They couldn't even give me one damn day, could they? he thought bitterly. Just one day to be normal. To be human. To see my mom. Is that too much to ask?
He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, letting out a slow, steady breath. His mom's face flashed in his mind—her warm smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed. She'd been so excited when he told her he'd be coming home for his birthday. "I'll make all your favorites," she'd said over the phone, her voice brimming with affection. He could practically hear the faint sound of chopping vegetables in the background as she prepared for his arrival.
Now, he wasn't even sure if he'd make it home before midnight. The thought made his chest ache, a dull, hollow pain that settled somewhere between his heart and his stomach.
Eun-jae closed his eyes, trying to block out the gnawing disappointment. He didn't have time for emotions—not in this line of work. But damn it, today was supposed to be different.
In-su glanced at him nervously, his hands fidgeting on the steering wheel. "Sunbae, uh…do you think—"
"Don't," Eun-jae interrupted, his voice low and warning. "Just drive."
The younger agent nodded quickly, wisely choosing to stay silent for the rest of the ride.
As the car sped through the city streets, Eun-jae couldn't help but wonder how he'd ended up here—always on the move, always answering someone else's call, always putting duty above himself. The life of a spy wasn't glamorous, despite what the movies made it seem. It was lonely, exhausting, and, on days like this, deeply unsatisfying.
One day, he thought to himself. Just one day where I can be something other than Agent Helix.
But deep down, Eun-jae knew better. There was no such thing as "one day" in his world.
Eun-jae finally arrived at the agency, his boots clicking against the polished floors as he was led through a maze of hallways by a junior staff member. His hair was slightly tousled from the ride, and his leather jacket gave him the aura of someone who didn't belong in a place so sterile and professional. The junior agent stopped at a large door, bowing slightly before pushing it open for him.
Eun-jae gave a small, curt nod and stepped inside.
As he entered, his sharp eyes quickly scanned the room. A long, polished conference table dominated the space, flanked by members of the board of directors. Their suits were impeccable, their gazes sharp and assessing. The room reeked of authority and power, and Eun-jae felt a prickle of irritation creep up his spine.
"The board of directors," he thought with an internal groan. "Of course, it's not enough to be dragged back from my day off—they had to make it a whole performance."
"Good morning, Agent Helix," one of the directors greeted, a woman in her late forties with an unnervingly calm demeanor. Eun-jae bowed politely in return, masking his frustration with a well-practiced neutral expression.
"How was the mission in Seoul?" Director Jin asked, his lips curling into a smirk that set Eun-jae's nerves on edge.
"It was fine," Eun-jae replied with a slight shrug, his tone clipped. "No thanks to the lack of intel you all gave me," he added internally but wisely kept that part to himself.
"Any casualties?" another director asked.
"No, sir," Eun-jae replied, forcing himself to remain calm despite their probing stares.
"Good, good," Director Jin said, leaning back in his chair. "You're efficient as always."
"Anyways…" Eun-jae began, plastering on a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What do I owe the pleasure of being called here so early?"
Inside, he was anything but composed. His thoughts raced with annoyance. "I swear, if this is another drawn-out debrief for something they already know, I'll scream. No, I'll actually scream and maybe quit."
Director Jin's smirk widened, and that was enough to set off alarm bells in Eun-jae's mind.
"We have a new assignment for you," Jin said smoothly.
Eun-jae stiffened, his smile faltering. "Of course you do," he thought bitterly. "Why let me have a single day of peace when you can throw another disaster my way?"
"It's a high-priority mission," another director added. "We're sending you to Russia."
The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. Eun-jae blinked once, twice, as he processed what they'd just said.
"Russia? Are they serious? I just got back from Seoul. Do these people think I'm some kind of machine? Or maybe they just enjoy watching me suffer," he thought, his jaw clenching.
"Russia," Eun-jae repeated flatly, his voice dripping with skepticism. "As in, the largest country in the world? The one currently in the middle of, let's see... political unrest, freezing temperatures, and vodka shortages? That Russia?"
A few of the directors exchanged uneasy glances, but Director Jin simply chuckled. "Yes, that Russia. Don't worry, Agent Helix. We've already made the arrangements."
"Oh, well, that's a relief," Eun-jae said sarcastically, crossing his arms. "What would I do without your perfect planning?"
"Agent Helix," Jin said, his tone hardening slightly, "you will be briefed on the specifics shortly. But the gist is this: there's a prototype weapon known as seraphim. It's capable of devastating destruction if it falls into the wrong hands. And right now, it's in the wrong hands."
Eun-jae's brow furrowed. "Let me guess—Bes Ilay."
The room fell silent, confirming his suspicion. Bes Ilay was a name whispered in fear even among the most hardened agents. A ruthless, unpredictable operative who had climbed his way to infamy in the Russian underworld. If Bes Ilay was involved, this mission wasn't just dangerous—it was a death sentence.
"Great," Eun-jae muttered under his breath. "This just keeps getting better."
"Your objective is to retrieve the weapon and neutralize Ilay," another director said. "You'll have a local contact in Moscow who will assist you."
"Neutralize Ilay?" Eun-jae echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You make it sound like I'm going to swat a fly. Bes Ilay isn't just some thug with a gun—he's a goddamn ghost. And now you want me to waltz into his backyard and take him down?"
"That's why we're sending you," Jin said smoothly. "You're our best."
Eun-jae stared at him for a long moment, his thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and disbelief. "Oh, I'm your best? Funny, because I'm pretty sure being the best doesn't mean being treated like a disposable pawn."
"Fine," Eun-jae finally said, his voice tight. "But don't expect me to send a postcard."
Jin smirked again. "We wouldn't dream of it."
As Eun-jae turned to leave, his mind was already racing. "Russia, Bes Ilay, a prototype weapon... Happy birthday to me, I guess."
Eun-jae hesitated at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. Something wasn't sitting right with him. He turned back, narrowing his eyes at Director Jin, his irritation morphing into suspicion.
"Wait a second," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "You're being too vague. What's the catch here? Why me? Why now? And don't give me that 'you're our best' crap—I've heard it a million times. Spill it."
The room grew quiet, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Jin's smirk faltered ever so slightly, but he quickly recovered, lacing his fingers together on the table.
"This mission isn't just high-priority, Agent Helix," Jin began, his tone shifting to something more serious. "It's classified at the highest level. You were chosen because... well, let's just say others before you didn't succeed."
Eun-jae's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'others'? How many agents are we talking about here?"
Jin sighed, motioning to one of the assistants in the room. A moment later, a file was placed on the table. Jin opened it, sliding a photo across the table toward Eun-jae.
Eun-jae picked it up, his stomach lurching at the sight. It was a picture of a body—or what was left of it. The face was unrecognizable, charred and mutilated. The person's hands were tied, their lifeless form slumped against a wall marked with blood.
"This was Agent Song," Jin said quietly. "One of the best field operatives we had."
Eun-jae's fingers tightened around the photo. "And the others?"
Jin motioned for more photos to be handed over. Each one showed the same grim fate: bodies in various states of mutilation, their identities barely discernible. Eun-jae's jaw clenched as he flipped through them, his stomach knotting.
"All of them," Jin said, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "We sent three teams. None of them made it back. The last communication we received was weeks ago. Then, these photos were delivered anonymously."
"Jesus," Eun-jae muttered, tossing the photos back onto the table. He rubbed his temples, trying to process what he'd just seen. "And you're sending me to follow in their footsteps? Great plan. Really inspired stuff."
Jin leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Eun-jae's. "This isn't just about the mission, Agent Helix. This is about proving that the agency still has control. If Bes Ilay keeps that weapon, we're looking at a catastrophic shift in global power. You're the only one with the skills to handle this."
Eun-jae laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Oh, so I'm disposable now? Nice to know where I stand."
"You won't be going in as yourself," Jin said, ignoring his sarcasm. "We've prepared a new identity for you."
Eun-jae raised an eyebrow. "A new identity? What, are you going to stick me in some cheap wig and fake mustache?"
"Not quite," Jin replied, smirking slightly as he motioned to another assistant. A small case was brought forward and opened, revealing a lifelike silicon mask, complete with realistic features. Beside it were identification documents, a Russian passport, and a wallet filled with fake credit cards.
"You'll be going in as Nikolai Ivanov," Jin explained. "A Ukrainian ambassador. The mask will give you a new face, and we've ensured the documents are foolproof. You'll also need to brush up on your Russian."
Eun-jae stared at the mask, his skepticism evident. "A Ukrainian ambassador? Seriously? What happens if they decide to double-check this 'Nikolai Ivanov' character and realize he doesn't exist?"
"They won't," Jin said confidently. "Our tech team has already planted digital breadcrumbs to make your identity airtight. As far as anyone's concerned, Nikolai Ivanov is real."
Eun-jae crossed his arms again, leaning back. "And what's my story, then? Do I walk in and say, 'Hi, I'm Nikolai. Heard you had a shiny new weapon and thought I'd take a peek?'"
Jin's lips twitched in amusement. "You'll infiltrate through one of Ilay's known contacts, someone we believe is looking to betray him. Your mission is to gain their trust, get close to Ilay, and retrieve the weapon. Neutralize him if necessary."
"Neutralize?" Eun-jae repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Right, because taking down someone who's single-handedly wiped out three teams is just another Tuesday for me."
"You'll have support," Jin added. "Your contact in Moscow will assist with logistics. But once you're inside, you'll be on your own."
Eun-jae let out a long breath, staring down at the mask. "So let me get this straight: I'm supposed to pretend to be some made-up guy, infiltrate a psychotic criminal's operation, steal his shiny death machine, and possibly kill him—all without backup?"
"That's the gist of it," Jin said with a straight face.
Eun-jae groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But when I come back—and I will come back—you owe me a week off. No calls, no missions, just me, my bike, and my mom's cooking. Deal?"
"Deal," Jin said, extending a hand.
Eun-jae ignored it, grabbing the mask and documents instead. "I hope you're right about this 'Nikolai Ivanov' nonsense. If I get killed because of a paperwork error, I'm coming back to haunt you."
With a sigh that carried the weight of his reluctance, Eun-jae turned on his heel and left the conference room, his boots clicking against the polished floor. His thoughts were already racing ahead to the grueling hours he'd soon spend on a cramped flight to Moscow. "Russia. Freaking Russia. Couldn't they have picked somewhere warmer? Maybe a nice tropical island with a peaceful mission involving zero psychopaths?"
Just as he reached the door, a soft voice called after him. "Agent Helix."
He stopped mid-step, turning his head slightly to see a female director approaching him. She wasn't someone he interacted with often, but there was a warmth in her expression that caught him off guard. In her hands was a bouquet of roses, their crimson petals vibrant against the otherwise cold and sterile atmosphere of the agency.
"Happy birthday," she said with a small smile, extending the bouquet toward him. "And good luck."
For a brief moment, Eun-jae didn't know how to respond. Flowers weren't exactly on his radar of things he expected today. He blinked, then managed to plaster a polite smile on his face. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly as he accepted the bouquet. "Roses? Really? What am I supposed to do with roses? Put them on my desk and admire them while I'm being shipped off to freeze my ass off in Russia?"
As he straightened up, Director Jin's voice cut through the air, his tone laced with a sharpness that was impossible to ignore. "Agent Helix."
Eun-jae turned his head slightly, his eyebrow arching in silent inquiry. Jin's expression was unreadable, but there was a weight to his words when he said, "Don't die."
Eun-jae's lips twitched into the faintest smirk, though his eyes remained serious. "Not planning on it," he replied coolly, his voice low but resolute. With a curt nod, he turned and exited the room, the bouquet of roses dangling awkwardly from one hand.
Outside the conference room, In-su was loitering near the hallway, clearly waiting for him. The younger agent straightened up the moment he spotted Eun-jae, his eyes darting curiously to the flowers in his hand. Eun-jae, without breaking stride, tossed the bouquet toward him.
"F-for me, sunbae?" In-su stammered, catching the bouquet with a mix of surprise and confusion.
Eun-jae gave a noncommittal hum, already walking past him. "Better he holds onto those than me. I don't have time to be carrying around romantic clichés."
In-su, still clutching the roses, jogged to keep up. "I, uh... I heard about your mission. Russia, huh? That's a tough one."
Eun-jae glanced at him briefly but said nothing, his expression unreadable.
"Good luck, sunbae," In-su added after a beat, his tone unusually sincere. "And, you know, don't die."
Eun-jae stopped for a split second, letting the words sink in. "Don't die. Everyone loves saying that, like it's just a simple suggestion. As if I haven't made dodging death my entire job description."
He nodded once, a gesture more out of courtesy than anything else, and resumed walking. Behind him, In-su watched as Eun-jae strode away with the same unshakable confidence he always carried, even when heading toward danger.
Eun-jae's thoughts churned as he made his way toward the agency's exit. "Russia. Bes Ilay. Seraphim. Just another day at the office, right? Happy freaking birthday to me. Let's hope the next one doesn't come with a death wish attached."
Eun-jae stood in the bathroom of the airport, leaning over the sink as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The fluorescent lights above cast a harsh glow on his face, or rather, the face he was wearing. His gloved fingers brushed against the edges of the silicone mask that clung to his skin seamlessly, transforming his features into something unrecognizable. The added glasses perched on his nose completed the illusion, making him look like an entirely different person—a mundane, forgettable traveler.
He exhaled sharply, his breath fogging up the mirror for a brief second. His mind, however, wasn't on the mask or even the mission that loomed ahead. It had wandered back to memories he'd long tried to bury, memories of his mother and his sister.
"Eun-ji," he thought, her name echoing painfully in his mind. His older sister had been everything to him growing up—a fierce protector, a constant source of guidance, and his hero in so many ways. He could still picture her in her crisp military uniform, her short hair neatly combed back, and her confident smile that promised she'd be back soon. She had always been so sure of herself, so sure of her path.
But she never came back.
The plane crash had shattered their world. He remembered the night they got the call—his mother collapsing to her knees, wailing in grief. Eun-jae had been too young to fully grasp the enormity of it at the time, but the absence of his sister had left a gaping hole in their family. And after that, it had only been him and his mom.
"She gave everything for her country," Eun-jae thought bitterly, his fingers tightening around the sink's edge. "And what did she get in return? A folded flag and a letter of condolences. That's it."
When he told his mother he wanted to become an agent, she had reacted exactly as he'd expected. She had begged him not to.
"Why, Eun-jae? Why would you want to put yourself in danger like this? Haven't we lost enough? Haven't I lost enough?" Her words still haunted him. He remembered the tears streaming down her face, her hands trembling as she clung to his arm, desperate to change his mind.
But Eun-jae had been stubborn. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to protect people in ways his sister hadn't been able to. Yet, every time he suited up for a mission, he couldn't shake the guilt that gnawed at him. He knew his mother didn't sleep on the nights he was gone. He knew she stayed up praying, clutching a photo of him and Eun-ji, begging for him to come back alive.
He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head as he stared at his masked reflection. "Maybe I'm just selfish," he thought. "Selfish for wanting this life when it's the last thing she wanted for me. Selfish for making her live in constant fear."
He adjusted the mask slightly, ensuring the edges were secure before putting on the glasses. The transformation was complete. He was no longer Eun-jae, the boy who had once cried into his mother's lap after scraping his knee. He wasn't Eun-jae, the younger brother who used to follow Eun-ji around like a shadow, begging her to teach him how to throw a punch. No, this version of him was someone else entirely—someone with no attachments, no history, no fears. Just a tool for the mission.
But even as he stared at his disguised face, he couldn't silence the voice in his head. "What if this is the last time I see her? What if this mission goes south and she loses another child? Would it be worth it?"
He shook his head, gripping the edge of the sink tightly. "No. I'll make it back. I have to."
Straightening up, Eun-jae took a deep breath, slipping into the persona he needed to be. He grabbed his carry-on bag and headed out of the bathroom, his footsteps purposeful. As he made his way through the bustling airport, blending seamlessly into the crowd, one thought repeated in his mind like a mantra.
"I'll come back, Maa. I promise."