Agent Seo's Ear-Opening Revelations (3)
"They took their own lives."
"All 82 of them?"
"A few of them did die in accidents, yes."
"Accidents...?"
"Just ordinary accidents. Traffic collisions, falls, that kind of thing."
Were they merely freak incidents, then?
"But after coming out of a Special Zone, they developed insomnia or alcohol dependency. So you can't exactly say those accidents had nothing to do with the Zone, can you."
Heo Gu-young's voice was neither grief-stricken nor cold. Simply matter-of-fact — and that was what made it all the more bitter.
"So simply making it out alive is no guarantee of anything. Even if the body's fine, if the mind takes a bad enough wound, a person will eventually die."
I thought I understood what he meant. When I escaped the Railroad Station and returned home, I'd sometimes broken out in a cold sweat. More than once, I flinched and checked where I was. Red fire extinguishers — ones I'd never even noticed before — caught my eye everywhere and made my stomach turn.
My body had been home, but inside, I was still wandering the Railroad Station.
"Anyone who's watched a horrifying death unfold helplessly, or fought tooth and nail against other people just to survive, finds it hard to go back to their old life. Because now they know the world isn't safe."
Heo Gu-young, who'd been muttering in the dark, looked up at me. Then, shifting the mood entirely, he broke into a bright smile.
"Which is why the citizens you rescued have a genuinely excellent prognosis. What matters more than the situation itself is the experience — and either way, those people came away with a positive one."
"A positive experience, you say?"
"The experience of learning that even inside a mad space like that, people still help one another. Experiences like that can give a person solidarity, trust, a sense of belonging, stability, self-efficacy — all of it."
"I... see."
"Oh, this is really important! Without that kind of faith, people can't truly live. No matter how safe their circumstances, no matter how much they have or how talented they are, they start wondering what the point of living even is. The disillusionment eats away at them."
There he was, earnestly preaching the art of being human. Come to think of it, the Post-Management Team was staffed with counselors and psychology experts. You could definitely sense that side of them.
"So I expect the citizens you rescued will go on to live well. From a post-management standpoint, there's nothing more we could ask for. We're human too, you know — it's painful when someone we've looked after goes under."
"...And that's why all of you joined the Otter Survival Movement Headquarters?"
"And here I was trying to say we had such wholesome reasons for joining..."
Heo Gu-young wheedled at me with a face made for formal introductions, and in the end I laughed. A psychology expert indeed. He'd even seen straight through my misgivings about the Otter Survival Movement. I decided I'd better not let my guard down around this one just because he looked harmless — Gwak Jae-gyeom had taught me that much.
I was still filling in names on the otters when Heo Gu-young spoke up again, sounding oddly cautious.
"On a related note, I have been a little curious about something."
"...?"
"It was before you joined us, but you've heard about it, right? How on edge the Field Operations Division people were for a while there."
Another first-time revelation. There was one certified psycho-path in the Field Operations Division, sure, but the rest of them had seemed mostly fine to me.
When I made a face that said I had no idea what he was talking about, Heo Gu-young actually looked surprised.
"Before you arrived, the Field Operations people were honestly terrifying. Everyone was afraid to even talk to them — like they'd go off at the slightest touch."
"Is that so?"
"Yes, really. Not that it's hard to understand. They have to keep witnessing horrible things, the responsibility's crushing, and every single deployment puts their lives on the line — of course they get tense. But the whole atmosphere improved so much after you came."
Me?
"Well, when things go wrong, it's oddly comforting to have someone in even worse shape standing next to you, isn't it?"
Ah. So that was how it worked...
"And somehow, despite the state you were in, you kept handling everything flawlessly. So the Field Operations people are having a whole new kind of experience right now. I'd call that a positive dynamic too, but, hmm... honestly, I can't figure out how it's even possible."
Heo Gu-young paused and studied my face for a moment. Then, as if sharing a secret, he lowered his voice.
"Are you actually okay, Agent?"
"No. It's quite a burden."
"No, no — I didn't mean the otter thing..."
At my immediate answer, Heo Gu-young sighed and tried again.
"What I mean is, well... the Field Operations people — especially the Response Teams and the Exploration Team — are genuinely strong. The selection bar is high, the training volume is brutal."
True. Nod—
"And yet even those steel-willed people come back from risking their lives in a Special Zone wrecked. Which is only natural, of course."
Natural. Nod—
"You've been running for your life in Special Zones too, haven't you?"
I had. Nod—
"Then why are you so strangely... unchanged?"
I was in the middle of nodding mechanically when my head tilted sideways instead.
"I'm suffering plenty, for the record."
"No, no — I'm not saying you haven't been through hell. I'm saying you don't get swept away."
Swept away?
"Everyone else is either drowning in that flood or wearing themselves out just trying to swim. You don't seem to be. At first glance you look like you're being tossed around with the rest of us, but look again, and you're standing right where you were, silent and unmoved. Like a tree with deep roots, standing alone."
Was I?
I stopped what I was doing and turned the psychologist's words over in my head for a while. But, hmm. From where I stood, I was pretty sure I was flailing about in every direction just to keep my head above water.
"I struggle too."
"Of course you do. My point is that what you're going through right now isn't something you can file away under 'it was hard' and move on from."
"Then what kind of situation is it?"
"Less something you should do, and more something that usually happens. When a person keeps crossing the line between life and death, they change — one way or another. But you seem to have kept yourself exactly as you were, without any real change. Am I wrong?"
Change?
I liked to think I'd put on a bit more muscle than before, but that wasn't the sort of thing a psychology expert would be curious about, so I set it aside. My job, my living situation, my salary had all changed too — but those were external. Beyond that... well, honestly, I couldn't feel much of anything.
When I nodded again, Heo Gu-young nodded back as if he'd expected exactly that.
"Right? And that's what's abnormal about it. I've had all sorts of thoughts watching you, Agent."
"All sorts of thoughts?"
"Yes. Is he really okay? He keeps seeing Director Kim Woo-in, so he's probably fine, but how can he look that untouched? Or is he secretly a massive psycho-path with no fear response at all..."
"...Am I really that strange?"
Full-blown weirdo treatment. That made two, counting Baek Sa-ra. At this rate, I ought to start seriously questioning my own strangeness.
"Hmm, no. It's less 'strange' and more 'deep.' That's not exactly ordinary either, but..."
Fortunately, Heo Gu-young shook his head at the idea of my being strange. Instead, he thought hard about something, then chose his words carefully.
"Have you... already been there?"
"Been where, exactly?"
"The experience of collapsing all the way to rock bottom."
"..."
The words died in my throat. Instead, they made me think of that performance again — the one I'd watched in the National Theater.
I picked my answer with uncomfortable precision.
"Life has its dark stretches. That's all."
Something in my answer must have registered, because Heo Gu-young smiled brightly.
"That's a relief. That you've already come through it."
Come through it?
"You worked hard. I'll keep rooting for you."
His words hovered somewhere between clear and cryptic. But I didn't press; I just nodded.
I finished signing the last of the otters.
"Wow, thank you so much for this."
Heo Gu-young beamed as he gathered up the glass otters.
Ding—!
Just then, an alarm went off on his tablet.
"Survivor 84 has also boarded the transport home."
Smooth sailing, for once. I'd just thought that when an old memory surfaced, and I asked Heo Gu-young about it.
"Did you happen to feed Mr. Choi Sang-eun sleeping pills too?"
"I'm sorry — what? No, of course not! We just blindfold the survivors and move them in an official vehicle."
"Then why did you do it to me...?"
"Oh, right. You were asleep when you were sent home that time, weren't you..."
"...Don't tell me I was the only one drugged unconscious?"
At my question, Heo Gu-young's expression turned pained. Then, unable to hold out against my stare, he gave a small nod.
It was true? He hadn't done it to everyone?
Then why me? What had I done? I'd been perfectly cooperative. Sure, I'd pushed back a little, but compared to Choi Sang-eun, who'd held out for five whole days, I'd been an absolute lamb!
"Is that true? Why — no, first of all, why was it Team Leader Cha Si-eon who escorted me home? That isn't part of his job in the first place."
While I was at it, I dug up the parts I'd let slide at the time.
Cha Si-eon was the team leader of Response Team 3 in the Field Operations Division. I hadn't realized it then, but there was no conceivable reason for him to handle a rescued survivor's debriefing as well.
"Hmm, well, it's not like we have any real authority. When the Field Operations Division says they'll handle it themselves, we step aside."
The Field Operations Division?
"Besides, with you, Agent, we didn't really know what we were supposed to do anyway."
"...?"
"That 200 million won back then — it came out of the Field Operations Division chief's and the Response Team 3 leader's personal money, remember? It felt a bit off for us to be handing that over, so— wait. Agent, please tell me you hadn't heard any of this?"
Heo Gu-young had been grumbling away helplessly when he suddenly looked at me and asked, urgent. I hadn't heard. This was the true first-time revelation.
"Not at all."
"Aaagh! Agent, please don't tell anyone I told you. If you didn't know, just keep pretending you don't know, I'm begging you...!"
Heo Gu-young clutched his head and pleaded. But what mattered to me right now wasn't that.
"You're telling me the compensation I received came out of Chief Kwon Mu-seop's and Team Leader Cha Si-eon's own pockets?"
When I asked again, deadly serious, Heo Gu-young slapped his palm over his mouth again and again. I waited quietly for an answer, and in the end he came clean.
"Yes. 100 million won each..."
Of all the things I'd heard today, this was the strangest.
The rescue allowance I'd received after becoming an agent: 900,000 won per person saved. On top of my base salary, that was decent money — but next to the compensation I'd gotten at the very beginning, it was laughably small.
The sum I'd received after the Railroad Station: a full 200 million won. Compensation for saving a single middle school girl named Lee Sol.
The gap was staggering, but I'd always chalked it up to a difference in status. I'd been a civilian when I saved Lee Sol, and an agent afterward. Compensation and allowance were bound to be different, I'd figured, and left it at that.
But looking back, it had never added up from the start. The government hands over 200 million won because you saved one person? I'd never heard of anything like it. The figure I'd gotten directly from Heo Gu-young for the Bureau's civilian compensation topped out at 63 million won — and even that wasn't paid for saving a life, but for a meaningful sacrifice.
Then what on earth had that been?
Why had Cha Si-eon and Kwon Mu-seop — those two — emptied their own bank accounts to shove that enormous sum onto me?
At that point, I'd been a perfect civilian. No sign, no pretext, no thread connecting me to the Bureau going forward. In fact, Cha Si-eon had shoved me out the door like he never expected to see me again. Which meant the whole thing had been nothing but an intent to give me money...
I washed my face dry-handed, alone, and looked out the window. Beyond it, the artificial sky painted the night of a big city — pitch-black and starless.
I'll sleep on it tonight and think tomorrow.
...Then again, 200 million won — wasn't that closer to a reward than a compensation payout?
I drifted off thinking thoughts like that.
But sleep didn't last long.
WEEEEEOOOO—!
A shrill siren split the air without warning, and my skin crawled.