Weeding Out the Fakes (1)

Gwak Jae-gyeom abandoned me.

All he left behind was a breezy "Do some stretching, hyung," before wandering off to who-knows-where.

I don't suffer from separation anxiety.

If anything, I prefer being alone.

The problem was that right now, I wasn't alone.

This was the Bureau's indoor training hall.

The place where field teams and agents came to build up their bodies.

Right up until I walked in, the room had been roaring with battle cries and the crack of striking pads.

But the moment I stepped through the door, all those full-of-fight agents stopped dead, as if they'd rehearsed it.

What filled the room after that was pure silence.

And a whole lot of stares pointed my way.

Thanks to that, I was on the verge of developing the separation anxiety I never had. Everyone, could you please just finish what you were doing?

I was doing my best to endure the oppressive attention when it happened.

"Agent Seo Do-woon, sir."

Some agent I didn't know came shuffling over, awkward and fidgety.

"You're doing hand-to-hand combat drills today, right? Here, use this."

The man who handed me a pair of wrist guards had a neck so thick it defied description. He was also wearing a shy expression and the most deferential attitude you could imagine.

I forced a smile at the stranger's kindness and nodded.

"Oh, thank you very—"

But I would have been better off not doing that.

Because right then, the other agents came swarming in like pigeons spotting a piece of bread.

"Agent Seo, forget that—use mine. Mine's the more expensive one!"

"No, tape is better. Can you tape a wrist?"

"Protein..."

"..."

I was surrounded in an instant.

By sweaty men who each weighed about one and a half times what I did.

Their massive bodies completely blocked my field of view.

From somewhere far away, other agents started shouting.

"Hey, back off! You're freaking the man out!"

"Yeah! Don't touch him, just look with your eyes!"

No, please don't look with your eyes either.

For an introvert, being watched is lethal.

Just then, a voice came to my rescue from beyond the oppressive human wall.

"Ugh, you guys are doing this again. Get lost! Shoo!"

Gwak Jae-gyeom, having returned at just the right moment, was yelling and flapping a towel at them.

The agents surrounding me scattered like startled sparrows.

But even after dispersing, the stares kept coming, as if they were still sizing me up.

So Jae-gyeom shouted again.

"Okay, stop staring! If he gets hurt because he's all tense from you gawking, are you going to take responsibility?"

"Agent Seo, keep up the good fight!"

At Gwak Jae-gyeom's bark, the agents threw out one last cheer and finally dispersed.

Only then could I let out the breath I'd been holding.

Ah, my energy is drained...

It had been a week since I came out of the General Stadium Where Corpses Run.

And I was only now finally starting basic training.

I should have begun the moment I was hired, but my frequent injuries had pushed the schedule back.

Besides, the Bureau's basic training was nothing like what I'd vaguely imagined.

I'd naturally assumed I'd be thrown into some boot camp and drilled mercilessly.

I'd even braced myself to feel like I was re-enlisting, but contrary to expectations, there was no regression to my army days.

No terrifying drill instructors, no high-intensity programs, no strict discipline.

Which, honestly, made sense.

I had no enlistment class to belong to here.

Because I was the only new recruit.

So if you had to describe my current situation, it would be this: an office worker getting a personal training session at a gym where everyone else was a professional athlete.

An ordinary civilian who, surrounded by fully-finished agents, had no idea not just how to hit a person, but why he should even want to.

And so, every training session, I was staging a grand debut performance as a prime spectator attraction.

When I heaved a big sigh, Jae-gyeom grinned at me.

"Just hang in there. Give it a few days and they'll get used to you."

"A few days, huh? A new face shows up every single day, though. Is that just my imagination?"

"Huh, you're right. There are about 300 people in the field division, so it'll take a while before you've met them all. Sharp as ever, hyung."

Gwak Jae-gyeom gave me a thumbs-up.

I fought the urge to snap that thumb backward and sighed again instead.

Come to think of it, the field division did have a full three hundred members.

Which meant I still barely knew anyone outside of Response Team 3.

The best I could do was guess people's affiliations from their appearance, since each team had its own distinctive vibe.

A hulking soldier type with a buzz cut? Response Team.

A professional-who-jogs-as-a-hobby feel? Exploration Team.

Someone who looked like they worked at an arts company? Formation Team.

The type you'd expect to find at a public agency? Control Team.

Something like that.

Of course, this classification system wasn't always right.

Just like how the bleached-blond Gwak Jae-gyeom—nothing about him screamed Response Team—was standing right next to me.

"Just enjoy it, hyung. People here are naturally intense. Lots of rivalry and jockeying for position."

"Then why is everyone like this with me?"

"Because you're Agent of the Month, of course!"

Peak Gwak Jae-gyeom energy today as well.

When I accepted that with a look of resignation, he put on a little show for me.

"No, hyung, I'm dead serious—being Agent of the Month is a huge deal. There's this one monster who wins ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it every single time, so only eleven people have ever had their name on that list."

The remarkable thing was that among those eleven Agents of the Month, I recognized four names.

Kwon Mu-seop. Cha Si-eon. Baek Sa-ra.

And Lee Seop, whose records had since been wiped from every database.

"And last month, hyung, your name popped up as the twelfth Agent of the Month in history, and wow... honestly, I saw it coming, but I still got chills. Top performer the second you're hired? That's rewriting the legend at this point."

To Gwak Jae-gyeom's theatrics, I simply kept my mouth shut.

Whether you were an editor or an agent, a month survived meant a paycheck. Same game, different arena.

And just like that, April had arrived.

I had worked a full month of March without a single day off, and I'd even received something called a mission performance allowance.

At the same time, I experienced the Bureau's peculiar culture of public announcements for the first time.

At the end of the month, that announcement was blasted out to every single employee through the Bureau's internal mail.

With my face photo pasted right into it, no less.

When I nearly had a stroke at this first-ever experience of such a culture, Gwak Jae-gyeom just said, that's how civil servants are.

Apparently police stations and government offices select things like "Officer of the Month" and "Friendliest Employee of the Month" all the time.

Fine. When in Rome... I suppose.

If I thought of it as part of a morale-boosting initiative, I could stretch myself to understand it.

The problem was that this, combined with the novelty of me being the only new recruit, had turned me into a very conspicuous curiosity—topped off with the extra flourish of being Agent of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Month.

Gwak Jae-gyeom told me to just enjoy the ride, but hmm.

I don't think this kind of excessive expectation is a good thing.

Attention like this always attracts something strange into the mix.

When I finished stretching, Gwak Jae-gyeom checked his watch and grumbled.

"What's taking these people so long?"

"It's not time yet."

We'd come out too early; my training instructor wasn't late.

But Jae-gyeom was apparently bored of waiting, and he twisted his body around and said, "Hyung, wanna try what we learned yesterday?"

Right. Better to do something, like everyone else, than stand around like a flagpole.

When I nodded, Jae-gyeom put me in a headlock from the front.

"Remember how to escape?"

I remembered.

Your opponent stays upright and pins you down, while you're doubled over with your head trapped. To get out of this clearly disadvantageous position, you have to break their balance.

First, one hand grabs their shoulder.

The other hand braces behind their knee.

Then you pull the shoulder and push the knee, and over they go!

...Such was my flawless theory.

Except Gwak Jae-gyeom, that bastard, was built like a tree stump. He wasn't going anywhere.

Dangling horizontally off the immovable Jae-gyeom, I made a request.

"It's practice. Could you at least pretend to fall?"

"Aw, where's the fun in that? Put more into it!"

"Hngh—! No good."

"Your technique's right. Go again."

"Uuuurgh...!"

"Ooh, almost! Just a little more!"

Where exactly was "a little more," when he hadn't budged a millimeter?!

Straining with everything I had against that terrifying core of his, I suddenly remembered the key principle: break his balance.

So to catch Jae-gyeom off guard, I moved the hand braced behind his knee and grabbed his collar instead.

Then I threw my weight in the opposite direction from everything I'd been pushing until now.

"Whoa—!"

It worked!

It worked, all right—and that was the problem.

What I'd learned yesterday was a technique for taking a headlocked opponent over backward.

Which meant Gwak Jae-gyeom had been bracing to fall backward.

But because I'd switched strategies mid-move, his body tipped forward instead, and he reflexively threw his arms out in front of him.

Without having released my headlock properly at all.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The result.

WHAM—!

A wildly dangerous neck-crank slamming-head-into-the-mat technique landed squarely on me.

"Hngk! Hyung, are you okay?"

"Not okay..."

"Phew, good thing you're alive."

Just how loose are this guy's standards for "okay"?

Gwak Jae-gyeom, reassured on his own terms, hauled me up off the mat where I lay face-down.

I was in the middle of rising with his help when it happened.

"Shouldn't've learned to walk in kindergarten?"

At the unfamiliar voice, Jae-gyeom and I turned around at the same time.

Three male agents were standing a short distance away, snickering at us.

The moment our eyes met, one of them kicked another hard in the leg.

The kicked man grinned and waved at us.

"Oh, you heard that? Sorry!"

An apology that was in no way an apology was being offered up as an apology.

Still, an apology was an apology, so I turned my head back and let it go.

But then the man shouted again.

"If you need a training partner, just say the word!"

"Cut it out, you little punk!"

"Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

At the man's outburst, his whole group burst into rowdy laughter.

Seeing that display, Gwak Jae-gyeom's face went rigid.

"Those bastards have lost their minds..."

When Jae-gyeom started to march straight at them, the man's side clamored first.

"Aw, we were just joking, what's the big deal? Agent Seo Do-woon, were you offended? You're fine, right?"

The man doing the shouting looked about my age.

A somewhat thin build, with a face like a desert fox.

That look... Control Team?

I didn't know who he was, but one thing was clear: he was childish and rude.

I had no desire to stoop to his level, but brushing this off now would only give him license to keep poking at me.

So I opened my mouth, intending to reply with nothing more than "Not that funny, actually."

But at that moment, the fox-faced man toppled over backward.

THUD—!

"Ah, damn it! What the—!"

Whether he'd fallen on his own or not, the fox was spinning around in a fury.

But the next second, he froze solid.

Then again, so did I, locking up the moment I saw the figure standing behind him.

"Still having trouble with your walking lessons?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A voice far too gentle for the situation.

"Then I'd better walk you back to kindergarten."

The woman in a training outfit who had appeared behind the fox said it with a lovely smile.

The woman was none other than Baek Sa-ra.

The instructor in charge of my training—the one Jae-gyeom and I had been waiting for.