"....."
When Kwon Taekjoo came to, he found himself enveloped in a damp, suffocating darkness.
Beyond the cold walls, he could hear endless echoes of moans and sobs, occasionally interrupted by sharp, gut-wrenching screams.
The loud, unnerving sounds that pierced his skull faded, only to return again before vanishing once more.
His own consciousness flickered like a dying light, turning on and off.
He couldn't regain his bearings.
Kwon Taekjoo squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.
The ground beneath his cheek was damp.
He felt like he was choking, so he took a deep breath, inhaling a thick, fetid stench.
Perhaps it was metallic, or even traces of blood.
Either way, it was a repulsive odor that had long been festering in that place… the stench of death that lingers once all sense of conviction and justice has crumbled.
He shuddered, trying to move his numb body.
His wrists and ankles were tightly bound
behind his back, keeping him from moving an inch.
Still, he twisted his head and shoulders
until he managed to prop himself against the wall. For a moment, his head spun.
He began to gag as a wave of intense dizziness overtook him.
"Erhk… Ugh… haa…"
His vision shattered into fragments, so he squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
Even that small movement sent pain rippling through every muscle in his body.
After waiting for the nausea to subside, he opened his eyes again and looked around to examine his surroundings.
Kwon Taekjoo was alone in the dark, desolate cell, which measured no more than 70 square feet.
There were no windows, and the only way out to the outside world was a heavily locked steel door.
The small grated opening near the top of the door finally gave him a clue about where he was.
A prison.
He couldn't remember how he'd ended up here.
His mind was completely blank.
He searched his memory for his last recollection, but it was useless.
His empty, hollow mind rejected every attempt to remember.
As he strained his mind, a sharp, stabbing pain began to build in his head.
"Agh…"
Taekjoo clenched his jaw, forcing himself to push through the pain.
Every breath he took carried a faint taste of blood.
Even the thud of his heartbeat felt painful.
How long had he been in this state?
Suddenly, footsteps echoed beyond the steel door, growing louder.
Someone was approaching, their presence growing heavier until a shadow was cast over the grated opening.
Kwon Taekjoo instinctively tensed up and stared at the steel door.
After a moment, a man who seemed to be a prison guard peered in, his eyes widening in surprise as he let out a sharp
"Eh?"
"Sir, this scum is awake!"
Something felt very strange.
The language Kwon Taekjoo heard wasn't familiar at all, yet he could understand every word with perfect clarity.
Moments later, the guard's superior leaned into view through the grated window.
His gaze overflowed with such malice that Kwon Taekjoo could gauge his personality in an instant.
"Open the door."
"Yes, sir."
The door opened immediately, and both guards stepped inside.
Their uniforms bore the names
"Ahmad" and "Omar."
The higher-ranking guard, Ahmad, strode toward Kwon Taekjoo with wide, firm steps and stomped on his shoulder without a moment's hesitation.
"...Agh."
"Name."
Kwon Taekjoo glared at Ahmad, his lips pressed tightly together in defiance.
Ahmad's boot pressed harder on his shoulder, as if attempting to crush his spirit. Kwon Taekjoo clenched his jaw.
"Name!"
"I don't know."
At Kwon Taekjoo's refusal to cooperate, Ahmad delivered a sharp kick to his face, sending his barely upright body crashing back to the floor.
Ahmad's boot slammed down on his
throat, cutting off his air.
Kwon Taekjoo coughed harshly as sour saliva pooled under his chin.
"I'll ask you again. Where are you from?"
"I told you, I don't know."
"You little bastard!"
Ahmad unleashed a series of kicks in response to his defiance, the toe of his boot digging viciously into his side.
Instinctively, Kwon Taekjoo curled into a defensive fetal position, bracing his abdomen to endure the blows.
For a while, he silently bore the relentless assault until, suddenly, he drove his knee into Ahmad.
Caught off guard, Ahmad stumbled backward, helplessly landing on his back, his head slamming against the ground.
Clutching his head, he writhed in pain.
"Have you lost your mind?!"
Omar, who had been watching from behind, quickly sprang into action, swinging his baton at Kwon Taekjoo.
Kwon Taekjoo twisted his upper body, barely dodging the blow, and threw
his full weight onto Omar, who crumpled beneath him.
Kwon Taekjoo then drove his shoulder into Omar's throat, cutting off his air instantly.
"Uugh… Reinforcements! I need reinforcements!"
Omar yelled, thrashing his limbs.
The sudden commotion caught the attention of other guards, who rushed over.
They paused momentarily, stunned by the unexpected scene, before descending on Kwon Taekjoo, brutally
striking him with their batons.
Kwon Taekjoo gritted his teeth, enduring the pain, until a violent blow to his head left him weak and dazed.
Meanwhile, having recovered, Ahmad
unleashed his fury with a flurry of kicks directed at Kwon Taekjoo's body.
Kwon Taekjoo's vision blurred erratically as his body shuddered helplessly.
His ears rang with the sounds of Ahmad's heavy breathing and curses.
"A bastard like you, from wherever the hell you came from… you dare lay a hand on a prison guard?"
The guards seemed to know nothing of Kwon Taekjoo's name or origin, just as Kwon Taekjoo himself had no recollection of his own name, nationality, or the reasons for his imprisonment.
It felt as though his brain was so inflamed it had ceased to function properly.
Who am I?
After that vague, confused thought, Kwon Taekjoo drifted into unconsciousness.
With a powerful bang, the door to Bazim's hospital room shook violently.
Interrupted in the middle of his meal, Bazim instinctively drew his gun, aiming it at the entrance.
As the doorknob slowly turned, the security guard who had been leaning against the door collapsed inside the room.
Stepping over the fallen guard was none other than Zhenya, who seemed
completely unfazed by the gun pointed at him.
Bazim's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Yevgeny? What brings you here?"
Zhenya had heard that Bazim had barely survived the terrorist attack, and Bazim's
appearance confirmed it.
His head and waist were wrapped in layers of bandages, his arms and legs were in casts, and bandages and gauze covered much of his face.
But rather than asking about Bazim's health, Zhenya got straight to the point and revealed the reason for his visit.
"I need you to find someone for me."
"...Find someone?"
Bazim responded, tilting his head with a puzzled expression.
Suddenly, one person came to mind.
He muttered,
"Don't tell me... it's that Korean spy?"
"You know him?"
Zhenya replied.
His previously emotionless face transformed instantly into a threatening, murderous glare, as if ready to strangle Bazim to death if he didn't provide a satisfactory answer.
Bazim knew Zhenya wouldn't hesitate to kill his own blood.
"How do you know him, Bazim?"
Zhenya demanded, taking another step closer.
His dark shadow swallowed Bazim whole, his icy blue eyes sharp as glass.
His look was that of a man who'd lost his sanity long ago.
Had the taste of blood finally driven him mad?
It was the same cold gaze he had after returning from slaughtering all the developers of "Anastasia" under orders from the Kremlin.
Bazim knew this was the calm before the storm.
Zhenya was barely containing his temper, and he could explode at any moment without warning.
Alarms sounded in Bazim's mind as his instincts warned him not to provoke him.
"Did you run into him?"
Zhenya's question sounded more like an interrogation.
His pale hand gripped the barrel of
Bazim's gun and forced it forward, twisting Bazim's wrist.
Bazim tried to resist, but it was futile.
The gun soon pressed under his own chin.
"What did you do with him?"
In a chilling voice, Zhenya tightened his grip on the trigger.
The slightest pressure would send a bullet from the gun.
Bazim held his breath, facing a life-or-death moment, then slowly raised his casted arm in surrender.
He confessed everything Zhenya wanted to know.
"...I didn't even get the chance to do anything to him. There was a terrorist attack while we were being transported from the airport to the presidential residence. Everyone was too busy
trying to escape. I didn't see him until later. He only appeared after I split off from the president to head to a safe zone. At first, I thought he was behind the attack, but he wasn't. If he had been, he wouldn't have let me walk away alive. His real goal was probably to get the North Korean biologist."
"And you're telling me you let him go without doing anything?"
Zhenya replied, tilting his head.
He practically seemed to be asking why Bazim hadn't drawn his gun the same way he had just now.
Bazim let out a long sigh and muttered bitterly,
"I couldn't stop him. He moved like
a cheetah."
Shame and anger twisted Bazim's expression.
Indeed, Kwon Taekjoo wasn't someone Bazim could easily subdue.
Even if Bazim's men had surrounded him, Kwon Taekjoo had more than
enough skill to break through them.
His supposed target had been safely transferred on the day of the attack, meaning Kwon Taekjoo had once again completed his mission.
By now, he should have returned to Zhenya, wearing his usual awkward smile.
So why was there still no word from him?
"Why do you ask? Did he die in the attack?"
Bazim's sudden question struck deep.
Zhenya's distant, contemplative gaze darkened instantly, flashing with murderous intent.
His jaw clenched as he slowly shook his head.
"As I said, I have to find him."
"Ah... I can't help you. As you can see, I'm badly injured. And we're already overwhelmed trying to locate the missing members of our own party. Iran is in the middle of a manhunt for whoever's behind the terrorist attack, so we can't afford to act recklessly…"
"If you can't, then I'll make it happen."
With a sharp flick of his hand, Zhenya knocked Bazim's hand away, sending the gun flying across the room.
He turned on his heel without so much as a glance back, as if there was
nothing left to discuss.
A vivid image flashed through Bazim's mind: Zhenya visiting Iran's revered leader and threatening him.
If he dared such a thing to someone idolized as a divine. representative, it would not only shatter any alliance between the two countries but also
ignite a war.
Bazim clutched his throbbing head.
"Haa... wait."
Zhenya paused mid-stride, sensing a trace of cooperation in Bazim's tone.
Bazim hurried to reassure him by offering a potential solution.
"I'll add him to the official list of missing Russian delegates from the attack. If he shows up in a hospital or they find his body, I'll be informed immediately. Since the attack happened just before the summit conference, Iran will want to make amends by prioritizing the search
and rescue of our people first, even if all they find are bone fragments."
"....."
"Just pray, Bazim."
"What?"
"Pray that he's alive, wherever he is. Because if he's not, what you fear most will come true."
"Yevgeny!"
Bazim clung desperately to Zhenya, leaning halfway off the bed in his desperation.
"We're already in a difficult situation. Don't do anything reckless that would put yourself and our family at risk. We'll be seen as a permanent stain against our own country."
Zhenya snorted and turned back with a disturbing expression.
He was smiling, but his smile was twisted with fury.
"Our family? Our country? Do you still expect that kind of loyalty from me? How many times have I told you? I couldn't care less about either. The only thing that matters to me is that what belongs to me returns safe and sound. So, as I said, you'd better pray, Bazim… pray
that what is mine hasn't suffered the slightest harm."
In the end, even his twisted smile faded, replaced by a look of pure contempt.
No one would look at rotten trash the way he was looking at Bazim right then.
"If you want to live, you'd better not be the one who laid a finger on what's mine."
Yoon Jongwoo had spent days holed up in a hotel in Tehran.
Each time he glimpsed the city out his window, the reality of his location struck him, though it still all felt surreal.
The last few days had been so chaotic that his mind was left disoriented.
The moment he arrived in Iran on Zhenya's private jet, they went straight to the morgue.
Zhenya examined the body thoroughly by hand before abruptly declaring it wasn't Kwon Taekjoo.
Jongwoo had no idea why Zhenya seemed so sure.
"Mr. Yevgeny, are you certain that body doesn't belong to sunbae? Are you absolutely sure?"
he pressed, trailing after him.
Zhenya didn't respond.
Instead, he drove to a hospital in silence, offering no explanation about whom he was going to see or why.
Upon arrival, Zhenya left Yoon Jongwoo in the car and entered alone.
Jongwoo tried to follow but was stopped by guards at the entrance.
With no other option, he returned to the car to wait.
While he waited, Jongwoo carefully gathered the tissues Zhenya had used to clean his hands and sealed them in a bag, along with a hair he'd taken from the corpse.
He couldn't rely solely on Zhenya's instinct to determine if the body wasn't Kwon Taekjoo's.
He needed verification to be certain.
But more than anyone, he hoped Zhenya was right and that Taekjoo's DNA wouldn't be found in the samples he'd collected.
After a while, Zhenya returned to the car.
His expression was still grim, as if he hadn't found what he was looking for.
He didn't mention who he'd met or what had happened inside.
He simply drove Jongwoo back to the hotel where they now waited.
"Where are we…?"
Zhenya abruptly dropped a laptop in front of him, turned it on, and went to the bathroom without a word.
Soon after, the sound of running water echoed softly through the door.
Jongwoo slumped into his chair, defeated, and glanced at the laptop screen.
It was locked behind a complex password, with a security system unlike any he'd seen.
After a brief pause, he set to work dismantling its multi-layered encryption.
Zhenya returned from the bathroom just as the laptop was nearly ready to boot.
Observing the decryption process, he muttered,
"I suppose you're somewhat useful."
He then casually tossed a tablet to Jongwoo.
It contained detailed information on Iran's newly established satellite internet network, existing communication satellites, and a notorious private company known for selling military intelligence to foreign nations.
"This is..."
"Search every place Taekjoo was last seen. Instead of sitting there sulking, do something useful for once and find any trace of him."
Before leaving Korea, the NIS had warned Jongwoo not to engage in reckless behavior.
For a spy like him, trying to gather intel in a foreign country without permission was more than risky.
If discovered, he'd lose his job although that would be the least of his worries.
Evading punishment would be tough, and a diplomatic conflict could easily arise.
Even so, Jongwoo couldn't let go of the hope that Taekjoo was still alive somewhere.
Rather than sit idly awaiting news, he wanted to do anything, no matter how small, to help with the search.
After all, his first and only mentor and superior might be out there, desperately
waiting for help.
And so, Jongwoo spent entire days in his hotel room, hacking into the satellite networks Zhenya had provided.
He reconstructed the exact locations and times where Taekjoo was last seen and gathered all available security footage from then on.
Unlike South Korea, Iran lacked widespread security cameras and vehicle dash cams, but he clung to whatever leads he could find.
Meanwhile, Zhenya came and went frequently.
Sometimes he returned in the same clothes; other times, he looked disheveled and dirty.
On each occasion, he smelled of something distinctly unpleasant that Jongwoo couldn't identify—perhaps the metallic tang of blood or something else in the air outside.
Zhenya also handed him USB drives or phones from unknown origins.
Jongwoo backed up all the data from those devices, giving him access to intel from multiple Iranian intelligence agencies.
He could retrieve police records and even footage from body cams of officers at the scene.
Without sleep, Jongwoo dedicated himself fully to finding Taekjoo.
First, he analyzed dashcam, bodycam, and security footage from the time of the explosions, narrowing down
the precise timeframe.
Then, he gathered all available images from various angles around the
blast sites.
Using preset physical traits for Taekjoo, Jongwoo created a 3D model and began
searching for figures matching him.
After isolating several clips, he examined them meticulously, tracing Taekjoo's steps.
"…huh?"
After replaying one of the clips over and over, Jongwoo let out a quiet exclamation, unable to hide his amazement.
Zhenya's eyes shot open at the sound; he hadn't slept in days and had just begun to doze off.
"What is it?"
"Look here, Mr. Yevgeny."
Quickly, Jongwoo turned the screen toward Zhenya and hit the space bar, playing an edited clip.
When the explosions had gone off, Taekjoo had been thrown toward a side road along with the passenger door, carried by the blast's force.
But due to the thick black smoke that spread rapidly, everything that happened afterward was hidden from view.
Jongwoo switched to another security recording, this time from the opposite side of the street, pointing toward the side road.
The camera quality was poor, and the area was blanketed in dense smoke that blurred everything.
"Here,"
Jongwoo said, pointing to a faint silhouette.
Only then did Zhenya spot a figure lying on the ground, who stayed there briefly before staggering to his feet.
The man slowly made his way toward a nearby building, disappearing from view.
Jongwoo replayed the footage several times and confidently stated,
"He escaped into a building. That's why none of the security cameras or the police managed to spot him."
"And after that?"
"I found him a few hours later."
Jongwoo quickly opened another video.
This one was from the early hours of dawn, even before the sun had risen.
Police vehicles and ambulances arrived one by one in front of what seemed to be an apartment complex.
Emergency teams rushed inside and soon carried someone out.
The footage was taken from a distance, but Zhenya recognized the person being
transported instantly.
It was Kwon Taekjoo.
Taekjoo lay motionless as they loaded him into the ambulance, his arms limp at his sides.
Had he lost consciousness?
Zhenya's eyes stayed glued to the ambulance as it sped off, quickly disappearing down the road behind a police vehicle.
"Where is this?"
"I tracked it down; it seems to be a residential building about 3.8 kilometers from the blast site. I think sunbae was wary of being caught by security cameras or random checks, so he avoided the streets, moving from building to building instead. According
to a police report from one resident, an unidentified man suddenly appeared in their home. He didn't harm anyone but was unconscious and bleeding heavily from the head. I even traced the ambulance that transported him."
Jongwoo switched to security footage showing a police car and an ambulance.
He quickly cycled through other videos, following their route.
Finally, the two vehicles arrived at a
military hospital.
Given the city's state of emergency, it wasn't surprising they'd taken a civilian to a military center for treatment.
However, it was suspicious that no one matching Taekjoo's description appeared on the official list of injured, especially since anyone could tell at a glance that he was a foreigner.
"Is he still there?"
"I'm not entirely sure. It seems he wasn't admitted through the usual procedures, and I couldn't find any record of him leaving the hospital. Do you think something might have happened there?"
Jongwoo muttered despondently, lowering his eyes.
He wanted to dismiss the possibility but couldn't feel too optimistic either.
Enough time had passed for Taekjoo to escape on his own if he'd regained consciousness.
The fact that he hadn't meant he was either still unconscious or unable to escape alone.
That thought made Zhenya unwilling to wait any longer.
Zhenya abruptly stood up and stormed out of the room.
Only one thought filled his mind: he
would recover Kwon Taekjoo, even if it meant tearing down the entire hospital to find him.