chapter two

148 11 1
                                    

↑↑↑↑↑↑
M.Y.G

BACK AT my small, dark apartment, I sit down quietly, swallowing the rest of that baked egg. When I'm finished, I wait in silence. Wait for a thought to come to me, wait for a hint at what to do next. In the last few years of my search, I've completely photo identified over several million South Korean citizens, well over a quarter of the country.

But they are all strangers. Everyone is irrelevant.

In this populated country, in this vast world, I am completely alone. At least, until I find her. But with every sleepless night spent hacking into traffic cameras and security footage of even the most obscure alleyway, nothing. I remind myself it's only a quarter of the country. Three more quarters to go. Blinking, I wheel around in my peeling, faux leather chair and move on to the next town.

I start with addresses and family names, although I'm sure she's changed hers. But I never take that chance. Once I've logged her name into the system and come up with the list of those who share the name, I scan over the pictures. Quickly, because I know the minute I see her face, everything will stop. When that search proves to promise only empty results, I log onto street light cameras. I use the only digital picture I have of her to find a match. I bounce through every picture taking from the last eight years, but the familiar "not found" pops up. So I move on.

The fastest I can search a single town is in one night and a day. As long as my body doesn't fail me and stays awake. But there are big cities too, and towns that are almost completely off the grid. I've already begun to compile a list of towns that won't have any concrete digital evidence due to lack of electronics used. It's already far too long.

But I have a bank account that I've dedicated to saving money for my trips through these towns. And by bank account I mean a Tupperware under my bed.

Hours pass as I skim through security footage and credit card names, and suddenly it's five in the morning. I stare at the screen, feeling my body hunch over. Sleep deprivation is starting to catch up to me. My eyes begin to droop. I think I'm on the verge of fainting. Has that happened before? I wonder. Maybe. I can't remember. I never really remember unimportant things.

But as my tired eyes are just about to close, movement flashes in the footage I'm unintentionally resting on. I open my eyes wider, about to move on, but then I notice something about the movement. It's obviously a man, a very strong and well-built one, probably twice my size. he's wearing a black mask over his face from what I can see. The camera I'm using hasn't been activated for around ten years, so it's not the best quality. I lean in closer and my eyes involuntarily widen when I see he's holding a smaller figure by the neck. With a swift movement, he slams the figure onto the alleyway wall. I blink in slight surprise. This is new. Then the small figure begins to struggle, kicking his or her legs, saying something I can't hear. Perhaps the information he or she is trying to give isn't good enough for the tall man, because he's pulling something out of his belt. A gun.

"Holy crap," I whisper.

Then I jump up and reach for the small cell phone I have in my bottom drawer, laying unused and collecting dust. This is the first time I'm turning it on in a while, and I'm surprised to see it work. With a shaky breath, I type in the first number that comes to mind. 119. But then, just as I'm about to hit send, I hesitate.

If I do this, then that means the police will probably want to know how I knew what was happening in a small town miles and miles away. And I would have to tell them that I have been illegally hacking into government cameras to search for her. I would probably be arrested. And worse, my laptop and my small screens I have lining my wall, would be confiscated. Devices I have tirelessly prepped and worked on and programmed for years.

But this is a life, Yoongi.

Her voice sounds so real. I know she'd rather never see me again than be the cause of me ignoring someone's life. With another shaky sigh, I hit the send button. She is right.

"Central Daegu Police department, what is your emergency?" A voice asks in a monotonous tone.

I haven't talked to someone on the phone, let alone initiated a conversation, in well over a year. So this is a bit hard for me. I swallow, biting my lip, before quietly responding.

"Uh, I-I'd like to report an assault and a p-possible murder," I say slowly, glancing back at the screen.

The man is shoving the gun against the victim's temple. The smaller person is completely at his mercy. I grimace and look away.

"Are you in trouble? Is the attacker there with you?" The operator sounds a bit more worried now. "Please give me your location and--"

"Actually," I quickly interrupt. I don't have much time. "It isn't happening here. It's...it's in Jeju."

I give her the specific address as seen on my computer. It's too dire of a situation I suppose to ask questions, but she does sound a bit confused.

"I'll contact the Jeju department immediately...can I please have your name?" She asks.

My stomach drops. There it is. She wants to know how on earth I know. I lick my lips nervously. There is no way I can lie to the police. And if I simply hang up, I'll seem even more suspicious.

"Uh, Min Yoongi, ma'am," I say quietly.

"Thank you, Mr. Min," she replies.

I hang up before she can continue. I know exactly what's coming next. 'How exactly do you know about the attack?' Or something along these lines. I may as well put it off for as long as possible.

I turn off my computer, not able to bear watching anymore of the live footage. Besides, I wheel around, I have to leave. Now. I pull out the empty, black duffle bag I have underneath my bed, along with my savings also concealed there. I have a limited amount of clothes, so it's not hard to pack a majority of my wardrobe. Then I set to work, carefully unplugging my devices, setting my keys to the outside world into my bag.

My wires also need to be stashed away, but there are too many to fit into my already heavily filled bag. Sighing, I grab a crowbar from my mostly empty closet, finding a random floorboard in the corner. I'm not the strongest person, so it takes a bit to finally loosen it. Once I do, I stash the less important wires there, stomping the wooden floor back into place. I can always return when the coast is finally clear and retrieved my hidden belongings, but if not, I can always buy new ones. However, that is not ideal, especially considering the financial state I'm in.

I shake my head. Now isn't the time to think about how poor I am. I wish I had more time, but I don't know when the cops are going to arrive. So I'll have to leave my chair and bed sheets.

With a sigh, I glance around my small apartment. I'd been living in it since the beginning of college. Aren't I supposed to feel a sense of disappointment at leaving? But I sigh again and turn away, because I don't really care for the disgusting room I'd spent the past few years wasting away in.

I just don't want to go through anymore change.

↑↑↑↑↑↑

SPY-ISH → bts fanfiction Where stories live. Discover now