The taxi called by Teacher started moving immediately after Lee Young-jin got in, without asking any questions. Lee Young-jin looked out at the Yeongjong Grand Bridge enveloped in a haze of fine dust and mist. The grand bridge stretched endlessly into the dense gray dust, where the sky and sea merged indistinguishably. The taxi swayed gently as if riding on very calm waves, reminding him of the time he left the airport in Medellín. Specifically, the brief 17 minutes shaking inside a 34-inch travel suitcase, limbs folded as much as possible. Amidst the vibration caused by the suitcase wheels rolling on the smooth tiles, Lee Young-jin thought he heard Seo Seung-hyun’s voice. Since that voice sounded angry and almost growling, Lee Young-jin had long concluded it was a hallucination. After all, the Seo Seung-hyun he knew would whisper softly, even when angry, with that expressionless smile turned upside down.
Thinking of him made his heart squeeze again. Not just his heart, but his entire body felt a tightness. Lee Young-jin forced his stiff eyelids open with effort. He deliberately threw his gaze beyond the car window into the vast expanse of gray mist, where no vanishing point existed. And as he had done several times before when experiencing this heartache, he started to distract himself with other thoughts.
But he failed just the same.
Though Lee Young-jin was more accustomed to defeats than victories throughout his life, this defeat felt more bitter than usual.
So bitter that tears welled up, and one eventually moistened his lower eyelashes, rolled down his cheek, and dropped below his jaw.
The silent taxi driver glanced over from the rearview mirror. A small pack of tissues was pushed across the console towards him. Lee Young-jin pulled out a tissue to wipe his chin and cheek, thinking,
‘I’m worried about Mr. Jung-hoon.’
He kept thinking,
‘And Eun-young too.’
The thoughts continued endlessly.
‘There shouldn’t be anything wrong. Can Teacher find Mr. Jung-hoon? I hope so.’
These thoughts kept surfacing, causing Lee Young-jin to use up all the tissues, and they did not cease even as the taxi stopped at a corner where old apartments and houses tangled among winding alleys and roads.
***
He received an email.
It was from an account he had intended to delete but had postponed due to focusing on finding Park Eun-young immediately after returning to Korea.
[mailfrom: YOON]
The email address was unfamiliar, but the name was not. Lee Young-jin clicked to open the email.
Subject: Hi! 🙂
Content: It’s me. Came back to the homeland for a bit, planning to hang out XD
Everything’s changed so much, couldn’t recognize a thing :’(
Will be here for a short while, so hit me up if you need anything 😀
Will give you a special discount 〉:)
The use of sophisticated vocabulary like “special discount” was surprising given the level of spelling, but the intention was clear. Lee Young-jin hesitated for a moment before sending a short reply.
Subject: Re: Hi! 🙂
Content: Okay
=====Original Message=====
It’s me. Came back to the homeland for a bit, planning to hang out XD
Everything’s changed so much, couldn’t recognize a thing :’(
Will be here for a short while, so hit me up if you need anything 😀
Will give you a special discount 〉:)
Afterward, he memorized the email address and then cleanly deleted the account, erasing any trace of their communication from all databases and servers. Lee Young-jin momentarily lost himself in an odd reverie.
The nearly ten-day journey from José María Córdova Airport to Incheon Airport was nothing short of an exodus, resembling a march of suffering but, surprisingly, colored with memories akin to reminiscences thanks to a remarkably capable assistant.
From Medellín to Barranquilla, then by boat from Barranquilla port to Santiago de Cuba. The 74-hour voyage to Santiago de Cuba brought none of the short yet long maritime experiences he had shared with Seo Seung-hyun from Shanghai to Ningbo. The stench of heated canned food, the salty and fishy smell, and the relentless seasickness for 74 hours. Then, the 12-hour dash towards Havana. The old M38, which seemed ready to collapse at any moment, belonged more to the Cold War era than the present, and Lee Young-jin had never thought he would see it on actual roads, let alone in motion. That outdated Jeep shook as much as the boat that had been tossed like a leaf on the waves. The subsequent 3 hours and 25 minutes on a Canadian airline experiencing turbulence from Havana to Toronto felt like a sweet rest by comparison. Not to mention the 12 hours and 50 minutes from Toronto to Incheon.
A soft vibration from the smartphone ended the brief recollection.
Lee Young-jin glanced down at the smartphone lying beside his keyboard. A brief message had popped up. It was from the secretary who often contacted Lee Young-jin on behalf of the busy teacher. The message was succinct, a single question about how the search for Park Eun-young was progressing. After a moment of hesitation, Lee Young-jin typed a slow reply.
[I’m on it.]
[It’s taking longer than usual. It’s already been three days; think of Teacher and try harder.]
[I’m sorry. I’ll hurry.]
No response came back, but that was always the case, so Lee Young-jin thought nothing of it and tossed his smartphone back beside his keyboard. Instead, he turned his attention to the monitor. Dozens of work windows were open across three monitors. He took them all in at once, then placed his hands on the keyboard.
Several new windows popped up on the monitor: scanned PDF reports, a few contracts with electronic signatures, followed by a profile with attached photographs. There, with an expressionless face, was Park Eun-young. A lifeless headshot and a lengthy resume under her date of birth lined up.
Lee Young-jin clicked on something else.
Now, photographs appeared in succession.
Park Eun-young was seen getting off an airplane at twilight. Her hands were restrained behind her back, with two individuals in black uniforms, presumably special forces agents, pressing down on either side of her. The next photo showed her being forcefully pushed into a dark-tinted car. Then the next. And the next. And another. In the last photo, Park Eun-young stood at the entrance of an inconspicuous three-story villa, talking to someone. The person looked ordinary but was clearly an undercover police officer.
The cursor hesitated on the monitor.
The report discussed her whereabouts.
She had accepted the prosecution’s offer.
In addition to everything about her mission in Shanghai, she agreed to provide all other information she knew in exchange for her safety. The witness protection program was part of the deal. The prosecution had given her a new identity and transferred her to one of the government safe houses in Jeju Island.
Lee Young-jin had already found out everything about the safe house, its address, and the undercover agent in charge of the area.
But.
The cursor, which had been still as if frozen in place, jerked to the left as Lee Young-jin took his hand off the mouse.
There were a few things that bothered him.
Why had Park Eun-young asked the prosecution to protect her? From whom did she want to protect herself? If someone was threatening her life, who could it be, and for what reason? What was the gap between the reason Teacher wanted to find her and the reason she was hiding?
All these questions swirled confusingly in his mind.
Normally, Lee Young-jin would have contacted Teacher directly with his phone instead of pondering these questions. The matter of choice and judgment was always someone else’s.
However, this time he couldn’t do that.
He extended his hand from the mouse towards the smartphone. His clean, pink nail tips touched the smartphone’s screen and then withdrew. After repeating this five times, Lee Young-jin finally pulled his hand away from the smartphone, tossed it under his chair, and took a deep breath. His chest heaved several times. His eyelashes fluttered, casting shadows on his cheeks.
Eventually, he got up from his seat.
The chair rolled back, its wheels scraping the floor.
From a hanger in the corner of the room, he pulled out a hooded jacket with faux fur. He grabbed his phone, put it in his pocket, and left the house.
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