The alert came just as Vice-Director Han Dojin finished signing the last report on his desk — paperwork that never seemed to end. The moon had already slipped past the windows, leaving the Bureau wrapped in a silence only emergencies dared to break.
His phone buzzed once.
Then again.
Then urgently, vibrating against the desk like a heartbeat gone wild.
[URGENT – FIELD CASUALTY: YUWON WEAVER]
His fingers froze mid-reach.
"…What?" The word ruptured from him, barely audible — not fear, not panic, but something dangerously close.
He opened the report. Once. Twice. His eyes sharpened with every line:
• High-level anomaly
• Reality-Distortion Zone exposure
• Anchor team incomplete
• On-site stabilization barely successful
And finally:
Anomaly neutralized. Civilian casualties avoided. Subject conscious — but unstable.
A slow exhale left him — relief laced with anger that coiled under his ribs.
'Team F wasn't even registered for that Operation. And yet She sent them alone.'
He grabbed his coat, movements clean and practiced. His amber tie brushed against his chest — usually a symbol of authority. Tonight, it felt like a weight dragging him under.
The hallway outside was dim, emergency lights casting long shadows. His steps rang out — quick, precise, controlled. Analysts straightened instinctively as he passed. None dared speak. His eyes were fixed ahead.
The Director's door recognized him instantly — green light flashing.
He didn't knock. Not this time.
Director Chae looked up as he entered, her expression carved from marble.
"You're not wearing your polite smile today, Vice-Director," she remarked, voice almost amused.
Dojin didn't indulge. He stood still, golden eyes gleaming dangerously in the low light — warmth absent, restraint cracking at the edges.
"So you saw the report?" she asked, folding her hands.
"I have." His voice was soft, but beneath it ran something firm and cutting.
"You dissolved the Joint Operation," he continued, stepping closer. "And sent Team F alone. Why?"
Director Chae lifted a brow. "Does the reason matter anymore? The anomaly was resolved. Everyone returned—"
"So it is about picking at people of interest." His polite smile resurfaced — but his tone gave no comfort.
A flicker — the Director's composure shifting. Only slightly.
"Yuwon Weaver survived something no human should," she countered. "You have an eye for potential. Don't pretend you're unaware."
Dojin stopped at the front of her desk. He leaned forward slightly, placing both hands down — shadow swallowing his expression as the lights flickered, elevating his golden eyes.
Her computer screen blinked to black.
His eyes glowed like molten gold, the only light between them.
"Your dear secretary," he said softly, too softly, "is drowning in the workload you shoved onto her. She will end her life tonight."
Director Chae's jaw clenched. A single muscle ticked near her brow.
Dojin straightened, adjusting his tie, the warmth returning to his face like nothing had happened.
"Suicide is a tragic loss," he mused politely. "Be sure to compensate her family properly."
He turned to leave. The lights brightened again, as if exhaling.
"And one more word of advice," he paused at the door, not looking back — voice gentle, kind even:
"Don't meddle in other people's lives beyond what the Bureau can handle."
A beat.
"That's my job."
He left before she could breathe a reply.
---
I stared at the golden pocket watch in my hand — the one Vice-Director Han left before stepping out a few minutes ago.
"Well…" I muttered, "I guess this thing makes almost dying worth it."
'Might as well see what the damn thing does.'
I grabbed the book he'd been reading — the one I borrowed and left at home before the mission.
'Lets just ignore that he somehow got his hands on it for now.'
The pocket watch was cold in my palm.
"Okay. He said just… think about storing it."
Nothing happened.
Five full minutes of me looking dumb in a hospital bed later — still nothing.
Then I closed my eyes. Focused. Willing it to work.
A soft chime — like a coin dropping into water — and the weight vanished from my fingers.
The book was gone.
"…Hell yeah."
I grinned to myself.
'Round two — retrieve.'
I lifted the watch again and let my mind move inward.
There it was — the book, floating in the darkness like a memory.
But behind it…
A White Apple.
The same one from the Diner Anomaly.
The one that erased exhaustion like it cost nothing.
The one that... strengthened me.
My heart skipped.
'How?'
I imagined holding it — and it materialized in my hand. Cold. Too real.
"…No way."
'Only someone with direct access could've stored this.'
'There was only one person.'
Han Dojin's golden eyes flashed in my mind.
"He doesn't have a reason to—"
My voice died in the air.
His warnings echoed:
"Don't trust the Bureau blindly."
The shadowy figure from the Diner surfaced in my thoughts.
"…yeah. He's definitely sketchy. But atleast not hostile."
"...Probably."
Still-, I should try to get off his radar.
I stared at the apple.
'A blessing.'
'Or perhaps a poison.'
'In any case, I'm not stupid enough to eat this without further information again.'
'Although it does sound quite enticing...'
Returning it took longer than retrieving it — my hands shook more than I liked.
By the time it clicked back into nothingness, sunlight crept through the blinds.
5:50 a.m.
"…Shit."
Tomorrow — no. Later today — was going to be a strange day.
I sank back into the surprisingly comfortable hospital bed, counting heartbeats until sleep found me.
And failed.
---
I didn't remember actually falling asleep. All I remembered was staring at the ceiling, thinking about golden eyes and forbidden apples—
—and then being jolted awake by the loud crash of something hitting the floor.
"—I told you to WAIT, you walnut!!"
Mira's voice. Sharp, irritated, and very awake.
"I was waiting!" Theo hissed. "You're the one who kicked the door open like a SWAT team!"
"It swung harder than I thought, okay?! Doors can be slippery!"
"That's not how doors work—"
I cleared my throat.
Both heads snapped toward me. Mira froze mid-step, one foot raised like she was about to sprint across the room. Theo was crouched by a tray of spilled fruits, hands full of rolling oranges.
"…Good morning?" I managed.
Mira exhaled hard and set her foot down, smoothing her hair back like she hadn't just broken into my hospital room.
"You're awake," she said, and suddenly her voice was quieter. Softer.
"Yeah." I shifted up against the pillows. "Seems like I'm hard to kill."
Theo tossed an orange into the air and caught it with a relieved grin. "We noticed."
Mira elbowed him. He winced.
"We, uh… brought you breakfast," Theo said, gesturing to the tray that was now partially on the floor. One apple had rolled all the way under my bed.
"Breakfast assault, more like," Mira muttered.
"Hey, at least I tried!"
"You did not—"
"I'm the one who suggested fruit!"
"You didn't even pick the fruit."
I couldn't hold back the small laugh that slipped out. Mira and Theo both paused — then relaxed a fraction.
Theo stood and set what survived the crash on the nightstand: grapes, two yogurts, and a single, slightly bruised banana.
"It's not much, but— the cafeteria lady said fruit helps recovery," he explained.
"And we figured it's less insulting than flowers," Mira added flatly. "Silva wanted to come too but the Vice-Director called her into some early briefing. She might show up later though."
"Right," I nodded, taking it all in. The quiet hum of electrocardiograms from the hallway. The sunlight creeping into the sterile room. The feeling of… being missed.
"How are you feeling?" Mira asked.
"Tired. Confused."
Then, because they deserved honesty:
"But alive. Thanks to you guys being there."
Theo snorted. "Barely. You basically KO'd yourself."
"Better than letting the anomaly KO all of us," Mira countered, shooting him a glare before looking back at me. "Just… don't scare us like that again, alright?"
I saluted weakly. "No promises."
Theo grabbed a chair and spun it backward, sitting like he thought he was a cool high school delinquent.
"So, what happens now?" he asked. "Paid leave? A month in a spa? Free ice cream for life?"
Mira rolled her eyes. "Why would he get free ice cream?"
"Dunno. He died like, twice. That deserves something."
"I didn't die," I mumbled.
"You basically tried to though" Theo shrugged
Mira stepped closer to the bed, eyes narrowing just a little.
"Tell us if something still hurts. Anything weird lingering?"
'Weird?'
'Like a holy-eyed Vice-Director who might be manipulating reality around me?'
'Like a white apple that shouldn't exist?'
"…Nothing weird," I lied.
Mira studied me a second longer, then nodded. She trusted me — too easily, maybe — but it warmed something in my chest anyway.
Theo glanced at the clock. "We can hang around for bit. Unless you want to pretend we're not here and go back to sleep?"
I smirked. "I actually prefer you guys annoying me awake."
He raised a fist triumphantly. "Victory."
Mira just shook her head, but she was smiling.
For the first time since waking up — the world didn't feel like it was spinning.
It felt grounded.
Human.