PTT - 24

“…Could you explain it to me in a way I can understand?”

Raon furrowed her brows as she pressed and rubbed the back of her hand. Danger? She couldn’t even begin to fathom what had happened five years ago. Besides, hadn’t that been before he joined the National Intelligence Service?

Exhaling softly, Siheon pointed at the photo of Director Kwon with the tip of his index finger.

“At that time, my mother was the First Deputy Director overseeing the overseas North Korea analysis team. An Seok-cheol, the former director, was the Second Deputy Director.”

The familiar name stirred Raon’s memory. An Seok-cheol, the previous director, had stepped down from public office after serving less than a year and two months. Following him, Siheon’s mother, Kwon Jung-ah, assumed the position of director.

“When the administration changed, many people began to consider Mother as the next director. Though there were only three deputy directors in total, she wasn’t entirely without ambition. After over twenty years of service, she wanted to transform our organization into a proper intelligence agency.”

“…But it was An Seok-cheol, not Director Kwon, who became the director, right?”

“That’s correct. An didn’t hesitate to use any means necessary to secure the directorship.”

Siheon paused, taking a deep breath, his voice dropping to an icy calm.

“The threats extended to Mother, who was a leading candidate, and those close to her. And I, as her son, was no exception.”

“…To you, Team Leader?”

“Yes. I think they believed if something happened to me—like death or serious injury—Mother would be so devastated that she’d step down from her duties.”

He let out a bitter laugh. How many times had he narrowly escaped danger within just two weeks? One day, he’d been threatened by gang members wielding knives. Each day felt like a silent war.

“Neither Mother nor I are the types to buckle under such illegal intimidation. But when the threats began targeting those close to us, it became unbearable. You, Yoo Raon, were one of those close to me.”

Siheon ran a large hand over his weary face. It was clear that Raon, whom he cherished deeply at the time, would inevitably become collateral damage.

But he couldn’t warn her of the truth—it would have put her in even greater danger.

“While we were trying to figure out how to stop An, something more serious arose.”

One misfortune after another tore apart an already exhausted heart, leaving no room for recovery.

“One day, Mother started experiencing severe anemia and gastrointestinal bleeding. Tests revealed she had Crohn’s disease.”

“…Crohn’s disease?”

“Yes. It’s a rare, chronic inflammatory condition of the digestive tract. Fortunately, it was diagnosed early, so her condition wasn’t critical. Still, Mother made a decision.”

She couldn’t remain in the NIS while battling an unpredictable illness. Jung-ah ultimately submitted her resignation and left the organization.

Inadvertently, this fulfilled An’s wish.

“We had to leave immediately. An was a problem, but the U.S. offered better research and treatment options for Crohn’s disease than Korea. Even though it’s an incurable illness, managing her pain and preventing relapses were crucial. I couldn’t send her alone to a distant country while she was sick.”

“…So that’s why you disappeared without a word?”

“Not even giving you a heads-up before leaving… I still regret it to this day. I shouldn’t have done it. At the time, I thought it was the best way to protect you.”

Siheon closed his eyes briefly before reopening them and gently placing his hand over Raon’s. He couldn’t risk making her a target. In his desperation to ensure her safety, he hadn’t considered the emotional scars she might bear—a mistake he now bitterly regretted.

“After Mother resigned and we left Korea, An seemed to relax his guard and stopped threatening us. Even then, I hesitated. With no certainty about when Mother’s treatment would end, I questioned whether staying in contact with you was the right thing to do. Maybe I convinced myself it was better to let you find someone else—someone who could give you a normal life.”

“I’m sorry.” Baek Siheon’s face was heavy with guilt. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, exhaling a low sigh. Watching him, Raon’s heart grew heavier.

He must have carried this burden alone, unable to confide in anyone due to his family’s line of work. Now, here he was, walking that difficult path again as an active agent.

Would it be true to say she fully understood his situation and that five years of lingering resentment vanished like smoke? No, that wouldn’t be honest.

But it was undeniable that her anger had softened, replaced by a growing tenderness toward him. In truth, from five years ago until now, Yoo Raon had never truly hated him.

After all, hatred itself cannot exist without some measure of affection.

“…Is Director Kwon doing better now?”

Facing his deep, dark eyes, Raon felt a surge of emotion welling up. She averted her gaze slightly, changing the subject. Siheon nodded slowly in response to her question.

“She underwent a year of medication treatment in the U.S. Thankfully, there were no complications like bowel obstructions or multiple organ failure. While complete recovery is impossible, as you can see, she lives a normal life now. Still, it’s a frightening disease because relapse can happen anytime.”

As Raon listened, comprehension dawned on her face, followed by a flicker of curiosity. If Jung-ah had resigned and left the NIS, how did she become the director?

“So… Director Kwon returned four years ago?”

“Yes. As you know, An was dismissed as director after just 14 months due to charges of sexual favors and bribery. Around that time, we had just finished treatment and returned to Korea.”

With the sudden vacancy in leadership, someone was needed to fill the role. However, the current deputies were more inclined to avoid responsibility than pursue power.

Though the Third Deputy Director showed some ambition, he was widely regarded as unfit for the director position.

Thus, Jung-ah’s name resurfaced. She was perfect in every aspect, except for one glaring issue: she had resigned and was no longer affiliated with the NIS.

“Mother was specially re-recruited into the NIS. It wasn’t a common occurrence—there was significant opposition from some employees. But once she became director, the criticism quickly faded. She’s flawless and charismatic, after all.”

Indeed, Director Kwon commanded respect from many. Her insight and judgment were unparalleled, which was likely why she was considered for the directorship despite having resigned previously.

“And as for me... I immediately began preparing for the open recruitment exam. My father pressured me to take over his company, and my mother hoped I’d live an easier life. But it seems the blood of an agent runs in my veins.”

“So that’s how you joined our organization.”

“Yes. Luckily, I passed on my first attempt. There were many reasons I chose the NIS, but I think one was the desire to stay close to Mother, knowing she could collapse at any moment. Though my plans shifted slightly when I was assigned to the overseas team.”

Siheon gently cradled Raon’s right hand—the one with the scarred back—in his own. From the moment he first saw her, he had been drawn to her, though he never asked about the past that left its mark. He simply covered it warmly.

“After passing the recruitment exam, it became even harder to contact you. This job is secretive, and I was constantly traveling between Korea and abroad. I thought it best not to start anything—it seemed like the right choice for both of us.”

“…And yet, here we are meeting again.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

His teasing tone carried a hint of playfulness, but the question itself didn’t feel entirely frivolous.

Raon shrugged lightly, choosing to answer indirectly. She murmured softly, fumbling to express the truth she had kept buried deep inside for so long.

“I hated you, but I always missed you too. I resented you, but now I understand a little better. …I should have listened sooner instead of avoiding it.”

There had been days when she couldn’t face the truth, rationalizing that ignorance was bliss. How many times had she convinced herself that staying in the dark was better?

By now, her way of addressing him had shifted from “Team Leader” to “Sunbae.” Yoo Raon didn’t believe in the illusion of fate. But in this moment, she found herself wanting to lean into that invisible hope, if only just a little.

Pressing her lips together tightly, Raon awkwardly curved the corners of her mouth into a small smile. It wasn’t enough—not nearly. There was still so much more she wanted to share with Baek Siheon, so much more they needed to talk about.

“I’m hungry. Let’s eat while we talk.”

She tilted her eyes upward and offered a faint smile—the first pure one since their reunion.