PTT - 44

Ra-on, rubbing her temples firmly, knocked twice—tap, tap. But there was no response from inside the hospital room. After waiting silently for a moment, she knocked again, and this time an irritated voice came through the door.

“…Hmph, come in.”

The sharp tone suggested she wanted nothing to do with anyone. Ra-on opened the door to find the room shrouded in darkness, the blinds fully drawn, blocking out any sunlight.

Jung Ah-young, her face hidden behind long strands of hair, slowly raised her head. Her pale, bare face was dotted with cotton swabs and bandages. The fall had left abrasions all over her body, not just her arms and legs.

Yoo Ra-on, wearing sneakers, slowly approached the bed. Only then did Ah-young turn her body to confirm the visitor’s identity, her expression visibly souring. Instinctively reaching for something on the bedside table to throw, she found nothing—nurses had cleared everything away. All she could grasp was empty air.

“Ha! How dare you show up here? Are you insane?”

“How are you feeling, Jung Ah-young?”

“Are you blind?! Do I look okay to you? Or are you here to make me lose my mind?”

Her sclera was red, blood vessels ruptured. With venomous eyes glaring at Ra-on as if she wanted to kill her, Ah-young panted in frustration when her body refused to obey her commands.

Watching her silently, Ra-on let out a soft sigh and walked toward the window. She began slowly raising the white blinds.

“Are you deaf too? Did I say I’m fine?! Damn it, didn’t the nurses tell you to open the curtains?”

“I opened them so you can clear your head. You still don’t seem like yourself.”

Ra-on’s cold reply came as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. Ah-young, her right arm and leg encased in white casts, looked utterly pitiful. Injured and unable to return to the field, she had been implicitly dismissed from the NIS.

For Black Agents, their bodies were their most reliable weapons. Keeping someone like Ah-young, who could no longer operate in the field, on the team was impractical. Losing both her job and her health in an instant must have left her devastated.

Perhaps it would’ve been better if she’d snapped completely. Some might point fingers at Ah-young, calling her punishment divine retribution, but Yoo Ra-on didn’t want to be lumped in with such people. That said, her lack of satisfaction didn’t mean she felt sympathy for Ah-young. If she had cooperated properly from the start, things wouldn’t have spiraled this far out of control.

Her gaze fell on Ah-young’s right hand, wrapped in bandages. Ironically, Ra-on’s own right hand no longer hurt.

Sensing her stare, Ah-young glared at Ra-on with venom, screaming as though she still couldn’t accept that this nightmare was reality.

“Yoo Sa-yeon, you ruined my life! Damn it! If you hadn’t let go, this wouldn’t have happened! What am I supposed to do with this shitty life now? Take responsibility, you crazy bitch!”

Her shrill scream was ear-piercing. Ra-on, listening impassively, approached and grabbed her chin.

“What about the lives you ruined?”

“What?”

“Not just mine—there were others. People who suffered worse than I did. What about the kids sacrificed to your thug games? How will you compensate them?”

You’re truly selfish to the end. A bitter laugh welled up inside her. It was nauseating how she tried to hide her faults while exaggerating her grievances. Ra-on released Ah-young’s chin with a flick of her wrist and added:

“Didn’t your father’s business fail during college? That’s why you came to Korea.”

“…Damn it, who told you that? And what do you mean ‘fail’…!”

“I wondered why someone like you, who was treated like a princess, joined the NIS. I thought you’d just take over your father’s business after finishing management courses.”

Ra-on recited the information Ray had gathered for her. His offer to help whenever she needed wasn’t an empty promise—he had meticulously collected every detail of Jung Ah-young’s past and handed it over.

Though investigating a colleague’s private life was taboo within the NIS, Ra-on’s request had been framed as looking into the background of a former classmate.

“Aaargh! You damn bitch! I’ll kill you one day, mark my words!”

Ah-young had cut ties with her father, who fled after leaving behind only debt. Now, all that remained of her life was… well, what exactly? She pondered the question but didn’t bother answering.

Leaving behind Ah-young, who screamed and clawed at her hair, Ra-on opened the hospital room door with an indifferent expression. Her ears hurt too much to continue the conversation.

Squeak. The sliding door closed with the sound of rolling wheels. And so, Yoo Ra-on and Jung Ah-young parted ways, separated by an insurmountable wall.

---

The next day, Ra-on lifted her heavy eyelids. Her vision was blurry, as if fogged over, and her body felt feverish despite it not being midsummer. Her cheeks and ears burned hot and red.

“What time is it?”

A faint light seeped through the slightly open curtains. Dawn was breaking, meaning her alarm hadn’t gone off yet.

The damp fatigue accumulated over the past few days weighed heavily on her shoulders. It seemed the few hours of sleep had done nothing to help.

Her phone, plugged into the charger, was within arm’s reach. But her entire body felt like soaked cotton, too heavy to move even a finger. Breathing shallowly, Ra-on stared at the ceiling and muttered to herself.

“Why am I like this already in the morning…”

Just one more day until the weekend. She had planned to tackle her backlog of tasks during her two-day break, like a regular office worker. But clearly, something was wrong.

An irritating tickle rose from deep within her swollen throat. She coughed once, twice, biting down hard on her lower lip.

Was it a cold?

Perhaps it was because she had grown up enduring scorching summers and freezing winters. Since childhood, Ra-on—formerly Yoo Sa-yeon—had rarely fallen ill compared to her peers. She often thought the hardships of her upbringing had at least strengthened her immune system. Especially after joining the NIS and undergoing rigorous physical training, she hadn’t caught a single cold or flu in the past year.

This unwelcome guest, arriving after such a long absence, seemed to have brought a bounty of unwanted symptoms. Every one of them felt unbearable.

“I can’t pass this on to Grandma… What should I do?”

Was this what it felt like to experience gravity doubled? She wasn’t even sure she could make it to work, but what worried her more was infecting Soon-ae, her grandmother. Unlike Ra-on, her frail immune system meant a high fever would leave her bedridden for ten days straight.

Her throat felt like a desert—dry and parched, as if swallowing sand. Gritting her teeth, Ra-on swallowed painfully and closed her eyes, trying to sleep again.

Ever since reuniting with Ah-young, she had lived each day under immense tension. Though she had tried to convince herself she was fine, it seemed the unconscious stress had taken its toll. Even after visiting Ah-young’s room the previous night, her mind remained unsettled.

Would spewing hateful remarks like “serves her right” or “this feels good” have made her feel differently? Would Ah-young ever reflect on her actions and sincerely apologize to Ra-on and the other victims?

No answer came to her questions. Even if Ah-young had received divine punishment, erasing the past pain was impossible.

And so, Yoo Ra-on decided yesterday to stop gasping for breath over old traumas. She was only in her late twenties, with many more years ahead of her.

Tick, tick, tick. With her vision blocked, the ticking of the clock’s second hand grew louder. She emptied her mind. Just one more hour of rest until the alarm went off…

But things rarely go as planned. As if mocking her intentions, the loud blare of her alarm pierced her ears. The accompanying vibration buzzed obnoxiously.

“Haa…”

Had she woken up just before her usual time? Barely managing to sit up, she fumbled for her phone. After silencing the alarm, silence returned.

After a brief hesitation, her index finger hovered over the call log.

“I didn’t want to do this…”

Soon, the dial tone rang through the phone’s speaker. It was early morning; he was probably asleep. Regret washed over her less than ten seconds after making the call. Just as she was about to press the red “end call” button, the line connected unexpectedly.

Ra-on licked her dry lips. Her voice, hoarse and strained, emerged. A complex mix of emotions crushed her heart.

“…Team Leader.”