NOVEL NEXT vol. 2 chapter 8 - Passion in HongKong (8)
“……. ……. ……I guess it’s a bit less untangled than I thought.”
Taeui turned back toward Kim Jeong-pil. But seeing that bastard’s scalp torn, nose bleeding, lips split and smeared with blood like a corpse, he no longer felt like pounding him. Yet if he backed off now, the one waiting behind him would surely stop breathing.
“First, keep him alive, then I’ll finish untangling him later.”
Muttering loudly enough for anyone to hear, Taeui grabbed Kim Jeong-pil by the back of the neck and dragged him out of the martial-arts hall like a sack.
Ilrey stood by the door, his cold eyes on Taeui, but Taeui met that gaze without hesitation and hauled the corpse-like Kim «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Jeong-pil into the outer corridor. Ilrey glared at Kim Jeong-pil with a terrible look, but didn’t block their path.
Without looking back—unsure when Ilrey’s mind might change—Taeui briskly headed for the elevator.
Kim Jeong-pil, either unconscious or too beaten to move, was unbearably heavy as he was dragged along. Why am I going through all this trouble to keep this bastard alive? Taeui cursed under his breath but couldn’t abandon him, so he kept going toward the elevator.
The martial-arts hall was nearly at the very end of the corridor, and by the time they reached the elevator, Taeui was drenched in sweat. Standing before the mirror-like elevator doors, he looked a wreck. His eyelids were swollen purple, his lips torn with dried blood crusted there. His wrists were raw, and the joint of his left thumb was puffy. Hidden by his clothes, bruises surely speckled the rest of his body.
…What a grotesque face. And I fought at close quarters with Ilrey looking like this.
“Ugh…”
Taeui scratched his head, then glanced back. A streak of blood marked the corridor where Kim Jeong-pil had been dragged—like something out of a horror movie he’d once watched and thought chilling. But his head burned too hot for any memory to stick.
The elevator opened. With another grunt, Taeui pulled Kim Jeong-pil in. The doors closed on Kim Jeong-pil’s leg, pinching him. He let out a low groan and curled up until the doors reopened.
“Why does such a short leg get stuck?”
Grumbling, Taeui bent Kim Jeong-pil’s leg into the elevator and the doors shut again.
Rising toward the floor with the medical bay, Taeui finally exhaled in relief. His tense shoulders slumped.
“Consider yourself lucky to have almost died today,” he murmured, looking down at the corpse-like figure. Kim Jeong-pil was too out of it to heed the words, but in Taeui’s mind today was one of the luckiest days of that bastard’s life.
He wanted to beat him more, but he was exhausted—so tired he could collapse right here. Worse, Ilrey had soured his mood. Taeui let out a bitter sigh.
“Huh… can’t even say thanks, can you…? Not a single appreciative word…”
At that, the seemingly unconscious Kim Jeong-pil muttered through a slurred voice. Even in that state, his mocking tone remained.
Taeui glared savagely. The elevator halted at the medical-bay floor and the doors opened. Taeui smacked Kim Jeong-pil’s head like an acorn and dragged him out. Once more the doors closed on Kim Jeong-pil’s leg; he hissed in pain, a sound that strangely pleased Taeui.
“I’m dragging you to sickbay, so you better be grateful. And when that mangled meat of yours heals up, think about how many more hits you’re gonna get.”
He pulled Kim Jeong-pil down the corridor toward the infirmary, leaving another bloodstain in his wake. Later, when Luther saw this, he’d go ballistic. But if Taeui slipped away before Luther arrived, he’d have Kim Jeong-pil scrub the floors with a mop. Luther showed no mercy—even to patients. Taeui smirked cruelly.
“Taeui, you bastard, you’ve got no luck… your comrades treat you coldly, even the instructor dislikes you enough to tell me, ‘If he doesn’t show up on time, just ignore it—do as you please,’ and that’s what you call gratitude?”
As Taeui dragged Kim Jeong-pil down the hallway, he heard Kim Jeong-pil’s sneering words in his ear.
Taeui stopped in his tracks, the smile dropping from his face.
“What?”
“Not that! Earlier—what about the instructor? What did he say?!”
Taeui seized Kim Jeong-pil by the collar and yanked him close. The bloodied man’s swollen eyes snapped open and glared back, contorting with hatred.
“He said, ‘If you don’t show up on time, I won’t mention it to anyone—do as you like.’ Why… why would he say that to me—”
Taeui didn’t listen to the rest of the slurred spiel. His expression hardened, then he shoved Kim Jeong-pil away and bolted down the corridor.
Damn it. How could I have forgotten so completely?
It was past the time he should have gone to see Hogan. The other instructors who’d been with Hogan had already dispersed; by now Hogan would be alone—somewhere. Alone, somewhere.
—Damn it.
It had felt odd: why would Ilrey let him go so easily? Ilrey must have known the time had passed and that his steps were headed toward wherever Hogan was alone now.
He thought he just had to hold out for today or tomorrow, but this moment had come after all.
Hogan clicked his tongue softly. The code wouldn’t work. For the third time since earlier, the warning beep sounded.
Five wrong entries block the line. Only two tries remained. But between the three beeps, Hogan had entered the correct code he knew.
“Why won’t it match?”
He muttered anxiously. It was the code he’d obtained just last night. Had it changed in a day? Maybe. He vaguely recalled one of the instructors mentioning this evening was a rotation day. Was this it?
Hogan clicked his tongue again.
The time that the intelligence archive was empty was brief—only about ten minutes during shift change overlapping dinner. And those ten minutes were almost gone.
Should he give up—today? Or perhaps not just today, but abandon attempts to access information here altogether? If he waited until tomorrow, only one day’s window remained—but even waiting until tomorrow carried huge risks.
Damn it, things felt off from the start. From when they’d planted that blatantly watchful First Lieutenant on him. He’d known the higher-ups here already suspected him.
He’d nearly given up then, but the fact they’d still put that obvious First Lieutenant on him meant they didn’t want an incident on the surface. So whatever happened, the worst Hogan would face was forced resignation.
He didn’t mind quitting. He’d been planning to soon anyway. What mattered more was the pay for this job. The research materials Jaeui had taken to the Middle East—worth a fortune.
Yeah, once I get the data, it’s over. He’d even received an anti-tamper code in case they’d inserted fake data.
…but the code still wouldn’t work. Nothing.
Hogan grew frantic. He’d risked everything to get here, to get this code, to seize this opportunity.
And it might be his last chance to sell the information. He’d started to get nervous; once he left here, he’d lay low for a while—maybe for a long time.
So he couldn’t let this chance slip. He couldn’t give up now.
With trembling hands, he entered the code meticulously—but again the error beep rang. One try remained.
His anxious fingers froze over the keyboard. What to do? Delay until next time? Wait—maybe there was a pattern in the changing codes. What could it be?
As Hogan glanced at his watch in frustration, footsteps approached the archive door—slow, steady.
Startled, he looked up just as the door opened. A tall, well-built shadow stepped inside.
Hogan, momentarily stuck before the computer, quickly adopted a casual expression. He’d prepared an excuse in case the next shift came mid-session.
But the man who entered wasn’t the scheduled handler for tonight. It was Ilrey—Regrow, the mad killer famed for atrocities.
Yet Hogan wasn’t afraid. Despite the rumors, this man had never shown any ill intent toward him. In fact, whenever Hogan had been in trouble, Ilrey had quietly helped him—like when he last tried to access the systems room and failed because of that detestable First Lieutenant.
“……Regrow. What brings you here?” Hogan feigned surprise.
Ilrey looked slightly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to be here, then shrugged with a faint smile.
“Mike, the shift worker, had something come up. He asked me to fill in for twenty minutes or so. You, though—what brings you here?”
“Ah, I was checking past training records. After training ends, I plan to revise our training plan based on this session. But this one session doesn’t have enough data…”
Hogan feigned reluctance. Ilrey, idly picking up a book from the shelf, looked at him curiously.
“I thought they’d be public, but there’s a password on the access line.”
“Hmm? Past training records shouldn’t be classified… Ah, right. It’s month-end data consolidation, so they’ve locked it temporarily.”
Ilrey stood and approached Hogan. Hogan’s shoulders tensed, though he concealed it.
Over Hogan’s shoulder, Ilrey slipped on dark blue gloves, typed a few keystrokes—and the password screen cleared. “PERMIT” blinked twice and vanished.
“Let’s see… it should be here.”
From the myriad folders—no doubt many empty—Ilrey quickly located one and stepped back from the console.
Hogan stared at the screen in daze. The internal line was open and most of the internal data was exposed. He’d only planned an excuse, not expected Ilrey’s help. Perhaps they thought he wouldn’t dare do anything suspicious under watch—but to have the key opened so readily was unexpectedly smooth, almost suspicious.
“Ah… yes, that’s it. Thanks. But how did you know the keyword?”
Hogan asked casually, while Ilrey, still smiling, picked up another book beyond the monitor. Meanwhile Hogan’s fingers darted to another folder. The real data he needed was probably deeper.
It looked hard to find quickly—better to download a few suspicious folders wholesale.
“I used to serve as an instructor here. I was in charge of information management, so since I’m here, I’m helping out.”
“I see. Haha—but is it okay to just open the internal line like this?”
“That’s why they’re watching.”
Ilrey replied playfully, and Hogan laughed in return. Out of sight of Ilrey’s station, Hogan hastily selected three or four folders and began downloading them in bulk. Fingers busy, he almost missed the new window prompting the download.
Simultaneously, he ran the anti-tamper codes. …None flagged. All genuine files.
His hands trembled with excitement.
Good. Now just wait until it’s all downloaded. Buying time was all he needed. The files seemed large—would take minutes.
“But what about your First Lieutenant? Leaving you alone while an instructor works—isn’t that shirking his duty? I should have him removed.”
Ilrey teased with a light laugh and a wink. Hogan was about to quip “He’s hopeless,” but remembered the rumors of their relationship and stayed silent. He’d heard the detestable First Lieutenant and Ilrey were close. The idea made him sick, but he saw no reason to offend Ilrey here.
“Speaking of Taeui—he should rest too. He must be exhausted. Looks like he’s not been sleeping well lately.”
Ilrey’s tone was light as he mentioned Taeui, and Hogan forced a smile, turning back to monitor the download.