Just then, the phone rang unexpectedly.
Zhenya picked it up quickly and checked the caller ID.
It was a disappointing call from Bazim.
Normally, he would have rejected the call
without a second thought, but maybe Bazim had some encouraging news this time.
With faint hope, he answered.
"What happened? Was this your doing?"
Bazim asked right away, his tone uneasy.
Zhenya had received a request to cooperate from him before heading to Evin Prison.
The only reason he hadn't resorted to force was to retrieve Kwon Taekjoo as quickly and smoothly as possible.
But then, just as Zhenya visited the prison, the incident happened.
After the fire, Kwon Taekjoo had vanished again, and Zhenya was in a desperate situation.
Although he was more frustrated than anyone, it seemed absurd that Bazim was so quick to blame him.
"Do you really think that?"
Zhenya replied.
"Isn't it? Are you sure?"
"Why ask if you're not going to believe me?"
"Haaa... Be more convincing. You said you'd cooperate and keep things quiet. Why did you cause a mess at the hospital? You went up against the police for no reason. Why so much noise for just one person?"
"That person isn't easy to handle."
In reality, it had already been two days since Zhenya had lost track of Kwon Taekjoo.
So far, his whereabouts were still a mystery.
He had checked all security cameras, even civilian ones, just as he had when he first pursued him, but apart from knowing that Kwon had abandoned the stolen ambulance near a fire station and then escaped, there was no further information.
There had been no news from the National Intelligence Agency, the South Korean embassy, or Yoon Jongwoo.
The same applied to Zhenya.
It was strange.
If Kwon Taekjoo had managed to escape and was hiding somewhere, he would have sent word in some way.
At this point in the operation, his only goal should have been to "return safely."
But he had given no sign of life for two days.
Had he been captured while fleeing and was now being held somewhere?
No, if that were the case, there would have been some indication of his arrest.
Although he was monitoring police communications 24/7, there were no reports of anyone resembling Kwon Taekjoo.
"If you really want me out of the way as soon as possible, stop wasting time insisting like this and genuinely cooperate. I already told you I just want to recover what's mine and leave immediately."
He ended the call after giving his reprimand.
He ignored the phone as it started ringing again.
He rose from his seat and left the room.
Yoon Jongwoo lay on the living room couch, his neck twisted awkwardly, almost passed out.
Not surprising, since he hadn't had a restful sleep since arriving in Iran.
Though he seemed clumsy, he was somewhat useful.
Zhenya now understood why Kwon Taekjoo had been so insistent on keeping him close.
"Hey."
Even when called, Yoon Jongwoo didn't wake up right away.
How could someone from an intelligence agency be this slow?
Annoyed, Zhenya banged on the table.
Yoon Jongwoo, startled, jolted awake, hitting his knee against the table.
"Oh! Mr. Yevgeny! What time is it...?"
"What have you found?"
"Ah, I'm still investigating, but... the area is too wide this time. I haven't found anything
significant yet."
Yoon Jongwoo lowered his head, visibly embarrassed.
Now that it had been confirmed that Kwon Taekjoo was alive, he no longer seemed so desperate.
"Why is Taekjoo still running?"
"Huh? Well, because he's being chased, I suppose."
"Chased? By who?"
Yoon Jongwoo, about to respond, froze, looking dumbfounded.
In reality, Kwon Taekjoo was not being pursued at the moment.
Although he was taken to Evin Prison on suspicion of terrorism, thanks to the cooperation letter Zhenya had obtained, all charges against him had been cleared.
Even though he'd escaped in the chaos caused by the fire, the Iranian government was no longer pursuing him.
Moreover, several media outlets had already reported the collapse of the prison system due to recent events.
So far, the prison hadn't determined who was dead, injured, or missing.
Kwon Taekjoo must have heard about this, so why was he still running?
"If he's already a free man, he could ask for help if he wanted to. The South Korean
embassy isn't far from here. If he's unable to do that, he should have at least contacted you."
Zhenya continued questioning.
According to him, Kwon Taekjoo should have reported his survival as soon as he was safe.
If he couldn't return on his own, he should have requested support from the base.
There was a support base for deployed agents in Iran, yet he hadn't attempted to contact Kwon Taekjoo there either.
"I even tried logging into my personal email and all my game accounts, just in case. But
I didn't find a trace of him anywhere. I also called Mr. Taekjoo's mother to check on
her, but she asked if I'd heard anything from him.
The ominous feeling intensified.
Kwon Taekjoo was capable of driving more than 20 km.
Despite that, he hadn't contacted even his mother in two days.
The man who had always been so cautious about her, even in the worst circumstances.
What could this mean?
It seemed that more information about Kwon Taekjoo's status was needed.
To do that, Zhenya had to find the last person who had seen him.
He grabbed his coat and headed for the
exit.
"Huh? Where are you going?"
"You keep searching. Report immediately if you find anything."
After giving instructions to Yoon Jongwoo, who tried to follow him, Zhenya walked out of the hotel.
Omar couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in bed, restless.
His fellow guard, Ahmad, had died during a prisoner interrogation, and now he was facing intense questioning day after day.
Following the prison director's orders, Omar had gone to find Ahmad, who was already unconscious at the time, and had admitted honestly that he himself had been knocked out by the prisoner's attack and didn't know what happened afterward.
During the investigation, he'd learned that the eastern prisoner Ahmad had been torturing was on a list of names that Russia had intervened to save.
Supposedly, on the day of the fire, a high-ranking Russian diplomat had come personally to pick him up.
The prison administration, though uneasy about the disappearance of the eastern prisoner, seemed privately relieved.
Everyone knew how ruthlessly Ahmad had tortured prisoners.
The eastern prisoner had endured Ahmad's interrogations at least four times.
If Russia found out about this, they'd surely raise human rights violation issues.
With the prisoner's current "disappearance," they could instead argue that any injuries from torture had happened during his escape.
The cause of Ahmad's death was provisionally listed as smoke inhalation from the fire.
Only after swearing not to reveal anything about it was Omar released.
"Ugh..."
He sighed and was about to lie back down when he felt a strange unease.
Turning his head, he was startled to see a pair of intense blue eyes glowing in the dark.
He froze, feeling as if he'd seen a ghost.
Was it a beast?
No, it was clearly human.
How had they gotten in?
The door was locked.
Every question increased his fear.
The figure moved closer with a piercing gaze, as if looking right through him.
Sitting down in a nearby chair, the figure's eyes never left Omar's.
Every movement was slow and calm, yet there was something intimidating in his presence.
Omar's limbs went rigid.
It was the kind of overwhelming dominance that someone who had broken others' spirits for a long time could exert.
If he tried to resist or deceive this man, he
wouldn't survive.
"I'll ask you one question, so answer it."
Was this extreme terror?
The voice sounded terrifyingly sinister.
Unable to speak, Omar nodded quickly.
"You remember the missing eastern prisoner, don't you?"
"Uh? Oh, yes, yes!"
He forced his voice out as his tongue seemed to curl into his throat.
"Was there anything unusual?"
"Unusual...?"
"Just answer."
The presence before him was so tense it was as if a blade was at his throat.
Even breathing felt risky.
Omar thought quickly about how to survive.
This man was looking for the missing eastern prisoner.
Though he'd promised to keep quiet about everything concerning him, in this life-or-death situation, he wondered what that promise even meant.
"I... I think he was a terrorism suspect. When he was found, he was armed, and his
identity was unclear, so he was brought to our prison after receiving first aid. The hospital said he'd suffered a serious head injury, so it was unclear if he could speak
clearly... In fact, he couldn't properly explain who he was or where he came from."
The man listening nodded, and Omar felt like he was getting closer to the information the man wanted.
He took the opportunity to add his personal opinion.
"He seemed frustrated and confused. Even though he could've come up with a story to
get by, he stayed silent. I wondered if he'd really lost his memory."
"Lost his memory…?"
"I'm not sure, but it's possible."
The man leaned back slightly, his sharp gaze becoming even more intense.
Omar dropped to his knees, pleading with his hands together.
"Please, sir! I swear I've done nothing wrong! I just followed orders. I haven't laid a
finger on him! Please, just let me live!"
"You?"
man grabbed Omar's ponytail sharply, making him wince as if he'd been stabbed in the head.
"Does that mean someone else did?"
"That person's already dead! He got the punishment he deserved! If you want to know who he was, I'll tell you everything! Please, just let me live!"
"What did he do?"
"What? He... he just conducted interrogations…"
"This country isn't exactly known for its courtesy. Especially that prison; you only leave there dead or as an invalid. Isn't that right?"
"It's not true! It's a misunderstanding, sir! I swear by Allah, I did nothing!"
"If that were true, your god would take note."
Muttering words that Omar couldn't understand, the man suddenly grabbed Omar's jaw and forced it open.
Though he tried to keep his mouth shut, it was no use.
Soon, an unknown pill was pressed against his tongue.
The man then shut Omar's mouth tightly, blocking both his nose and mouth at once.
As the lack of air grew unbearable, his lungs forced him to inhale, and the pill slipped down his throat uncontrollably.
The powerful effect of the pill made Omar faint, his eyes rolling back.
The man let go of Omar's head, which he'd been holding with one hand.
Just then, the once- silent phone began to ring.
As he answered the call, Yoon Jongwoo's urgent voice came through clearly.
"Mr. Yevgeny! Where are you? We've tracked the senior officer's route! He's on his way to Tabriz! It looks like he's heading toward Turkey."
Hearing this news, Zhenya left Omar's house as quietly as he had entered.
At the border between Iran and Turkey, Tabriz is a city that, once a crucial point on the ancient Silk Road, remains a key hub for trade and transportation between the two countries.
Kwon Taekjoo, wearing a black niqab that revealed only their eyes, watched the activity at the immigration office closely.
Was it the city's distance from the capital, Tehran, that influenced this?
Despite the recent large-scale terrorist attack that had shaken the nation, the border controls in this region were relatively lax.
Perhaps the fact that those responsible for the attacks had been identified had lowered the alert level.
Iran and Turkey maintain active political and economic exchanges, so the border between them wasn't under particularly rigorous surveillance.
Border guards greeted tourists and merchants trying to cross into Turkey with relaxed expressions.
It was known that moving from Iran to Turkey was relatively easy, at least for foreigners with clear identities or for goods that had been declared beforehand.
But for Kwon Taekjoo, who didn't fit into either category, the only option was to attempt illegal immigration.
A 220-kilometer wall, built to block Kurdish forces and refugees, now stood in the way.
Additionally, high-tech surveillance systems operated around the area, making it impossible to cross undetected.
The safest option seemed to be hiding in a transport vehicle.
Tabriz had the largest bazaar in Iran, making it a bustling point for moving goods to neighboring countries.
As a result, trucks were everywhere in the city.
Looking for a suitable truck, Kwon Taekjoo settled in a modest restaurant.
Even if they managed to cross into Turkey without incident, they didn't know how long it would take to reach the city.
It was wise to eat first to avoid fainting along the journey.
"Are you really going to eat all this alone? Isn't it too much?"
The restaurant owner widened his eyes when he took the order.
Instead of responding, Kwon Taekjoo simply nodded.
The owner repeated the question in disbelief:
"Are you sure you want all this?"
Again, Kwon Taekjoo nodded.
Finally, the owner headed back to the kitchen, casting curious glances their way as he left.
It wasn't so unusual to order a lot of food, but in Iran, seeing a niqab that only revealed the eyes or a chador covering the whole body was uncommon.
In Afghanistan, however, such attire was standard, so it wasn't entirely strange.
What drew attention was that an Afghan woman was here alone without a male escort, and her height, taller than average, caught people's attention.
It wasn't just the restaurant owner who looked on with curiosity.
A man at the next table was also watching Kwon Taekjoo with suspicion, though his attention shifted when the owner placed food in front of them.
"Heading to Kayseri again today? I won't see you for another week."
"Oh? You'll miss me that much?"
The man replied playfully, giving the owner a pat on the backside.
The owner brushed his hand away and returned to the kitchen.
The man watched him go, then turned his gaze back, meeting Kwon Taekjoo's eyes and smiled broadly.
Kwon Taekjoo flipped him off through the
niqab.
"You too, miss. It's a long journey, so eat well."
Soon, Kwon Taekjoo's table was covered with the food they'd ordered.
He nodded slightly to the owner and began to eat.
The challenge was that eating required pulling down the niqab, all while being careful not to stain its inside with food.
It was a complicated process that
made him curse silently.
After filling up, he left the money on the table and stepped outside.
He didn't have much cash left, just enough to buy water for the journey ahead.
He found a suitable shop and headed into
the bazaar.
Just as he was leaving with bottled water, a group of men burst into the restaurant where Kwon Taekjoo had been sitting.
They inspected the spot where he had been, searching for any trace of him.
Finding nothing, they approached the owner with urgent questions, showing
him photos on their phones.
Hesitantly, the owner pointed toward the bazaar.
The men immediately turned and ran into the bazaar. From a distance, it seemed that one of them was a tall white man, nearly two meters, and the other an East Asian man with glasses.
Kwon Taekjoo didn't know who they were, but their intent was unsettling.
He needed to escape.
The bazaar, over 5 kilometers long, was like a labyrinth.
Relying on the mental map he had memorized, he changed directions multiple times as he ran.
His pursuers split into two groups, continuing to chase him.
Who were they, really?
Police?
Why were they so determined to catch him?
The more he thought about it, the more confused he became.
Exhausted from running, Kwon Taekjoo ducked into a nearby restroom to catch his breath.
The tall white man, who had been hot on his trail, stopped suddenly right outside and then stepped back to peer inside.
It was as if he was tracking him with near-supernatural precision.
With the danger closing in, Kwon Taekjoo quietly retreated and slipped out through a back door leading to an alley, breaking into a run once again.
The alley was lined with shops selling spices from around the world, the powerful scent nearly numbing his senses.
For a moment, his pursuer appeared disoriented at a nearby junction, as if he'd lost a crucial lead.
He paced back and forth, unsure of where to go next. Watching from a distance, Kwon Taekjoo seized the opportunity to escape, moving further away.
The exit was now in sight, but suddenly, a booming voice echoed from behind.
"Taekjoo!"
Was it his pursuer's voice?
He couldn't be sure.
He didn't know who the name was meant for, but the unexpected shout made his heart sink.
He was utterly bewildered.
Stumbling in desperation, Kwon Taekjoo raced toward the exit.
His heart pounded, his chest tight with anxiety and confusion.
Finally, the exit came into view.
A large truck was parked just ahead.
Without a second thought, he jumped into the passenger seat.
The driver, startled by the sudden intrusion, widened his eyes in surprise.
Kwon Taekjoo was just as surprised—
the driver was the same lecherous man he had seen earlier in the restaurant.
Kwon Taekjoo covered the man's mouth and held a finger to his own lips.
The driver, wide- eyed, nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender.
Still, Kwon Taekjoo kept a cautious eye
on the window, watching for his pursuers.
"Are they after you?"
The driver asked suddenly.
When he didn't get a response, he reached over and started stroking Kwon Taekjoo's thigh.
Assuming from the niqab that he was a woman, possibly an Afghan refugee, the driver's attitude became even more presumptuous.
"Need some help?"
With a lascivious look on his face, the driver leaned toward Kwon Taekjoo's chest.
His hand, which had been stroking Kwon Taekjoo's thigh, began to move toward his groin.
When he felt something unexpected there, he frowned, looking at Kwon Taekjoo in confusion.
Kwon Taekjoo pulled something from beneath the niqab and pressed it against the driver.
The driver's eyes widened in fear as he realized that a hard, gun-shaped object was now threatening him.
"Drive."
He ordered firmly.
The driver, frozen with terror, hesitated.
"Faster!"
Kwon Taekjoo demanded.
Pale with fear, the man started the truck and pulled out toward the immigration checkpoint.
Large cargo trucks were lined up, waiting to cross the border.
The driver and Kwon Taekjoo merged into the line, the driver following instructions but visibly tense.
"If they catch us, I'll be in trouble too."
"Then make sure you do this right. You never know if other problems might come up, do you?"
Kwon Taekjoo threatened, moving the gun from the driver's groin to his side.
As they approached the checkpoint, he shot a silent warning look and crouched down under the seat, the gun aimed at the driver's knee.
With the dark niqab, his presence was hard to detect.
"Hey, thanks for your hard work today!"
The driver greeted the soldier at the checkpoint with a smile, handing over his passport and transit permit smoothly.
The soldier casually asked,
"Heading to Kayseri?"
and conducted a quick inspection of the cargo.
"Safe travels."
"Yes, thank you."
"Go on through!"
The soldier called out as he slapped the back of the truck.
The driver gulped and slowly drove
across the border.
Once they were through, Kwon Taekjoo immediately sat up, pressing the gun to the driver's temple.
He tore off the suffocating niqab.
"Yikes! So, why don't we put that dangerous thing down? I'll cooperate, okay?"
The driver stammered, glancing over nervously.
"We'll see. For now, keep driving."
"Where to?"
"You said you were going to Kayseri. Head there first."
With a look of despair, the driver stepped on the gas.
Anxious to reach their destination as
soon as possible, the truck sped further away from Iran.