chapter 3

As the boat docked, Eun-jae jumped out with practiced ease, his boots hitting the wooden platform with a muffled thud. Agents were already waiting for him, their expressions expectant. Tae, one of the senior agents, approached him with an easy grin, his tall, broad frame cutting an imposing figure.

Eun-jae handed the briefcase over to one of the agents without a word. The man accepted it with a nod and quickly stepped away, disappearing into the shadows to deliver the critical asset to headquarters.

"Mission accomplished," Tae said, his voice smooth, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he eyed Eun-jae. There was something in Tae's demeanor—always slightly playful, always testing boundaries.

Eun-jae glanced at him briefly, his sharp features illuminated under the harsh dock lights. "Yeah," he replied, his tone curt.

Tae wasn't deterred by the lack of enthusiasm. "So, what do you say we grab a drink or two? Celebrate a little. It's not every day you pull off a mission like that and live to tell the tale. It's your birthday tomorrow, after all. Why not spend it with some company?" His tone turned playful, with just a hint of flirtation.

Eun-jae stopped in his tracks and turned to face him, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly. "No. I'd rather spend it with my mom," His response was firm, almost dismissive, as he adjusted the strap of his backpack and swung one leg over his motorcycle.

Tae blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the bluntness of the rejection. "Come on, Helix. Lighten up a little. It's not like I bite... unless you're into that," he added with a sly grin.

Eun-jae didn't even dignify the comment with a response. The engine of his motorcycle roared to life, the sound cutting through the crisp night air.

His mind was already elsewhere. Tomorrow was his birthday, and all he wanted was to be home. The thought of Busan, of the familiar scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of his mom's cooking, brought a rare flicker of warmth to his otherwise guarded expression. She's probably been worrying about me again, he thought, a pang of guilt settling in his chest. I'll make it up to her. Just a quiet day at home... maybe I can convince her to take a break for once.

"Damn, why is this beta so difficult?" Tae muttered under his breath as he watched Eun-jae speed off, the motorcycle disappearing into the night like a shadow.

Tae turned back to the other agents with a resigned shrug, clapping his hands together. "Alright, folks. Show's over. Let's get back to work!"

The train hummed steadily along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter blending with the faint conversations and occasional announcements over the intercom. Eun-jae sat by the window, his head resting lightly against the cool glass as the sprawling cityscape of Seoul gave way to the serene countryside. The morning sun bathed everything in a golden hue, and for once, he allowed himself to relax, his thoughts drifting to home.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his momentary peace. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and a rare smile crept onto his lips. Mom.

"Hello?" Eun-jae answered, his voice soft yet carrying a note of warmth that was rare for him.

"Eun-jae-yah!" his mother's cheerful voice filled the line, brimming with affection. "Are you on the train already?"

"Yes, Mom," he replied, leaning back in his seat. "I'm almost halfway there. Should be home by lunchtime."

"Good, good," she said, a hint of excitement lacing her tone. Then her voice softened, as though she were hesitating for a moment before continuing. "Happy birthday, my son."

Eun-jae's heart clenched slightly at her words. Birthdays had always been simple affairs between the two of them, but the sincerity in her voice made it feel special every time.

"Thanks, Mom," he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. "Although I think I'm a little too old for birthday wishes now."

"Too old?" she said with mock offense. "Just how old are you now, young man?"

Eun-jae chuckled, glancing out the window as fields and hills rolled by. "Twenty-nine, Mom. You should know that."

"Twenty-nine!" she exclaimed dramatically, though the humor in her voice was unmistakable. "When did my little boy grow up so much? I must be getting old!"

Eun-jae laughed, the sound light and genuine. "You're not old, Mom. You're timeless. Like one of those old paintings in a museum." He smirked to himself, anticipating her reaction.

"Oh, you brat!" she said, but she was laughing too. "Is this how you talk to your mother? When you get home, I might just forget to cook you a birthday meal."

Eun-jae feigned a gasp. "You wouldn't dare! I've been dreaming about your kimchi jjigae since the mission ended."

Her laughter softened, and for a moment, her tone turned more serious, though still full of warmth. "Hurry up and come home, Eun-jae. I miss you."

His chest tightened at her words, the longing in her voice striking a chord deep within him. He hadn't been home in months, and the missions had been relentless. Hearing her voice now reminded him of what he had been missing—the simple comfort of family, the warmth of her presence, and the feeling of being truly at peace.

"I'm on my way, Mom," he said quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "I'll be there soon."

"Good," she replied. "And don't forget to stop by the market on your way. I need you to pick up some rice cakes. You can't have a birthday without them."

"Of course," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Anything else, Madam?"

"Just bring yourself home safely," she said softly. "That's all I want."

The call ended with her cheerful goodbye, and Eun-jae leaned back in his seat, staring out at the rolling landscape. His thoughts were filled with memories of home—of his mother's laughter, the scent of her cooking wafting through their small house, and the warmth that came with simply being around her.

Eun-jae slumped back in his seat on the train, letting out a long, dramatic sigh as the rhythmic clatter of the tracks hummed in his ears. His head tipped back against the headrest, his dark hair falling over his forehead in messy strands, a perfect reflection of his current state: exhausted, disheveled, and, frankly, over it.

The last mission had been a complete disaster—or, as the agency liked to call it, "a marginal success." Which was code for "you nearly died, but hey, at least the intel's safe." His muscles ached in places he didn't even know had muscles, and the bruises on his ribs throbbed with every slight jostle of the train. All he wanted was to get home, throw himself on his bed, and sleep until the apocalypse—or at least until the next mission.

He glanced out the window, watching the sprawling city blur into streaks of light as the train sped forward. The faint reflection of his own face stared back at him, looking as miserable as he felt. His cheekbone still bore a faint bruise from where some low-level thug had managed to land a punch. Amateur, he thought bitterly, shifting in his seat to ease the dull pain in his side.

Today, of all days, he deserved a break. It's my birthday, damn it. It wasn't like he celebrated with balloons and cake or anything, but one measly day of peace wasn't too much to ask for, was it? Apparently, it is, he thought with a roll of his eyes, tugging at the sleeves of his black jacket. He looked down at the small stain near the cuff—blood, definitely not his own—and sighed. Maybe he'd just burn the whole thing and buy a new one.

Just as he was beginning to feel the sweet pull of sleep, the sharp buzz of his phone vibrated against his leg, breaking the calm. He groaned, dragging the device out of his pocket with all the enthusiasm of a man pulling weeds. One glance at the screen, and his eyebrows knitted together in pure annoyance.

"Of course," he muttered under his breath. The caller ID flashing across the screen read Boss.

He pressed the red "decline" button without a second thought and tossed the phone back into his pocket. "Not today," he mumbled, slumping further into his seat. His eyes fluttered shut again as he focused on the sound of the train, the faint chatter of passengers, the occasional ding of the intercom. For a moment, just a moment, he felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease.

Then, it happened again.

The phone rang, louder and more insistent this time. The sharp tone cut through the calm like a knife, and Eun-jae's eyes snapped open, his jaw clenching in irritation. He could feel the stares of the other passengers as the obnoxious ringtone blared through the train car. A man across the aisle shot him a pointed look, and Eun-jae glared back, daring him to say something.

Let it ring, he told himself. Maybe if I ignore it, they'll give up. But of course, they didn't. The phone kept buzzing, and Eun-jae swore he could feel his sanity slipping away with every ring.

"Un-fucking-believable," he muttered, yanking the phone out of his pocket so aggressively he nearly flung it across the aisle. He jabbed the green button with enough force to risk breaking the screen.

"WHAT?!" he barked into the receiver, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet car. An elderly woman sitting nearby flinched, clutching her purse a little tighter.

There was a pause on the other end before a hesitant voice replied, "Uh, sunbae, it's me. In-su."

Eun-jae groaned, leaning his head back against the seat. "Oh, for the love of—what do you want, In-su? Can't you see I just got back from a goddamn mission? I'm tired. I'm hungry. My ribs feel like they've been tenderized with a baseball bat. Whatever it is, I don't care."

"It's not me, sunbae!" In-su stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "It's the director. He said he needs you to come to the agency. Like…right now."

Eun-jae let out a hollow laugh, the kind that sounded more like a growl. "Right now? RIGHT NOW? No. Whatever the problem is, they can find another agent to fix it. I'm going home. I'm taking a long, hot shower, eating an obscene amount of fried chicken, and sleeping for twenty-four hours straight. It's my birthday, for crying out loud. I deserve one day—just one day—of peace."

"Sunbae, I don't think—"

"In-su," Eun-jae interrupted, his tone laced with warning. "Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to strangle you with this phone cord."

There was another pause, and for a brief moment, Eun-jae thought he might've actually scared the poor guy off. Then, another voice came through the line.

"Agent Helix."

Eun-jae's stomach sank. He didn't even need to see the screen to know who it was. His boss's voice was sharp, authoritative, and utterly unamused.

"Get your butt to the agency. Now."

"But, sir—"

"Now," the boss repeated, cutting him off. And just like that, the line went dead.

Eun-jae stared at the phone in his hand, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. He could feel the eyes of the other passengers on him, but he didn't care. He shoved the phone back into his pocket and stood, grabbing his duffel bag from the seat beside him.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled under his breath as he made his way toward the train doors. Happy birthday to me I guess.

As soon as the train pulled into Busan Station and came to a halt, Eun-jae grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder with a grunt. The crowd of passengers bustled past him, each person eager to head home or meet loved ones. Eun-jae, however, wasn't in a hurry to see anyone. He just wanted to disappear into the solitude of his apartment, drown himself in greasy food, and pass out without thinking about missions, agencies, or annoying colleagues.

Stepping onto the platform, the crisp evening air hit him, carrying the salty tang of the nearby ocean. Eun-jae sighed, pulling the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck. He had barely taken three steps when a familiar voice called out over the noise of the station.

"Sunbae! Sunbae, over here!"

Eun-jae grimaced, instantly recognizing the overly enthusiastic tone. He turned his head just in time to see In-su barreling toward him, waving both arms like an overexcited puppy. The younger agent was practically bouncing on his feet as he closed the distance, his wide grin making Eun-jae's already sour mood plummet further.

"In-su," Eun-jae said flatly as the younger man skidded to a stop in front of him, nearly tripping over his own feet.