Mission Codename Anastasia

1. #Prologue

7:49 PM. Busan Port International Passenger Terminal.

The dock, swallowed by the dark of the night, buzzed with activity as preparations for the voyage continued.

Under the pulsing glow of street lamps, the colossal five-thousand-ton passenger ferry revealed itself.

It was a regular passenger ship. It sailed once a day, and by tomorrow morning, it would be docking in the port of Shimonoseki, Japan.

The passengers had all boarded ahead of time.

The crew shut the ramp earlier than scheduled.

The crane withdrew, docile, having finished its job of loading cargo.

As if orchestrated, every light in the terminal was turned off, and the darkness of the night reigned.

Only the docked ferry floated gently in the black waters of the sea.

Inside it, however, a quite different atmosphere prevailed.

The only people who were in their cabins, already in bed, were regular vendors and traders.

Excluding them, most passengers occupied themselves with the entertaining task of looking around inside the vessel.

Many had gathered by the tables in the corridor, drinking in groups of three’s and four’s.

Passengers recorded their adventure, taking pictures of every moment.

Everywhere that people had gathered was filled with sounds of laughter.

Even the deck, exposed out in the cold, offered quite the scenic view.

Everyone was excited about their impending journey, and their excitement kept the ferry busy and cheerful.

And in the middle of the festive chaos stood Kwon Taekjoo, a leather shearling jacket above his suit. He looked far from a trader. However, his bored expression was no different from theirs. It definitely did not look like the face of someone staying in the most expensive suite on the ship.

He occasionally checked his watch for the time. There was a strange resolution in those eyes as they chased the hands of hours, minutes, and seconds. 8 PM sharp. The sound of the ship’s horn rang across the sea, signaling its departure. Taekjoo stepped out onto the balcony.

The entire deck came within his sight from where he stood.

Tourist passengers were still occupied with taking photos.

The night was pitch dark, and Taekjoo doubted anyone could take good photos, even with all the cameras clicking.

He simply kept watching the busy movement.

But then, he heard a small mechanical sound in his left ear.

It was soon followed by someone’s voice.

- How does it feel to be there? It’s a very romantic setting, after all.

“It’s not bad. It’s noisy, bustling, and boring at the same time.”

There came a burst of laughter from the radio transmitter in Taekjoo’s ear. All the while, his eyes were directed at the deck, observant. He took a careful look at every single person passing by, but there was no one in particular that caught his eye.

“Give me the report.”

- Our two targets have been confirmed to have gotten on board.

Kim Younghee, the contact, and Lee Cheoljin, an intelligence officer of DPRK State Security.

Lee is disguised as a Chinese national, and it’s likely for him to fly to China as soon as he arrives in Japan.

And Kim has already booked a ferry that will leave Shimonoseki tomorrow evening.

“Then the two are bound to have their rendezvous before they reach Japan.”

Taekjoo mumbled to himself before leaving the balcony.

- Are you on the move right now?

The voice from the radio transmitter asked. Kwon Taekjoo responded as he left the room and walked along the empty corridor.

“I learned that those who are good at hide-and-seek have a tendency to be bold.”

If the targets were to meet each other, now was the best time to do so since they could take advantage of the disorder and noise. It would rather backfire and make them look more conspicuous if they met at an hour when there were fewer people around.

Taking two steps at a time, Taekjoo went down the spiral staircase.

On the second floor, a group of people was gathered by the entrance to the restaurant.

Taekjoo passed by the small crowd, checking each of their faces as he did.

There was still no one strange. Taekjoo moved on to the stairs that led to the first-floor lobby while giving a short order.

“Call me.”

Taekjoo’s phone rang in that instant. He left it alone and let it vibrate in his pocket for a bit.

Only when he reached the middle of the staircase did he pick it up.

He answered it—hello—and proceeded to have a mundane chitchat.

The other line was silent. He paced while talking on the phone. No one found him suspicious.

Taekjoo spent a good bit doing just that. Then, behind him, a woman walked past. There was something off about her fashion—the collar of her coat was turned up. Taekjoo’s eyes, dark in their shade, silently chased after the woman.

Once she was past the info desk, she approached the vending machine next to the elevator. She stalled in front of the machine for a while as if she couldn’t decide what to drink. When someone else came, she even stepped back and let the person take her turn.

When the area was less crowded the woman pulled out a thousand-yen note.

She thought about her decision for so long, only to choose green tea.

It was anticlimactic. Her change jingled its way down, and—thump—her can of drink also dropped down.

She picked up the can. Her acting looked very natural.

She didn’t forget to take her change before going back to the second floor.

Taekjoo pretended like he didn’t see the woman, and neither was she aware of his presence.

- Target approaching.

The voice on the radio informed Taekjoo as the woman went up the stairs, out of Taekjoo’s sight.

“Right. I’ll see you later.”

Taekjoo ended the call with a common phrase. By then, a man came out of the function room behind the lobby. The man was wearing a navy-blue beanie. He took big steps to the vending machine.

He dug through his pocket for coins. As he did, he checked out not the cans of drinks but his surroundings. He was being overly cautious. It took him a long time to pull out a hundred-yen coin and pop it into the machine.

Just then, a hand reached out from behind the man’s shoulder.

It was followed by a crisp clicking sound.

A sound that Taekjoo was well used to. A sound that a coin would make as it rolled down a narrow gap.

However, the man with the navy-blue beanie still had his coin in his hand.

The hand that had suddenly appeared and cut in line casually moved on to press the drink of choice.

“What the—”

The man in the beanie realized what had just happened. A heavy can thudded down the machine. The beanie man stopped Taekjoo’s hand, which was naturally heading toward the dispensing slot. The man was obviously confused. He was yelling before he could stop himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Looks like you couldn’t make up your mind. I’d be here all night if I had to wait for you.”

Taekjoo responded with audacity. His mocking tone was strangely—and strongly—familiar.

He had a sheer grin on his face, not looking the least bit sorry.

It was as though he was looking forward to getting into an argument.

Something was wrong. Something felt off.

The man’s instinct sensed the danger before he himself could.

His eyebrows squirmed, looking rigid as his anger was replaced by anxiousness. His breathing grew ragged as well. In no time, beads of sweat hung on his forehead.

“Fuck!”

The next moment, the man reached out for the vending machine. He was determined to secure the object first. In the blink of an eye, he flipped open the slot cover and seized something inside. Taekjoo had no hesitation in stepping on the cover.

“Argh!”

The man’s hand was trapped. He let out a sharp yell. Taekjoo had a carefree look on his face as if nothing had happened.

“You crazy bastard!”

The man seized Taekjoo by the collar in response to his series of provocations.

He was breathing hard, and his glaring eyes were impressive and quite intimidating.

But Taekjoo did not bat an eye. He simply took turns looking at his shirt and the beanie man.

The man found it strange that Taekjoo was so confident and calm.

Taekjoo grabbed the beanie man’s wrist. The motion was lazy.

Taekjoo moved slowly, as if to engrave his movement into the man’s mind.

The beanie man’s eyes twitched. The very eyes that had glared at Taekjoo moments earlier were now directed downward, toward their owner’s wrist.

The strength of the grip was impossible to ignore.

It confirmed something for him. Something that was not hopeful.

Meanwhile, Taekjoo looked around the audience that had gathered around them and mumbled mockingly.

“Oh, my. I hate being in the spotlight. You get me, right, Mr. Lee Cheoljin? It’s the nature of people in our field, wouldn’t you say?”

As soon as his name was called, he knew what Taekjoo was. The man’s face, which had been marked by annoyance, drained of color and turned pale.

A crowd of passengers had gathered. They now circled the scene with the two men in the center.

After all, watching people fight was always a spectacle.

Excitement was visible on the faces of the watchers.

Taekjoo concluded that nothing good would come out should he let this go on any longer.

A cornered mouse will fight back and attempt to bite the cat.

Any more pressure, and no one knew how Lee Cheoljin might react.

And if it led to some civilian casualty, it would cost Taekjoo more than just a simple write-up or two.

Taekjoo pulled Lee’s arm closer to him. At that moment, Lee huffed out a laugh.

“So, this is it, huh,” spoke Lee in his thick North Korean accent.

He no longer tried to hide his identity.

Spies have two options when their cover is blown.

They can either take their own life using the poison they prepared in advance or risk everything in a desperate escape, even if it means resorting to violence.

Lee would choose the latter. This had been a very difficult mission for Lee, and he wouldn’t simply abandon the fruits of his effort.

In a split second, Lee Cheoljin shoved his hand deep inside his pocket. Taekjoo slapped the hand away. While Lee was recovering from the blow, Taekjoo seized Lee’s neck and slammed his head on the vending machine.