Chapter Text
“Excuse me. Could I have a minute of your time?”
Agents Choi and Bronze had been wandering around the district looking for a place to eat after a long day of rescues when a scratchy voice called out to them.
It was a wrinkled old man standing under the dim amber glow of a streetlamp.
He wore a faded black overcoat that looked decades out of date, with a flat cap tucked low over his brow. The rain had just let up, so fog rolled down the street and blurred his figure.
Woah.
This was definitely looking like the start of a ghost story, wasn’t it?
Normally, he would be the first to say something like ‘Sorry, but we’re in a hurry,’ but…
Beside him, Jaekwan gave a small shake of his head.
Yeah.
In all his years at the Disaster Management Bureau, Choi had never heard of a Disaster that started like this either. There could be a few possible reasons for this.
One, it was new. In that case, they had to check it out in case it was dangerous.
Two, it was a long-existing Disaster making a reappearance because it had returned to people’s collective conscience. An example of this would be the “Man in the Screen,” which that cult-like company released back out of containment. In which case, they really had to check it out.
Then, there was the rare possibility that they had stumbled across an existing ghost story the Bureau had never seen before. In which case, they really, really needed to take a look and figure out why it had slipped under their radar.
And finally, it was a Disaster the Bureau did know about but hadn’t wanted its agents to know about.
Like Sekwang.
“Sure! What did you need?”
So, really, he and Jaekwan only had one choice.
“Thank you.” The old man turned to Jaekwan, who stood to Choi’s right. “And you, sir, could I have a minute of your time as well?”
Slowly, the younger man also nodded.
“Wonderful!” He let out what Choi thought was supposed to be a low chuckle, but it just sounded like air whistling. “You’re in for quite a treat. Tonight’s production is quite special. It’s... terribly difficult to find suitable actors for it, so really, you’re quite lucky...”
Now he sounded like a heating kettle…
“But forgive me. Where are my manners?” He pulled two green-colored tickets from his pocket and gave them one each. “Seating is open tonight, so sit wherever you wish. Just mind your manners around the other patrons. Rude behavior is not tolerated in the theater.”
Got it. Whatever, or more likely whoever, they saw, they just needed to pretend they were normal people. Easy peasy.
Also, did this man say “theater?” Where-
Oh.
Squeezed between two buildings that Choi did recognize was an old playhouse that definitely wasn’t there a few seconds ago. It had a giant glowing sign that spelled:
404 Presents
The Tribulation
Below it was a rotating door that led to a place too dark for Choi to make out the layout from outside.
He chuckled. “Well, it looks like we’ll be eating dinner late, Bronzie!”
Since the foyer was empty, no one stopped Choi and Jaekwan from walking straight into the lobby.
Above them sat a rusting chandelier that looked days away from falling apart. Along the sides hung tattered velvet drapery that needed to be released ASAP, and beneath his feet was marble flooring so dirty he very nearly thought he was walking on asphalt.
Overall, very uninviting and equally as uninspiring.
If he had been an ordinary civilian who hadn’t been offered the ticket for free (but was it really free? He would need to think about that later), Choi didn’t think he would have entered this place at all.
Ahead, two narrow entrances split off from the lobby, probably leading to the theater’s left and right aisles. Choi chose the left one, and Jaekwan followed him through the narrow tunnel until it opened.
Rows of brown cushioned seats spread out in front of them. A large stage sat at the lowest level.
They were in an auditorium.
“It really is a theater…” Jaekwan muttered.
“Isn’t this so exciting?” Choi whispered. “I’ve only seen movies but never a stage play. This’ll be my very first! Do you know of any called The Tribulation?”
“No, and I don’t watch stuff like this either. But it’s a word that’s often used with the word ‘trial,’ right? The suffering it causes, to be more specific.” Jaekwan frowned. “That really isn’t something you want to hear in a Disaster…”
“I agree.” Choi’s smile slipped for a moment as he looked at the stage. “Still, it’s a theater, and they gave us tickets. So, I guess all we have to do is watch the play and get out.”
It wouldn’t be impossible to have a scary but relatively safe Disaster like that. Choi knew of at least two that simply involved watching a horror movie from start to finish. Maybe this was just another variation of that.
“But who’s going to be on trial?”
Neither of them answered right away.
“Well…” Choi trailed off. “We’ll just have to see, right?”
Plus, regardless of whether it was dangerous or not, it was still a Disaster. They would have to report it to the Bureau afterward.
He stepped behind Jaekwan and ushered him down the stairs. “Now, c’mon c’mon! I think I still see seats near the front-”
As they moved down the aisle, Choi noticed a few normal-looking Koreans scattered among the occupied seats. The rest were a lot less human.
He and Jaekwan were lucky to be part of the audience, but what about the actors? If there were civilians cast in a play with an ominous title like “The Tribulation”...
…
He and Jaekwan would have to break a few theater rules, but he was confident they could get them out.
Eventually, they found two empty seats in the second row from the stage, directly beside the left aisle. Jaekwan took the aisle seat, leaving Choi on his right.
On Choi’s other side was a lady with a thousand sewing needles buried into different parts of her body. Her mouth was also sewn shut by what he thought was nylon.
He leaned as far away from her as he could without it seeming rude.
For the next few minutes, Choi stayed politely angled away from the breathing pincushion and let his eyes move from the stage to the aisles, then to the few human-looking people scattered through the audience.
He found a total of four when the lights suddenly dimmed.
Click.
His eyes returned to the stage as the curtains slowly opened, revealing a man kneeling beside a bed where his presumed daughter lay.
“My ■■■ be healthy soon?” A voice asked off stage.
“GET OUT OF HERE!”
“My ■■■ not goin’ die…” The same voice said softly.
“OUT OF MY SIGHT! She is GONE! Out of my-”
His eyes narrowed.
While it initially concerned him to see a civilian child sleeping (not unconscious—she breathed too normally for that) on the bed, Choi found the person kneeling by her bedside a much greater cause for alarm.
Because he was wearing a hawk mask.
“Oh, my God! God help me!” The man in the hawk mask cried. “Child. Dear child, will you wake, will you open up your eyes-”
After a few more lines, a woman in a mantis mask and another in a more generic one entered the stage.
“Uncle?” Mantis asked. “■■■’s here from the apothecary...”
Two more people with plain white masks came onstage after the first civilian woman left, but the people in animal masks did most of the talking.
In short, the important roles all seemed to belong to Daydream employees.
This was a Darkness managed by Daydream.
Choi really hoped there wasn’t some sort of test after the show, because his brain blanked out for a while after that.
The scene changed again. The next thing that properly caught Choi’s attention was a familiar mask.
“Are you foolish? Deaf? I forbid you leave the house, did I not?” The brown-haired woman asked smugly. She seemed to be enjoying her role. “And why shall I pay you? I’m looking for you more often than my cows!”
That was… employee Pony. He once saw her during the night Ho Yuwon invited everyone involved in the Sekwang project to dinner.
“I-I only come to see the great doings in the world…” A timid man in a sloth mask replied.
“I’ll show YOU a great doin’ on your ass one of these days. Now go home-”
More voices were raised until they wrapped up the first act. Some felt less friendly than others. From then on, Choi watched the stage more carefully to see if he needed to intervene at any moment.
For example…
“You drank blood, ■■■! You didn’t tell him that!”
The little girl who was asleep on the bed earlier cried to the employee in the Mantis mask. It seemed to be a flashback of how she ended up “unconscious” at the beginning of the play.
And she was... pretty good? It didn’t register to Choi in the first scene, but the kid was also wearing a white mask.
“NEVER say that again! You will never-”
“You did, you did! You drank a charm to kill ■■■’s husband! You-”
Mantis raised a hand, as if to hit the child across the face. He could see Jaekwan’s hand moving toward his fishing rod.
But the actor-
“Shut-”
-skillfully-
“-up!”
-missed her face by an inch.
Also, the millisecond Mantis’ hand grazed the little girl’s cheek, she struck her own thigh with her other hand so loudly the sound echoed throughout the theater. She must have at least bruised it. If Choi’s eyes weren’t so sharp, he would have assumed she really hit the kid.
Thud.
Especially when the child dropped to the floor too naturally for it to have been faked.
Jaekwan grimaced. “Definitely some sort of drug or item in the employee’s fist. The effect must have been triggered when it grazed her skin.”
Ahh, he really wanted to hit those cult-like bastards. But…
“HhhhHhhhhhhhHhhhhh”
The pincushion woman sighed dreamily beside him.
Yeah. There must have been a condition for actors to make the scenes as realistic as possible to appease the audience. For now, that thought kept him seated.
Additionally, since the main characters were all Daydream employees, Choi was beginning to think the “tribulation” would happen to one of them instead of the civilian extras.
True enough, in the next scene…
“I’ll cut your throat, ■■■! I’ll kill you yet!”
An employee in a beaver mask screamed from where he lay pinned to the stage as two masked employees placed another boulder on top of his chest.
From what Choi could understand, the village court couldn’t hold a proper trial unless the defendant pleaded guilty or not guilty. And if the defendant refused to answer, the court could torture that answer out of them as “punishment” for non-cooperation.
Beaver’s character was innocent.
But that didn’t stop the corrupt officials from throwing out baseless accusations. Choi was betting ordinary civilians with grudges would do the same. Either way, he would die. The only difference was the method.
Punishment or public execution.
Those were the only options every defendant—no, victim—had.
“What kind of place is this…”
He was used to watching horrible things, and all of this was obviously fake but…
“…more… weight…”
But the longer he watched him struggle, the more Choi’s chest felt strangely heavy.
Was this a trait of this Disaster?
“Ggh…”
Beside him, Jaekwan made a low, strained sound.
Knowing his junior, he was probably uncomfortable since the torture session started. Watching employee Beaver slowly suffocate was only making it worse.
Then-
“■■■ is dead.”
He actually stopped breathing.
“HhhhHhhhHHhHhhh…!”
The woman beside him really seemed to be enjoying it, unlike his poor junior.
He leaned closer to him. “Bronzie. Think logically, okay?”
Humans are creatures who desperately want to survive. Choi’s years of service as part of Dispatch & Rescue had taught him this.
“Did that man really look like he was trying not to die?”
So he knew: no human would really accept death that peacefully. And especially not an employee from a cult-like company like Daydream.
“If you had an item that could fake death…”
“…!”
Jaekwan’s eyes widened. Whatever ran through his head seemed to be enough to shake him out of the theater’s hold.
…
Really though?
Choi was only throwing out speculations, but wow, an item like that really existed? His junior had seen one?
Maybe even used one?
“Bronze, you-”
“Later.”
Choi let out a small hmp and focused back on the stage. Jaekwan never tells him anything unless it’s related to work or his health. He would pry those secrets out of him later indeed.
The play finally seemed to be entering its last act. Pony stood in the center of the stage, looking unusually solemn.
“I want my life.”
Oh, and it looks like her character was going to plead guilty to the witchcraft accusations. From what the scenes had shown so far, an admission of guilt counted as “repentance,” so she would be left alive. And once the confession was written, it would be publicly posted as notices in every church in the country.
Being such a pious setting, everybody would see them as spawns of the devil. They wouldn’t be able to live comfortably near people again. They could even be killed by the more paranoid of the lot.
But to Choi, this kind of ending didn’t sound so bad.
Nature was harsh but also pretty forgiving. If they could hide somewhere no one would find them, they could still live out the rest of their days. Pony’s character already knew how to take care of livestock. All they had to do was build a home close to a water source.
But...
Once the written “confession” was handed over for her to read, Pony ripped it apart in the middle of the trial.
“Man, you will hang! You cannot!” An employee in a frog mask screamed in the background.
“I can.”
Hmm, it was that kind of ending after all. A useless tale about a person of honor, dying before their honor is tarnished. And since Pony’s character was ruled to be a witch, then her spouse and kids would also be evil by association and be sent to the gallows.
Once the ropes were tied around Pony’s neck and another employee’s neck, the two stood silently on the trapdoors.
Chhk…!
The trapdoors opened and their bodies dropped through the holes, with only the ropes to catch them mid-fall. Pony and her stage spouse struggled beneath the ropes for a few seconds before their movements gradually stilled.
The stage went quiet.
Coincidentally, the play only mentioned that Pony’s character had kids. They never appeared on stage. How lucky Choi and Jaekwan were then, to only witness two adults from a cult-like company be hanged in front of thousands instead of two adults and three kids.
The curtains closed and the lights turned back on.
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The theater was filled with claps and cheers from a very satisfied audience. Choi politely clapped too and lightly elbowed Jaekwan to signal that he should do the same.
ClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClap
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“HhhhHhh! HhhhHhh! HhhhHhh!”
Even if they were employees from that cult-like company, it was still upsetting to watch other humans die. But they couldn’t be rude in this theater. If the play was good enough to get this kind of applause, then the natural reaction was to clap.
Besides, Choi was pretty sure those two were still alive.
More worryingly…
Has Daydream always been a company like this?
Since the play ended with a satisfactory reception from the audience, then the entire cast—the employees and the civilians with them—should all have cleared this Disaster together. Choi doubted the company would spend money to hire that many employees, so the other actors in the generic masks really must have been civilians.
At least, they didn’t feel like a ghost story...
So, what, those bastards took the dangerous roles on purpose to save the people who were with them?
Really?
He shivered. What a disturbing thought...
They even used Daydream resources to keep them safe from harm-
Choi’s pupils shook.
No, stop that!
This line of thinking was scarier than a ghost story!
“Thank you, thank you all for joining us tonight!”
The old man who had given them the tickets waved at the audience from the stage, interrupting Choi’s thoughts. Much like the actors, his screechy voice carried through the theater even without equipment, which seemed to be another trait of the place.
“We haven’t staged this particular piece in quite some time, have we?”
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“Yes, yes. We apologize for the wait. As you can imagine, talented—ahem—actors are difficult to come by these days.” He laughed, but to Choi’s ears, it just sounded like a long hiiiiiiiiiii. “To ensure the quality of our craft, I’m afraid our curtains will only continue to rise once every other fog-filled fortnight, but-”
He clapped his palms together. “I am thrilled to announce that our next performance will be an entirely new production!”
A-
AaaaaAAaAAAAAa@aaAaAaaaaAAaAAAAAaaaAaAaaaaAAaAA@AAaaaAaAaaaAAaAA@AAAaaaAaAaaaa The theater shook with the combined screaming of thousands of guests aAAAaa@aAaAaaaa AAaA AAAA
aaaAaAaaaaA@AaAAAAaaaAaAaaaaAAaAA@AAAaaAaAaaa@aAAaAAAAAaaaAaAaaaAAaAAAAa@aAAa
The sound pierced his eardrums, making Choi instinctively grit his teeth and clench his fists.
Shit. The civilians!
His eyes darted around, searching for the few other humans he had seen earlier.
The drunk worker in his 20s looked a bit dazed. Still upright.
The two teenage girls who were still in their uniforms were crying in each other’s arms.
The woman around Haegeum-noonim’s age might have passed out. He’d have to pass by her row later to pick her up.
Everybody was alive.
He glanced toward Jaekwan and nodded. His junior nodded back, looking just as relieved.
The old man raised a hand, which silenced the auditorium. “This isn’t a sports stadium. Please observe proper decorum.”
After a brief pause and a blessedly silent crowd, he nodded.
“When we gather two fog-filled fortnights from now, we will present something far beyond The Tribulation. Joining us onstage to speak about our next production is our new favorite playwright.”
He gestured broadly to his left.
“Please, give a warm welcome to Mr. Yong!”
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One of the guests seated in the front row of the rightmost section stood up and climbed up the stage.
Choi’s eyes followed him without much thought at first. A man in a dark vest and a red tie. A calm and confident walk. One hand brushing against his left breast pocket as he stepped into the lights. Then-
“...!”
He saw the pink doll tucked in it.
The sight of it paralyzed him in his seat.
True to his name, Yong was a guy who wore a Dragon mask, complete with horns that protruded like a dead tree with thicker branches. But when the shadows shifted across them, the shape looked almost like something else instead.
The man smiled shyly. It pierced through Choi’s loudly beating heart.
“Hello everybody. It’s nice to see you all.”
“Agent, that’s-!”
“Bronze. Sit down.”
Jaekwan, who was unconsciously halfway up in his seat, shut his mouth and sat back down.
“It shocks me to see this theater so filled every time I’m here.” The Daydream employee in a familiar but at the same time unfamiliar mask pressed a hand to his chest, feigning worry. “Surely, some of you must be tired of seeing the same thing for the third time?”
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He pouted. “I’m really flattered, but we all know it’s true...”
It was all clearly exaggerated and likely faked, but his actions still left Choi shaken.
“It’ll be a new genre this time. Is anyone here a fan of romance?”
“HhhhHhh! HHhHhhh!”
The lady beside Choi seemed to be a very big fan of romance.
Yong nodded. “Right? Nothing like the purity of wanting to be with the person you love for eternity.” His eyes swept through the crowd, completely ignoring Choi and Jaekwan even though they were only a few seats away.
However, he did linger a millisecond longer on one specific spot—the place where Choi knew there was a passed-out civilian in her 40s.
“Then, please look forward to 404’s very first production of Poison & Dagger. It’ll be reserved seating this time, so please contact the theater manager for details.”
He gave the audience a little wave.
“Thank you again for coming. You all have a wonderful night.”
ClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClapClap
“Ahem. Thank you, Mr. Yong. Now, for some announcements. First, those who were given yellow tickets-”
The theater manager kept talking after that. Something about priorities, reservations, and the next show. Words Choi should have listened to, so he could include them in his report.
But he heard none of it.
Instead, his eyes remained on Yong as he walked toward the left side of the stage. This time, not on the mask, but everything below it. The shape of his mouth. The height of his cheeks. The soft line of a face that should have changed more after three years. And when he glanced toward their general direction, a familiar red glint caught in his eyes.
He disappeared through a door that presumably led backstage.
“…”
“Agent-”
“Hey, Bronze. You know, right?”
Choi hadn’t been looking for it at first, but now that he had, he couldn’t unsee it.
“The veins on a person’s wrist are almost like fingerprints.”
From the second row, Choi had a clear view of Yong during his little speech. He even got a closer look when the man crossed the front of the stage toward the left-side door.
“That person…”
Even if the mask he wore had a different set of horns—thicker, smoother, with no tiny branches along the tips—the person behind it was definitely…
“That’s our Grapes.”
It was definitely Kim Soleum.
Choi paced around the near-empty street they had been sent back out onto after the post-show announcements ended. The playhouse was also gone.
They were kicked out before they could even pick up the passed-out civilian. He only hoped she was okay and not passed out on a random street somewhere…
When they had agreed to give the theater manager a “minute of their time,” they had really only lost an entire minute in the real world. Overall, not a very dangerous Disaster if you were a part of the audience, but he couldn’t say the same if you were one of the actors. Did those people even have time to memorize their lines? Rehearse the script?
Call for help?
Yeah, this really needed to be reported to the Bureau.
Anyway, that Disaster wasn’t the most important discovery tonight.
“Agent Choi…” Jaekwan warned. “Whatever you’re thinking right now-”
“Oh, believe it or not, I’ve put a lot of thought into it, Jaekwan-ah. That’s Grapes.”
Nearly four years after the events at Sekwang, the precious maknae they had sent home was somehow here.
In Seoul.
Working for a company that declared him dead one month after he went missing in a Disaster.
The last time they lost Grapes and found him again, the man had been forced into a lifetime of labor by an evil Daydream Director who hated dragons. And now, he was up there with a moniker like “Yong?”
“What- I’m not talking about his identity! I’m talking about you.” If Choi had been near him, Jaekwan would have surely grabbed his shoulders and shaken them. “You agreed you wouldn’t do anything rash ever again-”
“Don’t worry. I’ve had this one tucked away for years... hehe.” Choi chuckled, but to Jaekwan, it must have sounded like a bad omen. “I honestly didn’t think I’d ever get to use it! Besides, the Bureau is doing fairly well these days, isn’t it?”
“Sunbae...”
“It can afford to lose one person for a while, right?”
“No, it cannot. Just this week-”
“I’ll even go through alllll the proper channels and file the necessary paperwork.”
“That’s not-” Jaekwan looked at his face and sighed, all the fight leaving his body. “Nothing I say will stop you, will it?”
“Nope.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow!”
Jaekwan recoiled in shock. “Tomorrow?”
“Yep. All the documents are on my computer.” So were his will and other things he had been preparing in case he died on the job, but Jaekwan didn’t need to know that. “Which I will be printing: First. Thing. Tomorrow!”
“B-But the Bureau doesn’t approve LOAs that easily.” Jaekwan knew him so well. He already had an inkling of what Choi had in mind. “In fact, haven’t they been rejecting a lot of out-of-office requests lately? What makes you so sure you can just leave? And won’t you need approval from-”
“Ryu Jaekwan.”
At Choi’s serious expression, the younger man stopped arguing. He approached where Jaekwan stood and looked him in the eye.
“When was the last time I was away from the Bureau for an extended period?”
Jaekwan hesitantly met his gaze. “That would be when Agent Grapes and I were…”
“Mhmm. And before that?”
“T-That was...” Jaekwan looked away. “When I carelessly broke my legs in a Disaster and needed somebody around…”
“So, you understand, right?”
Jaekwan didn’t answer right away, but he must have realized it too. That Choi only excused himself from agent duties for two reasons.
One, if he was unable to perform his job in his best physical condition. In which case, his Team Leader made extra sure he couldn’t even enter the building. Choi had never been able to figure out how she did that.
Two, if his juniors needed him.
Plus, if this man really wanted him to stay-
“Yes. I understand.”
-he would have fought harder. But he didn’t.
Because while Jaekwan had a much stronger sense of Bureau responsibility than Choi, he was also just as worried about Grapes, who should have been at home.
Wherever that was.
But certainly NOT with that cult-like company that raised employees like cattle for slaughter!
“Then…?”
Jaekwan looked pained to admit it, but eventually…
“Fine. You can leave.”
“Hehe. You softie. I knew you’d come around-”
“But if you’re not back in six weeks, I’m telling Team Leader where you really are.”
…Fuck. That woman will definitely drag him back screaming if she knew.
“H-Hahaha… There’s no need for that!” Choi said nervously. He puffed out his chest and thumped a fist against it. “Leave it to your sunbae. I’ll be back before you know it!”
He grinned.
“Besides, the Bureau’s going to owe me big time after this~”
Grapes’ resignation letter came with a long list of Disasters managed by the Bureau. How he knew about them, Choi still hadn’t been able to figure out, but that wasn’t the point. For each item, Grapes wrote either notes on how they could save civilians more quickly or rough ideas for how the Disaster could be destroyed.
All the methods on that list had proven effective.
It was only months after he resigned that management regretted accepting the resignation of such a competent agent so quickly. If Grapes came back looking to be reinstated, he wouldn’t need to go through the application process at all. They’d just send him back to Black Tortoise Team 1. It was truly a rare moment when Choi and the higher-ups wanted the same thing.
“Then… I’m counting on you, Agent Choi.”
His juniors were so cute. Choi wanted to be with them forever.
“Well, I’m counting on you too.” He lightly tapped a fist against Jaekwan’s chest. “Hold the fort well while I’m away, okay?”
The next morning, Choi entered the common room and went straight to the printer. He collected the LOA documents as soon as they finished printing and handed them over to Black Tortoise Team 1’s recently recovered Team Leader, Park Hongrim.
“...”
The woman kept the same kind smile she always had while she read the papers, but the prolonged silence was making Choi nervous.
Stay calm… act natural…
Remember, you absolutely need to leave. Preferably today.
After a few more minutes of reading, Park Hongrim looked up. “You’re taking a leave of absence?”
“...! Yes-”
“Why?”
“I-It’s written on my request-”
“The real reason.”
Ahh, Elder-nim, please let it go. You are absolutely NOT going to like the answer. Just sign the papers so you won’t be forced to declare Agent Choi MIA instead.
“Is it really that difficult to admit? It must be something very personal…”
Yes. Choi was going on a personal and difficult mission to rescue our Grapes from the clutches of a very evil company, and he could really use your support. For example, by endorsing his LOA request so the Bureau would have no choice but to approve it…
Choi really needed the weight of your credentials right now, Team Leader!
“Hmm… okay.”
“Okay...? Wait, really?!” A smile crept onto his face. “Ahh you’re the best, Team Leader! Thankyouthankyouthanky-”
“Nothing like the purity of wanting to be with the people you love for eternity, right?”
…Fuck. She knew. Of course she knew. This woman knew everything.
Choi shifted nervously. “H-Hahaha… um… yes… I-I agree! Wholeheartedly. To your random words that hold no meaning to me what. so. ever.”
Park Hongrim smiled knowingly and shook her head. “Whatever you say, Choi. Can you at least guarantee your safety during this time?”
He stopped fidgeting.
“I’ll be honest, Elder-nim. The answer is no.”
After all, he would be doing this alone. There would also be many, many Disasters involved.
“But,” Choi gave her an earnest smile, “I’ll do my best.”
Jaekwan had torn into him after finding out about his plan to sacrifice himself in Sekwang, then refused to speak to him for weeks. He probably would have kept going too, if Elder-nim hadn’t returned to the office and locked them both in the common room until they talked. That was when Choi realized he didn’t want to impose the same helpless loneliness he had experienced during those 293 days onto anyone else.
So, if he could help it, he would try his very best not to die.
Park Hongrim only nodded, as if she had expected that response. She picked up a pen and signed his LOA request.
She handed him the endorsed form. “Try not to have too much fun now.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll behave.”
Now that Team Leader Park was awake, Team 1 almost felt complete again. Almost. The only missing person was Grapes.
After Choi and the others sent him home, he tried and failed not to think about him. He was a coward who left his goodbye with Haegeum-noonim because he was afraid that if he spoke to Kim Soleum then, he wouldn’t be able to let him go.
When he saw Yong last night, a terrible part of him thought, See? Grapes hadn’t disappeared into some unreachable place after all.
Which meant that if he was in trouble, Choi could do something about it.
Just hold on, Grapes-ie...
Your sunbae is coming to save you from the clutches of whatever bastard is keeping you there—just you wait!