I'll Be Back

Click-clack. Click-clack.

Yoo Eun-ha stepped out of the empty room and headed to her office.

"...Hoo."

She took a moment to steady her breath, trying to calm her pounding heart, but everything still felt like a dream.

'At least I know what she wants ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now, so she'll come back for contact.'

Why a Korean, though? Minimum 700,000 mana. Everyone knew the human limit was 98,000, but 700,000? Even world No. 1 Prometheus topped out at 85,000—the units had changed in an instant. And that was just the minimum; her true ceiling was unknown.

"..."

Eun-ha leaned back in her office chair, staring at the ceiling. Outside, dusk was falling, crimson sunset rays stretching through the window. Blinded unconsciously, she covered her face with her arm and lay there.

Her mind kept circling the connection between God's agent and the girl who'd called herself Lea.

Was that girl really God's agent?

'Pretty much certain. She entered the bureau declaring herself as such, and bolted when her child form was exposed.'

One snag, though.

She hadn't explicitly said "God's agent." Just "You know who I am, right?" Jeong Hye-su's testimony from reception made it almost certain, but no hard proof was frustrating. She hadn't replicated those viral videos' powers even once.

Still, the assumption was solidifying. The problem? It only multiplied the unexplained phenomena.

Recently, an estimated S+ gate popped up in central Seoul, blamed on Ragnarok. Casualties mounted. But she'd stayed inside till it closed, getting isolated—how ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was she alive?

"...Ha. Messy."

Without answers, linking Lea to God's agent was tough. Rash decisions could complicate everything.

'...'

Even as bureau director, she practically lived in her office, barely going home—her head throbbed worse.

Ring ring—

Her phone buzzed.

"...Yes. Yoo Eun-ha speaking."

One of the 15 executives.

"...No. What can I do for you?"

"...Your son awakened?"

Eun-ha felt her face sour, eyes closed.

True. Awakener special classes swapped regular subjects for mana control and training, earning minor privileges like flexible commute times.

"In my judgment, that's unwise. Bad for his education, and a civilian among awakeners could backfire."

Her head hurt more.

"...Non-awakeners doing measurements suffer nausea and cramps for days. Sure that's okay?"

Bam—!

Eun-ha hung up without a word.

"...Ha."

Some might call it risky backlash, but she didn't care. Replace her, kill her—whatever.

'Nothing left to protect anyway.'

The executive pigs, corrupt and clinging to power—disgusting. That loathing never faded.

She closed her eyes, breathing slow.

'Calm down.'

No time for emotions. Irritation aside, work remained.

Lea. Or God's agent. Whatever her name, she'd return. She had wants: new identity, quiet life base. Not antagonizing the bureau—needing it to solve her issues.

So, set the board first. No panicked staff chaos, nosy questions, or tailing screw-ups.

"..."

Eun-ha slowly pressed the intercom.

"Send up only the staff who met her today."

"1F reception Jeong Hye-su. Prof. Kim Suhyun from student affairs. Two medical wing precision check staff. One nearby security."

She turned to the window. Sun nearly set, Seoul's lights thickening. Staring blankly at the night view melted her worries like snow.

...

Not long after, knock knock.

"...Come in."

Door opened; staff entered cautiously. Jeong Hye-su first, then Prof. Kim Suhyun. University prof, not bureau, but registered awakener—callable anytime. Closest, longest contact with Lea—essential. Plus two medical staff, one security. All tense. Director summoning post-hours? Natural.

Eun-ha tapped the desk lightly, scanning them.

"Sit."

They sat gingerly. Hye-su rigid; Suhyun calm-ish, but shoulders subtly stiff.

Straight to point, no fluff.

"About today's contact."

Silence. She accepted it, continued flatly.

"Conclusion first: negotiations succeeded."

"...Pardon?"

Hye-su first, shocked but quieted.

Eun-ha ignored.

"No need for unnecessary tension anymore."

Male medical staff ventured:

"Director, may we ask... what the negotiations entailed?"

"Can't disclose."

Crisp, cold. He backed off.

"What matters is future response."

Her gaze swept them.

"She won't act hostile short-term."

Brief silence.

"High chance she'll return."

Suhyun's eyes flickered faintly. No elaboration.

"If she comes back, contact me immediately."

Business cards on desk—direct line. Hye-su's eyes widened. Director this hands-on? Rare.

"No other departments. Minimal reception. No extra questions, no independent judgment."

"...Just connect straight to you?"

Suhyun's question; Eun-ha nodded.

"Yes."

"Reason?"

Short pause, dry reply:

"Repeat visitors often come for the same reason."

True. Lea's needs unresolved. Identity blown—direct approach faster than detours.

"No leaks outside. Minimal internal sharing."

"Yes."

"No tracking. No tailing. No prodding curiosity."

Security bowed instantly.

"Yes, Director."

She closed the file.

"Dismissed."

They rose quietly. Door shut; silence returned.

"..."

Eun-ha leaned back, eyes closed long. Still complex, uncertain. But one thing clear: she hadn't vanished. She'd return.

Meanwhile, at Lea's place...

"Aaaaaaaah!!!"

Lea buried her face in the bed, flailing legs wildly. Bed creaked in protest. Pillow flung to corner; blanket tangled, untangled, repeat.

"No way... no way...!!"

Face beet red. Ears too. Neck hot.

Made sense. In front of the director. Posing all regal. Then projection dropped right then.

"Uwaaaaaah!!"

Another blanket kick. Boom—full force this time.

Face deeper in blanket, inner scream:

'Why drop then!!'

'Why there!!'

'Why in front of the director!!!'

Each recall cramped her toes. Wanted to vanish. Or faint.

"Seriously..."

Blanket over head, mumbling, rolling again.

Her "dignified" lines replayed vivid:

『Skip pointless greetings.』

『I need a new identity now.』

『Speak.』

"Kiyaaaaah!!"

Scream again. Lines looping—wanted to yeet out window. Wait, she did—teleport escape.

But shame lingered.

"Why'd I do that..."

Finally still, limp under blanket, mutter.

Answer known: nerves. Fear. Overcompensating cool.

Result: disaster.

"...Ha."

Deep sigh. Bed wrecked. Blanket everywhere, pillow floor, hair mess.

Stared blankly at ceiling. Thought nothing.

Didn't want to.

...

Time passed. Heat ebbed, heart normalized.

Lea sorted reality slowly.

"...But."

Embarrassment aside, problems persisted. Multiplied.

ID unsolved. Net, PC, accounts same. No games, no videos. Plus...

"Identity blown..."

Wanted pillow-dive again, but held back.

Director Yoo Eun-ha knew. Lea and agent linked, at least.

Maybe certain.

And grasped her wants: new ID, quiet base. Net, games, delivery life basics.

"..."

Thoughts cooled her face. Brain chilled, calculating.

Nothing solved. Worse—escape no fix now. She knew; Lea needed.

So ultimately...

"...Gotta go back."

Small mutter. Hated it. Despised. Scary, tired, lazy.

But she knew Lea's wants. Only one who could deliver.

Hand to forehead.

"Haa..."

Deep sigh. Tiny voice:

"...Next time."

At least. Not get caught. Stay steady. Dignified start to end.

...Realizing that, she narrowed eyes knowingly.

"No chance..."

Spot on. But had to go.

Slowly sat up. Fingered hair roughly straight, blank scan room.

Nothing solved. But direction set.

Recontact. Meet Eun-ha again. Properly this time.

With that, mutter:

"...First, practice projection not dropping next time."

Face dead serious, top priority.

Of course, real urgents were ID and accounts.

But right now, avoiding repeat black history felt dire.