PAHO 13

After lying on the door for a moment to steady his hazy vision, Nam Gyeonhwa soon straightened his back. The front door, its lock broken, was now so loose that it opened easily with just a pull of the doorknob.

Could this be a trap? The suspicion arose for a moment, but it was better to find a way to survive than to hesitate. As soon as he stepped out into the bright corridor, he headed for the emergency door as quickly as he could. As expected, the security in the area was not very tight, and no one showed any sign of pursuit by the time the floor number, which started at eight, reached one.

In the central lobby of the fighting ring, which was so peaceful it was hard to find any trace of yesterday’s commotion, employees were busy putting up promotional posters for the weekend event match.

The abdominal pain was getting worse. Leaning awkwardly against the wall to endure the pain, Nam Gyeonhwa checked the electronic screen installed above. The screen not only displayed the date and time but also the humidity, weather, and even the train schedule for Seoul Station in detail.

“What are you doing? Standing there.”

At the sudden voice, he turned around to see a woman with horn-rimmed glasses standing there with a box in her arms and a displeased expression.

“Entry is not allowed here right now. How did you get in?”

The employee, who had taken a step closer, scanned the intruder’s body as if searching it. After confirming the word “Wiyeong” embroidered in a mix of Korean and English on the black sports jersey, she changed her question.

“Are you perhaps a new recruit for the operations team?”

Nam Gyeonhwa, gnawing on his dry, chapped lips, just nodded instead of answering. The employee frowned.

“Then where’s your supervisor, and why are you here all alone?”

“…”

“You don’t even have a name tag. No, the operations team is always saying they’re short on manpower and requisitioning people, so why do they train new recruits like this? What, didn’t you receive any work instructions?”

“Work, instructions…”

At the barrage of questions, Nam Gyeonhwa started to open his mouth but then clutched his stomach. His whole body trembled from the intense pain, as if a steel skewer was digging into him from his lower abdomen to his ribs, making it impossible to stand properly.

“W-what, are you hurt somewhere?”

Even when the flustered employee reached out to support him, Nam Gyeonhwa just shook his head. His face, covered by the hood, was pale and drenched in sweat, and even his breathing sounded damp. It was a wonder he was still standing.

“Should I call the medical team?”

Just as the employee asked about his condition again, a voice boomed across the lobby. “Hey, you idiot, can’t you do it right?” The supervisor who had been directing the ceiling installation was yelling at the top of his lungs.

“He’s making a big fuss just because the director is coming for an inspection this afternoon. He should just do his own job well. That fucking bastard.”

The employee, who had been muttering a complaint-filled curse, readjusted the box in her arms and looked back at Nam Gyeonhwa.

“Don’t just stand there blankly. If you’re sick, go to the medical center. It’s to the left after you go out the main entrance.”

“…Thank, you.”

“Never mind the thanks, just hurry up and go.”

The employee clicked her tongue at his voice, which sounded as if it had been forced out, and then rushed off in the opposite direction. Nam Gyeonhwa, who had been silently watching the employee walk away, propped his sinking body against the wall to support himself. It was a huge relief that he could disguise himself as a fighting ring staff member thanks to the jersey he had thought to wear, but he had no more time to spare. The director who was said to be coming for an inspection in the afternoon was surely Na Taebeom. Therefore, if he didn’t get out of this place within a few hours, there was a very high possibility that he would run into that man again.

Once he reached the surface, even the special security team could not directly interfere. His forged citizenship would be nullified as soon as he left Seoul, and since the existence of Nam Gyeonhwa was not registered anywhere, it would be difficult for them to track his movements.

Nam Gyeonhwa, rubbing his queasy stomach, tightened the jersey he was wearing and then slowly headed toward the main lobby. Due to his somewhat awkward gait, a few employees would occasionally glance and whisper, but they were too busy with their own work to pay close attention.

Gong Myeongho, who had been fiddling with his phone on the train station platform, stood up as soon as he saw the train approaching from a distance. It was the last train from Pyongyang to Daejong via Seoul.

Around 1 p.m., as soon as the location tracking signal was picked up at Seoul Station, Gong Myeongho immediately headed to Daejong Station. However, even after several trains had passed, he could not find Nam Gyeonhwa, and thus he had not been able to leave the train station until midnight.

“This is going to be a bit of a headache if he’s not on this one either.”

Just as Gong Myeongho, who had been checking each of the office workers getting off the train, was smacking his lips in annoyance, a tall figure walking from the other side caught his eye.

“Oh, oh, Mr. Nam Gyeonhwa, here! Over here!”

Gong Myeongho, who had been waving his hand to signal, started running toward him but then stopped and looked at Nam Gyeonhwa with a look of horror.

“Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

Contrary to the conventional question, Nam Gyeonhwa could not be said to be okay even as a white lie. His face was ghastly pale like a character in a horror movie who had been drained of blood by a vampire, and his disheveled hair was stuck to his forehead and cheeks.

“Is this, the right, one.”

Instead of answering the question, Nam Gyeonhwa held out the data chip he had been clutching in his hand. He had been holding it so tightly that a square mark was left on his palm.

“Ah, yes, it should be.”

Gong Myeongho, who had received it with a reluctant expression, scratched the back of his neck and looked Nam Gyeonhwa up and down. His clothes were completely different from when he had last seen him.

“That’s a uniform I haven’t seen before. Did you buy it as a souvenir…?”

Before Gong Myeongho could finish his sentence, Nam Gyeonhwa clutched his stomach and collapsed on the spot. Gong Myeongho’s words, asking something as he grabbed his shoulder, and the minor noises from the surroundings did not reach his ears. Only the pain that shook his entire body tore through his consciousness like a fierce gale.

Not even a few minutes after the nurse had left, there was a clear knock, knock sound at the door. Nam Gyeonhwa, who confirmed the face of the person entering, immediately threw off the blanket he had neatly covered himself with.

“A guy who can’t even control his own body, why are you getting up? Just stay in bed.”

Min Chanyoung, who stopped him from trying to sit up, pulled over the folding chair that had been propped against the wall and unfolded it.

“How are you feeling?”

“…Thanks to your concern, I’m much better.”

“Glad to hear you’re better. Do you know how surprised I was when I got the call? I know you’re not the type to collapse in a crowded place, so when they said you collapsed at the station and went to the emergency room, I thought it was a voice phishing scam.”

After the call he made at dawn, the transmission signal had been lost for over a full day before he was finally reached at Seoul Station. He had thought it was over without incident after a brief report that the item had been received safely, but the news delivered by Gong Myeongho, who had called out of the blue in the early morning, was that Nam Gyeonhwa, who had returned from Seoul, had been taken to the hospital by ambulance from Daejong Station.

Nam Gyeonhwa’s condition, in a nutshell, was that it was a miracle he had returned alive. His stomach, covered in black bruises, had barely escaped organ rupture, but his ribs were fractured. His arm was broken, and if the treatment had been delayed any longer, it could have led to a permanent disability.

On top of that, he was suffering from exhaustion and dehydration, and the doctor’s opinion was that he needed to be hospitalized for at least two weeks, even excluding the broken arm. If there was any silver lining, it was that the arm bone had broken cleanly, so he had avoided surgery. In other words, it also meant that the person who had inflicted the injury had done so with considerable intent.

“Ah, I received the item safely. You worked hard. As expected, I have a good eye for people. You know I actively recommended you for the unit meetings when we were in Yanggang, right? After all, for this kind of work, you need someone who is both quick-witted and has tenacious perseverance to complete the mission without any problems.”

Min Chanyoung, who had grinned, habitually reached into his inner pocket to take out an e-cigarette but then smacked his lips awkwardly. No matter how blind one was, smoking in a hospital room with a patient would be seen as a very distasteful act.

“Uh, I’m just going to step out for a smoke. Is there anything you need?”

Nam Gyeonhwa, who had been silent for a while amidst the unpleasant sound of the chair legs scraping the floor, opened his mouth.

“…That data chip.”

“Huh?”

“What exactly is on it?”

Nam Gyeonhwa, who had moved his scabbed lips once, continued.

“That day, not long after I received the item from the contact, a report came in, and even the special security team showed up. As far as I know, the special security team rarely gets involved in the underground special district, but for that, the security was strangely not that tight.”

“Hmm…”

“It may be a hasty assumption, but I have a suspicion that it might have been a deliberate bait.”

At the meaningful words, Min Chanyoung’s mouth hardened. Nam Gyeonhwa said calmly.

“So, I need to know at least roughly what’s on it. As I recall, the contract we exchanged at the time did not have a clause forbidding questions about the contents of the item.”

Nam Gyeonhwa, who had swallowed a bitter smile, looked up at Min Chanyoung.

“I almost died there.”

“…”

“When I heard it was fifty million, I went in expecting some danger, but I didn’t expect it to be this rough. But it seems you, Team Leader, already knew everything.”

Drip, the sound of the IV fluid dropping broke the silence between them. Min Chanyoung, who had been tapping the e-cigarette on the tip of his chin, swallowed. His gaze was somewhat complicated.

“First of all, I apologize for not telling you properly about the underground special district. It was a bit urgent then, and it was a situation where I had to be careful with my words.”

“What is that data?”

“…To be honest, I have no idea what’s on it either.”