young spy | jjk

05

You wanted to sleep; you really did. There was just no way for your brain to relax to the extent needed. Over and over again, it replayed the day. Not only what had happened with the young spy, but also the vision of the dead boy. Who was he? What had led him to end up in that grave? Did he have any family that was worried sick about him, maybe searching for him?

The thoughts continued as you stood on the narrow balcony, your form hunched over the thick wooden railing. You'd steered your heavy steps there as soon as Jeongguk had left.

His presence had been stressful—you wouldn't deny that—but it had also served as a great distraction.

If you had been more alert and observant, you would've noticed the lack of sounds signaling his departure. There hadn't been any sound from the front door closing, nor had the sound of a car departing echoed through the chilly air.

You were so distraught by your thoughts that you didn't notice the careful footsteps approaching you from behind.

"I'm sorry for hurting you."

You jumped slightly, not expecting the man to stand there as you turned around hastily. He was wearing the black fleece.

"I was just protecting myself," he added, coming to stand in front of the railing but choosing to leave some space between your bodies, which you were thankful for.

If it weren't for the still throbbing pain in your throat, you would've almost forgotten the incident. What did that say about the life you had led so far?

"Don't worry about it," you said as the both of you directed your gazes towards the small overgrown garden underneath the balcony. "As long as you don't do it again."

There was no reason to keep it against him. He'd had a perfectly good excuse for it. The lightness of your tone relieved him, you knew because you caught the small smile pulling on his lips.

"I didn't do that, though, did I?"

You turned your head to see him pointing towards your foot, which you unknowingly kept from even touching the ground. The truth was that it didn't hurt that bad, only when you put pressure on it.

"No, it's an old injury. I landed weirdly on it when I got off the bed earlier."

Jeongguk hummed as a reply, and after that, it was silent. You closed your eyes, enjoying the way the wind caressed your face and ruffled your hair.

"Do you... do you really go there just to save people?"

"Well, most of the time, I don't have to go all the way out there to the execution site. They usually call me whenever they have men under forty so that I can decide if I want to take them or not."

"So you make your decisions based on age?"

"Not only. Honestly, ninety-nine percent of those older than forty deserve to die. I recognize most of those men, and they're vile fucking humans. But even if there are older ones who deserve to be saved, there's really nothing I can do. My cover is that I take the young, hot ones to traffic them. The only reason I get away with it is that my uncle approved of it a long time ago. They think that you will be sold, used for 'service' for a while, and then killed off, anyway."

"But you don't know me. How did you decide I was worth saving?"

"I don't know you, no. And you were too exhausted for me to judge your personality, but I can tell that you're loved, Jeongguk. And more often than not, people who are so deeply cared for are good people. Decent, at least."

"How do you know I'm... loved?"

"Jimin and Namjoon. You didn't see it, but they looked at you with so much desperation, the kind that comes from love and adoration. If I let you die, I wouldn't just waste your life but somehow theirs, too."