Zhenya searched the entire bazaar.
He checked every possible hiding spot where Kwon Taekjoo might have gone, from trash bins to meat storage areas.
Yet, he found no trace of him.
At one point, he picked up Taekjoo's scent, but as he approached the spice stalls, he lost even that faint lead.
Had Kwon Taekjoo been there only to move on again?
His target was an expert in evasion, and Zhenya knew he wouldn't give up easily.
The bazaar was vast and maze-like, packed with people, making it feel like finding a needle in a haystack.
"Ha… ha…"
He gasped, unable to find Taekjoo as he reached the exit.
His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst from his chest.
He had never run this much, not even when tracking reindeer or tigers.
His gaze was lost as he scanned the faces passing by, his mind racing too fast to recognize anyone.
Meanwhile, travelers, merchants, and trucks loaded with goods steadily crossed the border.
Had Taekjoo already made it to Turkey?
Or had he found a way to double back,
slipping deeper into Iran?
He had no certainty either way.
He was more lost than ever, unsure of
where or how to search.
Through the entire chase, he had called out Taekjoo's name.
He shouted, he pleaded, hoping Taekjoo would answer, that he'd stop running.
But Taekjoo didn't yield.
Had he lost all memory, even of who he was?
If he kept running without ever looking back, without any awareness of his identity, then…
Each time Zhenya thought he was close enough to catch him, Taekjoo vanished once more.
Every attempt to hold onto him ended with him slipping away like air.
A mirage wouldn't be more elusive.
"Taekjoo!"
he shouted; his voice filled with despair.
The only reply was his own echo, fading into the distance.
They finally arrived in Kayseri after driving 1,200 kilometers without stopping.
The journey had taken fifteen grueling hours, winding through a high mountain plateau with an average altitude of 3,200 meters, known as Turkey's Siberia.
Covering 21% of the country, the region
was rough and arid, with barely any human presence—meaning there were no suitable places to rest.
Naturally, Kwon Taekjoo, busy watching the driver, and the driver, focused on survival, had no time to stop.
The truck pulled into an area near a travel lodge.
On both sides, cargo trucks and buses were parked, marking the area as a large rest stop.
Nearby stood a building serving as both rest area and accommodation, as well as a gas station.
Behind it sprawled a bustling market. The
driver turned off the engine, set the brake, and announced their arrival.
His attitude was noticeably more subdued than before.
"We've arrived, sir."
"Yes. Well done."
Kwon Taekjoo rubbed his sore neck and thanked the driver for his efforts.
The driver managed a faint smile.
"So, may I go now…?"
"Not so fast. We need to settle the payment."
"Huh? What do you…?"
Before the driver could finish, Kwon Taekjoo's fist connected with his jaw.
The driver groaned, clutching his face in pain.
With a look of disdain, Kwon Taekjoo offered him one last piece of advice.
"Don't lay your hands on people like that. It puts me in a foul mood."
"I'm—I'm sorry!"
"Oh, and by the way, you touched my chest too, didn't you?"
The terrified driver raised his arms to shield his face, but Kwon Taekjoo's fist struck his arm with such force that it shook.
Had he hit his face, he might have shattered his jaw.
"Ah, please, don't hurt me! It was all my fault, sir,"
the driver begged, squeezing his eyes shut in desperation.
Kwon Taekjoo replied in a dry tone,
"Who said I was going to kill you?"
Then he held out a pill.
The driver, still fearful, eyed the pill with distrust.
"What is it, sir?"
"Take it."
"Huh?"
"It won't kill you. Just take it."
"N-no, it's just…"
"Or would you rather I knock you out another way?"
Kwon Taekjoo asked with an implied threat.
Trembling, the driver took the pill and swallowed it quickly, opening his mouth wide and moving his tongue to show he had swallowed it completely.
Before long, the driver's blinks grew heavy, his eyes glazed over, and he finally slumped forward, fast asleep over the wheel.
The sleeping pill he'd pulled from the first-aid kit turned out to be quite useful.
Given how exhausted the driver must have been, Kwon figured one pill should keep him asleep for at least ten hours.
Stepping out of the truck, Kwon Taekjoo walked quickly toward the gas station building.
Kayseri, a commercial city in central Turkey just 200 kilometers from the capital Ankara, had long been a key transport hub since Byzantine times.
Primarily a center for trading agricultural goods from the Anatolian region Kwon had passed through, it was the perfect place to hide out temporarily or slip away to another city.
His only concern was that someone was pursuing him.
The trackers he encountered in Tabriz's Grand Bazaar didn't seem Iranian.
Could they be members of the organization he'd once belonged to?
Or perhaps he was on some kind of international wanted list?
Whatever the reason, Turkey didn't feel like a safe haven.
He first dove into the market, blending in with the crowd.
Wandering aimlessly, he tried to clear his thoughts.
He'd come to Tehran for some reason and gotten caught up in an unexpected bombing.
When he regained consciousness, he remembered nothing.
It seemed that his head injury had caused amnesia, a rare but possible occurrence.
Aside from that, he didn't appear to have trouble with calculations, languages, or physical abilities.
His quick danger-detection skills, instinctive search for escape routes, and ability to subdue most opponents suggested he wasn't just an office worker or tourist.
Since he spoke several languages, he thought he might be a diplomat.
But with the Cyrillic tattoo on his thigh
and the news that the Russian government was searching for a missing Easterner, he
wondered if he was a mercenary who'd worked for them.
He had no certainty either way.
It wasn't clear if anyone was searching for him to rescue him or to arrest and punish him.
For that reason, he felt he had to keep running until his memories returned.
Perhaps Kwon Taekjoo was an intelligence agent or a special unit operative working for
some country.
Memories that surfaced sporadically showed him completing all kinds of
seemingly impossible missions.
At times, he recalled diving into the depths of the ocean with only an oxygen tank; at others, he fell from terrifying heights toward a tiny target point.
He'd scaled cliffs and high-rise buildings with only his body.
He also remembered being pursued, cornered, and captured by military and police forces from various countries.
He even vividly recalled escaping through a frozen desert under a hail of gunfire.
It was hard to tell which parts of these memories were real and which were
illusions.
He wasn't even sure if returning to Korea was the right decision.
As he walked, lost in thought, he suddenly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.
"Ouch! You should watch where you're going."
Behind him, bodyguards approached.
Kwon Taekjoo immediately tensed, taking a defensive stance.
The man staring at him widened his eyes in surprise.
"Wait, is that you?"
The man seemed to recognize Kwon Taekjoo. But who was he?
His empty mind held no information about this person.
"It's been so long! How have you been? What brings you here?"
The man, speaking English with a slight Spanish accent, took Kwon Taekjoo's hands and shook them enthusiastically.
He was an attractive Hispanic man with thick hair and eyebrows, deep brown eyes with a warm sunset glow, and smooth skin.
His constant smile gave him a friendly air.
Had they met before?
Though Kwon Taekjoo stayed silent, the man wasn't deterred. Instead, he frowned with a look of concern.
"Ah, once again, your face is hurt. You really haven't taken care of yourself. Been
through a rough job?"
"You… know me?"
Kwon asked cautiously.
The man raised his eyebrows, his confused expression soon replaced by a laugh.
"What's this? Have you forgotten me already? It's me, Matías. Matías Pérez."
Showing familiarity, he gave Kwon Taekjoo a light tap on the shoulder.
Kwon frowned and asked again, pressing for clarity.
"I asked you. Do you know me?"
Matías lifted his hands in mock surrender, then looked Kwon Taekjoo up and down, puzzled.
"Do you have a twin?"
he murmured, almost to himself.
"Didn't we meet just two months ago? Have you already forgotten?"
Matías asked.
"We met? Where?"
"Hmm, was it in Cuba? No, maybe I should say Mexico?"
Kwon Taekjoo had no idea what he was talking about.
It was already strange enough that Russia was actively searching for Kwon Taekjoo, and stranger still that a Korean man like
him would end up in Iran.
Now, Cuba and Mexico were being mentioned.
What kind of life had he led?
Matías, silently observing Kwon Taekjoo's confusion, closed his eyes and gave him a gentle smile.
"It seems it's been a while. What do you say we go somewhere to talk in peace? We can also tend to those wounds. Maybe then you'll remember me."
"…"
Kwon Taekjoo regarded Matías with suspicion.
Why did this stranger seem so eager to help him?
Even if they had met two months ago, they didn't seem to be more than acquaintances.
Could it really be safe to follow him, despite his casual demeanor?
As he wrestled with his thoughts, his stomach rumbled with hunger.
After 15 hours with nothing but water, it made sense.
Matías gave him a sympathetic smile.
"Maybe we should grab something to eat first."