A Comma

We were getting ready to be discharged when a knock came at the door.

"May I come in...? It's Kim Seoyoung."

"Yes!"

"Come in."

Hana and the Team Leader answered at the same time.

Observer Kim Seoyoung edged into the hospital room, hesitant to the last. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, and her head stayed bowed so low she couldn't seem to lift it. For a while the only sound was the ticking of the clock.

"I'm sorry...."

The words crept out in a sniffling voice.

"I'm sorry...."

The sniffling grew louder. I was still groping for something to say when the Team Leader pressed a finger between her brows and started forward. She stopped in front of Observer Kim Seoyoung and clenched her fist tight.

Seoyoung squeezed her eyes shut, as if she already knew what was coming.

"W-wait!! Team Leader!!"

Hana lunged for her, shouting.

The Team Leader's arm shot up. Too late.

Thwack—

She flicked Seoyoung lightly on the forehead.

"Ow...."

Nudged back a step, Seoyoung brought a hand to her brow.

"You brat. What do you think you're doing, running your mouth like you've lost your mind?"

"I'm sor—"

"Does being sorry get you out of the service?"

Once again, only the clock filled the room.

"...That was a joke. Was it not funny?"

"Nope. Not even a little."

Hana shook her head hard, looking thoroughly appalled.

"Back in my day, you brats, even if a joke wasn't funny, a superior's joke was still—"

Before the nonsense could swell into a full speech, I clapped a hand over the Team Leader's mouth. And that was how I ended up standing in the corner, still muffling her.

Ordinarily she would have been driving an elbow into me by now. The fact that she was holding still meant she'd been trying to lighten the mood on purpose—and that I'd been quick enough to catch on.

"It really wasn't funny, though."

I whispered it while looking down at her. The Team Leader's ears went scarlet, and the elbows started flying.

Shouldn't have said—urk.

Hana set the bag she was holding down on the floor, went to Seoyoung, and took her hand in a firm squeeze.

"Observer Kim Seoyoung."

"Yes...."

"It's all right. Everything turned out fine, didn't it?"

Hana smiled, bright as anything. For a moment Seoyoung only stared at her. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Then the tears broke, and she threw herself into Hana's arms and began to wail as if the world were ending.

Is she unleashing a lion's roar? My eardrums are going to burst.

To keep Hana from having hers destroyed and landing right back in a hospital bed, the rest of us hurried over and patted Seoyoung on the shoulder.

Three days, was it? We had made it back to the garrison.

Snow was beginning to fall. Standing in the middle of the parade ground as it gathered, I caught the familiar smell of earth at the tip of my nose. The last three days, spent crossing the line between life and death, flashed past in an instant.

We made it back alive.

Only then did the nerves that had been strung so tight finally loosen, and a quiet steadiness washed over me.

"Good work."

The Team Leader's voice came from behind us.

"There were plenty of twists along the way, but we finished it regardless. The operation was a success."

"A successful first operation. Well done."

Hana let out a long, drawn-out breath.

"Haa—"

"We really did almost die."

She glanced up at the sky once, then started toward me. Her hair was still down, a long fall of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it, pale blue-silver strands swaying loose. Loose hair suited her better than I wanted to admit... which raised a dangerous question. What would the Team Leader look like in twin tails?

I tried picturing it for half a second.

Mm... pfft.

A laugh escaped me. I was not doing that on purpose. I was still lost in the worthless daydream when I felt someone looking at me and glanced down.

"Hey. Han Jaehee."

Somehow Hana had come all the way up to me and was staring up into my face.

"Yeah?"

"...Thanks."

I was about to answer that I was grateful too when she spun on her heel and headed for the Team Leader, gathering her hair in both hands to tie it back up. The tips of her ears had gone red where she thought no one would notice.

"Thank you too, Team Leader."

"Enough. You brats."

"Aww, what's wrong with saying thank you?"

Hana started vigorously ruffling the Team Leader's hair.

"Hey! Cut it out, you brat!"

Flustered, the Team Leader swatted her hand away with a grumble. If I had tried that, it would have been my shin on the spot. She was generous with Hana. Still, seeing Hana smile like that was nice.

"Listen up. There's one thing to pass along."

The pint-sized noona slipped back into Team Leader mode.

"There will be a short lull until the next order comes down. About seven days."

"Until then, rest or train. The free time is yours to use as you like."

"The details are on the Iris app."

"Yes, understood."

The Team Leader studied me for a moment, then spoke.

"Jaehee, come see me briefly. I'll be in the office, so stop by once you've taken care of whatever you need to."

"Understood."

I could guess the reason. No—I was certain of it. The power I had manifested during this operation. This had to be the special power the old man had spoken of.

"Then, dismissed."

"Hey, I'm heading to the memorial first, all right?"

"Yeah. I'll be at a café nearby."

On the way back to the garrison, we had talked about going to the memorial. The Seoul Entry Tragedy.... Had the Team Leader just glanced at me?

The office, visited again after a month, hadn't changed at all. Ordinarily a certain cuteness clung to the way she moved, sized to that small frame—but the moment work began, she handled every matter without a single gap. Maybe that temperament had seeped into the room itself. Documents and files were arranged with perfect clarity. Not a speck of dust sat on the desk, and not one object lay out of place.

"You're here, Jaehee."

"First, I have two things to ask."

The Team Leader propped her chin on her interlaced hands and looked up at me as she went on.

"First. You said you were going to see the memorial. Is that the Seoul Entry Tragedy Memorial Park?"

"Yes. That's right."

"Understood. Next, then."

She lowered her hands, folded her arms, and spoke again.

"Sit down, for now."

"Yes. I'll sit."

I drew a chair up to the desk and sat.

"That power. How much do you know?"

"It is the power of purification. Something no one, and no institution, has ever managed to bring into being."

She drove on without leaving me room to answer.

"Don't even think of lying to me."

In an instant, oppressive Imagery Power flooded the room. The air bore down as if I had stepped into a Flooded Zone. So I wouldn't be easily crushed by it, I put strength into my eyes and straightened in the chair.

"Then tell me something too, Team Leader."

"Your Unrecordable. Can you tell me what that is?"

I knew nothing about the power ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of purification, obviously. Learning that this power even had that name was news to me. I also knew that throwing the question back at her was insane—but I wanted to push it once.

"If I tell you, can you bear it?"

The corner of her mouth lifted, just slightly.

"You aren't even a high-grade librarian. You're a Grade 6 greenhorn."

"Inside that little well of yours, I suppose you made something of a name for yourself."

"But that's still only Grade 6."

She tipped her head back and stared at me.

"How many documents do you think could hold my information in full—no, even a fraction of it?"

"You know it well enough yourselves. That I am a Special Grade librarian, granted a name—neither low-grade nor high-grade."

She didn't let up.

"So why write it down as Unrecordable? Everyone knows anyway."

"If you can dig it out, then dig."

"Han Jaehee."

The pressure made me miss the moment to answer.

"I know perfectly well why you turned the question around on me."

The Team Leader drew one breath, then spoke.

"Yes. I overstepped."

I admitted the fault at once. Not a single thing she had said was wrong, and it felt as if my childish challenge had been pardoned out of a very wide mercy.

"I'll treat that question as if I never heard it, and you as if you never asked. Back to the point."

Frost had crept over the office window. My back was soaked through with cold sweat.

"So. Did you know?"

"I truly didn't know a thing."

Because I really hadn't.

"I thought as much. Haa... what am I supposed to do with this...."

The Team Leader spun her chair around, showing me her back, and sank into thought.

"Jaehee."

"Yes."

At the looseness in her voice, a little of my own tension eased with it.

"Keep your mouth shut for now. I need to think a while longer."

She went on without turning around. Somehow the distance felt even greater.

"Hana will be waiting. Go on."

"Then I'll take my leave."

The power of purification... So I had learned the name, at least. I had finally learned one real thing, and still the feeling wouldn't settle. Can you bear it? Those words kept circling. Maybe that was why.

Inside the well. It meant I had to climb out of the well first—even if that was all I managed.

I looked up at the sky and spread my palm wide. Back when I graduated, that whole sky had seemed to fit inside my hand.... I curled my fingers into ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a circle and held it up before my eyes, then closed one of them.

Narrow.

I found Hana standing with her head bowed, perfectly still.

"I told you to wait at a café."

"You're here...?"

She answered without quite turning, only glancing back over her shoulder. I came up beside her and said nothing.

The Seoul Entry Tragedy. Fifteen years ago, was it...?

Hana had always been a child who shone like the sun. Whenever she came here, she lost that light. I carried a similar wound, so all I could do was look. I knew too well that any comfort would only scatter, empty.

The tip of her nose had gone red. I carefully brushed the snow from her hair and laid a hand lightly against her cheek. Cold. No—biting. I took off my coat and settled it over her shoulders, and so the girl who was already cold wouldn't freeze any further, I gathered her close and left the park.

Six days later.

I had been running on the treadmill for a long while, and my breathing still hadn't broken.

Greenhorn... Yeah. She's right. It stung, but I couldn't argue. It was the truth.

"Check."

I had said it while running, and my breathing was still steady.

"Check."

Which meant all I could do was work harder.