"I'll be right back. Don't fight."
The voice delivering the warning was low and deep.
When Kwon Taekjoo looked up, he saw
the blurry figure of a man watching him.
He couldn't see his face clearly. Without
responding, he only blinked, and the man reached out to stroke his cheek.
The touch was firm yet warm.
The weight of his hand on his head and the way his voice seemed to resonate in the
air all felt so familiar.
And he missed him.
The man who always lifted him onto his shoulders to bring him closer to the sky.
The one who taught him that learning to ride a bike meant falling down a few times.
The one who helped him understand how exhausting it was to carry the ball alone to the opponent's basket.
Before long, the blurry silhouette took on a clear shape.
It was his father.
"Can't you stay home and play with me today? It's a holiday!"
"When I finish work, we'll play as much as you want. Okay, my son?"
"...That's a lie. You're always busy, Dad. You hardly come home."
His father always made promises he couldn't keep, and as a child, Taekjoo couldn't hide his disappointment and would get sulky.
Each time that happened, his father would kneel down to his level to console his wounded little heart.
"Taekjoo, what did I say it is that Dad does?"
"Protect the country."
"That's right. If Dad protects the country, our family will be safe, and you can play freely without any worries."
"Why does only Dad have to protect the country? Why only you?"
"Hmm… All adults protect the country, just in different ways. It's a duty we all take on as citizens of a nation."
For young Kwon Taekjoo, these words were difficult and complicated to understand.
His father would tell him he'd understand everything when he grew up, never attempting to explain it too deeply.
At that moment, someone who had been watching from behind stepped forward and gently pulled him by the shoulder.
"Don't worry, Dad. I'll explain it to him."
A calm and gentle voice came from just a bit above him.
When he turned slightly, the blurred
shadow started to take a clear shape.
A boy with a kind look smiled at Kwon Taekjoo.
Sometimes he'd say, "Let's play, little brother."
"Take good care of Mom too. I'm counting on you, my sons."
At his father's request, a family photo appeared in a dark corner.
His father in uniform, his mother beaming with a bright smile, and the brothers, each resembling one of their parents.
Then, the inside of their family home filled with vibrant colors before his eyes.
The last morning with his father was no different from any other.
As usual, his father left him with several words of advice and walked out the door, never to return.
Slowly, his father's presence faded from the family photo, and his mother's bright expression vanished along with it.
From that point on, he felt his brother had changed.
Perhaps he thought it was now up to him
to protect the family in their father's place.
His brother began speaking less and spent more time reflecting alone.
He also started keeping things from their mother more frequently.
When his brother entered the military academy, it was the first time he had ever disobeyed their mother, and she was ill for days.
The night before he left for his first deployment, freshly graduated as an officer, she stayed awake with worry.
His brother always comforted their mother with kindness, never showing any signs of
weariness or impatience.
Maybe he believed it was his duty to bear the pain of having gone against their mother's only wish.
"This time, when I set sail, I won't be able to come back for two months. Look after Mom for me."
Every time he departed, his brother would send Taekjoo those words.
On the day he died in service, he did the same.
He was awarded a posthumous medal of honor in front of his portrait.
The media, in telling the story of a family that had received the medal of honor across three generations since their
grandfather, spoke endlessly of noble, righteous sacrifice.
But for those left behind, neither the promotions, nor the medals, nor the world's praise provided any comfort.
Now, in the family photo on the wall, only his mother's somber face and Kwon Taekjoo's expressionless one remained.
The house had grown so silent, it felt desolate.
He opened his eyes slowly. An unfamiliar ceiling filled his vision.
Had it been a dream?
No, it was a part of the past Kwon Taekjoo had lived through.
He lay there for a moment, memories of his childhood beginning to resurface.
His father, frequently absent from home, his death in service, his brother following in their father's footsteps as a soldier, and the
unfortunate repetition of family tragedy.
He even remembered his mother embracing him at his brother's funeral, pleading that he was now all she had left.
But that was as far as his memory went.
And even then, those memories were incomplete.
What kind of life had Kwon Taekjoo lived after that?
"Damn it… This is unbearable."
Maybe it was the sheer flood of memories coming back all at once, but the mental strain triggered an intense headache, along with a strong nausea churning his stomach.
Clutching his head with both arms, he waited for the piercing pain to subside.
The agony made his legs slide and kick over the sheets.
The sharp, relentless pain felt as though his
nerves were being devoured, driving him to hurl the pillow in a fit of frustration.
It felt like his brain was going to be crushed.
Once the headache started, it typically lasted for several minutes.
As it finally eased, he stumbled out of bed, desperate for fresh air.
He flung open the window. Outside, he saw the town's landscape unfold, with jagged, rocky formations stretching into the distance.
Colorful hot air balloons added a unique touch to the scene.
"What is this place?"
"Göreme. It's a landscape formed from layers of sediment left after volcanic eruptions, shaped over time by rain and underground water. People eventually built a village here, completing the scene. It's a joint work of nature and humanity. Quite impressive, isn't it?"
"So, what's going on? You said you were busy. Busy doing what?"
"Yep, busy. I am here for business, after all. Tourists don't usually raise suspicion, you
know?"
"You're admitting to doing suspicious things, then."
"Look at my face and wealth, my friend. They've already surpassed legal status, haven't they?"
Matías, who was explaining why he'd come here, joked as he winked.
Kwon Taekjoo instinctively clenched his fists.
"...You said you'd help me. Are you serious?"
"Or are you going to hit me with those fists?"
"As you can see, I'm barely holding back. Still, you're my only lifeline right now, so I
think I'll let you live."
"How considerate of you. Don't worry, Taekjoo. Once I finish what I need to do here, I'll figure out a way to get you back to Korea. Just rest and wait. Let me know if you need anything."
In truth, Matías treated Kwon Taekjoo with more than generosity.
He provided him with a place to stay, high-quality clothes, food and drink in abundance, and even a decent pistol.
The more generous he was, the more doubts crept in.
Who exactly was Matías to have so much money, and how had Kwon Taekjoo ended up involved with him?
He openly admitted it wasn't a legal business, so it was impossible to know what kind of world he came from.
Just seeing the number of guards constantly surrounding Matías, it was clear how many enemies he had.
There was nothing to gain from associating with someone like him, but in this moment, Taekjoo was desperate, needing to cling to anything—even a fraying lifeline.
He rubbed the back of his head and sipped from a bottle of mineral water.
Even the smallest movement made the wound on his head throb.
The day after meeting Matías, he went straight to a local hospital for an examination.
The doctor ran several tests, asked Taekjoo numerous questions, and finally told him he seemed to have lost his memory due to cranial trauma.
The doctor even showed him an MRI image
where his hippocampus, the brain's memory center, appeared shrunken.
They said his memories would likely return gradually, but that some might be lost permanently.
Most memories are the result of life experiences and accumulated moments.
Some memories play a key role in survival.
For someone like Kwon Taekjoo, who always seemed to be on the run, memory-based information was even more valuable.
Maybe that was why he felt uneasy, even though he'd been told he only needed to wait.
Matías hadn't done anything particularly harmful to him, and for now, he only needed to rest under his protection, but the feeling of anxiety lingered.
It was as if he were forgetting something vital.
What could that be?
As he continued trying to find an answer, he heard a knock on the door.
He turned his head to look at the closed door, but didn't respond.
Despite that, someone unlocked the door from outside.
Moments later, Matías strolled in as if
he owned the place, just as a water bottle went flying at his head.
Matías feigned pain, groaning,
"Ouch!"
"Oh, you were awake? Then why didn't you answer?"
"You're lucky I only had this bottle on hand. Why do you just walk in uninvited?"
Matías, without a hint of shame, responded cheekily.
"When you didn't get up even though the sun's been up for hours, I came to check on
you. How was I supposed to know if your condition worsened overnight? Did you forget what the doctor said? It's a miracle you're not passing out."
"Were you secretly hoping I would?"
"Of course not. Even for me, dealing with a corpse is a hassle. But did you really just
wake up? You seem to sleep more than I expected."
"Thanks to you, I couldn't sleep well."
He shot Matías a look of deep contempt.
Matías, picking up on it, smirked mischievously.
"Oh, did you hear me?"
"Didn't you make sure I would?"
He hadn't expected five-star comfort or amenities in a place like this, but he did expect some soundproofing.
All night long, the sounds of Matías having sex with his partners drifted through the walls, making it impossible for Taekjoo to rest.
Even after Taekjoo directly confronted him, Matías smiled without a hint of remorse.
"If I'd known, I'd have invited you to join."
"Sorry, I don't do sharing."
"Oh, really? Well, it's not like I was eager to share anyway."
Kwon Taekjoo frowned.
"What the hell are you even saying?"
Had he forgotten that he'd also been with a man?
Or maybe his tastes were more particular than they seemed.
Either way, for Matías, both options were amusing to observe.
"I'm thinking of having lunch soon. Care to join me?"
Matías asked.
"Before that, I'd like to use a phone."
"A phone? For what?"
"To call my mother."
Matías looked taken aback by the unexpected answer.
Taekjoo scratched the back of his neck,
looking a bit embarrassed.
"Your mother? The woman who gave birth to you?"
"What, did you think I had another mother?"
"No, it's not that... Have you remembered more?"
"A little. She must be really worried by now. You must have a phone line that's hard to
trace, right?"
Matías nodded casually and pulled a phone from his jacket, handing it over.
Seeing Taekjoo hesitate, he gestured for him to take it.
"What, you're giving it to me just like that?"
"Or would you like me to take it back?"
"And you?"
"Do you think I only have one phone?"
As always, something about Matías didn't sit right with him.
With a look of reluctance,Taekjoo snatched the phone.
Trying to unlock it, he realized it required fingerprint and iris recognition.
Sighing in frustration, he handed it back.
Matías moved in close, took Taekjoo's hand to place his finger on the reader, and then scanned his own iris to unlock it.
That excessive familiarity was, as always, deeply annoying.
Kwon Taekjoo shook off Matías's hand as if swatting away a bug and motioned for him to leave the room.
Matías simply said,
"I'll be waiting in the dining room,"
and left without further questions.
Once the door clicked shut and Taekjoo was sure Matías was out of earshot, he began dialing.
Carefully, he keyed in the number he remembered for his mother and pressed the call button.
Soon, the familiar ringtone echoed in his ears.
It wasn't long before he heard his mother's voice on the other end, slightly hesitant as she answered the unknown number.
"…Hello?"
"Mom, it's me."
"Taekjoo? Oh, thank God! Thank you, thank you! But what happened? I've gone over two weeks without a word from you. Do you know how worried I've been? If I didn't hear from you today or tomorrow, I was planning to head back to Korea."
Relief flooded her voice, but it quickly turned into gentle scolding.
Over two weeks had passed since she last heard from him, so her concern was only natural.
But what did she mean by
"heading back to Korea"?
Did that mean she wasn't currently there?
"A lot has happened."
"I see. Jongwoo told me a bit. He said there was an attack in Iran, and you were taken to
Russia with the ambassador. Is it all resolved now?"
Jongwoo?
The name didn't ring a bell.
The memories Taekjoo had regained so far were mostly from before university, so perhaps this was someone he met later.
If his mother was speaking with this person directly, they must have been quite close to him.
But why was she so casual about the idea of him being taken to Russia with an
"ambassador"?
Who was this ambassador she was referring to?
And if Taekjoo had gone to Russia with this ambassador over two weeks ago, why had he been found alone in Iran?
Was this ambassador part of an official Russian delegation?
Was Taekjoo openly working for them?
Could that be why he was listed on the official Russian rescue list?
A flurry of doubts and speculations crowded his mind.
After a long pause, his mother's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Taekjoo?"
"Ah, yes. There are still a few loose ends to tie up, but nothing you need to worry about. Are you okay, Mom? You're not having any health issues, are you?"
Had he always worked under this person? But why would his boss be contacting his mother directly?
Could the ambassador possibly be a woman?
Pushing aside his confusion, Taekjoo
tried to maintain a calm tone.
"It's nothing too serious. Still, they'll be increasing monitoring on communications for a while to prevent any leaks of sensitive information, so I might not be able to contact you again soon. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't worry."
"I understand. But really, it's not dangerous, is it?"
"Of course not. Why would it be dangerous? Besides, I'm not even in Iran anymore."
"I'll take your word for it."
"Please do. Anyway, I'd better hang up now."
Taekjoo hurried to end the call, afraid he might slip up if it went on any longer.
Just as he was about to say goodbye, his mother called out again, her tone calmer now.
"Taekjoo."
"Yes?"
"If it ever gets too hard to bear, no matter what duty or conviction you feel, leave it all behind and come back to me. It wouldn't be cowardly at all."
"Why are you saying that all of a sudden?"
"It's just… a mother's worry. You need to remember this: there's nothing in this world more important than your life. I don't care if you accomplish nothing. It's okay. You don't need to achieve anything great. So, never push yourself too far."
Her words made Taekjoo think of his father and brother, both of whom had passed on before him.
He couldn't help but wonder how he had ended up ignoring his mother's only wish and putting himself in such a dangerous situation.
"I know. Mom, take care of your health."
"I will. And give my regards to the ambassador as well."
"I will. Goodbye."
He hung up and began sifting through the new information he'd just gathered.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall anyone named "Jongwoo."
It seemed unlikely they'd met around the time he started university.
Perhaps someone he knew through work?
If his mother was on such familiar terms with them, it must have been more than just a brief acquaintance.
Then there was the other mystery figure.
"The Russian ambassador…"
Could it be that Taekjoo had been working on a diplomatic mission?
Was that why he spoke multiple languages?
Could it have any connection to the tattoo on the inside of his thigh?
He decided to try accessing the internet using the phone.
If the ambassador held such a high- ranking position, there was a good chance he could find their photo with a quick search.
Perhaps seeing their face would jog some memories.
However, he was unable to connect.
He moved around the room, thinking it might be a signal issue, but nothing worked.
It seemed Matías had restricted internet access.
Despite claiming to be conducting business, Matías had clearly taken steps to prevent any potential breaches.
With no other choice, Taekjoo erased the phone's usage history.
He tossed the phone onto the bed and settled by the windowsill.
His mind buzzed with unanswered questions.
If he truly had been assisting a Russian ambassador, why had he entered Iran illegally?
What was the significance of the tattoo on his thigh?
And who was "Jongwoo"?
Up until his university years, his life had been relatively ordinary.
When had it veered so drastically off course?
Was there a specific event or reason behind it?
None of these questions had answers.
Frustrated, he let his head fall back against the glass of the window.
There was something important he was still missing—something critical.