Memories Come to Mind, Sometimes Missed

Memories come to mind, and sometimes I miss them. Especially when walking the second-floor hallway of the Liberal Arts Building at Korea University.

The energetic greetings of freshmen, promises with classmates from my year. And even the intimidating stares from my major professor... well, on second thought, I don't miss that last one. He kept trying to drag me into grad student slave labor, after all.

Anyway, this place used to be just an everyday space for me. But now...?

"Ughhh..."

"S-save... me..."

The hallway I'd walked so casually every day was a total wreck. Blood, guns, and shell casings littered the floor. It was packed with people groaning in agony.

"Hold him here. Tight, or the blood won't stop."

"Gaaah!"

"Lucky we missed the vitals. With treatment in the next 48 hours, he'll pull through."

"Th-thanks..."

On the boundary between the everyday and the nightmarish, in this school hallway, the gray-haired girl darted busily between the wounded.

"Sh-should I help too?"

"Then tighten this bandage. Hard enough to make him scream."

I put my strength into both arms and pulled, following Conel's instructions. The terrorist lying on the floor glared up at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Hang in there."

"Ugh..."

I felt bad for the pain, but this guy was a terrorist. ...On second thought, not sorry at all. I tightened it as much as I could.

"That's good. Now..."

"No need! Get lost!"

Just as I thought he was catching his breath, chaos erupted next to us. The man was bleeding profusely from his arms and legs.

"Conel, this guy..."

"Filthy Yankee mongrels! CIA? MI6? You think we'll fall for your schemes?"

Maybe because of Conel's looks, the guy was way off base. As I moved to grab him, Shai blocked me with her arm.

"Let him go."

"He'll die."

"People don't die that easy. And..."

I stayed put, following Shai's lead. The thrashing man gradually slowed.

"We... demand blood revenge... We won't be played..."

Blood loss mounted, his eyes glazing over. Only then did Shai approach with a bandage.

"Wills are illusions anyway. Lose just 20% of your blood, and this happens."

"I'll help. Start with that one?"

In a flash, Shai and I stanched the bleeding. That took care of the last terrorist, the one who'd needed just a bit more work.

We zip-tied them all with cable ties, then shoved them into a large lecture hall.

"Come out if you wanna die right now. Otherwise, stay quiet inside."

No one answered Shai's parting words as we shut the door. Half couldn't even walk, and the rest were too terrified.

"Think it'll hold?"

"...Bleeding's stopped. In that state, they'll last safely until the crisis ends in 16 hours."

"R-right."

"The ones we hit arteries on might lose a limb or two, but they'll be fine."

Conel stated the brutal facts coolly. I'd actually been about to ask if leaving them like that was safe... but instead of clearing up her misunderstanding, I asked what I was really curious about.

"How do you know it'll end in 16 hours?"

"The North Korean military set a 24-hour limit. Negotiations will fail, so it'll wrap up one way or another in the remaining time."

I didn't want to hear the gory details. A thousand dead from terror attacks meant everyone inside the university—me included—would be gone.

Mid-conversation, Shai approached with some chocolate snack in her mouth, God knows where she'd gotten it.

"Where'd you snag the snacks?"

"Dunno, they were in that room?"

"That's the department office..."

Shai wordlessly tossed me one. I quietly munched on it as she pointed outside.

"Conel, heading to the memorial hall?"

"Hmm. If the surveillance net reactivates, night ops would be fatal."

"Haa... more waiting? Korea's exhausting. Back home, no drones—not even paper planes—would get off the ground."

I supplemented my nutrition with chocolate while listening to Shai diss her own hometown. Conel checked the looted guns and said,

"Either way, we'll get a signal. When it comes, we..."

Chiik!

A sudden crackle. It came from the radio I'd taken off a terrorist earlier.

"...Rat bastards?"

I tilted my head slightly at the terrorist's words and peered out the window. Outside was ridiculously quiet for a terror situation.

"No way..."

"Looking for hidden civilians?"

"No."

Conel reassembled the HK-416 magazine with a clack!

"Looks like the Korean side's moving faster than expected."

"Then..."

"Broadcast?"

The random word jogged a forgotten memory. These terrorists were live-streaming the whole 24-hour thing.

I pulled out my phone and opened the stream. The propaganda flag from before dangled there.

The chat was still a madhouse. No moderation like a normal stream meant spam, curses, and creepy messages everywhere.

Then I spotted something intriguing.

"Hm, someone active inside? Good to note. Check it out."

"Okay. Following the link... news site? Huh..."

The linked page showed people fighting terrorists in a hallway. ...That's me, isn't it?

The site comments painted us as Korean secret agents. Some called it fake, but from my perspective, I hoped that narrative stuck.

Conel skimmed it and let out an impressed sound. "Excellent! They anticipated variables in the surveillance and tried internal filming. Rare guts."

"B-but... if faces get out, we're screwed."

I almost mentioned Mom and Dad but glanced around. To these two, I was a covert special forces guy.

Conel caught my expression. "The business card I gave you... you have it, right?"

"Yeah? Why?"

I fished the card from my pocket to hand it back, but she pushed my palm away.

"Keep it. No—put it somewhere safest, closest to your body."

"W-wait, why are you—"

Conel's pale hand slipped inside my shirt. She poked around until she found my jacket's inner pocket.

"Here. I should've explained at the end, but with identities leaked, no choice."

"What's it do?"

"It's a disguise device."

Conel pulled a necklace from inside her collar—a business card like an employee ID.

"Carry it, and facial recognition fails. CCTV and cameras register a different face."

"Oh, so I'm like that now?"

"Yes. A bit older and plainer than your real face."

That's when I realized what the suspicious masks on their faces were. ...A single sheet of paper changes your face? I'd heard rumors of research online, but commercialization? No clue.

"Not quite. 2nd-level classified for our team. We usually reveal at op's end—or retrieve it."

"Phew... close one."

"B2! See my face? Looks auntie now, but I'm actually a knockout beauty!"

I rubbed my ear at Shai's words. "Chinese translation glitching? Hearing weird stuff."

"...I'm speaking English, you breadhead!"

Shai grabbed my collar, and I thought: They're both beauties, but I can't act like I know. This card doesn't work on me for some reason.

As we bickered, Conel stepped in and separated us. "Enough. Screen's changing."

"Huh? Yeah... but..."

The new feed was pitch black, not just dark. Sound filtered in faintly— just wind.

Awkward Korean from foreigners was popping up now—word was spreading.

Chik!

The radio crackled, and the feed glitched. Piiing! Red flares shot skyward like fireworks. Then boom!—the area lit up bright.

"Illumination rounds."

"Those look like people? Korean mobile unit?"

The feed wasn't broken—just too dark before. As flares burst and light flooded in, black-clad armed figures stood in a line on the university road.

And... it began.

"Fire!"

Tatang! Boom!

Gunfire erupted from all sides; the men onscreen sprayed blood and hit the dirt. Terrorists, expecting heavy armor, used grenades and high-penetration rounds. People literally exploded.

"Aaaah!"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"Mom, help!"

Arms torn by bullets, bodies shredded by blasts. The feed auto-mosaiced gore, making it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠somehow worse.

The watching chat exploded in gasps and screams.

"This the back gate?"

Conel watched like it was a cheap slasher flick, unflinching. Shai scanned and added,

"They came through the back gate we blew with the robot-car earlier today? Then..."

"Yes, near the Liberal Arts Building."

As Conel finished, gunfire echoed outside. The ambushed unit scattered in panic. Some... headed our way.

"B2, cover us. We're going to the first floor."

"W-wait—"

Before I could speak, they bolted downstairs. No choice—I moved too.

I grabbed a terrorist's dropped ballistic helmet. Checked the rifle chamber, then sprinted upstairs to the third floor, legs screaming.

Clunk! I balanced the gun precariously on the windowsill.

Outside was ant-free darkness.

"Night shooting's a pain..."

I caught my breath, missing my game's thermal or NVGs. Gunfire sounded close, crisp.

Soon, figures running from afar—five or six.

Bang! Bang! Chased, one dropped.

...Attackers invisible. Time for my trick: close eyes. Useless in the dark anyway.

Bang! A shot rang out. Clunk! I fired back at the sound.

Repeated a few times, then opened my eyes: the runners noticed, sped up, waving at the building.

"Alright then..."

Ping!

"Shit—"

A hit nearby; I dropped low. ...Someone targeting me? Sniper shot or ricochet. Better safe.

I crab-walked sideways down the hall, crouched. Basic sniper: relocate after firing.

Engines rumbled outside—multiple vehicles. Lots.

Conel and Shai downstairs might be in danger. I swapped mags, rose to the window.

Clunk!

Something happened. My neck jerked; body froze.

"Wh...?"

Suddenly, I was on the floor. Blood pooled in front of me.

...Me, a sniper, sniped?

With that ridiculous thought, I collapsed and blacked out.