CH59 | MCT

Preparing to Hunt Cheongil (1)

It had been a long time since Tae-soo returned home.

He had left with nothing but the clothes on his back, yet now he returned with arms full of gifts.

Tae-soo arrived at his family’s home in a mining village in Gangwon Province.

"I'm home."

The moment his mother saw him, she dropped the basket she was holding.

Tae-soo beamed at her.

"Tae-soo!"

She ran barefoot toward him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Tae-soo hugged her back just as tightly.

"Have you been well?"

"How are you already back? Look at how tanned you are! Have you been eating properly? Why have you lost so much weight?"

"Lost weight? Not at all. I ate well and stayed healthy."

"You’re home. You’re really home. You’ve been through so much."

Tears welled up in his mother’s eyes as she cupped his face.

They were tears of joy.

"What? Tae-soo's back?"

His father, who had been lying down in the bedroom, rushed out.

He dashed barefoot across the house, sprinting to the kitchen in record time.

The moment he saw Tae-soo, his face lit up with joy.

"What about the project the President entrusted to you? There’s no way you’ve already finished building everything!"

"Today is Parents' Day. I came back to pin a flower on your chest."

"What? Did you seriously fly all the way from the Middle East just to give us a flower?"

It was hard to believe, but the happiness in his father’s voice was undeniable.

He had braced himself, thinking he wouldn’t see his son for at least ten years.

But here he was.

"I went to the Middle East, not to prison. I can come back anytime I want."

"Plane tickets are expensive, though..."

"Since when has money ever been an issue?"

"..."

Plane tickets were incredibly expensive in 1973.

But Tae-soo didn’t care.

If it meant seeing his parents’ faces, he would gladly pay the fare as many times as necessary.

His mother nodded repeatedly, smiling.

"Tae-soo, let’s eat first. Even if you have to return to the Middle East, I must at least cook one meal for my son with my own hands."

She hurried toward the kitchen, but Tae-soo stopped her.

"Mother, please accept my bow first."

"Alright, let’s do that."

Tae-soo knelt before his parents and gave a deep bow.

Then, he pinned the carnations he had prepared onto their chests.

In my past life, my parents passed away too soon. I never got to do things like this for them.

Back then, life had been hard.

He had been young and foolish.

He thought his parents would live forever.

After all, Parents’ Day came around every year.

"Please live a long and happy life. Just focus on staying healthy—I’ll take care of everything else."

Tae-soo spoke from the bottom of his heart.

His mother pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Tae-soo, I’m already happy enough because of you. Seeing your face again is more than enough. No other filial duty could compare to this."

"Don’t worry about us. You don’t have to come for Parents’ Day or even our birthdays. Just focus on your work."

Tae-soo smiled and handed them his gifts.

"These are Western-made cosmetics and perfumes. And these—handbags and shoes made from high-quality leather."

"Oh my, what is all this? Won’t people scoff at an old woman like me using such things? But look at this color! And the scent—it’s wonderful!"

No matter their age, women were still women.

Cosmetics, perfume, handbags, and shoes—these were gifts that never failed to delight.

His mother’s eyes sparkled with joy, her laughter bursting freely.

"And this is for you, Father."

"Foreign cigarettes? And even whiskey!"

His father’s face broke into a broad grin.

"I promised you before, didn’t I? That next time, I’d bring you foreign cigarettes instead of blue porcelain ones."

"I can’t believe you actually got me such a rare gift!"

Tae-soo’s father turned the cigarette over in his hands.

"I can’t take it anymore. I need a smoke."

Tae-soo followed him out to the yard.

As before, Tae-soo struck a match and lit his father’s cigarette.

His father took a deep drag, then patted Tae-soo’s shoulder.

"You’ve been through a lot out there."

"And you’ll go through a lot more. Just stay healthy, son. Don’t get sick."

There was a trace of guilt on his father’s face.

Just then, Han-soo, returning home from work at the mine, spotted his older brother.

His voice boomed across the yard.

"Hyung!"

"Oh, Han-soo, you’re back?"

"Is it really okay for you to be here? What about the work in the Middle East?"

"That scrawny guy’s handling it."

"..."

Han-soo’s expression was hard to read.

He was happy and excited, yet also frustrated and dumbfounded.

A mix of emotions flickered across his face.

"Did you pin that flower on Father’s chest?"

Han-soo glanced at the carnation on their father’s shirt.

Tae-soo shrugged nonchalantly.

In response, Han-soo smirked and pulled out a paper bag.

From it, he took out a much larger, more extravagant carnation bouquet.

"Looks a little small, don’t you think?"

This little brat!

Tae-soo casually pointed at his father’s cigarette.

"Father seems to love his foreign cigarettes."

Han-soo crumpled the paper bag in his hand.

Inside it were blue porcelain cigarettes.

Without a word, he pulled out a bottle of soju.

"Should I brew ginseng liquor for Father this time? Or maybe fruit wine?"

"Forget it. I already got him whiskey."

Crack!

Han-soo smirked.

"Not bad."

Tae-soo grinned back.

"Same to you. That bouquet was huge."

For the first time in a while, invisible sparks flew between the brothers.

Just then, their mother’s voice cut through the tension.

"Enough! Time to eat. Whatever you’re talking about can wait until after dinner!"

In this house, the one holding the soup ladle was the ultimate authority.

***

Later, Han-soo stepped into Tae-soo’s room.

"Hyung, why did you want to talk to me alone?"

"There’s something I need to discuss with you."

Tae-soo had a favor to ask.

There was something he needed Han-soo to handle in the U.S. on his behalf.

There were also tasks to take care of in Korea.

Han-soo narrowed his eyes.

"Are you not going back to the Middle East?"

"No, I am. I just had some things to take care of here first."

"Things?"

"I need to ask you for something, and I also have to meet Elder Jang Mal-dong. You’ll be coming with me."

It was a matter that required all three of them.

Han-soo’s eyes widened.

"Hyung, did you get into trouble in the Middle East? Are you short on cash? Do you need a loan shark?"

This brat! What does he take me for?

"A loan shark? Elder Jang quit that business ages ago."

"Then what, you need a bank loan?"

"No, I don’t need a loan either. I have something else to discuss."

Tae-soo needed to meet Jang Mal-dong, the arms dealer.

He also planned to meet Jang Mal-dong, the banker.

With war in the Middle East on the horizon, he had to prepare in advance.

"We’re allies, aren’t we? When there’s a good opportunity, we should seize it together."

That was why Tae-soo had made the trip from the Middle East to Korea.

Just as he was about to ask Han-soo to handle something in the U.S., Han-soo spoke first.

"Actually, hyung, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I’m thinking about joining the Central Intelligence Agency."

"What?"

Tae-soo, who had been lounging comfortably, jumped to his feet.

That was the last thing he had expected to hear.

In his past life, Han-soo had been known as the "Needle" of the National Intelligence Service.

Now, that same Han-soo was voluntarily choosing to join its predecessor, the KCIA.

"Why the sudden change?"

"It’s not sudden. I’ve been thinking about it while working at the mine."

"Thinking about what?"

"Is this really my path? Is this the right job for me? This is your work, hyung... not mine."

Tae-soo remained silent, listening.

"Being tied down to one place, doing the same thing every day, it’s boring. I want something more intense."

Tae-soo closed his eyes.

Even back in the marketplace, Han-soo had been a natural problem-solver, managing underlings and handling conflicts.

For someone like him, being stuck in a mine, buried in sales records, accounting books, and land deeds, must have felt suffocating.

Keeping Han-soo by his side had been Tae-soo’s selfish desire.

In my past life, Han Cheong-ho sent Han-soo to the intelligence agency. He thrived there, becoming one of their top operatives. Was I the one being greedy?

Tae-soo had assumed Han Cheong-ho had done it to separate the two brothers.

But in truth, intelligence work suited Han-soo’s nature.

He has sharp instincts, a keen eye for trends. He was even good at predicting stock movements—I thought finance might be his calling.

Han-soo’s greatest strengths were his sharp intuition and keen insight.

"He’s good at exploiting weaknesses, quick to spot flaws, and has a knack for gathering information. Fast and accurate. He’s a natural at intelligence work."

In many ways, he was an invaluable asset.

Tae-soo wanted Han-soo by his side.

"I never intended to raise him as a chaebol's enforcer, wielded like a blade for intelligence agencies like the KCIA."

But this was the path Han-soo had chosen.

Tae-soo steeled himself.

It was time to reveal the brutal reality.

"Han-soo."

"Yeah?"

"If you join the KCIA, you will have to live as a blade of power."

"A blade?"

"Is that what you want to be?"

Tae-soo mimed holding a knife.

Then, without warning, he thrust it toward Han-soo.

Han-soo instinctively tensed.

Tae-soo stabbed again.

And again.

"Stab. Stab. Stab!"

"This is what it means to be a blade. You stain your hands and body with the blood of others. That is the fate of a knife."

Han-soo’s expression hardened.

"Your talent? Your aptitude? What do you think being recognized in the KCIA really means?"

Silence.

"A blade must be sharpened to prove its worth."

More silence.

"That means killing more efficiently, more ruthlessly."

Tae-soo let his imaginary knife fall from his hands.

To Han-soo, it felt as though his brother’s hands were drenched in blood.

"Living with blood on your hands is no easy thing. Are you prepared to survive on the grudges of others?"

Tae-soo gripped Han-soo’s hands tightly.

"Will recognition feel like an achievement when your hands are soaked in blood?"

Han-soo remained silent.

Tae-soo pressed on.

"Do you think our parents will be proud if you join the KCIA? Do you believe it will bring honor to our family? That it will make them happy?"

The words struck Han-soo’s core.

He remembered how proud their parents had been when Tae-soo went to the Middle East under presidential orders.

At that moment, Han-soo had thought to himself:

"I should also serve my country. Bring honor to my family. Make my parents proud."

"Wouldn't it be best to work at the KCIA, where my skills and abilities are suited?"

But the reality Tae-soo spoke of was a bloodstained path.

"No matter how polished it looks on the outside, its essence remains the same. A blade wielded at the whim of those in power!"

He would have to arrest innocent people without hesitation.

When that time came, the truth wouldn't matter.

Justice would take a back seat to the mission.

"A blade for political schemes! A weapon for war! A knife for murder!"

Han-soo clenched his eyes shut.

"What parent would want to see their child with blood on their hands? And don’t you realize that the knife you wield first might one day stab you back?"

In his past life, Han-soo and his wife had been murdered.

A revenge killing, born of deep-seated resentment.

That was the official designation of their case.

"Han Il-kwon may have fanned the flames from the shadows, but in the end, it was someone seeking retribution for an old KCIA grievance."

Not everyone in the KCIA, the National Intelligence Service, or the prosecution dealt in blood.

But Han-soo had made his name as an enforcer.

• A blade coveted by politicians and chaebols alike!
  

His alias, The KCIA’s Awl, came from the proverb “A hidden awl in a pocket will always pierce through.”

It meant he struck deep and precisely.

"In the end, Han-soo lived with his hands drenched in blood."

His abilities were exceptional, and talent always rises to the top.

The best tools were given the dirtiest jobs.

Tae-soo felt uneasy.

"Han-soo, your skills, your talents—they are perfectly suited to being a blade. I won’t deny that."

"…Hyung?"

"But if you must be a blade, don’t let yourself be wielded by others."

In his past life, Han-soo had been used as someone else’s tool, his hands bloodied in service of others.

And in the end, he died for it.

A meaningless death.

Tae-soo had grieved that loss for a long time.

"To protect yourself. To protect those you care about."

Tae-soo gripped Han-soo’s hands tightly.

"I need you, Han-soo."

Silence.

"Can’t you protect me, our parents, and our company?"

Han-soo’s expression wavered.

His hands trembled slightly.

"If blood must be spilled, then be a scalpel that cuts away the company’s rot, instead of a dagger that kills."

A scalpel was still a blade.

But it was a blade that saved lives.

"The bigger the company grows, the more I’ll be forced to work outside. Enemies will increase, and the company will begin to rot from within."

"……."

"I can’t do this alone. Help me, Han-soo."

Han-soo bit his lip hard.

His eyes trembled.