Chapter Fourteen
Emart was closed this late at night, so I scanned my key fob at the side door and wound my way around the dark aisles.
Only the refrigerator lights remained on after hours, the ghostly glow of milk and yogurt illuminating the polished concrete floor.
I clutched my banana milk tribute to my chest as I walked up the frozen escalators, my every footstep echoing down into the basement.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, unnerved by how quiet the whole store was, no sounds except for the humming of the refrigerators, which grew farther away as I climbed higher and higher toward the moon.
What could Hyebin possibly want? She worked all hours of the day and night, but the agency was generally good about leaving the agents-in-training alone after ten to do their schoolwork.
The dread of not knowing what was in store made me feel like I was treading water in a black sea without a single star overhead.
I stepped into the elevator on the tenth floor and flinched when the doors slammed shut, thinking for a moment that my reflection was an Echo.
Calm down, Mina, I told myself, wiping away smeared mascara. I know Hyebin is scary, but she would never actually kill you. She’s probably just too busy to text you back.
I repeated the thought again and again in my head until the elevator doors opened, then forced a smile onto my face as I held out the banana milk for Seulgi.
“You’re the best,” Seulgi said, setting down her paddleball and reaching out for the milk.
I headed for Hyebin’s office, but Seulgi waved a hand to stop me. “Actually, you’re going that way,” she said, pointing to the left hall instead of the right.
I glanced down the hallway, which was dark except for the single door at the far end.
“But Hyebin called me in,” I said. “Is she not in her office?”
“Hyebin called you in because Sajangnim wants to see you, and he doesn’t like texting,” Seulgi said, smiling sympathetically as she gestured once more to Hong Gildong’s office at the opposite end of the hall.
The long passage seemed endless, a ribbon of deep purple carpet that disappeared into the darkness.
A gold dragon’s head knocker gleamed in the center of the dark oak door.
I had never been called to Hong Gildong’s office before. For a moment, I worried that this meant he’d found out about me and Yejun. But if that were the case, surely a team of neutralizers would have snatched me off the streets, not texted me to come in.
I walked hesitantly down the hallway, my footsteps muffled on the carpet. When I reached the door, I grabbed the ring in the dragon’s mouth and knocked, the sound vibrating up the panels.
“Come in!” Hong Gildong called from inside.
Slowly, I shouldered open the heavy doors and stepped into the office.
Hong Gildong sat at a large executive desk, a marble scrying pool in the center.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the room like sentinels, some shelves packed with old leather tomes and others decorated with gold trinkets—tiny dragons, old coins in frames, embossed vases, even what looked like a gilded stapler.
The whole room twinkled like its own galaxy from the sheer number of gold ornaments reflecting the streetlights.
“Mina,” Hong Gildong said, rising to his feet. I had forgotten how tall he was, and it took everything in me not to step back as his head blocked the light, his shadow falling over me. “I think congratulations are in order.”
I jolted as the door swung shut behind me. “Sajangnim, are you referring to—”
“You’ve crossed the point threshold,” he said. “You’re officially eligible for a full-time agent position. So, again, my congratulations.”
My gaze darted to the golden clock on the wall. It was 10:15, which meant the timeline had refreshed while I was out with Jihoon. The points had been tallied, so of course Hong Gildong had been alerted.
I bowed quickly. “Thank you, Sajangnim,” I said. “It’s so kind of you to tell me personally. You really didn’t have to.”
“Oh, that’s not the only reason I needed to speak to you,” he said. “You are now eligible for a full-time position, but there’s one additional layer of screening you need to complete before you can actually be hired.”
“Screening?” I echoed, still pressed against the door. I had thought that the moment I kissed Jihoon, I’d get an automatic promotion.
Hong Gildong gestured for me to come closer. I walked stiffly across the carpet and sat in the chair across from his desk.
“All descendants must pass one final exam before they are cleared for independent travel,” Hong Gildong said. “Something more challenging than your past assignments, in order to ascertain both your skill and your devotion to our cause.”
I nodded, afraid to speak and say something wrong.
“Agent Jang Hyebin, for instance,” Hong Gildong went on, “was tasked with destroying the Seongsu Bridge in 1994. A mission that she executed perfectly, leading to her senior agent position within the year.”
Hyebin had never mentioned that, but few people probably wanted to chat about sending cars plummeting to the bottom of the river for the greater good.
I had always known that the descendants were in the business of preserving truth, not saving lives, but that didn’t mean I actually wanted to cause death.
What kind of morally questionable assignment would Hong Gildong give to me?
“The timeline architects have selected an assignment for you that is equally challenging, and vital to the stability of the timeline,” he said, gesturing for me to sign into the scrying pool on his desk.
I wrote my signature across the cool water, trying to still my shaking hands.
There was only one new mission waiting for me.
I clicked on it, and the document expxanded to fill the pool.
MISSION 874675
Agent 1475C, Yang Mina
Points: N/A—pass/fail
Date: October 16, 2025
Time: 19:10:00
Location: Front steps of National Assembly Proceeding Hall
Principal Objective: Shoot presidential candidate Min Sungho in left eye from distance of 10.3 meters. Disperse with crowd before apprehension.
End Objective: Initiate war with North Korea
My gaze lingered on the final line. I read it again and again, praying I’d just forgotten how to read Korean because there was no way that this was my assignment.
“There’s going to be a war?” I whispered. “And I’m supposed to start it?”
Hong Gildong laughed, as if any of this was funny. “There’s going to be a war whether you start it or not,” he said. “A rogue tried to prevent it, but it was always going to happen. It needs to happen. That’s the will of the timeline.”
I clenched my fists, staring at the scrying pool rather than meeting Hong Gildong’s gaze, afraid he would read the fire in my eyes.
The will of the timeline. What a joke. Even if this truly was the original timeline and not Timeline Beta, what made it so sacred and untouchable?
The descendants had no interest in saving lives, reducing suffering, or creating a world that was fairer even though they could have done so easily.
They were so enamored with the idea that we were supposed to be neutral, that no one could make an impartial decision so no one should change the timeline at all.
But had the original timeline not already been determined by people in power? Didn’t we all shape the timeline merely by standing on it?
It was one thing to bankrupt an amusement park or give a movie star some questionably cooked shrimp, but it was another to start a war.
Korea still felt the scars of the last Korean War.
Half of my class had grandparents who were war orphans.
US military bases loomed over the Yellow Sea decades later.
All Korean men still had to serve in the military for two years because of that war.
How much damage would another war cause?
Plus, North Korea had nuclear weapons now.
What if the war caused them to wipe the entire Korean Peninsula off the map?
Was “the will of the timeline” worth it?
I carefully smoothed out my facial expression, rehearsing my next words in my mind before I spoke them out loud.
“Sajang-nim,” I said quietly. “Would a war with North Korea endanger our work here?” It wasn’t the question I’d wanted to ask, but it was one that would express my reservations without making Hong Gildong mad.
“The descendants will not be in danger,” Hong Gildong said easily. “Don’t worry, Mina. What we do here is too valuable to risk losing descendants in a surprise attack. There are no surprises when you can see the whole timeline at once. You and your family will be safe.”
“And the humans?” I said, daring to look up.
Hong Gildong blinked quickly, as if he hadn’t expected the question. “Well, humans die every day,” he said with a shrug. “It’s inevitable.”
“O-of course,” I said quickly, dropping my gaze to my lap because his golden glare felt like it was unmaking me.
“Do you still feel compassion for humans, Mina?” Hong Gildong said, a hint of laughter in his voice, like he was asking if I still believed in the Tooth Fairy.
I swallowed, scrambling for a way I could object. “I just—”
“It’s not your fault,” Hong Gildong said, patting my shoulder. “Compassion is the inevitable result of dragon blood being so diluted with human blood over generations. You will feel it less over time.”
“I see,” I said, the only polite phrase I could manage.
Hong Gildong’s grip tightened on my shoulder, and I was sure he could feel the trembling deep in my bones.
I felt like prey under his gaze—surely he was scanning my body language, cataloging my responses, making sure I was loyal even now.
One careless facial expression could throw away everything I’d worked for.
“It’s not supposed to be easy,” Hong Gildong went on.
Something sharp stung my collarbone, and I realized that his claws were just slightly tearing through my shirt.
“That’s why it’s a final exam. But you’ve been entrusted with this because we believe you can help us hold the world together.
The timeline architects ran through a thousand different scenarios and determined that you have the highest chance of a successful outcome.
In part because you look like a rather …
unlikely assassin. But also because your infiltration scores are impressive.
This is your chance to show us that you’ll wield those skills for good. ”
“That makes sense,” I said, the words hollow. I imagined a war-torn Seoul in the window behind Hong Gildong, the ground maroon with blood and dirt, no end to the ruins until the churning black sea that lapped at the ashes on the shore. All because of me.
“Of course, we can’t make you do anything,” Hong Gildong said, releasing my shoulder.
Hot blood trickled down my sleeve, but I forced myself not to look, not to show weakness.
I sat perfectly still as Hong Gildong rounded his desk and sat in his chair once more.
“Should you feel that our interests no longer align, we can discuss … alternate arrangements for you.”
Like a brain scrub, I thought. I imagined Hong Gildong’s claws extending and cracking my skull open like a chestnut, digging out brain matter and sloughing it on the floor.
One thing was certain: I could never start this war for him.
I had once thought I would do anything to get Hana back, but I’d meant sacrificing any part of myself, not other people. I couldn’t end the lives of millions of humans in Hana’s name.
But if I refused Hong Gildong now, I would lose any chance of restoring the original timeline and finding Hana.
I would lose all my memories of learning about Timeline Alpha, and they would find some other descendant to start their war in my place.
And this time, my family wouldn’t be safe when the bombs fell.
I would have to find a way out of it that didn’t leave me dead or with half a brain left, but for now, there was only one right answer, one way that I could leave this room alive.
“There’s no need for that,” I said, forcing my face into a tight smile. “Our interests have always aligned. I’m honored you would entrust me with a mission of such importance. I promise I’ll execute it perfectly.”
Hong Gildong watched me for a long moment, as if appraising me. I held my breath as his golden gaze flickered across my face, took in my breathing, probably even counted my heartbeats as if he could taste the lie.
At last, he smiled.
“This will mark the end of your missions with Hyebin,” Hong Gildong said. “She’ll assist with your firearms training, but after that, you’re on your own. It’s your chance to show us all you’ve got. I know you’ll do well.”
The words chilled my blood. Hong Gildong didn’t toss out hollow platitudes—he could see the whole timeline laid out before him, and he must have seen me setting the world on fire.