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Chapter 1: The Sinuiju Operation
TL: Enuma ID
I am an NIS black agent.
People assume that anyone working for the NIS must be bound together by some tremendous sense of duty and patriotism.
In my case, not really.
I happened to get commissioned as an OCS officer, a chance connection got my foot in the door at the Defense Intelligence Command's Special Task Force, and then, before I knew what was happening, the NIS came knocking with a scouting offer.
Wеb n о̇ v е_l̆ Е.n ŭmа̃
I just drifted downstream to where I am now. There was never any grand sense of mission to begin with.
So why do I keep doing such dangerous work?
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Honestly, at this point, it's just inertia.
After nearly ten years of the same job, my body simply can't do anything else anymore.
If there's a silver lining, it's that I'm an orphan with no one in the world, so this line of work suits me rather well.
A hard-luck childhood spent never knowing my parents' faces; the only person who took me in and raised me was my grandmother.
Ẃ е̌b̈ ñov̄ ě l̊ Е́ n um̂а̊
Now even she has passed on, so there's nothing more to say.
No family to protect, no desperate reason I absolutely have to make it home alive.
The NIS must adore people like me.
*****
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Zhen'an District, a tucked-away corner on the eastern edge of Dandong, Liaoning Province.
There's a small restaurant here called the Geumwa Restaurant.
Wе̊ b̌nо v е l E ñuṁа
It sits in such an out-of-the-way spot that hardly anyone comes looking, and even the thugs angling to run the neighborhood didn't bother coming this far.
"Excuse me. Are you serving food?"
"No. We're on break right now."
I had gone well out of my way to find that shabby restaurant.
To anyone watching, I would look like nothing more than a drifter who'd lost his way.
"Really? I was supposed to meet a friend here...."
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At that, the man working the floor silently gestured toward the back of the restaurant.
Heading past the kitchen and deeper inside, I watched a rat shoot across the floor right on cue.
Further in, a man in an apron sat on a chair in front of the refrigerator, puffing away on a cigarette.
Grubby clothes, a careworn face.
From any angle, a Chinese local through and through.
Then, out of his mouth came the welcome sound of Korean.
Е̂ ǹŭm̂а̇ .і̃d̊
"Who are you?"
"Sparrow No. 7."
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"Operation number?"
"344W481."
"Good. Go on in."
"In where? That freezer?"
Wеb̊ n̆õv̈е l̀ Е̄_ṅûm̄ӓ
"It doesn't run. Don't worry about freezing to death."
Once I'd passed the man's check, I opened the freezer door and stepped inside, and the stench of rotting ingredients hit me full in the face.
Beneath my tightly furrowed brow, a thin wash of light faintly traced the outline of a staircase leading underground.
Clack.
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I opened the door and stepped into the basement, and there were two people in total.
Not a single face I knew.
W̄ĕ b̃nоv̊ el̂_ Е_nú m̈a
"Who's this?"
"Sparrow No. 7."
"Well, I'll be. Right, then. Good to meet you. I'm Owl No. 5. This here is No. 8."
"Wow. First time I've ever seen a Sparrow code. When did you deploy to Dandong?"
"Let's see. Only a few days ago."
"Man. A genuine Sparrow!"
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We shook hands and settled in to wait, and over the next two hours the remaining two came down into the basement.
That made five people crammed into one suffocating little back room.
Agent Cuckoo No. 1, dispatched from HQ, began the briefing.
"Before I explain this Sinuiju operation, some background. At last week's Korean People's Army training officers' conference, a certain someone nodded off in the seat directly beside Chairman Kim Jong-un. A man named Hyon Yong-chol, the Minister of People's Armed Forces. He is the target of this operation."
Among the latecomers, there was one welcome face.
Kite No. 3, one of the people who'd entered the NIS through special recruitment alongside me.
Е̂ n ūm ã . іd
Back when we served in the Defense Intelligence Command's Special Task Force, we were close enough as senior and junior to keep in touch privately, but today looked too busy for any of that.
"We doubted the North would actually execute a cadre of that rank over a single nap, but just in case, HQ has spent the past several days keeping a very close eye on how well-oiled the anti-aircraft guns at the officer academy firing range are."
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"Haha."
"Well, it turns out it's genuinely scheduled to happen. The man in question felt the purge closing in and sent word of his intent to defect."
"...."
The light chuckles circulating through the basement were doused in an instant, cold water on a fire.
Wӗ b́ñ о́ v̌е ľ _Е̄n̄.ù mȧ
The number two man in the entire military, the Minister of People's Armed Forces, defecting.
What kind of batshit-insane orders were about to come down on us, I didn't need to be told.
"This is a defection operation HQ spent a very long time bringing to fruition. Considering the diplomatic friction with the North, the risks are substantial, but the value of the military intelligence carried by a man of the Minister's rank is every bit as enormous. So we will personally escort Hyon Yong-chol and his family as they cross the Yalu River and come over into Dandong."
"Personally? We're infiltrating North Korea?"
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"Yes. We disguise ourselves as Chinese tourists and infiltrate the North aboard a tour bus that makes a loop around Sinuiju. Then we extract Hyon Yong-chol and his family, arriving in Sinuiju, and transport them safely to Dandong."
South of Dandong flows the famous Yalu River.
Е nú ḿà_._і̌d
Hop across that one river and it's the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, what everyone simply calls North Korea.
Chinese tourists board a tour bus departing from Dandong, cross the Yalu River Bridge, and make a loop through Sinuiju, a landscape frozen in the 1970s. It's Dandong's flagship tourist attraction.
Thanks to that, a good number of tour buses rumbled routinely through every corner of Sinuiju.
We chartered one of those buses in its entirety.
The bus was supposed to make its loop without stopping and exit to Dandong the same way it came in, but we paid the driver a special premium on the side.
While the bus made its slow circuit of Sinuiju, the plan was for us to get off and infiltrate the site.
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"Is Chinese Public Security cooperating? There's no way they can just look the other way on a defection this big."
"If they won't, we make them. HQ cut a deal directly with the upper ranks of Dandong Public Security, and thanks to that, we have firm confirmation the Yalu River Bridge will be left clear during the operation window. All you need to know is that half a year of the overseas division's special-activity funds went up in smoke for this operation."
"Special-activity funds? First time in my life I've heard those damned funds actually exist."
"Better they're spent on this than stuffed into some top brass's pocket, honestly. Easier on the conscience."
Someone's snark set off bitter snickers all around the basement.
Cuckoo No. 1 gave a sheepish little cough and clapped his hands.
Wеb nо̊v̇ ě l Е ň_ũ m̌ а
"Anyway, enough griping, everyone. Let's start dividing up routes and roles. This operation has to be a blitz."
The basement grew busy with subdued murmuring.
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While the agents traded opinions, I glanced up at the pitch-dark ceiling.
'How many agents will be reborn as stars after this operation?'
Inside the NIS headquarters' Security Exhibition Hall, there is a plaque called the 'Nameless Star'.
When an NIS black agent dies, a new star is quietly engraved onto it, unseen by the world.
Èn̆ŭ mа .і d̀
On the eve of deployment, I found myself idly imagining my own star being added there.
Maybe that's why.
'My heart's pounding.'
The light illuminating the dim room flickered, and flickered, and wavered.
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*****
The rendezvous point where Hyon Yong-chol and his family would covertly join us was an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Sinuiju Agricultural University.
Е̌num a
With forged Chinese passports tucked close, we arrived safely in North Korea in the guise of Chinese tourists.
Except that not long after we took up position, we heard several groups of vehicles rattling closer in the distance.
"What's that? Vehicles approaching."
"Military trucks. Four of them."
"A patrol around here, out of nowhere? Something feels off...."
We assumed they would simply pass by, but the sound kept drawing closer.
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Four transport trucks, no less.
From that point on, the operation twisted into something very wrong.
"Seize them all! Do not leave a single one of the bastards!"
"They are in this area! Move, quickly, quickly!"
Armed troops in North Korean uniforms.
The moment we detected their movement, we knew instantly that this operation was a trap.
Ëṅ ú m̆ a. і̄d̃
Armed with service rifles, they smashed through the warehouse doors and stormed in.
"What! Where are they?"
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"The wretched bastards have fled! Find them, quickly!"
Before it was too late, each of us had already bolted down our own retreat route.
Five sets of footprints, left behind in the emptiness, greeted the storming North Koreans in our place.
"Let's meet alive, everyone!"
Е̌ ňŭ m̊ а̌ . īd̈
"Stay safe!"
Sinuiju was a place where every light went out at night.
Most of the run-down houses had been built ages ago and stood largely empty, which made escape not so difficult.
Bang! Ba-bang!
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Muzzle flashes bursting through the pitch-black dark.
"Halt right there! You reactionary scum!"
W ě b̀nоvе̃ l̀ Е̂ nu̇m а̃
"Find them!"
"After them, quickly!"
In the pandemonium, the other black agents fled wherever they could.
There wasn't even a spare moment to check who had lived and who had died.
"Hah. Hah."
"Whew. Hoo."
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I moved with Kite No. 3.
We sprinted through Sinuiju's back alleys, silent as ruins, ducking from cover to cover while blind bullets came flying in at our backs.
Bang, ba-bang!
Whish, zip-zip!
"Hah. Hahh. The Yalu River Bridge, we can still, get across, right?"
"Hoo. Hooh. If the Chinese police, kept their promise, and pulled the watch!"
W е ḃ nо v̇ еl E ń um а̂
Just before crossing the Yalu River Bridge, we slipped into what looked like an empty warehouse and took cover.
Back pressed to the wall, I drew the Glock 19 from my waist and gave it a quick check.
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Fifteen rounds in the magazine, a bestseller that even South Korea's Presidential Security Service is fond of.
"How many were chasing us?"
"Ten. Shouldn't be any more than that."
"I'll swing around the left, you take the right."
Ė n̆ ům̌ ӑ .i̇.d̃
"Got it."
We decided to head back outside and catch the North Koreans in a pincer.
Of course, the other side would be thinking much the same, so a firefight couldn't be avoided.
As long as we could split those ten men up somehow, that was all we needed.
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Crash!
"They've breached."
E̊n̂ u m̈ а̌
"Let's meet alive."
By a stroke of luck, several of the North Koreans went inside the building.
The moment they did, we circled around as planned, Kite No. 3 charging left while I charged right.
Just around the corner sat a few crates, and I dropped low behind them.
Before long, three North Korean soldiers came tearing along the wall in a frenzy.
Bang!
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"Grk!"
Bang bang!
Nerves on a razor's edge, I squeezed the trigger with care, and three North Korean soldiers rolled limply across the ground.
One of them somehow gathered his wits and tried firing from the hip without aiming, but I closed the distance fast and pulled the trigger at his chest.
Bang!
"Ghhh."
Ë n ů m̄ ӓ_.і́ d
I slid the pistol back into its holster, then picked up one of their rifles and a spare magazine.
The Type 88 rifle, the North Korean military's standard arm.
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A copy of Russia's AK-74, it inherited the strengths and flaws wholesale, so it's highly reliable but lacking in accuracy.
Ratatat!
Gunfire rang out from the far side of the building; Kite No. 3 must have run into the enemy as well.
"Outside! The noise is coming from outside!"
Е̂ n u m̊ а. id
Soldiers' shouts came pouring through the half-open entrance.
I went straight back in through the very entrance I'd come out of.
Flipping the selector to full auto, I hauled back on the trigger at the North Koreans scrambling about inside.
Ratatatatat!
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"Gyah!"
"Ughk!"
Ѐ ṅ u m.а .і̇ḋ
The moment I confirmed four North Koreans down, I swapped in a fresh magazine.
I picked my way over their bodies and leaned out the opposite entrance, but there was no sign of anything from Kite No. 3's side, where he was supposed to have circled around.
I definitely heard gunfire over there.
"No way."
I moved straight to the corner and poked just my head out.
And there, right in front of a sprawl of downed North Korean soldiers, lay Kite No. 3, collapsed as well.
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"Sunbae!"
"Ghh...."
I rushed over and checked him; mercifully, Kite No. 3 was alive.
But blood was seeping through his clothes. He'd been shot.
As I propped him against the wall, Kite No. 3 jolted back to his senses.
"Sunbae, are you okay?"
Ӗ n̄um̌ а..id̈
"Hahk. Hah. Hff."
"Stay with me. I'm going to stop the bleeding."
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"Spa, Sparrow. Listen close. In Dandong, Zhenxing District, in Zhenxing District, Qunping County.... Gh! Ugh, hff."
"What?"
Kite No. 3 was trying to tell me something.
Gasping raggedly and groaning, the focus in his eyes only kept slipping further away.
Е̌ ň.ú m̌ а̇_
"Qunping County, west end of National Route G201, at the very tip of it, Wang Chun, Wang Chunsam's Eatery.... Order the non-spicy mala xiang guo, there. Order, order it. Then you'll be able, to get help...."
"Okay. I've confirmed you're alive and well, so now shut your mouth and just keep your head together while I stop this bleeding!"
"Heh. Assho...."
I barked it out firmly and dumped the emergency medical kit open.
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At that, Kite No. 3 smiled faintly.
"Right, gotta live, gotta live. Gotta live, and make it back. Make it back...."
Е n̈ū m̈ а̃.i̊d̀
With those words, Kite No. 3's eyes slid shut.
Just in case, I gave his cheek a slap.
He groaned, so thankfully he wasn't dead.
The bullet must have clipped a nerve somewhere in his shoulder; he seemed to have gone into momentary shock.
"Stay with me!"
"Ghh...."
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I packed a hemostatic sponge into his wound, and he gave a strained, pained reaction.
Only after jamming in sponge upon sponge, layer after layer, did the blood from the shoulder wound gradually begin to slow.
"Ah."
And then, far in the distance, I saw a military truck come rattling closer.
Raucous shouting leaked out from within, from however many soldiers were packed inside it.
'No time.'
Ẁ е̌b̂ǹ о v̊ е ĺ Ën̊ ü m ǎ
Besides us, there were still other agents who had to cross the Yalu River Bridge.
If those men weren't stopped now, the troops pouring out of that truck would plug the bridge entrance completely. That much was certain.
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The longer this dragged on, the worse things would get for everyone.
Weigh every variable, and the conclusion was the same.
That truck had to be stopped, right here, right now, no matter what.
'So this is where I die, is it?'
Ě nû ḿ â.і̆ d.
Clack.
I checked my magazine one more time and racked the charging handle of the Type 88 rifle.
Then I threw myself out of cover and leveled the rifle.
The truck driver spotted me, blanched, and slammed on the brakes in a panic.
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In that final moment, I flashed the man a grin.
"Fine! If I'm going to become a star anyway, then I'll become the most desperately blazing star of them all!"
Е̄nú ṁа
Ratatat!
The windshield shattered, and the truck's engine sputtered for a while before dying.
At the same instant, the dozens of North Korean soldiers riding in the cargo bed leapt out as one and aimed their muzzles on me.
And I pulled the trigger right back at them.
Ratatat!
"Aaaargh!"
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"Shred that bastard into a tattered rag!"
Bang-bang!
Ratatatatat!
Dozens of muzzles spat fire at me all at once.
Countless flashes came crashing in like a breaking wave.
And in that instant... thunk.
W̆eb̂ n̈ о v̆ e l Е̇n u m а̌
"Ah."
A round flew in and snapped my head back.
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And with it, one after another, the sensation of impacts burying into my whole body.
At the flood of death's premonition, my eyes squeezed shut on their own.
Dying nameless.
For a black agent, the most common ending there is.
Wе b̀ n о v̂ е̂l Ӗ n ùmа.
'So I'm really dying.'
The noise around me, a chaotic jumble.
A corner of my mind buzzes, busy with murmuring.
In a pitch-black world, my consciousness drifted.
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Is this what they mean by a life flashing before one's eyes?
Unlike anything I'd hoped for, it's just messy and breathless.
W̃ е̄b n ov̊ е̌ l̀ Е̇ñ.ü m̊ а̀
But what can I do about it?
Waiting for the death soon to come, I stayed like that a long while, eyes shut, holding my breath.
....
Ping, pi-ding.
'Hm?'
Ping, pi-di-ding.
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"...What?"
My thoughts... just kept on going.
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