After that, they went at it three more times or so. Since Taekjoo was barely conscious, it might’ve been even more. Giving his body up again and again in one night, Taekjoo found himself wondering. If they really kept going for three straight days, would it kill someone? His blood and fluids would run out long before he starved, and kill him. At some point, he couldn’t feel anything below his waist. Maybe the drug was wearing off. The high finally faded, leaving only raw, biting pain.
He slowly opened his eyes at the feeling of the mattress shifting under him. Through a blur, he saw Zhenya walking away. He headed straight toward the wall behind the bed—the one with the Bogdanov family photo.
Standing in front of it, Zhenya casually slid the frame aside. Behind it, a hidden door appeared. With practiced fingers, Zhenya punched in a password. The door unlocked with a mechanical click, opening easily. Inside, rows of glass bottles lined the shelves, filled with unmarked substances. Zhenya grabbed one and came back to the bed.
“You know what this is?”
Zhenya asked, shaking the small bottle lightly. Taekjoo didn’t answer. He didn’t even have the strength to move his lips. Zhenya didn’t wait for a reply.
“This is Polonium-210. Consider it an artifact of the failed Anastasia project.”
Taekjoo’s eyes flew open at the name. Polonium-210, an element that releases alpha particles thousands of times more potent than radium. Only about a hundred grams were made each year worldwide. Just the tiniest amount inside the human body could be fatal.
Zhenya picked up Taekjoo’s hand and lifted each finger one at a time. Zhenya murmured softly like he was humming to himself.
“Where should I start? Chopping off all your fingers? The body by the Baikal—poetic enough for a title. I’ll let your partner take care of your frozen corpse. He tried so hard to get in touch with you. He’d be pretty upset, though, about the way you stabbed him in the back.”
Partner? Taekjoo couldn’t think of anyone who fit the description. But the phrase be pretty upset, though, about the way you stabbed him in the back brought someone to mind. Could he have been Taekjoo’s real partner?
Zhenya didn’t give Taekjoo time to figure it out. He loaded the Polonium-210 into a syringe right before Taekjoo’s eyes. Zhenya drew back the plunger, and a clear liquid filled the barrel.
“They don’t want you coming home. It’s the NIS—they didn’t send you that wrong photo by accident.”
Taekjoo’s thoughts spun, overwhelmed by everything hitting him all at once. His heart pounded—not just from fear of dying, but from something darker, some terrible suspicion gnawing at him. Like he’d missed something the whole time. What was it?
Zhenya flicked the syringe to release the air bubbles.
“Or maybe you stumbled across something your boss wanted buried.”
Zhenya voiced his guess as he pressed the plunger slightly. A tiny squirt of liquid escaped the needle. Zhenya then picked up both of Taekjoo’s arms.
Taekjoo’s body tensed up. Was this how he would die? It couldn’t be. He couldn’t die without knowing the truth. But his body was too far gone to fight back. The sharp needle hovered just inches away.
Then, out of nowhere, Taekjoo shoved Zhenya’s shoulder hard. Where that strength came from, he didn’t know. Zhenya looked stunned but quickly regained control. He overpowered Taekjoo’s frantic resistance in a single, fluid motion. Without hesitation, he drove the needle into Taekjoo’s neck.
“—Ugh!”
Taekjoo’s brows twisted in pain. The needle pierced so deeply that blood welled up instantly. Red spread through the syringe like ink in water. Smirking, Zhenya pressed the plunger, injecting every last drop. The fluid that sloshed inside the syringe disappeared into Taekjoo’s veins.
Suddenly, Taekjoo’s head reeled. His arms dropped limp. His vision shattered into pieces, then scattered. Is this it? In the background, he heard something clicking—opening and shutting—familiar, metallic. A cigar cutter?
A low humming filled the air. Then, someone grabbed Taekjoo’s ring finger. The clicking got louder. Closer. And then came the white-hot pain, which sliced through his finger like it was being severed.
“Ну ты и глупая зайка.”[11]
A dark sneer echoed in his ear. Whether the finger was actually cut off or not, the pain was real and rising fast. So what now? With that futile thought, Kwon Taekjoo’s mind slipped into darkness.
✦ ✦ ✦
6. Counterattack
✦ ✦ ✦
Somebody was humming. The shadow swayed to the tune, visible beyond the eyelids. The fingers were cut off. The limbs and torso were also halved. The body, cut into pieces like a fish, quickly lost its warmth. The blood circulating throughout the entire body was drawn out. The body had turned into a piece of pale meat, as if bleached. There was no pain. There was no thought. I’m going to die. This thought was the only thing in existence as consciousness faded.
The limbs were frozen. The body felt buoyant, as though it were floating. It also felt like sinking into deep waters. A strong smell of alcohol passed the tip of the nose, and soon, complete darkness reigned. Ice-cold water bubbled as it filled every pore and opening of the body. A briny scent hung in the air.
Fish as black as night emerged from the gloom. One, two, three—more kept coming, their eyes flashing white in the darkness. They circled around the body, exploring their new prey. Then, one of them buried its teeth into the flesh. With that, the rest began chewing away at the bloated body.
A black silhouette appeared through blurry vision, but the face wasn’t visible, nor was the voice audible. He moved closer to get a better look, but the silhouette stepped back the same amount, keeping the distance between them the same. The black figure circled around. At first slowly, then suddenly so quickly that it was hard to follow its movement. His eyes followed the figure, darting in their sockets, and his breath was caught in his throat. When the figure had circled as fast as it could, it dissolved and dispersed into meaningless vapor.
Do not forget your promise to Father.
A voice echoed from the dissipating swirl of vapor. It was a voice, but not a human one. Taekjoo quickly turned in the direction it came from, but the black fog did not reassemble into the figure it had been. Am I dead? Is that why I’m seeing spirits of the dead and hearing them? Why can I still think? Why is my consciousness still here instead of fading away?
He floated up and down until a thick fog formed out of nowhere and brushed past him. He turned quickly to look. The fog had taken the shape of a figure. It was larger than the previous one. Its movements were more like a beast’s.
It’s him. Realizing who it was, he stepped back instinctively. The more he backed away, the larger the figure grew.
Stay away.
The silent scream tore through the space.
In the next moment, the massive fog surged forward and swallowed him whole. His entire body felt like it was being submerged in thick, dark ink. He couldn’t breathe. The pain he had forgotten returned, more real than ever. Every bone and joint felt as if a saw were cutting through it. The parts where flesh had been torn off burned so intensely that he could hardly endure it. The black figure, after devouring him in one gulp, soon broke apart and faded into a cold, smirking whiteness.
Ну ты и глупая зайка.