The Visit (3)

Prince Edward… sustained physical injuries?

If that allegation held any legal or tactical truth, the internet should have been fundamentally destabilized by this exact millisecond. I furiously searched internet portals once more, but zero articles detailing any injuries to Prince Edward were indexed anywhere on the web. It was highly probable that the information was locked under a strict administrative embargo.

“The Hunter Department simply executed its baseline operational manual to the absolute threshold of our utility. This is the absolute first I am hearing of any physical injuries regarding Prince Edward.”

“We understand that tracking whether every single civilian evacuated the interior of a dungeon zone falls strictly within the Hunter Department’s jurisdiction!”

“Following the successful conclusion of the dungeon deployment, my personnel tracked Prince Edward’s entourage, but because they evacuated directly into the high-security interior of Sector A-8, we were unable to breach the perimeter wall. However, we established operational contact externally, and zero reports concerning physical casualties were communicated to us at that specific time.”

“…….”

Watching the Team Leader calmly dissect and neutralize each aggressive query hurled from the press corps caused a complex mix of emotions to well up inside me. Yet, given that I was completely blind to the core variables driving this crisis, there was absolutely no way for me to step forward and intervene.

My hand gripping the smartphone tightened involuntarily. It was precisely then that our slow-moving sedan aggressively spiked its velocity, tearing away from the immediate sector. I shifted my gaze toward the driver’s seat.

“It seems someone in the press corps managed to identify our vehicle, Ha-neul-ssi. Let’s execute one more massive loop around the perimeter blocks before we attempt to enter the office entrance.”

“…Yes, Deputy Team Leader.”

I had been focusing so intensely on the hostile environment outside that I hadn’t even consciously processed the exact millisecond our vehicle had come to a brief halt. Straightening my posture against the seat, I tracked the receding outline of our office building through the side-view mirror.

“Will the Team Leader be completely fine out there all on his own?”

“He’s practically built up an ironclad immunity to variables of this nature throughout his career, so you don’t need to harbor a single shred of anxiety.”

“Yes, sir.”

For the Deputy Team Leader to vocalize his assurance with such profound composure illustrated just how intensely accustomed the Team Leader was to navigating administrative storms. Nodding my head, I parted my lips.

“Considering zero graphics detailing the situation have leaked to the public yet, it’s safe to assume an official media embargo is currently active, right?”

“We have to assume exactly that. Because a foreign Prince sustained casualties on sovereign soil, the British government is highly likely currently deploying state officials to our jurisdiction as we speak.”

“…I just desperately hope this variable doesn’t expand into a massive international incident.”

“Agreed.”

The Deputy Team Leader vocalized his absolute agreement with my sentiment. Staring blankly at the urban landscape we had already traversed multiple times left my mind feeling intensely chaotic. As our sedan carved a trajectory further away from the sector than our previous loops, I desperately swallowed down the heavy sighs that continuous-like threatened to tear out of my throat.

A long, drawn-out interval of time ticked away until the familiar structure of our office building anchored itself back inside my field of vision. Casting a covert glance past it toward the towering Association headquarters, I forced my eyes down to the primary ground-floor entrance of our property.

“In highly volatile environments like this, I truly wish our facility possessed a rear service entrance.”

“Seriously.”

If a rear entrance had been engineered into the blueprint, there would have been absolutely zero reason to continuous-like circle the blocks in this manner.

Witnessing a massive crowd composed not only of aggressive journalists but also everyday employees from adjacent corporations clustering around the perimeter to view the spectacle left me feeling more textually helpless than ever.

Closing the distance with the structure, our sedan finally veered into the outdoor parking grid. Maneuvering into a slot situated at the absolute furthest, most obscured corner of the lot, we exited the vehicle, and I shadowed the Deputy Team Leader’s rapid pace toward the main doors.

Click! Click!

The environment was completely saturated with the blinding illumination of camera flashes and the frantic, rhythmic clacking of high-definition shutters. The Team Leader, who had been addressing the media right in front of the primary doors just minutes ago, had shifted his position to the absolute edge of the property line—specifically, the boundary closest to the Association building—to continuous-like field the aggressive interview questions.

“Let’s enter quickly.”

While I harbored an intense urge to track the engagement further, dragging our feet outside any longer would yield zero tactical utility. Darting through the entrance alongside the Deputy Team Leader and stepping inside the enclosed safety of the elevator cabin allowed my tightly coiled nerves to finally dissolve a fraction.

“Whew.”

I truly couldn’t comprehend how our morning had devolved into such a chaotic landscape.

“Ha-neul-ssi.”

“Yes, Deputy Team Leader.”

“It seems I need to aggressively correct the analytical assessment I voiced during our commute.”

Correct what assessment? The exact millisecond the subsequent phrase left the Deputy Team Leader’s mouth, an involuntary, hollow laugh slipped right past my lips.

“At this current rate, we have no choice but to pray the high-ranking bureaucrats baseline our disciplinary action at a simple salary reduction.”

“Ha… ha.”

Although he had continuous-like warned me that the system would instinctively pin the absolute burden of blame onto the Hunter Department whenever a worst-case scenario materialized, even the Deputy Team Leader hadn’t anticipated the tactical landscape shifting at such terrifying velocity.

And that wasn’t the only concern.

For a massive incident of this scale to detonate at the absolute dawn of our shift meant one reality was crystallized: today was scheduled to be an agonizingly turbulent day.

“Whew.”

The only response my system could muster was a continuous-like sequence of heavy sighs. With a soft chime, the elevator cabinets slid open as we reached the eighth floor. Unlike any standard workday, I couldn’t stop my mind from interpreting the opening doors as an entrance to an absolute administrative underworld.

Sucking in a massive, deep breath and exhaling it slowly, I stepped out onto the floorboards right behind the Deputy Team Leader.

“Team Leader, shall I brew a fresh cup of coffee for you?”

Responding to Officer Park’s cautious query, the Team Leader—who had been staring blankly up at the ceiling tiles—curled his thumb and index finger into a tight circle, flashing a silent “OK” gesture. Tracking Officer Park as he immediately navigated toward the breakroom to prepare the beverage, I redirected my eyes back onto the Team Leader.

“…….”

I had assumed he would return to the floorboards after a brief, controlled statement, but the Team Leader hadn’t managed to re-enter the safety of the office until the clock had practically ticked straight to the lunch hour.

On any ordinary day, we would have treated ourselves to an exceptional meal outside to dissolve the team’s collective dark mood, but executing such a plan today was completely out of the question. It was an absolute blessing that I had archived a stockpile of instant ramen packs originally intended for Kim Se-hyun; otherwise, the entire department would have been forced to endure absolute starvation.

Ever since we concluded our makeshift meal and returned to our respective desks, the Team Leader had done absolutely nothing but stare fixedly at the ceiling, rendering it impossible to even gauge the sheer scale of the administrative grilling he had just suffered outside. Watching Officer Park smoothly deliver the coffee cup into the Team Leader’s hands, I turned my eyes back to my monitor.

At the dawn of our shift, intelligence regarding Prince Edward’s casualties had been safely locked under an administrative embargo. But looking at the current reality, that safety was gone.

The embargo window had evidently expired, prompting a coordinated tidal wave of articles—fully embedded with graphic quotes from the Team Leader’s morning media scrum—to completely colonize every single real-time trending search portal. A heavy sigh tore right out of my throat.

“Sigh.”

“Don’t let the tension crush your spirit so much, Youngest. At worst, they’ll just slap a temporary salary reduction on us and call it a day!”

“…Yes, sir.”

“If the Hunter Department ceases to exist, the absolute first people to suffer a massive crisis of utility will be none other than those high-ranking bureaucrats themselves.”

“Exactly! Just as Officer Park noted, if we vanish from the grid, they are the only ones who will walk away completely empty-handed.”

I didn’t understand why they continuous-like placed such a powerful, aggressive emphasis on phrases implying the department might cease to exist. It was only serving to twist my nerves into tighter knots.

Listening to the back-and-forth dialogue between Officer Park and Officer Kim caused an intense wave of apprehension to flood my chest. I needlessly organized the pristine surface of my desk and executed a sequence of entirely meaningless mouse clicks, but calming my racing mind felt like an agonizingly vertical climb.

Screeech—

The distinct friction of office chair casters rolling across the floorboards drew close to my station. Glancing to my flank, I found Officer Kim had smoothly navigated his chair right up against the edge of my desk.

“Our Team Leader is an incredibly magnificent figure. The absolute second a crisis materializes, he will step forward to shield us entire. And of course, the Deputy Team Leader is an equally phenomenal asset!”

“Precisely. If push comes to shove, you have me, Officer Kim, and Officer Han anchoring your flanks, so our youngest can officially stop harboring all that anxiety.”

“…I’ll try my best, sir.”

Despite my absolute best efforts to maintain a perfectly unbothered facade, it appeared the sheer depth of my anxiety had been completely transparent to the entire room. Hearing them boldly declare that the entire department stood ready to shield me allowed the crushing weight in my chest to dissolve a fraction. I began to lift the corners of my mouth into a smile. Or rather, I was in the exact middle of lifting them.

Ring— Ring—

“…….”

“Why on earth is that specific line screaming out again?”

“Our little chick looks like he’s about to completely shrink into his shell.”

For that catastrophic line to start broadcasting its presence at this exact precise millisecond was a cruel twist of timing.

Vividly asserting its dominance over the office air for the second consecutive day, the emergency receiver on the Team Leader’s desk continuous-like screamed for attention. Rotating my chair around to scan his station, I found the Team Leader simply sipping his coffee in absolute silence.

“…….”

For him to deliberately ignore an active line in direct contrast to his standard behavior meant he harbored a highly specific tactical reason for doing so. Right—though he possessed an intensely mischievous streak, the Team Leader’s administrative maneuvers always carried a deliberate, underlying intent.

The endless sequence of sharp rings finally dissolved into silence. I wondered if the individual on the other end had finally abandoned the effort, but that interpretation proved to be nothing more than groundless speculation.

Ring— Ring—

“I have zero data on who is spearheading that dial, but they are agonizingly persistent, aren’t they?”

“The Team Leader’s direct office extension has never been leaked to external commercial grids. That means the signal is originating strictly from City Hall. Or an echelon situated even higher up the chain.”

No wonder—whenever that specific telephone line detonated, it invariably turned out to be an internal communication from City Hall one hundred percent of the time rather than an external inquiry. While I had unintentionally logged a fresh piece of institutional knowledge, decoding the exact motivation driving the Team Leader’s refusal to lift the receiver remained entirely impossible.

“Good grief, they won’t even grant a man enough leisure to finish a single cup of coffee.”

Slicing through the heavy pocket of silence that had colonized the room, the Team Leader muttered a complaint and downed the remainder of his beverage in a single gulp. Depositing the paper cup directly into the adjacent wastebasket, he smoothly swept the receiver off its cradle.

“Yes, Seoul City Hunter Department.”

Leaning his body weight completely back into the contours of his chair, the Team Leader delivered his greeting with a thoroughly disengaged, flat tone. It was a display that aligned perfectly with his standard administrative baseline. I locked my absolute focus onto the audio details of the exchange.

“As I stated over and over yesterday, our deployment executed its duties strictly according to the established protocol manual! If they order us to take the fall regardless, then we’ll—what did you just say?”

The Team Leader, who had been asserting his baseline position with a face thoroughly laced with irritation, abruptly cut his own sentence short to throw out a sharp interrogation. Reading the vivid expression of utter absurdity writing itself across his features, I leaned over to whisper covertly into Officer Kim’s ear.

“Has a completely separate crisis just developed on the ground?”

“Who knows. We need to parse his reactions a bit further.”

Officer Kim likewise looked highly unsettled by the Team Leader’s sudden anomalous shift. Tracking his fixed, intense gaze back onto the desk, I watched the Team Leader begin to use his free hand to rub at his face in absolute exhaustion, causing me to swallow dryly.

“No, wait a minute—at the dawn of the morning shift, you claimed that individual was actively recovering from casualties! So what on earth are you talking about now? A field… inspection?!”

A field inspection?

I had naturally anticipated an administrative shouting match regarding the legal liabilities surrounding the Prince’s injuries, but for the concept of an institutional field inspection to materialize out of the blue was completely unexpected. Exchanging a rapid look with Officer Kim, I snapped my eyes back onto the Team Leader.

“Fine! Let’s assume for a fraction of a second that a field inspection is mandatory! But forcing us to accommodate that individual alongside the delegation is completely out of the question! Tell them to coordinate the arrival with an entirely different representative!”

Every single time a phrase left the Team Leader’s mouth, the mystery driving the engagement multiplied exponentially. What kind of political figure possessed the unique utility to incite this specific degree of pure, unadulterated fury from our commander?

“That is absolutely zero of my concern! And it is equally zero concern to my department! Order them to swap him out for a separate Member of National Assembly! The exact millisecond Lee Young-jin plants his feet inside this office, he will do absolutely nothing but manufacture groundless disputes to strip us of our utility!”

“Lee… Young-jin?”

Lee Young-jin was a political figure whose profile was fully indexed in my own memory banks.

The moment my mind mapped back to the agonizing humiliation I endured at City Hall during the commendation ceremony, my expression instantly contorted into a frown.

“Don’t tell me… Prince Edward is intentionally anchoring himself to Assemblyman Lee Young-jin to launch a joint visit to our office floorboards?”

“Parsing the trajectory of the dialogue, that appears to be the exact volatile reality mapping out right now.”

“What on earth do they intend to accomplish by marching in here?”

Exactly—that query was an absolute mirror of the question running through my own mind!

While the underlying operational intent behind Prince Edward’s sudden desire to visit our department was deeply mysterious, the variable that incited far more visceral dread was the reality that Assemblyman Lee Young-jin was actively marching toward our doors.

“What?!”

But I had zero leisure to map out that line of thought any further. The Team Leader’s voice spiked aggressively higher once more, forcing my focus back to his desk.

“Ha!”

Letting out a continuous-like sequence of hollow, unhinged chuckles as if he had completely detached from reality, he frantically ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up entire. Witnessing an emotional breakdown of this magnitude from our commander caused my temporarily dissolved anxieties to violently surge back to life.

terminate this dialogue! Goodbye!”

Slamming the receiver down onto its cradle with immense, volatile force, the Team Leader aggressively clawed through his hair once more. Watching his heaving chest, the tension in the room multiplied tenfold. After a long, agonizing pocket of time ticked away, the Team Leader finally squared his upper body and swept his eyes across every single face pinned to the floorboards.

“Whew.”

He continuous-like inhaled massive pockets of air and exhaled them violently, as if struggling to find the vocabulary to anchor his next words. Not only that, but the violent, rhythmic heaving of his shoulders indicated a massive administrative storm had officially breached our perimeter.

“Team Leader.”

Unable to watch the silence fracture him any further, the Deputy Team Leader vocalized his name. Anchored by the call, the Team Leader sucked in one final, monumental breath and parted his lips, and we delivered an instantaneous response to his summon.

“Deputy Team Leader, Officer Kim, Officer Park, and Youngest.”

“Yes, Team Leader.”

“…We are officially at a state of maximum emergency.”

“There’s no way.”

The word slipped right out of Officer Park’s mouth in absolute disbelief. Simultaneously, tracing the legal implications of the telephone call through my own mind, I stared fixedly at the Team Leader as a single, horrifying thought crystallized within me.