Phoenix

44. A promise

The weight of the past week felt like a physical burden pressing against Jin’s shoulders as he stood before the heavy mahogany door of the Chief’s office. The silence of the NIS headquarters was a stark contrast to the roaring rotors and crashing waves of the North Sea. Here, the air was filtered, still, and smelled faintly of floor wax and old paper.

​He knocked once, a sharp, disciplined sound.

​"Enter," the Chief’s voice rumbled from within.

​Jin stepped inside, his posture instinctively straightening into a perfect military stance. The office was dimly lit, the only significant light source being the desk lamp that cast long shadows across the room. The Chief sat behind his desk, a thick cigar smoldering in a crystal ashtray, the blue smoke curling toward the ceiling like a lazy ghost.

​"Good job, Seokjin," the Chief said, his eyes lifting from a folder to study Jin. The praise was rare, unembellished, and heavy with the gravity of what had been averted.

​Jin offered a short, respectful nod. "Thank you, sir."

​"I have spoken to the NUMA chief," the older man continued, leaning back. The leather of his chair groaned under the movement. "He is recovering well. The doctors were optimistic."

​"Is he out of the hospital?" Jin asked. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of genuine concern behind the stoic mask. Admiral Anderson had been a pivotal ally in the chaos.

​"Not yet. But he’s already back to barking orders from his bed," the Chief replied with a ghost of a smile. He tapped the ash from his cigar. "More importantly, he assured me that he’ll handle the political fallout. He’s navigating the waters with the White House and the CIA as we speak. He’s made it very clear that they won't be causing any 'jurisdictional friction' next time. He’s ensuring our operations remain off their radar."

​Jin felt a minor tension release in his chest. Dealing with the aftermath of a hijacked Dutch missile and a destroyed attack helicopter was a bureaucratic nightmare he was glad to skip. "And what about Tina?"

​The Chief’s expression softened, the hard lines of his face yielding to something more paternal. "You gave her your word, Seokjin, and the NIS will not dishonor that. We owe her more than a debt of gratitude; we owe her a life. I agree with your assessment—bringing her here is the best solution for everyone involved."

​"What's the next step?"

​"We’ve already secured a high-clearance shelter for her. She’ll be given every opportunity, every resource we can provide. But," the Chief held up a hand, "before we can even begin to sort out the geopolitical implications of the Uno-code, she has to stay completely off the grid. She has to be laid low. No exceptions."

​"She can stay—" Jin began, his mind already formulating a plan to keep her close where he could monitor her safety personally.

​"No. Negative." The Chief shook his head firmly, cutting him off. "The NIS will handle her security protocols. We will not let her fall into any more danger, and frankly, I won't risk your safety or Agent Akaishi’s by turning your personal lives into a target. Having her live with either of you makes you a beacon for every shadow agency on the planet."

​Jin tightened his jaw but nodded. The logic was sound, even if it felt cold. "Can I count on you, sir? To ensure she isn't just a prisoner in a golden cage?"

​"You can," the Chief said, his voice dropping into a solemn register. "The whole world will forever remain grateful to you two, even though mankind will never know what you’ve actually done for them. Her protection is our highest priority."