Junho opens his eyes to find the short hand of the clock already well past nine.

  He feels as though he woke up two or three times during the night.

  Although he went to bed early around ten o'clock last night, sleep never settles deeply; it ebbs and flows like shallow waves.

  Age is something one can never deceive, no matter how hard one tries to ignore it. It has been especially so since passing sixty.

  Falling into a deep, sound sleep throughout the night becomes increasingly rare.

  Usually, his eyes would open naturally at seven in the morning, but perhaps due to the fitful sleep, he remains tied to his bed until this late hour.

  The fact that his body is no longer what it used to be slowly presses down on him like a heavy fatigue.

  Today is Saturday, the day a National Intelligence Service (NIS) agent is scheduled to pick him up.

  It is also the day of his scheduled meeting with the Director of the NIS. He should have finished his preparations neatly and been waiting calmly long ago, but because he overslept, his mind is in complete disarray.

  He tries to gather his thoughts in a hurry, but his heart only races, and he can't seem to get a grip on anything.

  10:00 AM. At the exact appointed time, his phone rings.

  "Mr. Vice Minister, are you awake? I have arrived below the officetel. You can come out to the front entrance." "Ah... yes. I will be down shortly."

  Junho hurriedly dresses in his suit and heads straight downstairs.

  As he leaves the Gangnam officetel, the sight of Taegeukgi (Korean flags) lined up along the streets catches his eye. "I see many Korean flags on the road."

  It is a comment made without much thought, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. He had forgotten that a national holiday is approaching. "Tomorrow is March 1st, Independence Movement Day."

  The government agent answers in a calm voice, devoid of emotion. The moment Junho hears those words, a corner of his chest turns cold.

  The fact that he failed to recall even a national holiday that returns without fail every year feels strangely foreign to him.

  While he knows in his head that the brain withers as the body ages, he never quite gets used to the moments he feels it so tangibly.

  "Mr. Vice Minister, have you heard the news? A message came from the U.S. side this morning.

  That Asian alien woman you met a while ago… they say she is dead."

  "What? What did you say?"

  Junho’s eyes tremble violently. Death—it is a word that feels utterly surreal.

  He barely manages to compose his expression and asks again as if it were nothing.

  "Dead… what happened?"

  "They say that after escaping from the air force base yesterday afternoon, she was traveling toward California in a heavy truck she hitched a ride with while walking through the Mojave Desert. The truck driver was a woman. Apparently, they stopped at a diner along the way and got into a dispute with some men. T

  hose men held a grudge and reported them to ICE, after which the police and agents pulled the truck over.

  However, when the alien woman stepped out alone and moved, they mistook her actions for reaching for a gun… and the police opened fire. The report says she died instantly at the scene."

  The government agent explains calmly, as if reading from a prepared report, his voice stripped of all emotion.

  "Ah… I see."

  Junho exhales a short breath. Even as his mind goes blank and cold, he desperately tries to maintain his composure.

  "In that case, has the U.S. JSTR confirmed this fact as well?"

  "Yes. They didn't realize it at the time of the incident, but a day later, they confirmed her identity, took custody of the body, and reportedly began an investigation."

  A brief silence settles inside the car. Outside the window, the Taegeukgi flags flutter in the wind as they pass by, but Junho’s gaze wanders through the air, unable to rest anywhere. The word 'death' lingers in his mind like an unbelievable echo.

  "Mr. Vice Minister, however, the moment the shots were fired was broadcast live on TV.

  It is currently causing a massive wave of shock in American society. They say protests are spreading through every major city.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Human rights organizations and Democratic supporters, who have been dissatisfied with the current administration's anti-immigration policies, began to explode in anger after witnessing the scene of that Asian woman being shot on broadcast."

  The agent’s words remain calm to the end, but the content is by no means light.

  Junho stares out the window, unable to say a word.

  '…Is this what Illik intended? Did she try to create a crack in American society through her own death?'

  Thoughts follow one after another in a long chain, and as he reaches one particular possibility, a chill runs down his spine.

  'She intended to turn her own unjust death into a spark that shakes a nation.'

  But soon, he shakes his head. If Illik tried to start a change in the world in this manner, it is a miscalculation. That is far too naive a thought.

  And there is one part he cannot understand. Illik can die physically. However, her memory files, identity, and ego could be stored in the form of a special substance inside a personal sphere. Junho and Illik had even created the technology to enter another person's brain using that very substance.

  The initial method was a dangerous process of physically separating brain tissue and memory files from the skull, but over time, the transplantation method became far more sophisticated and clandestine. If Illik handed that silver sphere to someone before she died.

  She might already be opening her eyes again inside someone else’s brain. Junho’s gaze wavers slowly.

  ‘Then… who is holding that sphere right now?’ It is a matter that must be confirmed.

  The car gradually slows down and enters the main gate of the NIS building.

  The gray exterior walls shine coldly under the morning sunlight. The door to the Director’s office opens.

  “Hello, Mr. Vice Minister. Please, come in,” the Director of the NIS greets him with a smile.

  The current Director is warmer and less authoritative than his predecessor. At the same time, he is a man who prefers rational and democratic procedures.

  “Yes, hello. It’s been a while,” Junho says, having known him for some time.

  “Mr. Vice Minister, I will get straight to the point. North Korea wants to meet you, but I don't know the exact reason why.

  In fact, even though we’ve mentioned recently that we aren't engaging in any hostile acts and are pursuing peaceful meetings, the North Korean authorities still do not treat us as the same people. They are making sharp remarks, such as the possibility of war with the South.

  I have no idea why they are requesting such a secret meeting with us. Do you happen to know the reason?”

  “Director, to be honest, I have no idea either. Rather, back when I was the Vice Minister of Defense, I focused on strengthening missile defense capabilities, so North Korea likely dislikes me. I find it puzzling that they suddenly want to meet me,” Junho says truthfully.

  “Fine. I believe you are speaking honestly. Then, if you go to the North to talk, please clearly state our government’s position. Make it clear that our government has absolutely no intention of absorbing the North through unification and has no intent to provoke them militarily. Tell them we will not provoke them first and that we hope for economic and cultural exchanges.” Although he is the head of the intelligence sector, the Director is a man with a clear personal stance on Korean unification.

  “Yes, of course. I will do so.”

  “And, Mr. Vice Minister, you know the international situation is moving very rapidly. Even extraterrestrial beings have appeared, changing the political and economic landscape of the entire world. We don’t know what these cosmic entities will do yet, but I believe they will certainly affect the Korean Peninsula. In my opinion, the appearance of this alien being has had some impact on North Korea. That is purely my own thought.”

  “I believe that is possible. Director, I will do my best.”

  “Mr. Vice Minister, that puts my mind at ease. The President also has high expectations for you. We want a good relationship with the North.”

  “Ah, but Director… how exactly do I enter North Korea?” This is what Junho is most curious about. “Mr. Vice Minister, this is the most difficult part. Neither the U.S. nor China must know that you are entering North Korea. You must enter completely in secret and return without leaving a trace.” The Director’s voice is low but firm.

  The method he proposes feels beyond bold—it feels reckless. The plan is to cross the DMZ, the ceasefire line dividing North and South, directly into North Korea. It is not through an official route or via a third country, but through a secret passage that wouldn't even appear on a map. He says North Korea has also agreed to this operation. A section of the ceasefire line in the Gangwon Province area would be opened in a limited capacity, allowing movement through a narrow path where landmines have been cleared. That path would open briefly and then be sealed immediately afterward.

  “It must never be captured.” The Director of the NIS emphasizes his final words with particular precision.

  “No trace must remain, not on U.S. reconnaissance satellites nor on any surveillance equipment. The moment the existence of this operation is revealed, it is a failure.”

  The conversation is nearing its end. Toward the conclusion, Junho subtly asks if there is any confirmed information regarding Country R launching an attack on the space battleship. “Director… is the information certain that R plans to attack the space battleship?” Junho’s question is cautious, but a distinct tension permeates it.

  “Yes. It is almost certain. Since the incident where the spacecraft recovered the bodies of R’s soldiers, public outrage has been boiling within that country. Given the regime's nature of prioritizing prestige, the likelihood of retaliatory action is high. We judge that a military response will take place shortly.”

  The Director pauses for a moment before adding in a low voice: “However, there is something strange. There is no response or warning from the space battleship’s side. No special movement has been captured on the surveillance networks either. It is as if they know everything and are simply waiting.”

  Junho’s eyes waver subtly. “Ah… I see.” He asks no further questions.

  Staring somewhere out the window, he continues quietly, like someone already performing a different set of calculations.

  “We will know once we wait and see.” His voice is calm, but those words linger in the room like an ominous premonition—the attitude of a man who already knows of an impending clash but has accepted it as unavoidable.

  The meeting with the Director is over, and Junho returns to his Gangnam officetel. Fatigue washes over his entire body.

  Specifically, what was it that Illik intended to reveal to the world by going so far as to orchestrate her own death scene? It is difficult to accept that a massive society would crumble from within due to a single incident of that magnitude. However, public opinion can be shaped, and political leaders can be pushed into a corner.

  ‘In the end, it will affect the elections…’

  Junho loosens his tie and pulls it from his neck.

  He sits on the edge of the bed and picks up the remote.

  The moment he presses the power button, the screen flashes to life.

  A breaking news caption streaks across the screen like a red ribbon:

  < Iran Under Missile Bombardment >