Welcome to the Special Management Bureau (4)

Baek Sa-ra was the kind of person who looked like she'd stepped out of a painting — dignified and graceful in every detail.

How graceful, exactly? Well, there were the field uniforms that Cha Si-eon and Gwak Jae-gyeom wore.

Uniforms that announced themselves as special-agent gear from a mile away — pitch-black, self-important garments absolutely dripping with straps and belts and buckles.

Worn by Cha Si-eon, that outfit was terrifying beyond words, and even Gwak Jae-gyeom somehow looked oddly cold the moment he shut his mouth in it.

And yet, when Baek Sa-ra put on that same menacing uniform, it simply looked tidy on her.

No — she even looked as fresh as someone who'd just come back from a light jog.

Bandages and adhesive pads were stuck all over her, and she still managed it.

So this is why they say the hanger makes the clothes?

While I was marveling to myself, Baek Sa-ra took out a tablet and set it on the table.

Then she spoke in an official tone.

"I'll proceed with the post-rescue debrief. You've already done one with Team Leader Cha Si-eon recently, so I'd appreciate the same cooperation."

I nodded and sat up straight.

Except Baek Sa-ra didn't start the debrief at all — she just stared at me.

When I met her gaze and wondered why, she smiled warmly and said,

"Honestly, that's just an excuse. I came to see you, Mr. Su-dal."

"Excuse me?"

"I heard the news about you, and I was curious — and I wanted to say thank you. I'm glad to see you looking so healthy."

At her playful turn, I blinked a few times before breaking into a smile of my own.

This was the first time I was speaking with Baek Sa-ra face to face.

But perhaps because we'd been through hell together, she felt unexpectedly welcome.

"You were hurt badly, Ms. Baek Sa-ra."

"It only looks that way. It's nothing much."

"Is Han Ji-soo doing all right too?"

"Ji-soo — yes, he says he's fine now. He made it through the critical stage, thank goodness."

"Was he badly injured?"

"You remember, don't you? In the Hospital zone, right before the floor gave way — when Ji-soo shouted at everyone to get down."

Of course I remembered.

Because right after that, I'd fallen along with 'Black,' who was in the wheelchair.

"That was Orange — he'd been hit by a high-power round and blown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up."

It was just one sentence, and I couldn't tell which part to be shocked by first.

Orange was a human being — why did he explode?

A person exploded, and how did that collapse the floor?

And if such an explosion had happened, what about Han Ji-soo, who'd been right next to Orange at the time?

"The scene was an absolute disaster. Ji-soo nearly got blown to pieces."

Even while talking about people being blown to pieces, Baek Sa-ra's voice stayed sweet and gentle.

So I flinched, then belatedly remembered.

That this woman was extremely capable of both sharp words and violence.

Right, that's how it was. No need to be startled.

When I nodded awkwardly, Baek Sa-ra smiled and asked,

"Chilling, isn't it?"

"Yes. Very chilling."

"Then why did you come back into this terrifying place? You finally made it out alive."

Apparently Baek Sa-ra already knew everything about my situation.

Well, the rumors had spread far and wide — it would be stranger if she didn't know.

"It wasn't by choice."

When I confessed honestly, a touch of pity crept into Baek Sa-ra's smile.

For some reason, her expression turned complicated.

"In the Hospital, I really was grateful. Thanks to you, Mr. Su-dal, we finished the mission without a single loss."

"Not at all — I was the one who received the help."

"And since I'm here under the pretext of a debrief anyway, let me show you something quickly."

Baek Sa-ra suddenly started operating the tablet.

Then she brought up a screen and turned it toward me.

"This is our exploration report."

What is this?

I'd been looking at the screen without thinking, and I froze.

Baek Sa-ra asked in a perfectly calm voice,

"What's strange about it?"

"The exploration objective written here."

"What about it?"

"It's completely different from the mission statement you showed me before…."

The exploration order Baek Sa-ra had given me as the convict 'White.'

That order had listed bizarre, convoluted tasks.

Complete one mandatory task and two optional ones, and you earned survival.

The convicts had clearly been hanging on to those terms for dear life.

And their tasks had contained nothing about the Moving Gun or the High-Power Round.

Those were, if anything, obstacles that got in the way of completing the missions.

At my observation, Baek Sa-ra smiled faintly.

Then she gestured, as if to say, keep reading.

This was a record of what the convicts had endured before I joined them.

The record was endlessly dry and clinical.

Which made what lay between the lines read all the more brutal.

The convicts, sorted by color, had struggled desperately to complete their tasks.

They kept failing, and kept trying.

And then they died.

With a feeling I couldn't quite name, I asked Baek Sa-ra,

"Were the tasks the convicts were given fake?"

"We didn't make them do anything unnecessary."

"But completing the mission and surviving were impossible from the start, weren't they?"

Because White and Blue's real objective was the investigation of the High-Power Round.

Which meant they needed to lure the Moving Gun into firing it.

And they would have needed targets for that round to hit, too.

In the end, the convicts' tasks were never meant to be accomplished.

They were a mechanism for turning the convicts into targets of the Moving Gun.

"Cruel, isn't it?"

Baek Sa-ra said it as if peering straight into my thoughts.

"Still, don't dwell on it. It'd be a waste."

"A waste, you say…."

"They're all vicious murderers who merely happen to wear human shapes. If you pity them, how do you think the innocent victims who died — or their families — would feel?"

At her words, my mind naturally turned to Lee Sol, hiding in that railroad station bathroom.

She was barely a middle schooler, and she'd told me:

Go ahead and kill me — just make sure Mom never comes looking for me.

"So never sympathize with them. The only people who end up here in the first place are ones who'd deserve to burn in hell."

Saying "but they're still human" would probably be a luxury.

I had at least that much self-awareness.

But that didn't mean I could just nod along and say, 'Right! Human garbage should be recycled that way!'

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

Aside from the occasional sarcastic remark, I'd never actively killed anything — I was just an ordinary editor.

"There'll be a lot more of this going forward. So you'd better get used to it. This is a place where we do what's necessary, not what's right — and you're one of the Bureau's people now, Mr. Su-dal."

At Baek Sa-ra's brutally practical advice, I gave a heavy nod.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"And always put your own life first."

"That's… rather obvious advice, isn't it?"

"I'm saying it because it doesn't seem obvious to you at all."

Baek Sa-ra's voice was still as mild as ever.

But what was this? Why did it feel exactly like being scolded?

"Let's be honest — you were a liability. In the Railroad Station, and in front of me, too. The results turned out well, fortunately, but luck won't always be on your side. And the world is full of people who aren't worth saving — more than you'd think. So from now on, your own life comes first, above everything. Never gamble."

I supposed I looked like a child left out on the riverbank to Baek Sa-ra.

Well, fair enough — to a veteran agent's eyes, a civilian like me must have seemed precariously fragile.

I understood the concern.

But then — Cha Si-eon had said something similar a while back, hadn't he?

— Were you in your right mind when you handed Lee Sol the ticket?

Ugh. Unpleasant memory.

Of course, I couldn't put Baek Sa-ra and Cha Si-eon on the same level.

But an odd sense of déjà vu crept over me, and I offered a vague excuse.

"I understand what you're saying, but you don't need to worry that much. I'm not particularly fond of gambling myself. I'm a bit of a coward, too."

"You? A coward?"

Baek Sa-ra looked at me as if I'd said something absurd.

Then she shot back,

"…If you're such a coward, why did you take off your mask?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You knew the gun's dormancy conditions. If you'd died then, the gun would have stopped. That would have meant you got rescued safely."

"The rescue team was coming soon. I figured if I stalled, we'd both survive."

At my answer, Baek Sa-ra's brow furrowed.

It was a strange expression.

Not angry, exactly, or annoyed — just somehow unsettled.

"If that wasn't a gamble, what was it?"

"It was common sense."

At my answer, her expression grew even stranger.

"You helped me first, Ms. Baek Sa-ra. You weren't even on your assigned task — you were in the middle of something else entirely."

Back then, Baek Sa-ra had been moving among the convicts with her identity concealed.

One wrong move and she could have died — that's how dangerous it was.

And yet the moment she saw me, she protected me.

My presence must have thrown her entire plan into disarray, and she hadn't cared in the least.

So when someone's about to die right in front of you, how could you just stand there and watch?

If you're a human being, you at least do something.

"So this was me repaying you. Not a gamble — common sense."

Baek Sa-ra opened her mouth as if to argue back.

But no words actually came out of it.

"…Honestly."

After a long pause, Baek Sa-ra lowered her head and sighed.

"I'm at a loss."

At a loss about what, exactly?

Her hair had fallen forward, hiding her expression.

Still, she didn't seem to be joking.

Was receiving help from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a civilian really such a blow to her pride?

I couldn't fathom why she was taking this so seriously, and I was simply bewildered.

Meanwhile, Baek Sa-ra raised her head again.

"Fine. I'll just tell you the truth."

She seemed to pause, choosing her words, and then spoke in a voice dropped even lower.

"If you hadn't taken off that mask, Mr. Su-dal — you would have died."

What?

I looked at Baek Sa-ra, uncomprehending.

But she was eerily calm.

As if she'd already accepted it — already resigned to the outcome.

In that instant, I remembered.

The moment we were defeated by the Moving Gun.

Back then, too, Baek Sa-ra had been looking at me with this exact face.