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Climbing up to the top of the barracks, Kim Tae-Jin took in his surroundings and let out the loud, frustrated sigh that had been clogging his chest.

Had he ever felt the futility of life as badly as he did now?

It was bad enough that he received the news of Kang Chan’s death, but now he had to break the news of his death to Kang Dae-Kyung and Yoo Hye-Sook.

“Whew.”

They had finished building the foundations of the factory in front of the base and moved on to attaching the outer walls.

It was safe to say that Kang Chan had done all of this—all of South Korea’s achievements—single-handedly. The DMZ team and Suh Sang-Hyun had helped with everything they could, but without Kang Chan—without him risking his life—they wouldn’t even have this chance.

They were too greedy. The country, the government, and the people around him had placed too heavy a burden on Kang Chan’s shoulders.

Kim Tae-Jin remembered Kang Chan’s performance during their first live ammo drill and the way he shouted at his men in the mess hall when they were demoralized.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Kim Tae-Jin lowered his head and sobbed inaudibly.

South Korea failed to protect the man who had sought revenge for Choi Seong-Geon.

Kim Tae-Jin rubbed his face like he was washing his face, took a deep breath, and let it out even louder. At the same time, he recalled Kim Hyung-Jung’s request during their conversation.

“His parents will be greatly shocked,” Kim Hyung-Jung had said. “Since his mother possesses a gynecologic risk, please make sure she hears the news once she’s back in the country.”

Kim Tae-Jin wished this was all just a bad dream.

Looked up at the Mongolian sky. The stars lavishly scattered across it were shining so brightly it was as if they were soaked in clear water and then wiped dry with a clean cloth during the day.

‘I’m sure you’re one of those stars now.’

He felt like Kang Chan was smirking somewhere in the sky.

‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’

Kim Tae-Jin gritted his teeth and swallowed back the tears that threatened to burst out again.

“Whew.”

Slowly walking down the barracks, he thought about Kang Dae-Kyung, who had tanned from working under the sun, and Yoo Hye-Sook, who always looked exhausted from kitchen work. Despite their fatigue, they always smiled at the soldiers and staff.

Pat. Pat.

He took heavy steps back. Just then, he saw a light coming from beneath a truck.

Kim Tae-Jin had repeatedly told him that he didn’t have to work, yet Kang Dae-Kyung still couldn’t take his hands off the job.

Kang Dae-Kyung didn’t want to tarnish Kang Chan’s name by slacking off. Moreover, he was motivated by his sense of duty and the thought that the vehicles he maintained would help his son build the factory he wanted.

Kim Tae-Jin chokingly called out to Kang Dae-Kyung.

Kang Dae-Kyung slid out from under the truck. He removed his greasy neck gloves as he walked over to Kim Tae-Jin.

With Kang Dae-Kyung looking at him curiously, Kim Tae-Jin told him the brutal truth as gently as he could.

Thud!

Kang Dae-Kyung stumbled backward and fell to the ground on his bottom. He desperately tried to find hope in Kim Tae-Jin’s eyes and face.

Kim Tae-Jin knew it was hard to believe, much more accept it.

“He was shot…? Where is my son now?”

“I heard he’s at the Bangji Hospital.”

Following their brutal conversation, Kang Dae-Kyung stood with his mouth wide open as he beat his chest and cried.

His sobs were so heartbreaking that Kim Tae-Jin found it painful to watch. He couldn’t even make a sound since Yoo Hye-Sook and the men could overhear him.

***

Armed counter-terrorism team agents blocked the entrance to the hospital, their faces covered by helmets and masks. They were outfitted with rifles, pistols, bayonets, extra magazines, and body armor.

It had been about half an hour since the news of Kang Chan’s death was announced.

Citizens had gathered in the area. One by one, they placed white chrysanthemums in front of the hospital’s walls, entrance, and agents, turning the surroundings so white it was as if it had suddenly snowed.

Surprisingly, people all over Seoul, even in the provinces, also placed white chrysanthemums in front of subway stations and city halls. Moreover, buildings began to hang large Korean flags on their exterior walls.

Even though it was already so late in the evening that they should take the flags down, the buildings around the hospital chose to keep flags hanging on walls that faced the hospital.

The road around the hospital was so crowded that cars couldn’t move, yet there wasn’t a single car honking.

The crowd grew larger and larger.

Office workers, housewives, students, kindergartners, families, the elderly—as more time went by, more people brought chrysanthemums. Moreover, instead of heading back home, they lit candles in paper cups and stood in front of the hospital.

Nobody knew who started it, and the citizens weren’t asked to do it.

At the head of the crowd was a kindergartener holding a sign that said “Thank you for your service to Korea.”

Many people burst into tears.

***

Cha Dong-Gyun and Kwak Cheol-Ho arrived at the hospital at nearly midnight. They had to walk quite a distance as there was no parking space on the jammed streets.

Armed members of the counter-terrorism team let them inside. Once in the foyer, Choi Jong-Il greeted the two.

“Please have a seat.”

“We’d like to see the captain first.”

“Please wait for Mr. Seok. He’s on his way.”

Choi Jong-Il was their senior. Even if he wasn’t, they felt inclined to listen to his stubbornness since he was most likely more shocked than anyone here.

Woo Hee-Seung brought coffee from the vending machine, and the four sipped the tasteless coffee.

“Did you find any sign of the Frenchman?” Cha Dong-Gyun asked. He sounded betrayed.

“We’re still looking for him,” Choi Jong-Il answered.

Cha Dong-Gyun felt anxious. Fortunately, Seok Kang-Ho soon walked up the stairs and into the waiting room.

“Good to see you.”

Cha Dong-Gyun and Kwak Cheol-Ho could only bow in reply.

“Come this way.”

Seok Kang-Ho led them to an empty office somewhere on the first floor.

The room had an iron bed that looked like it needed repair and folding chairs from the auditorium lined up against the wall.

“Sit.”

Seok Kang-Ho, Choi Jong-Il, Cha Dong-Gyun, and Kwak Cheol-Ho pulled out the chairs and sat down. Meanwhile, Woo Hee-Seung stood guard outside the door.

“I’m doing this entirely at my discretion,” Seok Kang-Ho said in an uncharacteristically stern tone. He then looked around the dull room.

Following Seok Kang-Ho’s lead, Cha Dong-Gyun looked around them. What was going on?

“After leaving the hospital, head straight to the office.”

“Pardon?”

Seok Kang-Ho spent the next five minutes explaining the situation to them. The two found the news unbelievable.

Kang Chan was declared dead on TV, but he was actually alive?

Cha Dong-Gyun and Kwak Cheol-Ho’s faces perfectly illustrated the expression of someone who had received shocking news twice in one night.

“Secrecy comes first. Tell the troops that I’ll visit them after the funeral, and keep the office under lockdown.”

“Yes, sir,” Cha Dong-Gyun firmly replied. He then asked a few questions, which Seok Kang-Ho swiftly answered.

Although the situation came across as a great shock, they were at least glad that there was hope. They were also looking forward to destroying the core members of the enemy faction.

“The captain risked his life for this. It was my decision to get you two involved, so don’t let your guard down. There will be no reporting to me either. Do whatever you need to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Cha Dong-Gyun’s eyes and responses were filled with a sense of duty that had come from previous combat experiences.

***

Kang Chan’s office was filled with a murderous atmosphere even though only the interpreter—who had a rifle slung over his shoulder—was the only person inside. When Cha Dong-Gyun and Kwak Cheol-Ho arrived, the ambiance only darkened further.

Click!

Kwak Cheol-Ho aimed his rifle at the two hospital staff who had come in with them. At the same time, the interpreter frisked them.

Glaring ferociously at the two, Kwak Cheol-Ho warned, “Make yourselves comfortable in here. Feel free to make any request you might have, too. However, if you try to make any form of contact with the outside world, I will shoot you on sight. Do not forget that.”

Perplexed, the two could only nod and head inside.

Michelle behaved differently, though. After calming down the shocked and fed-up special makeup team, she offered Cha Dong-Gyun and Kwak Cheol-Ho coffee.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

“We’re good.”

They sounded quite cautious, but she couldn’t blame them. Given the situation, they probably had to be wary of any beverage offered to them, even coffee and water.

Neither Michelle nor the special makeup team had any idea what was going on. They were just to bring their equipment and create a replica of Kang Chan. Afterward, they were locked up.

The interpreter took their shut-off phones and collected them like they were his life, so they weren’t able to make any calls or even watch TV.

Therefore, they couldn’t figure out why there were Korean flags on every large building or why people were lining the streets with candles and white chrysanthemums.

Cha Dong-Gyun took his phone out of his pocket and dialed Park Chul-Su’s number.

-Hello? Have you confirmed the news?

“Yes, sir.”

Park Chul-Su groaned as if he was trying to fight off the pain.

“I have a request, sir.”

-What is it?

“We have to stay in Seoul for at least a week, maybe even longer.

-Is it because of that bastard?

“Yes, sir.”

Cha Dong-Gyun was grateful for Park Chul-Su’s question.

-Understood. Do you need weapons?

“I believe we can procure some here.”

A brief moment of silence dawned upon the call. Eventually, Park Chul-Su broke it.

-If you think there’s gonna be a problem, use my name! Say you’re following my orders! No! This is a command! You two are to do whatever it takes to arrest the man who killed him. If he resists, shoot him.

“Thank you, General.”

Cha Dong-Gyun was about to hang up when Park Chul-Su spoke again.

-Dong-Gyun. I can’t build the strongest special forces team in the world without you, so don’t mess that plan up just because you feel responsible, got it? Make it clear that you’re simply following my orders.

Park Chul-Su hung up.

The dice were cast.

“Bring a table over.”

Kwak Cheol-Ho brought a table and two chairs.

Click.

Cha Dong-Gyun put the phone on the table and sat down in one of the chairs.

“We have two rooms to guard. The room where we’re at right now and the room where the satellite operatives are. Including the interpreter, we only have a total of three men, so we’ll take breaks in turns. Switch with the interpreter and tell him to take six hours off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Click, click.

Kwak Cheol-Ho went inside. Unlike the interpreter holding a rifle—which made Michelle and the special makeup staff have trouble breathing—he moved smoothly and without hesitation.

“Please make yourselves comfortable.”

“We will,” Michelle managed to answer.

Michelle glanced at Cha Dong-Gyun, then turned her attention to the dark sky.

She remembered the look in Gérard’s eyes back in Apgujeong-Dong. He could be making those eyes somewhere right now…

Although she didn’t know what happened, she somehow felt as if she shouldn’t ask about his well-being right now.

Where was Kang Chan? Could it be that his replica that they had spent a day making was…?

Michelle shook her head to dismiss the ominous thought that kept nipping at her mind.

It was already past one in the morning.

***

Seok Kang-Ho naturally stayed by Kang Chan’s side.

Whenever he had to leave, even if just for a moment, he made sure to leave either Choi Jong-Il, Woo Hee-Seung, or Lee Doo-Hee in the room.

A loaded rifle was slung over his shoulder, and pistols were strapped to his waist and ankles. He had also outfitted himself with a bayonet and a radio.

The dripping blood packs, IV lines, a gurgling tube pumping in air, and a line that moved in steady waves were the only signs that Kang Chan was alive.

Soon, the radio crackled.

Chk.

-This is Manager Kim Hyung-Jung. Where are you, Mr. Seok?

“Jong-Il, take Hee-Seung and Doo-Hee and come up with an excuse. Tell them I’m in too much shock to meet them and that I’ll see them tomorrow.”

Choi Jong-Il nodded and left the room with the other two.

Seok Kang-Ho picked up a gauze pad and wiped Kang Chan’s forehead, then gently took his hand in his own calloused, rough, and scarred hand. It was goddamn cold.

“Captain,” Seok Kang-Ho grumbled. “Hurry and get up already. Seeing you unconscious like this is giving me trouble breathing.”

Seok Kang-Ho looked at Kang Chan’s face and hands, which were so white that they seemed as if blood had been sucked out of them.

“I didn’t lay a finger on Gérard, that dumbfuck. So you better wake up from this. I told the men that you will, and I believe it too… but for the first time in my life, I actually feel afraid. I didn’t even feel scared when I was dying in Mangala.”

Seok Kang-Ho looked at Kang Chan.

“Get the fuck up!” he spat, then peeked at Kang Chan to see if he was listening.

***

The next day, the chrysanthemums that the civilians had placed in front of the walls, gates, and sidewalks yesterday became blindingly white under the morning sun.

The Bangji Hospital was even more crowded now. The crowd was so large that the traffic on the road in front of the hospital now spanned twenty meters.

There was no reason for the president or any other government officials to visit. After all, a funeral had not been officially organized yet. Nevertheless, congressmen of the National Assembly and other politicians swarmed in as if stamping attendance books.

Kim Hyung-Jung took control of the hospital with Go Gun-Woo’s permission.

Visitors were allowed, but only up to the makeshift incense burner that they had set up in the hospital yard.

“How is Mr. Seok?”

“He’s in no condition to speak right now,” Choi Jong-Il reported.

Kim Hyung-Jung sighed quietly.

It was currently two in the afternoon; twelve hours had passed since he arrived. Nevertheless, Kim Hyung-Jung still hadn’t seen Seok Kang-Ho.

However, Kim Hyung-Jung no longer had the time to worry about him. He had to deal with a huge crowd of people, among which were a few politicians.

What if a terrorist attack were to target this place…?

With that possibility in mind, the members of the NIS counter-terrorism team darted around like madmen, pushing their way through the crowd, while Kim Hyung-Jung barked instructions into his radio like crazy.

***

Aside from Yoo Hun-Woo occasionally popping in to change his IV drip and blood pack, Seok Kang-Ho was mostly alone in the hospital room.

Cup noodles, kimbap, triangular kimbap, lunch boxes, instant coffee, and chocolate bars were piled up on one side, but Seok Kang-Ho didn’t even touch them.

His heart broke even more when he heard that Kim Gwan-Sik and Kim Mi-Young had come to visit, but there was nothing he could do.

Seok Kang-Ho’s eyes were bloodshot, and his unkempt beard made him look even more grim.

“I’m hungry,” he grumbled as he salivated. “Wake up already. I want to have some spicy stir-fried octopus with rice with you.”

Seok Kang-Ho complained as if Kang Chan was listening.

“Don’t you think we should return the favor to that Arab and the yellow-eyed bastard? It’s getting late!”

Seok Kang-Ho stood up from his seat. He ached from sitting in the same position all night.

Crack, crack.

As he twisted and stretched from side to side, he heard refreshing pops come from his spine.

He then craned his neck from side to side while looking at the IV drip with curious eyes. Somehow, it seemed to be dripping more slowly.

Could it be?

“Don’t you fucking die on me, Captain! I’m going to kill you if you die like this!” Seok Kang-Ho growled like a beast, his red eyes glaring at Kang Chan. “What? Leave Gérard alone?”

From the darkest parts of his mind, venom rose and accompanied his every word.

“I’ll fucking twist Gérard’s neck—!”

Seok Kang-Ho swallowed the rest of his sentence with a gulp.

Kang Chan, although still pale, was now looking at him with barely open eyes. He then tapped the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.