ep12. It Was a Disappearance (2)
"Most men are like that, but Team Leader Cha is a genuine hierarchy animal."
So said Baek Sa-ra, the person I knew who took rank contests more seriously than anyone.
"But people don't really realize this. Do you know why?"
"Why is that?"
"Because Team Leader Cha looks at almost everyone as being beneath him. Equally."
"Pfft."
The laugh burst out of me before I could stop it, and Baek Sa-ra shook her head.
"Truly arrogant, isn't he?"
"Arrogance with evidence behind it is somehow even worse."
"It really is."
Cha Si-eon is arrogant. That was the one opinion Seo Do-woon and Baek Sa-ra shared without reservation.
At the same time, we both acknowledged it: that man had earned the right to be a little arrogant.
When I first saw him, I'd wondered what he had to be so confident about. But after watching him up close for about three months, I had to admit there was plenty to back it up.
Since his appointment to the Bureau, Cha Si-eon had received the top grade in every single evaluation — the self-evident ace of the field operations. His skill aside, his physical abilities were overwhelming, his work was fast, and on top of all that, his face was absurdly handsome.
He was, quite literally, a man who had it all, so even if he acted superior, no one could fault him for it.
Because he actually was superior.
That was why I found it hard to accept what Baek Sa-ra was saying.
"But he's only ever prickly toward you, Miss Otter. And that's because he can't sort you into his hierarchy."
Even hearing it twice changed nothing. What on earth was this supposed to mean?
Wait — was it really just me he was prickly with? It wasn't my imagination?
A strange sense of betrayal washed over me, but I still couldn't understand it, so I shook my head.
"Team Leader Cha actively talks down to me."
"That's not his real way of talking down. His real version isn't active at all."
"Oh really?"
"It's mechanical. Emotionally sterile, you'd call it? It goes something like this: 'Your level is this, so you will perform this role and nothing more. You may not fail at it, and you have no need to exceed it. Objections will not be heard.' That's the real Cha Si-eon-style condescension."
Oh — I think I get it now.
"He has a tendency to treat other people like weak units and manage them accordingly. Charitably, you'd call it leadership; less charitably, it's autocratic."
Framed that way, the explanation made a certain amount of sense.
In human society, the word "hierarchy" usually carries a negative connotation, but hierarchy isn't only about throwing your weight around or indulging a lust for domination.
Take wolves, for instance — a pack led by an alpha, and that very structure is what keeps the group stable. If Cha Si-eon was a hierarchy animal of that second type, then this could all be understood differently.
Namely: that son of a bitch hadn't even been condescending to me this whole time — it was just plain pettiness.
"He's someone who has to manage his pack that way, and since he can't do it with you, Miss Otter, he's stuck fighting this battle on his own."
"Just me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Are you genuinely asking because you don't know?"
Baek Sa-ra tilted her head at my question. Then she smiled playfully and threw one back at me.
"That wasn't some noble-lady rhetoric just now, was it?"
At the phrase noble-lady rhetoric, I paused to consider.
Noble-lady rhetoric: a technique in which the speaker harbors a true intent but, out of concern for face, declines to state it directly, instead inducing the listener to perceive or speak on their behalf. Primarily employed for self-flattery; a synonym is "department-head rhetoric," and a typical usage would be "Looks like I'll be paying a hefty sum in taxes again this year."
Did Baek Sa-ra think I was being that coy with her?
To clear up the misunderstanding, I did my best to explain in detail.
"I genuinely don't understand. I'm aware that, half by my own choice and half by circumstance, I've achieved notable results in the Special Zones and gained considerable popularity because of it — but I don't believe Team Leader Cha would see that as a threat. Because my position is no different from a mine-detection dog's: no matter how much people cheer for me and support me, if I drop dead tomorrow, that's the end of it. Of course, there are shallow people out there who take nothing but the flattering slice of someone else's situation, hold it up to the light, and get jealous over it. But Team Leader Cha doesn't strike me as that type."
"......"
"Besides, if Team Leader Cha does rank himself highest, the criterion would be confined to physical capability. Not a person's character, cultivation, or intellect — none of that. In other words, by the value system Team Leader Cha actually pursues, there is not a single person who would consider me his superior. The odds of that changing in the future are slim as well. Which is why I sincerely cannot fathom what reason he would have to be wary of me."
"I'm sorry."
"Excuse me?"
"If what I said about noble-lady rhetoric offended you......"
"No, not at all. I only thought there was a misunderstanding. Ah — did I come across as too stiff just now?"
"That's not it. It's just — one moment I'm watching a cute otter paddling around, and the next I'm witnessing a live hunt. An otter tearing something apart in real time."
"......?"
Baek Sa-ra murmured this with a hand covering her mouth, as though she'd witnessed something tremendous.
Be that as it may, here was my view:
People fight over rank in order to secure a stable position within the group. Cha Si-eon's standing in the Bureau was rock solid, and I posed no threat to it whatsoever.
We occupied entirely separate domains.
"You're right, Miss Otter. Team Leader Cha isn't petty enough for any of that."
Baek Sa-ra nodded, conceding the point. Then she added:
"But he is a man with tremendous pride."
Pride. Well, that was indeed one of the major causes of rank contests.
Cha Si-eon's thick pride was evident from his face alone.
"I can't imagine I've done anything to bruise it, though......"
"There's one thing."
"......?"
"You did something Team Leader Cha couldn't, Miss Otter."
Now what was that supposed to mean?
I asked with my eyes, but Baek Sa-ra only smiled without a word. Then, in a lighter tone, she wrapped it up plainly.
"So what I'm trying to say is this: don't make too much of Alpha. You're someone who'd draw even that original's wariness."
"I'll take it to heart."
It was decent advice, all things considered — though it occurred to me that Baek Sa-ra herself might be the truest hierarchy animal of us all.
Then again, among physical-type people, that was probably only natural.
"And what about Section Chief Kwon Mu-seop?"
"The chief?"
"Does Team Leader Cha look down on Section Chief Kwon Mu-seop too — place him beneath himself?"
I asked while recalling how Cha Si-eon tensed up in Kwon Mu-seop's presence. Baek Sa-ra answered with an odd smile.
"The chief is the hope of Field Operations."
"Hope?"
"The last line of defense against Team Leader Cha running amok."
Would you look at that — Baek Sa-ra really was deadly serious about hierarchy.
So said Baek Sa-ra — a woman, and an unambiguous hierarchy animal.
"The only person Team Leader Cha believes stands above him is Section Chief Kwon Mu-seop."
The one man Cha Si-eon acknowledged.
The final bulwark at the summit.
The hope of Field Operations.
But grand epithets aside, the Kwon Mu-seop before my eyes was trembling in fear.
"......"
"......"
"......?"
In order: Kwon Mu-seop's silence. Kim Woo-in's silence. And my own.
I was being discharged in the afternoon, so I'd stopped by Section Chief Kwon's hospital room for a quick visit. Kim Woo-in had already beaten me there, and for some reason the atmosphere was electric.
Kwon Mu-seop sat on the hospital bed, gaze angled downward, wearing the expression of a man who could neither laugh nor cry. Kim Woo-in, unable to either seize the man or let him go, glared at him ferociously and did nothing else. And I stood there watching it all.
"Hah......"
Kim Woo-in, who had looked ready to draw blood, caught sight of me and let out a sigh.
"Do-woon, do you have business with Chief Kwon?"
No, I just came to say hello.
I was about to answer when my eyes met Kwon Mu-seop's. For some reason, he was sending me a pleading look.
"Yes...... I do have something important to discuss with him."
"Tch."
Kim Woo-in clicked his tongue hard. Then, as if he had no choice, he stepped aside.
Having rescued Kwon Mu-seop on reflex, I found my feet bound to the scene as well. Might as well commit — I walked over and sat down in front of his bed.
They'd said he'd been stitched up in eight places, and both of Kwon Mu-seop's arms were wrapped tight in bandages.
"How's the body holding up?"
"Oh, fine. Thanks."
"Nothing else happened after I left, right?"
"No no, it held up better than I expected. Apparently my results were good enough that they're not saying anything to my face directly."
Kwon Mu-seop nodded along repeatedly, as if trying to reassure himself.
Pathetic, our section chief.
But he'd brought it on himself.
"It's because we went into the Ant Nest, isn't it?"
"That's right...... Director Kim told me to keep you wrapped in cotton wool, and I was the one who egged you into going in there."
"I was the one who made the call, though."
"Regardless, I'm the one in charge......"
Watching Kwon Mu-seop own up to the responsibility stirred all sorts of thoughts.
Part of me wondered how a man who knew better could have done it. But then, I was hardly in a position to lecture — I'd been the one who went along with him.
I was finally starting to understand why Kim Woo-in looked ready to die of frustration over this man, too.
Section Chief Kwon Mu-seop wore the gentlest face in the world and chuckled his way through every room like a certified good-natured soul — but peel back one layer and there was a slick old serpent underneath, and peel back another and you'd find a madness that defied all reason.
I had felt that firsthand at Ant Hill.
Since I'd had business on the subject anyway, I took the opportunity of sitting down to raise it.
"Still, it worked out well that the results were good."
"Exactly. If we'd come out empty-handed, they probably would have killed me."
Sure enough — it was only because the results were good. In truth, our crawling into the Ant Nest had been practically a suicide mission.
Which meant that, under normal circumstances, both Kwon Mu-seop for instigating it and me for going along would have been torn apart the moment we surfaced. We might even have been hauled before a disciplinary committee.
But the results were so spectacular that our off-the-books transgression evaporated without a trace.
"Did you know it would turn out this way in advance?"
"No, I didn't expect it to go this smoothly."
"So you did anticipate it to some degree?"
Kwon Mu-seop grinned. I didn't grin back; instead, I said this:
"I wish you'd told me in advance, then. If you'd anticipated it."
Kwon Mu-seop's smile died mid-curve, and he looked at me. Realizing his slip a beat too late, he belatedly added:
"If you felt used, I'm sorry."
"I don't. Everything worked out in the end, and I got plenty out of it myself, so I wouldn't call it being used."
Strictly speaking, I had been used. But then, that was the whole reason I'd joined the Bureau in the first place, wasn't it?
The Bureau and I shared a common goal and had use for each other, and so we'd agreed to walk together. Put kindly, that's called cooperation.
It was just that when someone like Kwon Mu-seop hoarded the scheme to himself and let it detonate on his own schedule, that was called a stab in the back.
Kwon Mu-seop seemed to know it too, stealing glances at me awkwardly, and I added flatly:
"If you'd dropped me into that place alone, I would have resented you for it. But you rolled through it alongside me and looked after me, so I have neither grievance nor complaint."
"I appreciate you saying that."
"Still, I really do wish you'd warned me first......"
"All right, I'm sorry......"
Kwon Mu-seop groaned at my thinly veiled lingering resentment, laced generously with theatrical suffering.
That was true noble-lady rhetoric.
"Also — I'd like to hear that conversation you put off, now."
"The one I put off?"
"When my formal appointment was decided, you said we'd get to it later."
I still didn't know the real reason they'd recruited me. I'd merely let it lie for a while after that vague brush-off — "your situation represents an important opportunity for us."
This time, I'd confirmed that much was true. So now I needed to know exactly what that opportunity was.