Work Text:
The photo of Kim Soleum is the same one from his Bureau identification.
His hair is tousled and messy, bangs reaching the tops of his eyes, and he wears an awkward smile. The fake glasses that he wore during his time as a spy are missing, removed to avoid catching the glare of lights and screens in the lenses. There’s some slight photoshop as well; there are no drastic changes, but the dark bruises under his eyes have been touched up. He looks healthier than he ever did at the Bureau.
It’s the only photo they have of him.
Agent Choi stares at the image with a complicated expression. The black suit he’s wearing feels like it’s suffocating him.
It’s his least favorite article of clothing, one that he keeps shoved all the way back in his closet, hidden behind jackets and coats and shirts. He never wants to wear the suit because the days that he does are days filled with immeasurable grief.
Kim Soleum is wearing a suit as well. But Choi does not look. He does not want to look. He does not want to see him like that.
So, he continues to stare at the framed photo.
***
After Kim Soleum disappeared, Agent Choi quickly tried to establish contacts. He practically forced the poor workers at the branch office where Soleum was interrogated to agree to call him if there was any sighting of him, and back in Seoul, he quickly contacted everyone he could think of – police, hospitals, the manager at the motel Soleum had been staying at, and public workers – begging them to tell him if they ever found him.
He and Jaekwan searched everywhere they knew to look.
About two weeks later, on a Thursday at 3:43 a.m., Choi receives a phone call from the police.
Despite the tiredness from having just woken up, he shoots out of bed and immediately answers.
“Hello, is this Choi?” the man on the line asks.
“Yes.”
There is a pause, then a heavy sigh. In the background of the call, Choi can hear indistinguishable discussion.
“I’m calling to inform you that… we have found the body of Kim Soleum.”
…
The words take a bit to process.
We have found… Kim Soleum…
The body of…
Kim Soleum…
His body.
So…
His corpse.
The man continues, even though Choi really wishes he didn’t.
Kim Soleum committed suicide in a hotel room.
The only possession with him was his phone.
His other possessions were found in a motel room five minutes away.
He had sent final messages to a handful of people at 1 a.m.
He was discovered dead in the room after someone tried to enter.
He died two hours ago.
He died.
He’s dead.
As the officer relays this information, all Choi can do is numbly nod. He manages to mutter a quick ‘Thank you’ before the officer finally hangs up.
He stares blankly at the wall for several minutes.
Kim Soleum is dead.
As if on autopilot, Choi opens up his contacts and scrolls until he finds Jaekwan’s name.
The few seconds when the phone rings are agonizing.
Then he hears Jaekwan answer.
“Hello?”
There’s an uneasiness to his voice. Like he almost knows how this sudden call at 3:47 a.m. is going to go.
“The police found Grapes.”
“……”
“He… He’s dead. He killed himself.”
Through the speaker, he hears a sharp inhale, followed by a slow, shaky exhale.
They both sit there in silence.
Jaekwan does not ask questions, and Choi does not explain further. He can’t bring himself to.
After an eternity, Jaekwan hangs up.
Five minutes later, he appears at the door of Choi’s apartment.
There is wetness on his eyelashes and beneath his eyes.
It’s at that point when Choi finally breaks.
He pulls Jaekwan close to him and weeps. His trembling hands cling onto Jaekwan’s shirt, and he buries his face in his shoulder as his body is wracked with loud, ugly sobs.
Beneath his arms, he can feel the uneven rise and fall of Jaekwan’s lungs. It is rare for him to cry, but tears now fall freely down his cheeks.
Kim Soleum is dead.
***
There are not that many people at the funeral.
Choi and Jaekwan are there together. A few agents show up briefly to offer condolences, but there is little they can say about a man they barely knew, especially one who was a spy. The only ones who stay are Agent Haegeum, who carefully observes the two younger agents from a distance, and Agent Mint, who Choi suspects is Soleum’s fellow infiltrator.
But Choi doesn’t care about that. This is not the time nor place to confront Go Yeongeun about her reasons for entering the Bureau.
Regardless, she and Soleum seemed to be close.
Choi watches her as she hunches over in a chair, biting her lip and trying to stifle her soft sobs.
Then he looks away.
There are two other people there. Not people he knows, but ones he recognizes.
From Daydream Inc.
The first is a woman with short, bobbed hair. Eun Haje. He recognizes her as the “reporter” who infiltrated Jisan Village just a few weeks prior, who had been possessed by that Daydream director who cursed Kim Soleum.
Her fingers twitch at her side, almost as if she was aching to reach for a cigarette.
The second is a tall man with a striking face and white hair. The one who, after escaping Twinkle Twinkle Dragon Palace, Kim Soleum had approached while disguised as a child in order to protect the children from that crazed researcher.
Choi now knows that his name is Lee Jaheon. He was the one who had discovered Kim Soleum in the hotel room.
There is no one in that funeral hall who claims to be Soleum’s family.
And there is no one who claims to be his friend.
Choi should’ve known it would be like this, but it’s still unsettling to see. On Soleum’s government documents, there were no listed family members. There was no one to call in the case of an emergency, and his phone contact list simply contained a handful of numbers from former colleagues. Even though his employment documents list a university, there is no evidence of him actually attending. It’s almost as if he one day appeared on the Earth with nothing but a resumé and a cell phone.
The only people at Kim Soleum’s funeral are six former colleagues and one lifeless body.
***
There were six people who Kim Soleum sent messages to prior to his suicide.
The first two were Eun Haje and Lee Jaheon. He left long messages, telling them how he deeply appreciated all of their help and that he was grateful to have had the opportunity to work with them.
Both of the Daydream employees were sharp, and they quickly interpreted what the source of these sudden, heartfelt messages was. Eun Haje left several voicemails and texts, with messages starting somewhere along the lines of “pick up the damn phone right now Roe” and gradually turning into pleas for any sort of response. Lee Jaheon, in contrast, simply asked for Soleum’s whereabouts. It seemed that he had gleaned the fact that there was likely nothing that would come out of spamming his messaging app.
Soleum did not respond to either of them. He had likely already kicked the chair away from his feet by the time the messages came through.
It wasn’t too long after that Lee Jaheon had broken into the hotel room through brute strength, only to be met with Kim Soleum’s freshly deceased body. From there, the police were contacted.
Choi still doesn’t know how the man was able to track him. He doesn’t really care anymore; he just wishes that they would have found Soleum sooner, before he ever had the chance to die.
The next two people contacted were a man named Park Minseong and another referred to only as “Jay.” Choi does not know who the first one is – likely an old colleague from Daydream – but he recognizes the second one as the contaminated security officer that had accompanied Soleum during that fateful day Choi had exposed him as a spy. The messages he sends to them are similar to the first two: messages of gratitude and appreciation. Park Minseong responds with concern, while Jay responds with broken, fragmented messages asking if Soleum needs help.
Soleum did not respond to either of them.
Later, at the funeral, Choi would be told by Eun Haje that the two were unable to attend due to their circumstances.
The last two contacts were more surprising.
One was Go Yeongeun, who had been working for the Bureau for the same length of time as Soleum and had only interacted with him a few times. It was then that Choi realized that she was probably also a spy. There was nothing incriminating in the messages, but the way Soleum wrote to her implied that they had known each other far longer than their time at the Bureau, telling her that she was incredibly admirable and resilient, much more than himself. With most of Soleum’s record blank, the only other time when he could have possibly known her would have been during his six months at Daydream. Go Yeongeun did not see the message until after sunrise, and she found out about his death an hour later.
The other was a name that was also familiar to him: Baek Saheon. A man that had been condemned to die at the hands of the Bureau in Horizon Mountain Lodge, and who had also appeared as one of the villagers in Jisan Village. The message to him was different than the ones to all the others; while Kim Soleum had written many words of gratitude and apology and good wishes to everyone else, his message to Baek Saheon simply told him that he would no longer be trading items for information and that any further attempts to contact him would not reach him. Baek Saheon responded by cursing him out. There was no further exchange.
Choi and Jaekwan never received a message, but police examination of Soleum’s phone reveal that he had written one in the text box in the old Hyunmu Team 1 group chat with him and Jaekwan. He had just never sent it.
In the message, he apologizes about twice as many times as he did in the resignation letter. He’s sorry for running away, he’s sorry for being a spy, he’s sorry for not accepting the Bureau’s disciplinary action, he’s sorry for wanting to go home, he’s sorry for betraying them, he’s sorry for being a burden, he’s sorry for the hurt he’s caused them. He’s sorry for dying.
Even though he never sent it, it’s the longest message out of all the ones he’s written. About halfway through, Soleum seems to give up on a coherent prose and instead settles for rambling. It gets more nonsensical the further they read. The message becomes practically incoherent near the end, with him saying odd things, like warning Choi to never go to the fourth floor of Looky Mart. Choi can almost picture the scene – Soleum, prepared to die, losing his composure as he says his final goodbyes to the people he ran away from. Perhaps that’s why he never went through with sending the message.
Outside of the profuse apologies, there are also personal messages to the two of them.
To Jaekwan, he again thanks him for listening to him. He says he is grateful to have been on the receiving end of Jaekwan’s kindness. He says he admires his gentleness, and that during his time in the Bureau, he had been a source of safety. He tells him he’s sorry for ultimately rejecting his offer to build a home.
To Choi, he tells him that he has always seen him as a person of great respect. He says that he looks up to Choi a lot, and that getting to work with him was something he truly enjoyed, even through their ups and downs. He wishes that the circumstances had been different, that he had started off at the Bureau instead of Daydream. He says that he believes Choi is the embodiment of what makes a good agent at the Disaster Management Bureau. He tells him he’s sorry for disappointing him.
When Choi reads those sentences, he has to excuse himself to leave. He disappears into the public restroom at the police station, shutting himself into a stall and pressing his head against the plastic door. He lets out pitiful choked sobs, uncaring of if he’s heard.
It feels like someone has stabbed his heart and ripped out his stomach. The knowledge that Soleum was brought to think so lowly of himself, that he believed that he was a disappointment, that he couldn’t do anything in his final moments except apologize for his pitiful existence… it makes Choi want to vomit.
I’m sorry, he wants to tell Soleum. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the person you looked up to. I’m sorry I drove you to run away. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a home. I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe. I’m sorry I made you think you were a disappointment. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
***
Before the casket is covered, Choi manages to force himself to finally look at the body.
Whoever was responsible for cleaning up his body for presentation did a remarkable job. Makeup hides the sickly pallor of his skin and the dark bruise around his neck, and his hair is neatly styled in a way that’s similar to how he used to wear it while working at Daydream. His hands, soft and pale and lithe, rest gently clasped together, hiding their stiffness. His eyes are closed, and the dark circles that seemed to plague him since the first day Choi saw him are gone.
He looks like he is simply experiencing a peaceful rest. If there had been a rise and fall to his chest and a pulse beneath his wrists, Choi might have even thought he was asleep.
He looks healthier than he ever did at the Bureau.
A pressure builds up in Choi’s throat, and he sharply turns around. He can’t look. He doesn’t want to look.
He can’t even properly tell him he’s sorry.
***
A few minutes later, Choi steps outside the funeral hall. He tells Jaekwan that it’s so he can catch a breath of fresh air, but the truth is that it’s so he can light a cigarette. Jaekwan probably knows that, but Choi doesn’t really care.
When he finds a good smoking spot, he notices that it’s already occupied by a certain Daydream employee.
Eun Haje, who had slipped out a few minutes prior, brings a cigarette to her lips and takes a long drag. Choi notices two discarded cigarette butts on the concrete near her feet.
She looks up and gives him a slight nod of acknowledgment.
For now, as they mourn, there is no reason to care about factions. It seems they have a mutual understanding in that.
Choi takes a spot a few steps away from her, leaning against the wall and taking out a cigarette from his pack.
He does not ask for a light, and he is not offered one either.
After a few minutes, though, he decides to speak up.
“What was he to you?”
“What?” Eun Haje looks somewhat taken aback by the sudden question.
“Sorry. I just… I’m realizing I didn’t know much about him, in the end. So, I want to learn more.”
Eun Haje observes him for a moment, then answers:
“He was the rookie on our squad.”
“……”
“And he was your rookie, too.”
It’s not a question, but a statement.
Choi nods.
She continues.
“He was really brilliant…”
When her lips form the past tense, her voice wavers slightly. Like she doesn’t want to admit it.
In a rough voice, Choi agrees.
“Yeah… He really was.”
A few more minutes pass between them. Choi lights his second cigarette, and Eun Haje lights her fourth.
She’s the one who breaks the silence this time.
“It hits a lot harder, knowing that he…”
No one finishes the sentence. They both know what the next words are. Neither of them wants to admit it.
That he killed himself.
That he was driven to such despair that he thought that death was his only option.
But Eun Haje’s next words surprise him.
“You know, there’s a lot of things I can say that I wish happened. That I wish I had checked up on him more, or that I had been able to reach him sooner. But none of those wishes can change what happened in the end.”
“……”
“Beating myself up over this won’t bring him back. As much as I want to take responsibility, it won’t change anything.”
“Why are you saying this?”
“Because you have that look on your face. The kind that says, ‘This is all my fault.’”
“……”
The assistant manager brings the cigarette to her lips again before letting out a long sigh, watching as the smoke escapes and dissipates into the air.
“I think…” Her voice cracks a little. “I think he would want us to be happy.”
“……”
“And I think he would want us to remember the good things about him. The good memories. He wouldn’t want us to dwell on this pain.”
Choi can feel tears welling up in his eyes again. All he can do is nod.
“So…”
Eun Haje turns to him. Her eyes are rimmed red, but she does not cry.
She sticks out a hand.
“Why don’t we agree to remember him for the good, and to stop beating ourselves up over what-ifs.”
As hot tears begin to roll down his face,
He firmly takes her hand and shakes it.