April 26th, 2018
Seoul, South Korea — 9:00 a.m.
It was that time of year again. When the cherry blossoms blushed the streets in pale pink, first day of school for some, the stores brimmed with seasonal treats, and the breeze carried that unmistakable scent of calm.
I had walked that path countless times. I knew every crack in the pavement, every bend in the road. Like a memory you don't quite remember earning but that somehow feels as though it's been stitched into you since birth. The morning rush of the city stripped the moment of anything magical; at best, it left behind a thin, nostalgic ache. That strange unease that curls in your stomach when you realize time has finally caught up with you, dragging you toward the abyss of routine.
Someone once told me that if you caught a cherry blossom petal before it touched the ground and pressed it to your heart with a desperate wish, the gods would grant it. I've always thought it was just a way for them to laugh at our hope.
Still, it was hard to look away from the blossoms.
"Already that time of year again?"
If I ever had to recognize someone with my eyes closed, he'd be the one person I'd never mistake.
The voice that had become almost a part of my consciousness moved his hands along the wheels of his chair. He looked at me with the same warm eyes as always, eyes that somehow made everything feel lighter. He'd aged since the last time I saw him; gray had taken root at the base of his long brown hair, the kind you'd see on an old painting of Christ. His glasses hid the dark beneath his eyes, but his frail frame betrayed him.
"Horus."
"I hope the barbecue's still on."
"You know it is." A smile crept across my face.
A few days had passed since the last mission. I'd earned a generous payout, but there was no greater reward than collapsing into bed and sleeping without guilt for days. Between curling myself into the sheets and half-heartedly battling hunger just to fall back asleep, I'd completely forgotten the invitation one that could've spared me a few humiliating midnight trips to the corner store in pajamas.
"Assuming they don't enslave me again," I muttered.
Horus frowned. "Just admit you don't want to babysit an old cripple like me."
A laugh escaped before I could stop it, and before he could go on grumbling, I started pushing his chair toward headquarters.
His teasing was harmless, though we both knew the truth—if not for a new assignment, I'd still be buried under my blankets, and he'd be in his workshop, doing what he did best: turning ordinary things into instruments of chaos.
"Heard you've got a new prototype. Female model this time?"
"It's much easier to make something that looks cute and kills," he said with a grin. "You'd never guess a hair ribbon could fire tranquilizer darts."
"Terrifying. You do this on purpose, don't you?"
"Well, they say never let them see your next move. Maybe next time I'll make an explosive disguised as toilet paper."
We both burst out laughing as the doors to HQ came into view.
The lobby was all white walls and sharp lines—reception at the front, turnstiles in the middle, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Employees swiped their badges to pass through the glass gates, each click echoing like a metronome. I pushed Horus through the wider gate for priority personel.
A handful of people stood waiting for the elevator: three women, two men. All in crisp business attire that smelled faintly of printer ink and coffee. The women whispered to each other behind polite smiles, while the men seemed trapped in their own worlds.
When the elevator doors opened, it was empty. The others stepped aside, letting us in first.
"Being an old cripple has its perks," I whispered so only he could hear me.
Horus gave me the middle finger.
The elevator music was dreadful, the air metallic, the posters dull and peeling. Nothing new.
We were the last to step off. The boss's office sat at the far end of a maze of corridors.
"I'll see you in a few hours. Don't do anything stupid," Horus said, hands poised on his wheels. "I know you hate the boss, but at least try not to show it."
I groaned. "Come on, even you'd want to curse out that bald bastard."
He smirked, rolling away without another word.
After wading through the sterile hallways, I reached the boss's office. Inside were three men: the bald Hyuk Chae Min, the head of International Affairs—whose name I never bothered to remember—and a stranger. A foreigner.
"Oh, Yeom Ra, finally," the bald man said, dabbing sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "Our guest has been eager to meet you."
My eyes found the foreigner instantly. Half his face was hidden behind a mask; the eye on that side was clouded and lifeless. He wore black from neck to toe and leaned on an obsidian cane crowned with silver. He didn't radiate power but that quiet restraint made him more unsettling.
"The great Yeom Ra," he said in a heavy accent. "Named after the Korean god of the underworld, yes?"
I pulled a honey-lemon lollipop from my pocket and stuck it between my teeth, nodding. The head of International Affairs gave me a glare sharp enough to cut glass, his idea of a silent lecture on manners.
I dropped into the circular sofa at the center of the room and stayed silent.
Hyuk Chae Min cleared his throat, forcing a nervous chuckle. "Please forgive him. Yeom Ra's always had a bit of a temper."
"That's all right," the foreigner said, laughing softly. "At his age, I too thought I ruled the world."
Friendly words, cruel undertone. My jaw tightened. Hyuk shot me a look that begged for restraint.
"Let's skip the pleasantries," I said. "Why were you looking for me?"
The foreigner, who'd been standing by the window, began to walk closer. His limp was slight but deliberate, each step punctuated by the tap of his cane. His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"I have a small job for you."
Behind him, Hyuk and the other man exchanged uneasy glances, shuffling papers between trembling hands under the thin veil of professionalism.
Who the hell was this man that could make them shake like that?
"You see, Yeom Ra," he began, drumming his fingers on the silver handle, "I'm a simple, patient man. Nobody important. But someone has taken something from me, something very precious."
"And you want me to find it?" I said, rolling the lollipop between my teeth.
He tilted his head slightly, smiling. "You could say that. After all, allies should help one another."
"What are you talking about?"
He held out a hand. Hyuk hurried to pass him a thick folder, which the man dropped onto my lap. I hesitated, then opened it.
At first, nothing stood out. But the deeper I read, the tighter my chest grew. My leg began to twitch. No one knew about this. No one. Not even this goddamned organization.
So how, how could he possibly…
No. It couldn't be.
"How do you know about this?"
"Age has its privileges," he said, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk, that probing smile never fading.
The papers crumpled in my hands. My thoughts were a tangle. I bit down on the lollipop, hard. It shattered, sharp and sweet, as I weighed my options. It might be a trap. A scam. But still, the offer dangled there like a key to a locked door in my mind.
My past. The one I barely remembered. The one that stalked me through my dreams.
When the candy was gone, I rose to my feet.
"What do you want from me?"
The man's smile deepened, almost predatory.
I could feel it in my bones, that this man might very well lead me to my death. But if he truly held the answers I'd been chasing all my life, then dying would be a small price to pay.