2. New Mission #14
As expected, his mother began bombarding him with questions—why wasn’t he texting back, what had happened to him, was he sick?
Quite an overreaction—it wasn’t like he had been out of reach for days and nights.
But Taekjoo was used to this. He humored his mother and tried to reassure her.
He was only able to hang up after promising her that he’d call every day.
Taekjoo was drained. He pressed his palms over his closed eyes and massaged them.
Now that he had put out that particular fire —reassuring his mother—his stomach grumbled.
At this point, he was beyond hungry. His stomach ached, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless he took care of it.
Taekjoo turned and glanced at the hostel owner, who was yawning. The man made a face when he noticed Taekjoo looking at him.
“Is there any place I can get some decent food around here?”
Annoyed at being disturbed, the owner stood up and began explaining how to get to a nearby diner, using his hands to point in different directions.
No sooner had he finished his explanation than the knot on the towel around Taekjoo’s waist came undone. It dropped right to the floor before he could stop it. Now, he had another favor to ask the owner, who was ogling at his crotch.
“And I’m gonna need some clothes.”
Of all places, why had the owner suggested this shabby diner?
Taekjoo sat in the empty restaurant, glancing around.
Who knows? The food might be great. Maybe this place is a hidden favorite among the locals.
He tried fooling himself but quickly thought otherwise when he got a look at the diner’s owner.
If the hostel owner was Ivanovich, then the diner owner must’ve been Ivanova.
Aside from a slight difference in their hairstyles, it was almost impossible to tell the two establishment owners apart.
There was no menu, and no server ever showed up to take his order.
The owner, after blatantly ignoring her only customer, Taekjoo, for a long while, suddenly served him food he hadn’t ordered.
It was borsch, a Russian soup made with cabbage, and pelmeni, a type of Russian meat dumplings.
Taekjoo questioned the owner with his eyes, and she responded by pointing at a wall.
Coffee, vodka, and kvass were scrawled on the wall in messy handwriting.
Taekjoo chose the traditional drink, kvass, then helped himself to the food.
As soon as he took a spoonful, the rank, gamey odor of badly cooked lamb hit his nose.
But Taekjoo was hungry, and this wasn’t the time to be picky.
He stuffed his mouth with the revolting food, frowning with every muscle in his face.
And he washed it down—more like kept it down—by chugging the kvass.
As he chewed his food, Taekjoo started thinking.
The more he thought, the more convinced he became.
He must have been cursed the moment he set foot in Russia.
There was no other explanation. Nothing else could justify the streak of misfortune that he’d gone through.
First, he had been assigned a mission for which he wasn’t the ideal candidate.
Then, the day he arrived in Russia, he got kidnapped.
On the fourth day, he lost all his possessions in a bomb attack.
And just now, he barely survived drowning.
And that bastard of a partner was totally useless—so useless that Taekjoo would be considered lucky if this asshole didn’t kill him by accident.
All his life, Taekjoo had never thought of himself as particularly unlucky.
Had the universe just been saving it all up, only to flip him off big time now?
Taekjoo raged on the inside, but he tried to keep himself composed.
Nothing would come from dwelling on the past.
He needed to move on. In fact, it would be much more productive for Taekjoo to plan his next steps.
First thing on his list was contacting headquarters.
He needed to report that he was still alive and provide an update on the mission.
He would likely have to request backup. Then, Taekjoo had to flee immediately—somewhere, anywhere.
Psikh Bogdanov had come after him out of nowhere, and there might be more on the way.
He needed to get to safety first. Figuring things out could come later.
But how was he supposed to reach headquarters?
He had lost all means of communication, and his mission was highly classified.
No one knew about it—not border control, immigration, or even the Korean Embassy.
During his entire stay in Russia, Taekjoo was supposed to be Sakamoto Hiro, but that didn’t make the Japanese Embassy an option.
What am I gonna do? The only solution he could think of was Zhenya, but there was a problem—Taekjoo didn’t know his number or any other way to contact him.
The man was as unpredictable as possible, coming and going wherever and whenever he pleased.
Taekjoo had no clue how to find him. Speaking of which, that bastard himself is impossible as well.
Did he really think handing over a plastic card was enough to help, without even knowing where Taekjoo might end up?
“Damn it.”
Taekjoo laid down his fork, shaking his head.
Now that he’d gotten some food in his stomach, he had no will or reason to keep forcing down the terrible food.
He picked up the tab and walked to the cashier.
Just then, he heard the cheerful chime of the bell above the door as two police officers walked in.
Judging from the friendly way they said hi, the officers seemed to be on good terms with the diner owner.
They didn’t wait to be seated but sat at a table with a familiarity that suggested they’d been there many times before.
The owner brought them glasses and vodka in the same easygoing manner.
They chatted and chuckled among themselves.
Only after quite a while did the owner finally come to the cashier to take Taekjoo’s payment.
“Three thousand rubles[6].”
It was outrageous. A third of that amount would already be overcharging.
The owner wasn’t just shameless about the overcharging—she actually looked proud of it.
From the quality of the food to the price, everything was far below satisfactory.
But Taekjoo just didn’t have the energy to argue with anyone right now.
Why should he care? It wasn’t even his money.
Taekjoo simply pulled out Zhenya’s card without complaint, which obviously upset the owner.
Taekjoo had to explain he had no cash on him.
Finally, the owner took the card begrudgingly.
Taekjoo waited for a bit, but it seemed there was something wrong with the machine.
After several failed attempts to run the card, the owner glared at Taekjoo.
Then, without a word, she walked over to the table where the officers were sitting.
She whispered something to them while glancing at Taekjoo from the corner of her eye.
Taekjoo’s eyes met the officers’, and their looks weren’t exactly friendly. Were they talking about him?
Soon, one of the officers stood up and approached Taekjoo. Taekjoo watched as the man came closer.
“What do you want from me?” Taekjoo asked.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come with us.”
Meanwhile, the other officer approached Taekjoo and abruptly grabbed his arm. What’s going on? Taekjoo was baffled by what was unfolding before his eyes.
This must be a misunderstanding, one that can be resolved through calm, civil conversations.
The only problem was that Taekjoo didn’t have his mask right now, and without it, he couldn’t claim to be Sakamoto Hiro.
He couldn’t reveal his true identity either.
He had to avoid going to the police station at all costs.
Should I make a run for it? It would be easy for Taekjoo to take down the two officers.
But he didn’t want to implicitly admit to a crime—whatever that was—that he didn’t commit by running away.
Doing so could drag the Russian police into the mess, and they’d come after Taekjoo as well.
Kwon Taekjoo was already on the run. It would do him no good to add another entity tailing him.
The first step was to figure out the reason calmly.
“I think I at least deserve to know why you’re questioning me.”
“The credit card you just tried to use—it’s been reported stolen.”
What? No way. He had just used it in the hostel, and it had gone through fine. Taekjoo couldn’t believe it, so the diner owner turned the screen toward him. There really was a warning message on the device.
“Now, let’s not waste our time. Just come with us.”
The officer ushered the dazed Taekjoo forward.
Taekjoo didn’t know what to do. If he were taken to the station, it would cause a lot of trouble.
He had no way to contact headquarters, so no help could be requested.
Was there really no choice but to tackle the two officers and run?
While Taekjoo was thinking, the officer who had been urging him pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tried to cuff him.
At that moment, Taekjoo quickly raised his arm.
“Argh!”
Taekjoo slapped the officer’s face with the back of his hand, then followed it with an elbow to the chest.
The bigger of the two officers staggered back, clutching his nose and chest.
Blood trickled between his thick fingers.
Seeing what Taekjoo did to his partner, the other officer lunged to attack.
“You bastard!”
Taekjoo shook the officer off his arm and was just about to kick him in the abdomen.
Just then, the bell on the door chimed once again.
Taekjoo had one of his long legs up in the air, aiming to land a kick.
Meanwhile, the officer was bracing for the impact.
Everyone froze on the spot at the sound of the bell, including the two men who were about to clash.
The person who came in at just the right time was none other than Zhenya. He was a useless colleague, but the familiarity of his presence brought Taekjoo some relief. The problem would soon be resolved, now that the owner of the credit card was here.
Taekjoo dropped his offensive stance and stood up straight.
The police officer didn’t miss his chance.
He tackled Taekjoo, and in the blink of an eye, Taekjoo’s wrists were pulled back and cuffed together.
There was nothing he could do but shoot Zhenya a dirty glare.
He even jerked his chin, signaling his useless colleague to step in and fix it.
However, Zhenya took his time, lazily scanning the diner.
Taekjoo believed Zhenya must be doing whatever he could to get them out of this mess.