He Kept His Promise
As the TV's volume swelled, the people in the restaurant forgot their conversations one by one, their eyes locking onto the screen. The U.S. President's announcement was no distant affair even to them.
"Hold on, that's—"
"Don't tell me a war just broke out or something?"
"The way they're making an announcement like this, it's probably good news, right?"
"Could be bad news too."
Every channel had cut off its regular programming and switched over to urgent breaking coverage.
LIS was a violent terror organization rooted in Islamic extremism, one that had struck major cities while disguised among refugees. America had been its biggest target, and several European nations had suffered major attacks as well. And Korea had hardly been safe.
"LIS? Aren't they the ones behind those bombings in Gangnam and Incheon Airport a while back?"
"Ugh, that's exactly why I still hate going to Gangnam."
"We had everything ready for an overseas shoot back then and the whole schedule got pushed back because of it—"
Jay, having served in the U.S. military, knew all too well about the incidents that had happened in Korea. It was because of them that he'd been dispatched to the 707th Special Mission Group before deploying to Syria, where he'd met Jung Seung-woo, Ha Eun-sung, Lee Min-gyu, and the rest.
His phone, buried in his pocket, was buzzing like mad. Not only the handful of acquaintances he had in Korea, but his old comrades as well.
(The White House has confirmed that the U.S. President personally announced the elimination of LIS's supreme leader, Ahmad Faruq ibn Abdallah.)
Kwon Min-jae had been about to crack a joke—were you there too, by any chance?—but the look on Jay's face was so grave that he shut his mouth again.
"Wow... so does that mean we're all safe now?"
"I'd imagine so."
"That reminds me of America—I'm actually planning a variety show that goes to the States."
"Ooh... what kind?"
The people who had been watching the TV in silence returned to their everyday concerns the moment the broadcast ended. Kwon Seok-hyun, the famous variety show director, seized the moment to get to the heart of the matter—he was here to secure verbal commitments from everyone at this table.
"I'm thinking of taking a group of actors somewhere like Broadway or Hollywood and filming something acting-related. Moon Changmin, would you join us too?"
"I'd have to actually know the language for that..."
"Oh come on, we'll hire interpreters for everything."
"Who needs interpreters? We've got one right here."
Moon Changmin slung an arm over the shoulder of Jay, who sat beside him.
"Jay. You all right?"
"Oh—yes. Sorry. What were we talking about?"
Jay, who had been staring fixedly at the TV, snapped back to his senses and looked around at the others. Feeling guilty for drifting off, he added an honest explanation.
"...I still have a lot of friends over there."
"That must be worrying."
"It is. I'm actually getting a lot of calls even now."
Jay showed them his phone, its notifications blinking endlessly, and the people around him let it slide with gentle understanding. The conversation drifted back to Kwon Seok-hyun's show.
"You did a road trip, you said? Then you'd know the place well?"
"Yes. My old duty station was near Hollywood, and I've stayed near Broadway before too, so I know the area."
"Ohhh."
Kwon Seok-hyun's eyes lit up. The truth was, he'd only been considering actors with longer careers, so Jay hadn't even been on his shortlist. But seeing him now, Jay blended effortlessly with the other actors, and his acting ability was substantial—put him alongside the cast he had in mind and he wouldn't stick out at all. He'd fit right in.
"If Jay's going, count me in too."
"Min-jae, you as well?"
"Yep."
Kwon Seok-hyun beamed and nodded. With Jay charging up the ranks the way he was, there was no way he'd turn down Kwon Min-jae, the undisputed number one among actors in their thirties.
A few people at the table had been quietly eavesdropping on the exchange, and now they murmured among themselves.
"That kid's ex-military? U.S. Army?"
"Director, you didn't know? Do you have any idea how big he was last year. Well, he's huge right now too, but still."
"I suppose I ought to watch more television."
Director Park Jae-yoon was famous in the film world, a master whose name stood shoulder to shoulder with Director Lee Young-chang's.
He kept finding himself fascinated by the gulf between Baek Jin-ri in The Garden of Evil and the Jay sitting in front of him now. At first he'd wondered if the man simply had a few screws loose, but that wasn't it. Was it some long acting pedigree, then? No—he was ex-military... Park Jae-yoon still couldn't quite believe that Baek Jin-ri's madness had been crafted purely out of acting.
I want him...
When that searching, transparent gaze settled on him, Jay gave an awkward little smile.
(Restricted Number)
"Excuse me, I need to take this call."
"Of course. Go ahead."
Kwon Min-jae and Moon Changmin stared after Jay's retreating back. The man was a genuine enigma.
Jay took the call standing in a narrow alley beside the building. It was John, sure enough.
(JJ, you've seen the news, haven't you?)
"So this was the good news you mentioned."
(Yes. Our long project is finally over.)
John's voice was charged with exhilaration. He despised terrorism with a patriotism that bordered on madness. This man isn't quite sane either. Jay let out a small breath and asked the thing he most wanted to know.
"And the others... are they all right?"
(It's still chaotic over there, but the Medal of Honor is all but certain.)
"Did Jayden die?"
Jay's voice rose. The medal had been awarded to only a handful of living men.
(No, he survived. Just like you. He took some wounds, but nothing fatal.)
"Whew..."
Knowing his closest friend was alive wasn't pure relief. Someone he knew had surely died. His expression darkened in an instant.
"Killing that man doesn't end anything, though."
He was someone who had seen LIS's warped convictions and cruelty firsthand, in the field. And he knew how powerful their sense of brotherhood was.
(That's the problem. Even now, several senior commanders are splintering off to build organizations of their own.)
"So it'll take time to clean up the remnants."
Surely nothing else will happen.
(All members of the Numbers squad are being granted leave and will rotate home. We'll hold the fallen's funerals, and the medal ceremony as well.)
"..."
(Once things settle down a bit, I'll be in touch again. You'll come over here then, won't you?)
"Of course I have to come."
Filming for Permafrost was already entering its final stretch, and there was plenty of time before he'd need to prepare his next project.
The squads gathered at the military hospital nodded gravely at the army physician's explanation. There was nothing unusual about their demeanor. Come here a few times and you'd see it often—soldiers with grave faces, or soldiers shedding tears.
"Is it really that serious?"
"...Everyone here knows what he went through. He's the one who saved us, after all."
Though their squad had an official designation, those close to them simply called them the Numbers. And the reason for that name was one man—Jay Jenkins, known as Ten.
"Please be careful not to make any loud sounds. Especially anything with a hissing friction sound—it's strictly forbidden."
"What kind of sound exactly?"
"Something like a snake. Ssss—that sort of thing..."
They could glimpse an enormous, seething hatred in the sight that met them: Jay standing covered in blood, and the butchered corpse of Asad Yasin Qadir lying fallen beside him. What on earth had happened in that place? The squad members stole glances at one another.
"JJ."
Jay, lying in the hospital bed, slowly opened his eyes. When he finally took in the people surrounding him, a sound like air escaping a tire escaped his lips.
"Wake up and the first thing I see is a bunch of ugly faces..."
"The hell did you say?"
"Then spare my eyes and get lost."
Seeing him crack jokes, they knew his condition wasn't bad. The squad members, relieved, promptly shut their mouths at what came next.
"Is everyone safe?"
The least safe man in the room was asking after their well-being. During the rescue operation there'd been no time to ask—getting out of that place alive had been the only objective.
Jayden, listening in silence, clenched his fist.
"You little—"
"What, you're not going to blubber like a kid, are you? As you can see, I'm in no state to hand you a tissue."
"His fist is shaking."
"Surely he wouldn't hit a patient?"
Jayden Knight—Eleven, among these men—was Jay's closest friend. The others had taken to calling the two of them the J2 Combo.
"Heard about my medal?"
"Yeah. Jealous."
"It's unofficial, sure, but I did what none of you could. Look at me with a little more reverence, would you?"
He was posturing, but there was no strength behind the words. They could all see it—Jay was desperately wrapping himself up in the appearance of being fine.
He rambled on about his own battlefield exploits, the story tumbling out with no order to it. That only made it harder to watch.
The Ten they knew had never coveted medals. And he'd never once bragged about his accomplishments out loud. This wasn't like him at all—he was talking only to put them at ease.
"Relax your face. I'm not dead, am I?"
"...Yeah."
"Ten, you're coming back when you've healed, right?"
"Well..."
Jay let out a long breath before answering.
"...I don't think I can do this anymore."
"Damn it."
"Are you all staying?"
"All but a few."
Jayden spat a curse and turned away, pacing the spot where he stood, while another squad member answered. Some, like Jay, said they were done—that they couldn't keep doing this. But most were staying.
"If only my body weren't like this, I'd be right there with you."
Jay looked down at his own hands, trembling visibly. The medication was wearing off. He himself felt nothing, but the others looked shaken—it was the first time any of them had seen him like this.
"Don't any of you die."
"Isn't it a little early for last goodbyes?"
Because I don't know what's going to happen to me. Jay's faint smile was growing noticeably pale.
"You don't die either. Not until I take that bastard's head."
Jayden growled the words out. He knew all too well that discharged soldiers had poor prognoses. Anyone else who'd been through what Jay had would have gone mad. The fact that he looked this normal was a miracle in itself.
"Fine. We'll beat LIS to death for your share too."
"Good enough."
They were already dreading it—afraid that if they sent Jay away like this, someday the news would come back to them as an obituary.
"Ugh..."
"Wh-what's wrong?"
Jay's brow furrowed. An ominous sound was rising from the machines connected to his body. At the sign of distress, the charge nurse waiting outside hurried in.
"Everyone out. Now."
"No, just a second—"
"Jayden. Let's go."
The other Numbers comrades dragged him out by force.
"I still have things to say."
"You think Ten wants you seeing him weak?"
Then came a scream so sharp it pierced the ear. The medical staff nearby rushed into Jay's room.
"Administer the sedative!"
"Yes, Doctor!"
The medical team pinned his limbs and injected the medication in a rush. Watching what looked like an emergency unfold, the Numbers squad members filed out of the hospital with faces carved from stone.
"...Damn it!"
Jayden couldn't tell whether the curse had come from his own mouth or a comrade's. It just hung there, heavy in the air.
After that, the Numbers were deployed on their next operation, and Jay was discharged and returned to civilian life. That day in the hospital room was the last time they ever saw each other.
"Hah..."
Jayden startled awake from the dream—and flinched at the sight of a man in a black suit standing silently beside him.
"John, you nearly killed me just now."
"Far too early for you to die, sir. You are America's hero, after all."
John Doe flashed a wide grin. Jayden laboriously pushed himself upright.
"I was told you're not supposed to get up yet."
"Wounds like these are nothing."
"Still, you ought to devote yourself to recovery. You'll be meeting the President soon enough, after all."
"What about the favor I asked?"
John held out Jayden's phone.
"John, it's all right if I send one message, right?"
"To Ten?"
Jayden nodded. With John's blessing, he opened the messaging app. Ten might never see it... but he had to leave it anyway.
And Jay, after a long while, opened the SNS account he had created and then abandoned. Ever since he'd gotten back in contact with Park Hyun-ah, his real account had been switched to private, kept solely as a channel for the acquaintances entwined with his past to reach him.
It's Jayden.
Jay knew with certainty who had sent the message from the unknown sender. Should he reply, or not? He mulled it over, then turned the screen off. There would be a chance to meet before long.
"Mr. Jay, we're all set, right?"
"Yes."
At the staff member's call, he rose to his feet. Today felt good.