maybe it healed a little too. His hands splayed wide across Jaekwan’s back, taking in the want and need of the other.
He suddenly felt loved, and he tried to mirror that emotion as he kept his face in the crevice of Jaekwan’s neck and shoulder. He wanted to keep it like this, where they were both safe and sound, no major harm coming toward them.
Jaekwan’s breathing was odd in Choi’s ear. It fluttered and swayed, it hitched and grew in pulses. It was a reminder that Jaekwan had just been through something horrible, and Choi had been selfish not trying to race toward him earlier.
He should have gone on the mission with Jaekwan and Soleum. If he went with them, how many less days would there have been inside Looky Mart? Choi had to stop his thoughts where they were, determined not to mess with it further to cause further disruption to his thoughts.
He held Jaekwan closer, patting the man on the back softly, slowly, with affection that no one else could reciprocate in this direct way. Jaekwan was only like this with Choi. Jaekwan would be blushing, stammering out apologies for losing his cool, if he were anyone else.
Jaekwan was still young in that way. He did not like admitting to the things he preferred, and he couldn't take compliments face-to-face without combusting on the spot. He tried not to get interested in things, or people, so that others would know. It was so charming and endearing that Choi wanted to pat Jaekwan on the head at all opportune times.
So Choi hugged his hubae, and eventually, when there was less tension in Jaekwan’s shoulders and less fragility in his aura, Choi suggested, “Let’s go to the infirmary, huh?”
Jaekwan didn’t argue. Choi wondered if it was because he wanted to see Soleum, and check up on their hubae together, or because Jaekwan was too exhausted to argue with what Choi suggested.