Lover

1

Why is a stranger staring at you so intently?

The speaker’s vibration made the floor rumble. It was as if the vibration was the heartbeat of the people. In ancient times, when performing rituals or going to war, they might have beaten drums for this effect. The vibration felt like a heartbeat, and soon enough, my synchronized heart was beating pleasantly.

Half-lying on the plush sofa, I was drinking and joking around with my friend and colleague, Lee Martin. The music in the club was so loud that we had to stick close together and shout into each other’s ears to have a conversation.

“So? Am I really allowed to be here?!”

“Don’t worry! Can’t your big brother treat you to a drink?”

“You idiot, this isn’t even your money!”

When I scolded him, Lee filled my glass to the brim with a look that said, ‘Who cares about that?’ Glancing at the bottle, I saw it was expensive liquor.

This bastard, is he really allowed to pour this?

I wouldn’t refuse a drink offered to me, but I wasn’t sure if I should be drinking it.

“Hey, am I really drinking this?!”

“Drink up, drink up! Hey, we paid taxes too! Our money’s in there as well!”

“Are you crazy or what?!”

I burst out laughing.

This madman is buying me drinks with operation funds? Ah, is this what they call a poisoned chalice? Should I drink it or not?

As I was hesitating slightly, Lee whispered. Well, he pretended to whisper but actually yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Hey, there’s the target.”

Oh, the target.

I raised my eyes while keeping the glass to my lips.

A tall woman in a suit was ascending to the second floor with four bodyguards. The VIP area of the club. As the woman was striding down the narrow corridor lined with rooms, she suddenly turned her head. We almost made eye contact, but I quickly lowered my gaze and burrowed into Lee, asking:

“Shit, is that a man?”

“You thought it was a woman too, didn’t you?”

Lee snickered.

Of course I thought it was a woman. Because…

“Wow, what’s with that hair?”

The black hair was extremely long and flowing. With hair that long, it’s no wonder they looked like a woman. But apart from the long hair, he was definitely a man.

“I don’t know, he’s a total weirdo.”

“But why is he the target?”

“Well, he’s not exactly the target. The real target is already in the room. Those Canaris bastards.”

I shuddered at that name.

Canaris? Do I have to hear that name again even in the capital?

Seeing my disgust, Lee suddenly tilted the glass I was holding to my lips. The high-proof alcohol gushed down my throat.

Ack, as I choked from the unexpected expensive liquor waterboarding, Lee laughed uproariously.

“This bastard has gone crazy,”

Does he really want to die?

As I turned to look at Lee, he put his arm around my neck, still laughing. From afar, we must have looked very friendly. Then Lee asked, carefully, just loud enough not to be drowned out by the music but making sure others couldn’t hear:

“Hey, don’t you know Sebastian Riegel?”

“Who’s that?”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, I’ve never heard that name before.”

Really…?

Lee looked puzzled, then asked very cautiously.

“But why is that crazy long-haired weirdo staring at you so intently?”

*

Twelve hours ago, I was in Maderke.

Maderke was a small city about a seven-hour drive west of the capital. While it had several historical significances, the reason I went there wasn’t for such noble purposes.

There was a protest in Maderke, and intelligence suggested that the communist terrorist group Canaris was behind it. Our team infiltrated the protest to weed out the Canaris members causing trouble. We discovered that one of Canaris’s executives had planned the Maderke protest and robbed a bank behind the scenes. We quickly tracked them down and ended up in a standoff with the criminals who had taken hostages. After an eighteen-hour standoff, we rescued the hostages and killed the perpetrators. We tried to capture them alive, but when the chief shouted, “Are you treating the hostages’ lives as a joke? Shoot them now!” we had no choice.

The Maderke I saw as we withdrew in full gear was a mess. Flames were rising everywhere, and screams and wails of people could be heard. The sound of gunfire was constant.

Our team’s mission wasn’t to protect the protesters, nor to protect the citizens, nor to arrest those who used violence. Our mission was to track down all the Canaris members who caused this chaos in the city and either arrest or kill them.

So we just walked. We were planning to continue tracking them by vehicle. Ah, of course, we were thinking of getting some food and taking a shower before tracking.

“Stop.”

It was supposed to be a simple matter of leaving Maderke by car, but something caught my eye. As I got out of the car, one team member who was in the same car followed, and the cars behind us also stopped.

What’s the matter?

Jay asked over the headset. Jay was the leader of the remaining team left to search for any Canaris members in Maderke. The remaining team was positioned with sniper rifles at designated spots, preparing for any possible situations to ensure the safe departure of those leaving.

“Isn’t that collapsed person over there one of our company employees?”

Someone checked with binoculars and made a confused sound.

It really does look like one of our agents.

When you’re fully armed and collapsed, it’s impossible to identify who you are. But which organization you belong to is more noticeable. Because the equipment each group uses is slightly different, just a quick glance is enough to determine affiliation. Especially if it’s the same organization, you can tell right away.

Let’s just go.

Jay warned.

It could be a disaster if there’s a bomb set up. Let’s report it instead.

Jay’s suggestion that there might be a bomb planted was realistic. Those Canaris bastards don’t care about citizens’ lives at all. If they could kill even one security bureau agent, they would call the death of a hundred or a thousand citizens an ‘unavoidable sacrifice.’

Even if it wasn’t our team, or even our department, it felt awful to have to retreat when a fellow security bureau employee was sprawled out there, not knowing if they were alive or dead.

“Does it look like they’re alive?”

If they were alive, we should try to pull them out somehow. If they’re left collapsed in this city in that armed state, they’ll be killed either by angry citizens or Canaris remnants. The citizens’ anger isn’t really something we should have to deal with, but…

No, they look dead.

If it’s a corpse, there’s no need to push ourselves. I was nodding and about to return to the car when an urgent voice came over the radio.

Damn it. Boss, there’s a reporter coming from the left. Don’t turn your head.

The team member standing behind me quickly returned to the car as soon as he heard that radio message. Because there was some distance between the team member and me, he was able to go back, but I was caught.

“Hello, I’m Auer from RBS. Are you a government official?”

The reporter was a woman. Surprisingly, she seemed to have entered Maderke alone. With a small action cam attached to her body, the reporter was demanding an answer from me with a flushed face.

I wanted to remove the cam, but touching it could cause a fuss about suppressing press freedom, so I just roughly covered the lens with my hand as I passed by the reporter. But people who enter Maderke at this time are indeed not to be taken lightly. She stuck close to me.

“Just a moment, which department are you from? What mission are you on? Has the hostage situation been resolved? Are the hostages safe? Were the perpetrators killed or captured?”

Do you think I can tell you such things?

I might be able to shoot and kill Canaris bastards, but I don’t have the authority to speak about it. Pulling the trigger is what the lower ranks do, and standing in front of cameras is what the higher-ups do. Seeing that she thinks a low-ranking officer like me would have the authority to announce such things, this reporter must be a very brave rookie.

Even as I tried to avoid her, she kept following. I was cautious because if I mishandled the situation, she might even resort to physical contact. It was like we were facing off in a basketball game, both of us flinching, wondering which direction the other would dodge.

“Hello, RBS reporter.”

Turning my head at the voice from the side, I saw a familiar face.

The man in his early 30s was short with an ordinary build. Even his gray suit made him look utterly unremarkable. But I knew well how crazy this guy was. Even though my eyes must have been invisible behind my bulletproof goggles disguised as sunglasses, he winked at me and then smiled politely at the reporter.

“We’re from the Security Bureau. Please turn off your camera.”

He showed his ID. When the camera fearlessly tried to capture his ID, there was no choice. I ripped off the cam attached to the reporter’s clothes with my gloved hand.

“Is this suppression of the press?”

The reporter glared at me briefly before turning to him and asking. He made a hmm sound and smiled. His face was really ordinary. Brown hair and brown eyes. Neither too pale nor nicely tanned, just the typical skin of an average white person. Many people are fooled by his appearance – he looks like the epitome of a middle-class man in his 30s from Rotman, especially the capital.

“It’s protection, protection.”

Oh my, he smacks my hand with an exaggerated sound. I inwardly sighed and pretended to be startled, loosening my grip on the cam. The cam fell to the ground. When he stomped on the cam, crushing it, the reporter’s eyes widened. Seeing the mix of anger and fear in those eyes made me sigh.

He grinned at the reporter who looked like she was about to scream at any moment.

“File a claim with the Security Bureau.”

The reporter folded her arms, gritted her teeth, and smiled.

“Which department of the Security Bureau should I file the claim with?”

Good question. I could sense her determination to confirm which department had come to Maderke. But she picked the wrong opponent.

The man smiled with the typical civil servant’s polite but soulless smile and said:

“The complaints office.”