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Everyone dreams of living in the big city. To escape the weight of your family, the small and annoying rhythm of the mundane. To leave behind your old self, your decrepit hometown, your boring friends, and build a person that finally feels like you. He pictured it, the towering walls of glass, the bright lights flickering with promises, the endless waves of people moving, fresh and stylish. A place where he might finally feel at home, where he always believed he belonged. Hyun used to think that. He wished he had kept believing it just a little longer.
"Table 12 is ready to pay."
The tray in his hand wobbled dangerously, stacked with shot glasses and half-filled beer tumblers, balanced loosely over a plate smeared with ketchup. Everyone was exhausted, they just couldn’t stop, not now. The night was almost over, unfortunately after that, was cleaning.
"A moment," He muttered, rushing into the kitchen.
When he returned, breath shallow, he noticed someone standing near the register. A man, long coat, bleached blond hair falling over a sharply defined profile. His posture looked easy, his eyes calm in a way that put Hyun instantly on alert.
“Thank you for coming. Hope you had a great time.” Hyun tapped absently at the tablet, the words spilling out by muscle memory. “That’ll be 56,200 won. Are you paying by cash, Kakao, or card?”
The man gave a low hum and slid a grey card toward him. Hyun bowed slightly, both hands extended to receive it, the way he had been asked to do. He almost swiped it before his fingers caught the strange texture. It wasn’t plastic, it was cardboard.
“Mister Kim?” The man’s voice had a softness to it, like someone asking a question he already knew the answer to.
Hyun’s eyes flicked up.
“Yes... Do I know you?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, careful not to seem rude, but trying to place the man’s face.
“I’m with the Ministry of Defence.” The man extended a hand, and Hyun shook it hesitantly. “You finished your service earlier this year, correct?”
Hyun’s chest tightened. His heartbeat accelerated, the name alone enough to trigger the reflexes he thought he had buried. His spine straightened, his feet snapped closer together and his arms rested flush at his sides. Old habits never really left.
“Yes, sir. I mean, yes. I did, is there a problem?” He stumbled over the words, the whole moment warped under the dim pocha lights and the low thrum of closing time.
The man smiled, his lips moving but no teeth showed.
“No problem. We’re just reviewing a few candidates. We’d like to have a quick chat. Are you free after your shift?” He nodded toward the nearly empty room.
Hyun hesitated. His gut told him this wasn’t just a formality.
“In about thirty minutes. Sergean—" he caught himself. The title had almost slipped out, uninvited, etched too deeply into him.
The man gave a short laugh and tapped his wallet against the reader.
"Meet me out back. Private." His lower title thrown back at him.
Hyun nodded slowly, the other leaving him. Once the man had disappeared through the front door, he turned the grey card over in his hand.
Wumuti Tursun, Commander Consultant
Section B – Article 1: Dispatch and Reassignment Protocol
The Bureau retains full authority over the stationing and dispatch of Units, as governed by the decisions of the Board and the Planning Committee. Assigned Callers may submit a formal request for reassignment through the appropriate channels. Upon submission, a re-evaluation may be conducted at the sole discretion of the Board and Planning Committee. All determinations rendered thereafter are final and binding. No additional requests for reassignment shall be considered.
Hyun pushed the heavy metal door open, his shoulder braced against the weight, one hand dragging a swollen trash bag behind him. The hinges creaked, and the cool night air spilled into the thick, overheated interior. He crossed the narrow alley and heaved the bag up into the tall black bin. The lid slammed shut with a dull thud. When he turned, the stranger was already there, leaning casually beside the door. One hand slipped into his coat and came back out holding a cigarette.
"You never gave your garrison officer a reason why you left." His voice was quiet, his eyes locked on Hyun with unsettling focus.
Hyun swallowed and approached him, his steps automatically falling into a measured, trained pace. His right hand brushed against the side of his apron, trying to wipe away nonexistent dirt, at least trying to look presentable.
"I didn’t know it was required, Commander." This time he got the rank right.
The man scoffed softly, his expression tightening with faint irritation.
"Don’t call me Commander. It makes me feel like I’m back on the field or still at work."
Hyun shut his mouth, biting lightly on the inside of his cheek.
"You’re right, it’s not required," the man continued. "But the thing missing here is context. You were recommended for promotion after more than two years of active service, and you left without a word."
Two years. Twenty-four months in the same place, no vacations and no leave. Training and eating beside the same faces day after day. Now, it felt like a different life, a closed chapter but back then, if anyone had asked, Hyun would have said it was the only place that felt like home.
"My goals didn’t align with the leadership," he said carefully. There was still some truth in it, though only part of the story.
The commander nodded slowly, taking out a lighter. A small flame flared, then faded as he lit his cigarette.
"Some lieutenants cling to hierarchy and love politics. Most do, honestly. Was it that?"
Hyun’s gaze dropped. The guilt came uninvited.
"Yes, sir." He wanted to explain, to add something, but his mouth stayed shut.
"Understood. But tell me. Are your goals now more aligned with working in a chicken and beer joint? Or are you still willing to serve your country?"
Smoke drifted from the commander’s mouth in a long, steady breath.
"I’m ready to help my country, sir." He raised his hand to his forehead in salute, his heels clicking together. "I did before. I will again."
The commander smiled.
"You had some strong performances." He reached into his coat and pulled out a brown envelope, thick with papers stapled to the front. "More importantly, you volunteered for testing with an early terrorist shell. That wasn’t a light decision."
He flipped through the pages with one hand, cigarette still burning in the other.
"Steno and linguistic training. Forensics basics. Two separate officer notes mentioning, and I quote: 'his impressive memory and eye for detail beyond standard assessment.' End quote."
It was strange to hear that out loud. To know your life had been studied, evaluated, and reduced to notes on paper. He had never seen an internal report before, he simply didn't known they even existed.
"Thank you, sir...?" He trailed off, unsure how to respond, feeling like there was something he was missing.
"Don’t thank me," the commander replied. "We don’t pick people off the street. You were flagged years ago."
He tore the stack of paper off the envelope and handed the brown kraft folder to Hyun. He took it with both hands, giving a small bow as he accepted it.
"What’s in it, sir?"
"A contract, read it when you get home." He flicked his cigarette to the ground, the ember fading as it hit the concrete. "Sign it, or burn it. Either way, it’s up to you."
Then he turned and walked off into the night. Hyun stood there, gripping the envelope, feeling its weight in his hands.
Section C – Article 6: Communication and Confidentiality
Callers shall respond to all inquiries submitted by their designated Units, provided such inquiries fall within the terms of the dispatch and pertain to publicly available information. Units and Callers are expected to cooperate fully in pursuit of the assigned objectives. Under no circumstance may a Unit request or attempt to obtain information regarding Bureau personnel, internal locations, or structural operations. Any such attempt shall be grounds for immediate dismissal from duty.
Five in the morning.
The time came by text. The moment Hyun messaged the commander that his decision was made, he just replied with an address. The lower level of the three-story building was an electronics shop. The glass out front was fogged from time and dust, and the faded lettering had peeled off so badly it was barely legible. The hue of sunrise stretched along the horizon when the side door creaked open. A bell chimed sharp in the still morning air and Hyun flinched slightly at the sound. The man who peeked out looked like he could have been fifty or seventy, white hair, rugged skin, and a worn blue work uniform.
"Morning, I’m here to—" Hyun stopped. Was he supposed to say anything?
The old man didn’t react. He simply tilted his head toward the interior, signaling Hyun to follow. Inside, the place was a strange mix of electronics and keys? Phone cases and dusty PC screens shared shelf space with doorknobs and deadbolts. Hyun moved slowly and stopped in front of the counter. The old man didn’t look at him, he reached under the counter, one hand bracing his lower back, and brought out a small black box. It hit the surface with a dull thud.
"Contract?" The man’s voice was raspy and thick, like someone who had smoked since childhood.
"Oh. Yes, I have it here." Hyun pulled the envelope from his jacket and handed it over. The man placed it beside the box without even glancing at it.
"This is a 20000Hz Bluetooth earpiece with 4 microphones." He opened the box and coughed hard into his shoulder. "You put it in. I give you the right tip for your ears."
The content was underwhelming. Two smooth, translucent devices, rounded and glossy, resting in twin sockets like some high-end hearing aids.
"That’s it? I already have earbuds," Hyun muttered pointing to his ears, his disappointment probably too loud.
The old man didn’t answer. He lifted one of the earpieces, then laid five different tips on the counter in a neat row.
"Tip one or two?"
He didn’t seem to care how Hyun felt, he just waited, eyes tired. Hyun sighed and chose the middle one. He clipped it onto the earpiece and swapped it with his own. The moment it slotted in, a faint click echoed in his head, followed by a rising tone like a high-pitched version of a dropped call. Then, a voice.
"...supposed to be on time. A noob, seriously? Why not pair him with a dumb intern—"
"Hello?" Hyun asked, unsure if he was hearing a pre-recorded message or some overly realistic AI voice.
"Oh shit, he’s already in." The voice shifted, clearly not artificial.
A cough, and some muffled clicks.
"Hello. The Bureau thanks you for your patience. I am your Caller."
The switch was so sudden Hyun nearly laughed. The guy’s voice now rounded and professional, someone pretending hard to be polite.
"Happy to have reached customer service," he joked, recognizing himself a bit in the stranger, trying to hide his nerves.
Silence followed. Long enough for Hyun to hear the faint static and a breath on the line. Had he messed up already?
"Oh, we’ve got a stand-up comedian over here." The voice returned, flat and dry. It didn’t feel good.
"Sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you—" Hyun tried to recover, the apology awkward the moment it left his mouth.
"Let’s begin," the man cut in. Hyun shut up immediately.
"First letter of your first name?"
"What?"
"Answer the question. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can get back to your comedy club."
That jab stung a little.
"H."
"Agent H then."
The title felt strange. He hadn’t expected codenames. The Caller started typing again, the muted clacking oddly satisfying, like those mechanical keyboard ASMR.
"Current location?"
"Seoul?" No response. "Uh… up near Seongsu. In an electronic and—"
"Can you go outside, agent H?"
Again with, the agent H-thing. It made everything sound so official, maybe to grand. Hyun looked up, the old man was still behind the counter, now pretending to busy himself with locks. No reaction.
"Out yet?"
Hyun startled. Barely ten seconds had passed.
"N-no."
He rushed outside, half-expecting someone to be waiting for him like in a spy movie. But the street was empty, the air still cool, the city waking up slowly.
"Stay where you are and turn left."
Hyun pivoted and nothing. Only empty pavement.
"Hands up."
"What—?"
"Now jump."
"Wait, can you actually see me?" Hyun couldn’t help but ask, his hand reaching past his head. Was this a joke?
"Just do what’s asked."
Hyun jumped once and when no response came he did again.Then again. And again. On the fourth jump, he heard it. A snort.
"You can stop now," the voice said, higher now, like he was holding something in his throat. "Its perfect."
“Was this really necessary?” He asked knowing the response already.
“One thousand percent.” The Caller responded and Hyun rolled his eyes.
"Can I ask questions now?"
"Of course, agent H." The guy replied smoothly. Now Hyun could hear the difference between his title earlier and this one. A little more mocking now.
"What’s your name?" Hyun asked bluntly.
"If you actually read the contract you signed, you'd know that’s under strict regulations," the other responded, voice tilting toward taunting again.
"No, I didn’t read it. I’m too dumb to understand big words. Maybe you could read it to me?" Hyun said, dragging the words out, feigning ignorance like a schoolkid trying to stall an exam.
"I’m not doing that. You can go back and read it yourself," The Caller replied flatly.
"But isn’t your job literally giving me information and helping me?" Hyun said, veering into a kind of theatrical pout, his voice dragging with digusting cuteness and innocence. "I really couldn’t read the big part. Page four to twenty? Total gibberish. Now that you're here, you can read it for me, right? Please? Pretty please?"
"Okay, okay. I get it. You can stop now." The guy said finally, sounding done. Hyun cringed at himself but a least he had won.
"No problem. Maybe we should go from the beginning and forget the last few minutes."
"Good with me." The Caller replied. A faint creak followed, like he was leaning back in a chair.
"I know I can’t ask personal information, but what do I call you? ‘Caller’ sounds a little weird," he asked.
There was a pause.
"Really? You don’t want to call me Caller? Or me, calling you Unit? Agent H or Unit or my little Unit..."
The tone was teasing, slow and oddly pleasant. My little unit. Hyun blinked hard.
"Agent H is fine," he said quickly, heat crawling up his neck.
“Sad, but as you wish. Any other questions?”
“Are the earpieces mandatory? I told the guy earlier I already have earbuds.”
“Well, if you want classified conversations to go from your phone to your personal in-ears, no problem. I can make a formal request right now—”
“Okay, I get it now. No need to go there.”
“You see? It’s less fun when I pull out the corporate card.”
Hyun rolled his eyes.
“I wasn’t the one being rude since the beginning,” he answered without much thought. At this point, he didn’t really care, the guy was just a dick.
“Couldn’t be me. I’m kindness incarnate. Look, I’m watching over you right now.”
Hyun’s heart skipped a beat. The line was said so lightly, his brain didn’t process it right away.
“Are you…” He squinted, his body tensing slightly. “Where can you see me?”
“Look up.”
Hyun’s eyes shot upward. He saw it, a security camera. It was pointed at him and moving.
“Wait.”
“Yes. I’m using publicly funded telesurveillance to see you. Pretty cool, if you ask me.”
Hyun chuckled at the absurdity of it, and mostly at himself for not realizing it sooner.
“Yeah. Pretty illegal…”
He took a few steps, and the camera followed him until it reached its mechanical limit. Confidential communication, CCTV access, an undercover shop. The picture was slowly taking shape and it was bigger than he imagined it to be.
"Agent H," the voice continued, "I know you want this conversation to go on forever since I’m delightful company, but if you’re done asking stupid questions, let’s begin the brief."
Hyun took a breath, an insult on the edge of coming out of him. But he bite his lips, it was time to focus.
"Yes. I’m ready."
"Great, it’s a short-ish reconnaissance mission. A long-term one, if you don’t get anything fast enough. The secretary of Seoul’s mayor, Han, eats lunch around 2 PM, same place every time. Sometimes on weekends. You’ll get a physical photo for ID in your mail. Memorize it and starting next Friday, you’ll sit next to him and watch him."
“Wait,” Hyun interrupted. “I’ve done shadowing before, I was never this close to a target. Do I have any backup at least?”
The scoff in his earpiece was immediate.
“Every mission is solo. This isn’t police or your old T-cell, you get no backup and no battering rams. You sit, you watch, you remember. Even I could do it.”
Hyun rolled his eyes. Of course the guy behind the keyboard would say that.
“What’s the mission really about?” he asked. “Why me?”
Papers rustled on the other end, followed by a long exhale.
“Han’s not important. Not really. That’s why you’re on him.”
Hyun frowned. “Rude, meaning?”
“Everyone watches the big guys. Most of the times it’s the ones who take the calls, that are important not the ones who make them.”
Silence again, then a shift in tone, the Caller was enjoying this part.
“Just like me. Now here’s the fun part. The mayor got four unlogged meetings with the president this week alone. We know he had some unofficial dealing in the past so it might be connected.”
“Okay but what, I’m just supposed to sit and wait for him to drop classified documents in his food?"
"That would be convenient," the guy replied. "But no, remember Agent H, you’re going to be background, furniture. You watch him, I'm going to listen. If he speaks in code, switches language, or flashes something suspicious, you’ll know. Just don’t engage."
“Right...” Hyun exhaled slowly.
He let the word hang in the air, the weight of it settling into his chest. This was it. The beginning of his new job. Furniture with a spiteful Caller. Great.
"Still it's kinda of a big deal. If the board put you on it as a first, must be good reason." a pause " Or you're a nepo baby. Who's your father again?"
This on made him chuckle.
Section A – Article 10: Liability and Conduct of Units
Units shall remain individually accountable for their actions, notwithstanding any contractual obligations with the Bureau. In instances involving injury, apprehension, or fatality, the Bureau shall assume liability only if the course of action approved by the Planning Committee was duly followed. Any deviation from such approved directives shall render the Unit and, where applicable, the supervising Caller solely responsible. In cases of failure to reach resolution between the primary parties, the Caller may submit a formal request for Unit removal. All subsequent decisions shall fall exclusively under the jurisdiction of the Board and the Planning Committee.
Every month, the city’s gaze shifted. A damp, forgotten district would somehow become the new hotspot, and today it was Samgakji. More specifically, a packed terrace restaurant. He never imagined a traditional restaurant, could be this popular. After all, it was the size of an alleyway, its front completely open, metal chairs spilling onto the sidewalk, full of people. The instructions he had been given were clear. He had arrived at 10:30 and aquired two chairs: one for him, one for his bag. If anyone asked, he was waiting for a friend. At exactly 1:50, he took it out and went to the bathroom, leaving his belongings in place. Enough to make less familiar costumer wonder if they could sit.
“He just got off his bike. Remember, just watch.” His Caller’s voice braced his ears.
“Copy,” Hyun said, looking at himself in the mirror as he swept one last hand through his hair.
Ready and he swung the door of the bathroom open.
“Is this table occupied?” The voice reached him before the man did.
Secretary Han was impressive, not in size but in posture. His suit pinched at the waist and pulled his back into a perfect line, like someone had pinned him along invisible corners. He pushed into the restaurant, squeezing between chairs, suitcase up in hand.
“There, there,” a woman in her forties waved him toward his usual spot. Hyun recognized her as the owner. “We don’t have Samgyetang today.”
Hyun saw the disappointment flicker across the secretary’s face. His lips curved slightly into a pout.
“Really?” Even in the chaotic noise of the restaurant, Hyun could hear the slight whine in his voice. How young was this guy to act like him?
The owner shook her head and added, “We have japchae. You like japchae, don’t you? Go sit.”
The secretary didn’t exactly light up, but his mood seemed to improve. He gave two thumbs up and sat down. Hyun moved slowly, approaching his table with careful steps. His eyes captured every detail, sketching a mental image: long eyelashes, pierced ears without jewelry, the black suit with a lanyard showing his photo, sneakers peeking beneath tailored trousers, and a clean brown leather watch wrapped around his wrist.
“Sorry,” the secretary said, scooting his chair to the side as Hyun squeezed past. It didn’t help much, but it was a nice gesture.
Hyun opened his mouth to thank him but closed it again, remembering the rules. No talking. He was supposed to be invisible, a background figure, something you barely noticed. He smiled apologetically and sat down in front of his now-cold soup.
“Oh, you got the last one,” the secretary said. It didn’t seem directed at him, but Hyun instinctively turned toward the voice.
Their eyes met. The secretary bowed his head slightly.
“I was talking to myself,” he added, rubbing the back of his head.
“Do not engage,” his Caller’s voice reminded him firmly. An order easier said than followed.
Hyun simply smiled and turned away.
“I really wanted Samgyetang today. Like, really wanted it.” The guy kept talking. It was a nightmare.
Hyun held his breath for a bit maybe if he didn’t move the secretary wouldn’t engage with him. But no.
“It looks delicious too.” Han voice was quiet but too close to miss.
“Stop interacting with him. You’re only here for—”
“Wanna share?” Hyun interrupted, pulling out one of his in-ear pieces. The sync of the call faltered for a moment. He will deal with the consequences later, the situation was already off the rails. He had to adapt.
The secretary looked surprised, genuinely taken aback.
“No, no, it’s okay. I ordered something else,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen.
“I don’t mind sharing,” Hyun said, pushing his dolsot closer between their tables. The ceramic bowl slid across the wood. “I didn’t touch it. Was waiting for some rice,” he added, lying smoothly.
He watched the hesitation in the other man’s eyes, the way his gaze flicked to the soup, his tongue running quickly over his lips. Of course he wanted it thats why he tried to guilt trip him.
“Come on,” Hyun said, taking out a clean spoon and placing it in front of him. “It’s not every day you get to share. It tastes better this way.”
“What the hell are you doing?” The Caller’s voice hissed in his ear. Hyun ignored it, he was in control now.
“Why not.” The secretary replied with a light laugh, the tip of his tongue out. Maybe they were closer in age than Hyun first assumed.
“Hanbin,” The owner approached with a plate of fried noodles balanced on her arm alongside three other dishes. Hyun could feel her exhaustion. He knew the pain of restaurant rush all too well.
“Thank you very much. Look, I found some Samgyetang!” The secretary said, gesturing toward Hyun’s side of the table.
The owner glanced at Hyun, giving him a polite nod.
“What a kind young man,” she said, not recognizing him despite him having sat there for hours.
“Thank you,” Hyun replied, acting a little shy. He gestured between them. “You two know each other?”
The owner squinted at the secretary, smiling warmly. “He’s been coming here almost fifteen years. After school every day. He was this small,” she said, holding her hand next to the table.
“Fifteen years,” the secretary echoed, visibly struck by the number.
“The food must be amazing if you keep coming back,” Hyun said, maybe a little too friendly.
The owner nodded proudly.
“Of course,” she got closer to the secretary and whispered badly “You’ve got a good friend.” Then she turned away.
“We’re not really friends....” Hyun heard the secretary say quietly. The woman didn’t catch it.
“I mean, we could be,” Hyun said, letting another lie slip. “I’m pretty new to town.” His eyes dipped as he took a small spoonful of vegetables. “Just got a new job. It's kinda hard to make friends here.”
“That’s so embarrassing,” his Caller muttered. At least he wasn’t yelling.
“Really? You fit right in,” the secretary said, gesturing at Hyun. “What kind of job? Modeling?”
Hyun had to pinch his lips not to smile. It did flatter him but he shook his head.
“Oh no. Me? No way. I just got hired at the front desk of the building next door,” he said, pointing at the wall behind them.
“The embassy? I used to work there! That’s a crazy coincidence.”
“Wait, Agent H, you had this planned?” The Caller asked, almost in disbelief.
He hadn’t. He wished he had. Everything he said was improvised, pieced together from a bit of online digging. A LinkedIn profile that mentioned an internship, connected to an Instagram account with promotional posts. It doesn’t take much to find the threads of someone’s life.
“Crazy indeed. The Samgyetang was definitely a sign,” Hyun replied, pointing at the food like fate had revealed itself in broth.
“Wow…” The secretary seemed genuinely moved. Hyun wondered if he should have checked for any shamans in his following. That reaction was a little too deep.
“If you want, I can ask some older colleagues to treat you well. Maybe we can all hang out sometime.”
“You’re so nice,” Hyun said, bowing theatrically. His head almost grazed the table.
“Oh la la, you’re soo nice and cute, secretary Han. Mister Han I know all your life and Im a huge fan,” The Caller blabbered in mockery. The voice was muffled, he was probably not near the mic anymore.
“No problem, no problem,” the secretary said with a chuckle, unlocking his phone. “Put your Kakao in so we make a group chat. Or I can come after—”
“Kakao is fine. I haven’t started yet, so no one will know me,” Hyun said quickly, taking the phone. He couldn’t let the lie unravel.
He never thought he’d get this far. Holding Secretary Han’s phone, was somehow disorienting, like a brick in his palm. The temptation to just pocket it and run flared in him. He inhaled through his nose, forcing himself still. No. He needed something, a plan. His gaze lifted slightly. The secretary was busy, head turned, chopsticks in hand, reaching for noodles. His neck extended, not even looking this way. Hyun eyes darted down to the table watching the layout of the dishes, the spacing of bowls, the pattern of stainless steel chopsticks and mismatched spoons. And then it clicked. His legs hadn’t stopped shaking since the moment he sat down and with a precise jerk of his thigh, his knee slammed the underside of the table. The metal shuddered, every dish rattled and the soup bowl shifted dangerously near the edge. The secretary flinched, pulling back just in time to avoid spilling anything on himself. Hyun’s hand darted out, steadying the dolsot bowl with too much energy and the ceramic skidded then tipped. Hot, slick broth sloshed over the rim and poured directly into Hyun’s lap.
“I—I'm so sorry,” Hyun stammered, half-rising from his seat in a panic he knew how to fake.
“Don’t move,” Han said instantly, eyes flicking around with purpose. Looking for something Hyun knew he wouldn't find.
“Damn there’s never paper on the tables here. It’s an old place. The napkins are always in the back,” The secretary muttered, already standing. “I’ll grab them. Don’t move.”
He squeezed past the chairs, already weaving his way through the packed terrace, dodging trays and backs of heads. Hyun barely watched him go as he slid the phone under the table. He had a few seconds.
“Agent H, what’s happening?” his Caller’s voice was closer now, worried.
“Han left me his phone. I don’t have much time,” Hyun whispered, frantically opening the calendar.
“Can you see any important dates?”
The screen was a mess. Every number was covered in colored dots, between three to four lines under it. There was no time to sort through it.
“It’s a disaster,” Hyun muttered. His eyes darted up. The secretary had reached the back, half of the time was gone.
"Fuck," The caller cursed and inhaled "go back to Kakoa I got an idea"
Hyun clenched his jaw, he was so close but he quickly returned to the messaging app.
“What’s his username? Quick.” the guy asked.
“Ha00bin,” Hyun read aloud, highlighting the name as he looked up again, his heart pumping a mile an hour. The secretary pulled out one last sheet of paper and began to turn.
“I’m sending a package. You’ll see it in that thread. Open it, then delete the whole convo. Be fast.”
A small notification slid down from the top of the screen, his nail hit the screen. The screen lagged, then caught up. Blank conversation and one file. He tapped again. A loading bar appeared beneath the message. Hyun froze. Was this it? Was this how it ended? His first mission, dead because of a download? At least he could salvage it, he tought, his thumb hovered above the delete icon. Then, like some higher entity had heard his concern, the bar filled.
“Done,” Hyun whispered under his breath, relief washing over him.
He tapped the menu. Selected "Delete Conversation." And it was gone. Slowly he turned the phone face-down on the table just as Han arrived back at their spot. The secretary smiled gently, holding the paper out toward him.
“Here, sorry about the delay. They keep it tucked way in the back,” he said, as he slid into his seat again.
Hyun took the napkin with both hands, nodding politely.
“Thank you,” He replied, adrenaline pumping into his vein.
His earpiece crackled.
“Now we can monitor him,” the Caller said softly. “It was messy. But not bad, Agent H.”
Hyun looked down at the table where the phone now sat innocently beside the spoon and the spilled broth. Maybe this could work for him after all.