Taekjoo opened the window to let the air out. The wind was just as strong as the speed of the train allowed. As Taekjoo enjoyed the fresh air, Zhenya came out of the shower. He could barely fit inside the booth, yet somehow, he’d managed to dress himself in it. At this point, it wasn’t just a habit or obsession—it bordered on magic.
Taekjoo hunched his body from the cold. Zhenya gave him a questioning look.
“You look cold. Why are you torturing yourself?”
He knew the reason better than anyone, yet here he was, feigning ignorance. Taekjoo stared daggers at the shameless face before slamming the window shut. The bitter smell seemed to have finally left.
He felt tired. After all, he didn’t get proper sleep the night before. Taekjoo didn’t feel like eating either. Zhenya, seeing how gaunt Taekjoo was becoming, smirked.
“My, my. I didn’t know you’d hang around and enjoy the show. Most people would have just left to give the couple some privacy.”
Taekjoo was so baffled he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Most people would have sex in private, with just the two of them from the start. It annoyed Taekjoo that Zhenya was pretending to be embarrassed when he clearly wasn’t. It was obvious Zhenya was making fun of him, so he responded just as shamelessly.
“Why would I leave when I have a high-quality porn playing right in front of me?”
“I agree, the quality was good.”
Zhenya nodded as if he understood what Taekjoo was thinking. But Taekjoo wasn’t giving him a compliment. He was obviously mocking him, but the bastard stood tall, chin up. Did it really make him feel that good? Taekjoo asked himself.
“You sure know how to flatter someone,” said Zhenya.
Taekjoo became sure—there was something wrong with Zhenya’s head or the way his brain worked. He took mockery as compliments and even felt proud of it. Taekjoo didn’t bother responding. He gave up. He didn’t have to dampen the spirits of someone who was optimistic, albeit in the strangest affairs. Not to mention, if the person on the receiving end didn’t understand sarcasm, it was just a waste of the speaker’s time.
The two had started their journey to Beijing the day before. Eventually, Boris of Sonchev revealed that the North Korean engineer, Hong Yeowook, would be boarding the Trans-Siberian train disguised as a Chinese tourist. The Bogdanovs would contact Hong before he arrived in Moscow, but Boris had yet to find out the location and time. He also said that SS-29 was currently being transferred to a safe location and that he didn’t know where its final destination would be. The information had many gaps, but it didn’t matter. Taekjoo simply had to follow Hong, and he would lead them to SS-29.
Last night, Hong Yeowook was confirmed to have boarded the train. Just like Boris had said, he was disguised as a Chinese national. His seat was on the second-class compartment. He seemed to be alone, but was he really? It was yet to be confirmed. Bogdanov’s dogs could be on the train already, watching him. This possibility was also why Taekjoo didn’t apprehend Hong right away.
If the Bogdanov party found out that someone was tailing Hong Yeowook, then they might give up getting in contact with him altogether. Then everything would fall apart. Taekjoo had to be very careful, extra cautious.
“Speaking of, what did you do with Boris? You said you’d take care of him.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You didn’t take care of him six feet under, did you?”
“I considered it...”
Zhenya trailed off, smiling. And? Taekjoo urged him to continue. His stare was beyond disapproving. It was fierce and hostile. He couldn’t tell whether Zhenya was doing it on purpose or not, but Zhenya kept grinning for a while before answering him.
“I just locked him up. Who knows, he could come in handy in the future.”
“What if he escapes?”
“So you did want me to kill him. How barbaric.”
“That’s not what I said. But it would undo everything we’ve done if he yaps.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Can I trust you?”
“Of course. He’d never be able to get out of there without my order.”
His words seemed suspicious yet strangely reassuring at the same time. Yes, it was paradoxical, but that was how Taekjoo felt. Now, all he had to do was focus on Hong Yeowook.
Taekjoo looked out the window and saw a vast field of land. The bleakness of winter was the same everywhere. Here and there, he spotted animals left out, and the way they stood on their four limbs seemed lonely, alone in the vastness.
The scenery stayed the same, the horizon stretching on despite the occasional threat to break it. It quickly bored Taekjoo and made him feel drowsy.
Taekjoo checked his watch while yawning. He flinched and hurriedly pulled out his bag. On the outside, it looked like an ordinary briefcase. But it was actually a satellite device that redirected nearby cellular signals. It allowed Taekjoo to communicate freely. He could make his call like it was made from Korea if he wanted to.
Taekjoo turned on the device and typed in some commands. Soon, it began rerouting nearby signals. Taekjoo put in his earphone and dialed a phone number.
Zhenya, with his arms crossed, watched what Taekjoo was doing. Zhenya was about to head out for breakfast—maybe to check on Hong Yeowook while he was at it. He hadn’t intended to wait for Taekjoo, but seeing him hurry piqued his curiosity. He wondered who Taekjoo was rushing to call.
“네, 어머니. 저예요[9].”
Taekjoo’s mom picked up the phone right away. She was upset that Taekjoo was a bit late in calling her, and Taekjoo had to calm her down. He was no longer aware of Zhenya’s presence.
Taekjoo began speaking a string of unfamiliar words. Zhenya had met a few North Koreans for work, and the similarity let him know that Taekjoo was speaking Korean. But Zhenya wasn’t fluent. He couldn’t tell who Taekjoo was talking to or what he was saying. However, he could tell that Taekjoo’s tone had softened considerably, as if trying to reassure the person on the other end. Zhenya tried to guess who it might be based on this. Another clue was the faint voice escaping from the earphones. It belonged to a woman. Not just any woman, but someone more than a one-night stand—someone with whom Taekjoo had a long-standing relationship.
Zhenya took out his phone and ran his translator app. Just as he’d expected, Taekjoo was speaking in Korean, and he kept repeating the word uhmuhnee[10]. Zhenya scoffed once he realized who it was. The man was being overly gentle—not to his girlfriend, but to his mother.
The call didn’t last long. Taekjoo sighed as soon as he hung up and gathered the device to stash it away. Then he suddenly looked up. He met eyes with Zhenya, who had been smirking down at him the whole time. It was so obvious what he was dying to say, but Taekjoo pretended he hadn’t noticed. He put away the briefcase and sat back down. And Zhenya started roasting Taekjoo right away.
“I’ve always wanted to see what a mama’s boy looked like. Who knew, he’d be right in front of my eyes.”
“It’s always people who know nothing that speak like they know everything.”
“Was it too close to home?”
“Believe me, I wish it was as simple as being a mama’s boy.”
Taekjoo shook his head in frustration. Zhenya didn’t care about other people’s families. He wasn’t the least bit interested. The man was usually as rigid as a wooden log. But he had softened like cotton candy—just for a moment—before turning back into a log again. Zhenya couldn’t help but be curious. Why was he taking on the tiring role of being a mama’s boy?
“I’m all ears,” said Zhenya.
“You have no idea how hard it is being the last one alive. You carry all the love, worry, and expectations your family had for the ones who are gone—doubling, even tripling, the weight already on your shoulders. You know she’d have a breakdown from all the worry, so you lie about everything, hide the truth, and pretend to be fine. If my mother finds out where I am and what I’m about to do, she’ll keel over. She thinks I’m in some remote region, working for the local gover—”
Taekjoo suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Surprisingly, Zhenya was absorbed in Taekjoo’s story and frowned when he stopped.
“Why’d you stop talking?”
“It’s not important.”
Taekjoo leaned back and shut his mouth. He picked up a thick book. It was his way of saying he was done speaking. Zhenya reached out and closed the cover Taekjoo had just flipped. Again, their eyes met.
“We have all the time in the world to talk,” said Zhenya.
“Well, I’m not bored enough to drag you through my family history. I brought a lot of books with me, you see.”
Taekjoo gestured at his bag, and indeed, there were enough books to entertain him for six days.
Zhenya smirked, then scanned Taekjoo from head to toe. His eyes lit up like he’d just been hit with something new and exciting. Taekjoo pretended not to have seen it. He even picked up another book and offered to lend it to Zhenya.
“No thanks. I’m not really interested in a one-way conversation. If I get bored, I’ll just bring in a woman.”
Right—thought Taekjoo to himself.
He shook his head and fixed his eyes on the book. Zhenya didn’t bother him anymore but simply left the compartment. As always, he didn’t tell Taekjoo where he was going—despite being partners on the mission.
Zhenya left, and he closed the door behind him. Taekjoo’s eyes, which had been fixed on the book, moved toward the door. The tension in his shoulders finally eased. He would still tense up whenever Zhenya studied him with scrutinizing eyes.
Taekjoo could see the destroyer inside Zhenya—the violent monster he was hiding inside. Now and then, the monster would surface—revealing a barbaric cruelty usually buried deep in his core. He was like an apex predator, letting its prey roam free only to savor the thrill of the eventual hunt. Taekjoo’s survival instinct dictated that he should stay away from Zhenya. No matter how often he reminded himself they were on the same side, he couldn’t let his guard down.