Salman was just getting his cast removed when Taekjoo showed up. The doctor warned Salman he wasn’t fully healed and needed to take it easy. Salman was only discharged after promising the doctor he would. He noticed Taekjoo as he moved his newly freed arm around awkwardly.
“The nurse said you had been gone since early morning. Where have you been?”
“Are you really calling it quits?”
Taekjoo ignored the question and cut straight to the point. Salman stared at him, then shrugged.
“And what happens if I don’t?”
“What was your reward for completing the mission?”
“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It might. So tell me.”
Salman didn’t see the point. He didn’t answer and just watched Taekjoo. Taekjoo looked strangely excited. Had something happened last night?
Salman figured Taekjoo would keep bothering him until he answered.
“Funds for independence.”
“Chechnya?” asked Taekjoo.
Salman nodded. Zhenya, a Russian, said he was in it for Anastasia blueprint. He claimed it was worth the risk, which seemed unlikely. He would be committing treason and risking his life despite already having everything. Compared to that, Salman’s reason sounded much more believable.
It also explained how the two knew each other. The FSB monitored Chechnya closely and even stationed special forces under the guise of riot prevention squads. Salman had been hand-picked by the US and South Korea for the mission, proof of skill and political influence. To Russia, he was a nuisance, a pesky mosquito they were desperate to swat away, which made Zhenya his natural enemy.
Realizing who Salman really was, Taekjoo found himself with a new question. Lim had ordered him to secure Anastasia blueprint. Salman must have received the same order. So if both succeeded, who would it belong to? South Korea, who sent Kwon Taekjoo? Or the US, which had struck a deal with Salman?
“What happens if we get Anastasia?”
The next moment, Salman pulled out a gun. Its black barrel was pointed straight at Kwon Taekjoo.
“I was given one more mission.”
Salman’s face had hardened. His sharp gaze locked on Taekjoo, unblinking. His extended arm did not waver. He had the gaze of a sniper. Taekjoo met his cold stare, and a conversation came back to him.
They don’t want you coming home. It’s the NIS—they didn’t send you that wrong photo by accident.
At the time, Taekjoo hadn’t taken it seriously. He hadn’t had the luxury to entertain a possibility like that.
Or maybe you stumbled across something your boss wanted buried.
These were nothing more than Zhenya’s speculations. Taekjoo couldn’t even begin to guess what it might be. Now, Taekjoo was presented with a chance to find out the truth—and he might as well take it.
“And is that order from the US or Korea?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“C’mon, do me a favor. I’m a dead man walking anyway.”
Taekjoo’s tone was light, playful even, as he pleaded. Salman, who’d looked as impenetrable as a rock, lowered his gun and let out a laugh.
“It’s over now anyway. Why do you want to know?”
“I want to know because it’s over.”
“If you insist. South Korea gave the order to kill. The US offered me funding for independence. You know, I’ve wondered too—what did you do back home to end up here with a kill order on you?”
“Beats me. I’d like to know that myself.”
Salman gave Taekjoo a look of disbelief. But Taekjoo wasn’t lying. He had no idea why he was being eliminated. He made a mental note to dig into it once he was back home.
But there was something more urgent right now. He remembered why he had come to find Salman. His thoughts were still jumbled, and they spilled out in the same manner.
“Zhenya—no, Psikh, that bastard—shot a politician dead at a party at the Bogdanov mansion. I thought he’d be wanted immediately, but nothing happened. The politician was an official guest of the Bogdanovs. How did he get away with it?”
“I heard about that too. It’s hard to believe, but that’s just who they are.”
“And what about leaking classified intel when he knew I was a spy? Is that just... who they are too?”
“Classified intel, huh. Depends on the significance of the information, I suppose.”
“Apparently, Russia’s developing a new ICBM. The SS-29, I think. It had a critical flaw, and a North Korean engineer was brought in to fix it. I thought that was Anastasia. That’s why I chased the engineer all the way to Olkhon.”
Salman had been listening calmly, but confusion now clouded his expression. Psikh had brought Taekjoo to the party, knowing full well he was a spy. Not only that, he’d leaked military secrets and murdered a politician. He committed all kinds of treason just to keep up the act of being Taekjoo’s partner.
Yet there had never been any word of Zhenya being punished or getting into trouble. Zhenya was a Bogdanov, sure, but he had caused too much chaos for the name alone to protect him. Seeing doubt on Salman’s face, Taekjoo offered a theory.
“Maybe there’s a reason he gets away with everything.”
“What kind of reason?”
“Like... maybe he has Anastasia.”
Salman looked stunned at the suggestion. But he quickly regained his composure and shook his head.
“That’s not possible. Anastasia is a weapon developed jointly by Russia and North Korea over the years. No way they’d hand it over to some punk who’s barely pushing thirty.”
Taekjoo handed over the materials he’d brought, the news clippings neatly organized by incident.
“The deceased—every one of them worked on Anastasia. Coincidentally, they all died on the same day, either in unavoidable accidents or from mysterious causes.”
“You’re saying all this is murder?”
“If what Psikh told me was true, think about it. What would’ve happened if Project Anastasia failed? Russia and North Korea wouldn’t have wanted the world to know. It was their ultimate weapon of mass destruction. That name alone was enough to terrify the world, even if it wasn’t complete. And the fact you and I are here facing each other is proof enough. If it failed, it would’ve been nothing more than a dead-end project, with its legacy and reputation shattered. Even if they started over, it wouldn’t have the same influence. Maybe that’s why they tried to hide everything—the research, the progress, even the scientists. And to make that work, they’d have had to silence everyone who knew the details.”
Salman’s brows furrowed in disbelief. His eyes stayed skeptical, but Taekjoo nodded, confirming Salman’s suspicion.
“They killed everyone. So no one could reveal that Anastasia had failed. And no one could ever rebuild it.”
Salman let out a low breath. If the countries involved were Russia and North Korea, then yes, this was believable. He could easily believe they had done it.
“They would’ve had to eliminate dozens of people in a short time, without raising suspicion. Who do you think would’ve done the job?”
“A job like that? It has to be the FSB...”
“But not just anyone—they would need someone for an extreme case like that.”
By the time Taekjoo finished, Salman could think of only one person—the sole agent in FSB Alpha Division III and third son of the Bogdanov family, one of Anastasia’s top funders. No one was better qualified than he was to execute the final stage of the project, which meant purging everyone involved.
Maybe the government had planned to eliminate Zhenya afterward. But they didn’t. The Bogdanov family remained powerful—actually, even more influential than before. It was quite strange. Why would the Kremlin harbor such a ticking time bomb?