Is there anything more futile than asking a child their future dreams? It's a question that hangs in the air, lingering. Children, after all, are known for their ever-shifting ambitions, crossing from one aspiration to another time after time.
One day, they might dream of becoming the president, and the next, an astronaut or a famous celebrity.
Kwon Taek-joo, in his youthful days, had always dreamed about becoming an astronaut or famous footballer. Even as he walked into the hallowed halls of the college entrance exam, he had no inkling that he would eventually become an agent of the National Intelligence Service (NIS).
His brother, on the other hand, was an exception to this ever-shifting attitude. From the very moment he could speak in earnest, his dream remained steadfast and unwavering.
He aspired to follow in the footsteps of his father, to become a soldier. Yet, his mother couldn't help but whine when, on his first birthday, he eagerly picked up a book - a book on military theory.
His mother had harbored a deep-rooted hope that her two sons would never choose a path that led them into the perils of military life. Her own father, who placed the call of duty above all else, and her husband, who had been a soldier himself, had given her a lot of problems.
She had spent countless sleepless nights when her husband was out on dangerous missions, being reminded of cradling her own brother in both arms, covered in his own blood. She didn't wish such suffering upon her own children, hah, to anyone.
However, as fate would have it, children seldom heed their parent's wishes.
In a heartbreaking turn of events, her elder son destroyed her hopes. He volunteered for the Navy and ultimately gave his life in service to his country. That was a decade ago, but the wound remained fresh in his mother's heart.
After his funeral, she turned to Kwon Taek-joo, her only remaining son, and pleaded with him not to follow the same path. But even Kwon Taek-joo couldn't grant her wish.
The rules of the National Intelligence Service dictated that an agent's identity should remain a secret, even for their close family, including theirparents. But it wasn't just those regulations that kept Kwon Taek-joo from confiding in his mother.
She had already endured the loss of her father, her husband, and her firstborn to the nation. Revealing that her last living relative now wielded a knife more often than chopsticks would be a burden too heavy to bear.
In her eyes, Kwon Taek-joo was just a humble civil servant in a provincial town, living under the guise of a Japanese identity. Little did she know that he was en route to Moscow.
As the memories of the past flooded his mind, Kwon Taek-joo closed his eyes and reached for his phone. As expected, a message from his mother had arrived:
[Son, enjoy your lunch. Good luck!]
It was a daily greeting. If there was no response, it would be followed by a phone call. His mother's faith in him seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.
He placed the phone back in his pocket and checked the time. It had been nine long hours since he had boarded the plane. Glancing at the monitor displaying the remaining distance, it seemed that it would take about an hour to reach the destination. At this point, he decided it was time to check his disguise.
Slowly, he rose from his seat and made his way to the bathroom. It was empty when he arrived, but as he was about to enter, he heard an unexpected commotion coming from the economy class.
Curiosity piqued, he peered through the curtains and saw a heated argument between a passenger and a flight attendant.
It appeared that someone had drank too much alcohol. He quickly lost interest and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind him.Inside, he examined the unfamiliar face reflected in the mirror.
The currentKwon Taek-joo had become Sakamoto Hiro, at least in appearance. Even his ears had been meticulously adjusted to match. All that remained of Kwon Taek-joo were his dark eyes.
He turned his head, his fingers tracing the texture of the artificial leather. It felt eerily similar to his own skin. He ran a hand through his hair, washed his hands, and dried them with a paper towel.
Just as he was about to leave, something abruptly struck the back of the bathroom door.
Bam!
No matter how forcefully Taekju tried opening it, it just wouldn't budge. The ceiling lights flickered and dimmed.
Soon, the noise outside escalated further. The flight attendant's concerned voice, the sound of hurried footsteps, and the incoherent yelling of a man merged into a cacophony of chaos.
He unlocked the door and pulled it open again, and the man who had been leaning against it tumbled inside.
"Aagh... what the fuck!"
The burly man was clearly drunk, a typical representation of a Russian. He clutched a bottle of vodka in his hand, evidence of his onboard indulgence. While he claimed to be drunk by mistake, the reality seemed a
few notches above that.
Kwon Taek-joo gazed down at the man, who struggled to find his words. Only the flight attendants seemed capable of handling the situation.
"Sir, please, try to stand up. I'll assist you."
"What? How dare you touch me? Let go! Hey, let go!"
"Kyaaak!"
The man pushed away the flight attendant who was trying to help him. The other crew members watched with embarrassment as no one seemed able to immediately subdue this formidable Russian.
Even the fellow passengers who had intervened remained reluctant. While contemplating his options, one of the flight attendants rushed to the cockpit to alert the crew.
Normally, in such an onboard disturbance, the aircraft would make an emergency landing at the nearest airport. This would require all passengers to disembark, subjecting them to a tedious process of baggage inspection and long boarding procedures.
The passengers would have to endure lengthy waits until the aircraft was cleared for use or alternative flights arranged.
Intervening in this altercation was against protocol. Kwon Taek-joo had no desire to draw attention to himself.
However, the disruption caused by this unruly passenger was an unwelcome deviation from his original plan, and he wasn't thrilled about the inconvenience that lay ahead.
He grabbed the back of the intoxicated man's collar, who still leaned against his legs.
"Wake up for a moment."
"... Ugh!"
The man, forced to stand, was unsteady on his feet, stumbling forward and knocking into the toilet bowl. A low, collective gasp escaped from thepassengers.
Those seated near the front row quickly rose to their feet, ignoring the flight attendants' pleas to remain seated. Suddenly, the cabin was filled with calls for assistance from all corners.
For a brief moment, the atmosphere grew eerily quiet, yet the expected stop of the plain did not happen. The passengers further back, straining to see what was happening, exchanged bewildered glances.
The man who had attempted a surprise attack on Kwon Taek-joo's face was left hanging, Taek-joo holding him by his neck. He had to fully subdue him before releasing his stranglehold, at which point he delivered a swift kick to the man's shoulder and pushed him out of the bathroom.
The passengers erupted in silent screams once more.
Taekju then dragged him into the bathroom again and locked the door. Sometime later, Taekju came back. The passengers were confused and curious about what had happened in that room.
Kwon Taek-joo casually straightened his rumpled jacket and strolled out, leaving the man, who was scared and silent now, on the ground. The man got up and went to his seat.
'I'm sorry everyone. I'll shut up now."
"I-is everything all right?"
Around that time, the first officer, who had reported the incident, emerged. He analyzed the situation, alternating his gaze between the still-struggling passenger and Kwon Taek-joo, then directed his attention to the flight attendants.
Kwon Taek-joo returned to his seat, not minding anything.
Click.
The sound of his seatbelt fastening signaled the end of this tumultuous episode.The flight attendants, previously engrossed in dealing with the inebriated passenger, were now occupied with calming the irate passengers who had voiced complaints and objections.
"Sorry, I apologize for the disturbance. Were you alarmed? I'll bring you a glass of warm water. You're safe now. Don't worry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
Behind the drawn curtains, these words were repeated incessantly. An apology announcement was also broadcast, acknowledging the disruption that had occurred during the flight.
Kwon Taek-joo ignored it and attempted to close his eyes, but the first officer and the flight attendant approached. It appeared they wanted to express their gratitude for his assistance.
Kwon Taek-joo reluctantly removed his headphones and offered a dry nod of acknowledgment. The two then returned to their respective seats, expressing their heartfelt thanks for the assistance.
As passengers who had previously complained now complied with instructions to fasten their seatbelts due to turbulence, calmness now hung in the cabin.
But even without any further disturbances, Kwon Taek-joo couldn't quite relax. His ears felt muffled, and sleep remained elusive. As he idled away the time, a soothing in-flight announcement broke through the silence.
[Ladies and gentlemen, our plane will soon arrive at Domodedovo Airport in Moscow. The local time is 16:11. The weather is overcast with many clouds, and the temperature is -13 degrees Celsius. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience caused by the unexpected disturbances during the flight. Thank you for choosing Japan Airlines, and we look forward to serving you again soon. Thank you.]
However, after the announcement, the plane continued to circle the skies for some time. It was past 5 PM by the time the plane landend safely on the ground.
Kwon Taek-joo joined the throngs of passengers as they made their way to the immigration checkpoint. He wasn't particularly nervous; after all, he had crossed borders disguised as someone else numerous times before.
The examination was swift, with the immigration officer sparing only a cursory glance at Kwon Taek-joo before allowing him to pass.
The process continued smoothly, from retrieving his luggage to reaching the arrivals hall. Outside the exit, a crowd of people eagerly awaited the arrival of their loved ones, family, and friends.
Although Kwon Taek-joo was in Moscow on official business, arriving a day ahead of the main event, there was no arrangement for someone to meet him. He had planned to proceed to the hotel alone.
Yet, amidst the sea of faces, a piece of paper with 'Sakamoto Hiro' scrawled upon it caught his attention. He removed his sunglasses for a closer look and confirmed that the name was written in both Chinese and English characters.
Below that, the name 'Itochu Corporation' was written. He halted in his tracks, and the individual holding the sign appeared visibly pleased.
"Mister Sakamoto?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Taekju replied with a hint of uncertainty. Who was this man? A warm smile stretched across the man's face.
"Hello! I'm Vasily Alexandrovich, from Gazprom's Public Relations Office. I heard that you were arriving in Moscow today, so I came to greet you."
Kwon Taek-joo extended his hand, albeit hesitantly, towards Vasily, who eagerly shook it.
"I wasn't informed of such an arrangement...""You weren't informed? Could there have been an understanding According to our communication services this morning, we were supposed to meet you at the airport. They mentioned they'd inform you, Mr. Sakamoto, as well."
Vasily spoke confidently, convinced of the accuracy of his information. Kwon Taek-joo decided to double-check, reaching for his work phone. He had received several messages while aboard the plane, some of which were likely from Lim.
As Vasily claimed, Gazprom had dispatched someone to greet him.
"Ah... Yes, that's correct."
"So it was a misunderstanding. In any case, you've had a long journey. By the way, why did you arrive later than expected?"
"We had a minor incident on the plane."
"Another case of drunken disturbances?"
"May I ask how you figured that?"
"Ah, it's quite common for Russian men, you know. As fiery as vodka itself. I'm sure it was quite a shock for you. But aside from that, are you doing well? I'd love to hear more about your journey."
"It's fine. I'm fine."
"Ah, good to hear. Then follow me."
Even when Vasily saw I still hesitated, he didn't seem disheartened. On the contrary, he cheerfully led the way, as if something wonderful had occurred.Kwon Taek-joo followed at a leisurely pace, his thoughts flashing in his mind.
He couldn't pinpoint where or how the misunderstanding had arisen, but one thing was clear: Hiro Sakamoto was an esteemed guest, and this had only complicated matters for Kwon Taek-joo. He would have to continue masquerading as Sakamoto Hiro until he reached the hotel.
A black sedan awaited them at the spot where Vasily had led him. The driver emerged from the front seat, nodding in acknowledgment.
He retrieved Kwon Taek-joo's bag and stowed it in the trunk. Vasily personally opened the rear door, and Kwon Taek-joo awkwardly slid into the seat, overwhelmed by the hospitality.
As Vasily settled into the passenger seat and closed the door, the sedan pulled away from the airport. The long flight had left Kwon Taek-joo feeling weary and sore all over. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes for a brief rest, signaling to Vasily that he wasn't in the mood for idle chatter.
The drive continued in silence, occasionally punctuated by Vasily's enthusiastic attitude.
The road had grown dark, the city lights illuminating the way. However, the bustling atmosphere of Moscow was everywhere.
Everywhere he looked, Lada vehicles dominated the streets, and the Starbucks logo adorned the cityscape alongside the Cyrillic alphabet.
Passersby, bundled up against the cold, wore traditional shapkas, their noses red from the biting chill. It was clear that the frigid temperatures had taken a toll.
"I knew Moscow was cold, but is it really that cold?"
Vasily, who had been sharing tales of his travels in Japan, fell silent at Kwon Taek-joo's sudden question.
He grinned, undeterred by the rude and sudden interruption.
"It's not too bad these days. Even in the heart of winter, it rarely drops below minus 15 degrees Celsius (5 degrees Fahrenheit). Quite manageable, I'd say."
Kwon Taek-joo, shivering at the thought of such cold, responded with a reluctant nod.
"Sometimes, you'll hear people complain about the cold in Moscow. But trust me, compared to some places like Irkutsk or Verkhoyansk, where temperatures range from minus 20 to minus 45 degrees (minus 4 to minus 49 Fahrenheit) Moscow is practically a paradise. Of course, it's no Tokyo, where they say the temperature never falls below freezing. If it did, I imagine people would be literal blocks of ice."
The prospect of temperatures plummeting to minus 40 degrees sent a second shiver down Kwon Taek-joo's spine. Vasily continued his boring chatter, unaware that Kwon Taek-joo's attention had drifted elsewhere.
"Most Muscovites are quite accustomed to the cold. They wouldn't trade it for anything. Is it true that Tokyo maintains above-freezing temperatures year-round? I've heard stories of people freezing to death if it gets too cold."
Kwon Taek-joo could only nod, feeling grateful for the relatively mild winters he was accustomed to.
Their conversation rambled on, but Kwon Taek-joo struggled to focus on Vasily's words. His thoughts lingered on the events that had transpired during the flight, and he couldn't shake the sense of unease that accompanied him.
There is something wrong...
It was then, in the midst of his cautious optimism, that a jolt of fear shot through him, like a dagger thrust into his back.