Chapter 7

Song was on his knees in the chapel. Instead of his robes, he was wearing a black jacket and a black shirt. When Kuji came in, he stood up and gave him a concerned look.

"Masatake, I told you not to come back."

Kuji strode up to him. "Who are you?" he asked. "I came because I wanted to know about you. And I'm going to stay until you tell me."

Song sighed as he took Kuji's hand and sat him down on the pew. Kuji stared at Song's profile. Song's eyes were fixed on the cross in front of him.

"My real name is Yeong-Il. The Chinese character for Yeong is part of the Japanese word 'forever', and Il is used in the word 'moral duty'."

"Yeong-Il," Kuji repeated under his breath. "So you're not someone from the North? Nango said people from the South tipped them off that you were."

"That must be why you were keeping watch on me."

Kuji nodded. "I was happy when they told me to keep tabs on you. I liked you ever since I first met you." Kuji surprised himself at how fluidly the embarrassing confession slipped out of his mouth. "I know I sound like a high schooler, but it's true."

Song reached out and grasped his hand. Kuji squeezed it back. "I stabbed my dad. I was seventeen then. He was drunk and was raping my little sister. I didn't do it to help her - I did it because I really wanted to kill him then. I hated him. That wasn't the first time he'd raped her, either. So I stabbed him. Over and over, from behind. I was told that the way I did it was cruel. It's true. I don't regret it, and I certainly don't plan on atoning for it. I didn't tell anyone about my sister. Maybe if I did, they would have pitied me and I wouldn't have had to go to jail."

He felt Song squeeze his hand harder, and Kuji gave a loud laugh to show him that he was fine.

"It was the shits after that. But that was how I was able to meet you. So maybe it was all for the better. You were the only one who accepted me." Lastly, he said, "I love you."

Song took his eyes off the cross to look at him. "I'm not the kind of noble person you imagine me to be," he said. "I've committed many more heinous crimes than you have."

"I don't care. You even said so yourself - God loves any kind of person. God will love both of us, won't He? That means we're the same in His eyes, right?"

"Your logic is very spot-on sometimes, Masatake," Song said with the same quiet smile as always. "All right, then, let me tell you my story."

Masatake, I am someone who does not exist. As you know, my home country has a conscription system, and all adult males are fingerprinted and registered. But there is no record of me in my country.

When I joined the army, my physical abilities were a head above the rest. I was recognized for that and was transferred into a special unit. At the time, relations between the North and the South were poor, and I was full of nationalist pride. I was eventually assigned to a unit that undertook particularly special missions even within the special unit. Actually, I wasn't assigned - I volunteered because that team was going to infiltrate the North and assassinate its dictator.

All records of the people who joined the assassination squad were obliterated. This was so that if any of us were caught captive, the government could deny its involvement. We were told not to return alive. We were elated; we trained diligently every day to execute this important mission.

Our camp was in the mountains close to the national border. Our training regime was very arduous, but that was where I learned and acquired the skills to kill people in all manner of ways. I believed that the sacrifice of my own life would help build the foundations of my own country.

But there came a great change in politics. Due to a change in the ruling political party, my country's policy was now leaning towards a harmonious relationship with the North. We were told by our seniors that the unit would be dissolved. After leaving the unit, we were to resume our lives as ordinary citizens. But that was a lie; we were actually scheduled to be erased.

One day, we were taken into the mountains in the name of training. In actuality, we were to be shot. I as well as a few others were able to escape in the nick of time. But as deserters, we were now being sought after. We crossed the border in order to survive.

Little did I know that it was the gate to an entirely new kind of Hell.

Song let go of Kuji's hand. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes. He muttered a prayer under his breath.

The concentration camp was grueling. Less than a year had passed before I was the only one who remained alive. But I still lived through it. My desire to exact revenge on the country that had betrayed us kept me going. I lived on in hatred. In darkness.

One year, we were met with a harsher winter than any we had experienced in the past. We were sent out into the blizzard to gather tree bark. Of course, to use as food. I took advantage of one fleeting chance to escape. No one came after me - they probably thought I wouldn't survive.

But I was saved, by a certain Song Jin-Il. He was a priest affiliated to Emmaus, and he had working at the border helping refugees. A few times he had even risked his life to come to Cheon-wang.

I passed the winter under Song's protection. When spring came and I tried to cross the border, I was caught and chased. Song risked his life to save me. Song gave me a new life; I, Song Jin-Il, was born that day in Cheon-wang.

"Is that why you took the same name as him?"

Song smiled serenely again. "It was convenient for me to cover up my identity, of course. But I took his name in order to live as him. We passed the winter in a frugal hut made of piled stones, where he taught me about God's love. I'd been blinded by hatred, but I was able to see the light again."

"So then why would the South... why would your own country rat you out?" Kuji asked.

"Probably because letting me live would have negative consequences for their new political policy of harmony - it's the same reason why they tried to obliterate our unit. I'm a living witness. And in the course of my training, I've killed many people. I've committed a sin that I can't even begin atoning for. But, as I said, my personal information has been erased completely, and I'm a person that doesn't exist on paper. Whoever suspects that I'm Yeong-Il probably isn't sure of it themselves."

Kuji could finally begin to see the picture. The Southerners must have figured that if Song wasn't from the South, he would be from the North. If someone from the North was seen getting in touch with Song, that would confirm their suspicions. If he was from the North, he wouldn't be Yeong-Il. That was why they had tipped off Public Safety and made them keep surveillance on Song.

"And what if they find out you're Yeong-Il?"

"Then, they'll probably try to wipe me out for sure this time."

Kuji stood up from the pew noisily. "Then you shouldn't even be here! It's dangerous! We gotta get away!"

Song shook his head slowly. "Once they find out who I am, it's impossible. My DNA and fingerprints will be registered anew, and they'll chase me to the ends of the Earth. It would be easy for them to make me the perpetrator of a murder I didn't commit."

A sudden realization dawned on Kuji. "It's my fault," he said softly. "It's because I got myself involved in this mess. You tried to help me, and ended up...."

Song shook his head. "No. It's true that I wanted to help you, but in truth I also wanted to help the missing young people. Under no circumstance should the country be allowed to snatch the future away from young people. That applies to this country, too, as well as my own."

Song remained seated as he reached out to take Kuji's hand, pressing it to his cheek.

"Masatake, this country is wrong for treating young people like you in the unfair way it has. But hatred takes light away. I know you've been through a very painful ordeal, but I want you to abandon your hatred and move on."

"I don't hate anyone anymore," Kuji said. "It's because I fell in love with you." He pulled out the gun he had hidden underneath the waistband of his pants. "Now it's my turn to protect you," he said.

"That's mine," Song said, widening his eyes.

"I sneaked into your room. I'm sorry."

"Don't. Give that back," Song said firmly. Kuji brushed the man's hand away and took a step back.

"Are they gonna come right away?"

"Who knows? They likely expect me to try to make a run for it. They'll probably come as early as tonight to finish me off." Song abruptly looked around him.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I hear a car. It's probably them. Masatake, you have to leave this place right now. You're not part of this."

Kuji held the gun in both hands and bent his knees slightly, getting ready to shoot. "I have everything to do with this," he said. "You saved me. So in exchange, I'm going to save you this time."

A sudden ringtone sounded, and Song cautiously reached into his jacket to pull out his cell phone.

"Oh, it's you. You'd like to speak to Masatake?"

After a few short words, Song pressed his cell phone to Kuji's ear.

"Hello? Oh, it's you? How the hell do you know this number?"

"You fucking idiot!" barked the person on the other and. "I'm calling from your cell phone. Found this number in your call history. You left your phone with your jacket, remember? Nice job pulling one over on us, you bastard."

"I don't have time to be talking to you," Kuji said testily. Nango apparently sensed that he was going to hang up and roared in response.

"Don't you dare hang up, you fag. I'm calling to say we'll help your boyfriend out."

"My boyfriend? Who're you talking about?"

"Song, you fucking idiot! Jesus, you're such a hopeless fag!"

"I'm not gonna fall for that."

"Just shut up and listen. We got the green light from the Metropolitan Police. Interpol is working with us on this case, too. They said Song is an important witness who needs protection."

Kuji lowered his gun and took the cell phone from Song. "Are you serious? Show me proof."

"I don't have any. You have my word."

"Then it's not happening."

"Fine. In the name of my cock and balls, I give you my solemn vow. If I turn out to be lying, I'll cut them off and give 'em to you."

Kuji laughed himself to tears. "Nango, it looks like you and me both treasure the same thing over anything else, huh?" he said. After a good bout of laughter, he resumed a serious voice. "Tell me what I need to do," he said.

"Just hang in there until I make it. The guys from the precinct are headed over there right now."

Kuji handed the cell phone back to Song. The man looked at him calmly. "Masatake, I can see that he loves you."

"Don't be stupid," Kuji retorted. "Anyway, he told us to sit tight. The police are coming to help us."

Song took Kuji's hand and walked toward the altar. He stood in front of the cross that was mounted there and made his own cross over his forehead. He turned back to face Kuji,

"Let's barricade the entrance," he said. "If we try to leave now, we'll only be sniped. This is our territory. It's probably best to besiege ourselves here."

At first Kuji thought it would be better to make a run for it, but when he looked around the chapel, he felt like Song had a point. There was only one entrance. There was a small side door behind the altar, but that was connected to the residential quarters, which no one would think of coming through unless they knew the floor plan of the church. The windows were placed high up, and were not large enough for people to climb through. If they piled some benches up in front of the door, they would probably serve as obstacles to hold any intruders off for a while.

"I'm sure they won't be able to let loose with shotguns and light machineguns in a residential neighborhood like this. They would probably have to make do with night-vision and silencer-equipped guns. If so, then we have a chance. If we can fend them off for a few minutes - even ten - we'll be able to make it."

Kuji looked up at Song with an air of fearful awe. "Wow, you really sound like someone from the special forces."

"I told you I was." Song wore the same calm look as he looked at Kuji's hands. "By the way, Masatake, do you know how to fire a gun? Has Nango taught you?"

Kuji shook his head. "I was trained as a spy, but not in weapons, of course. The only teaching I got from Nango was, you know, in bed."

Song shook his head in exasperation and held out his hand. "Give me that. I'll hold onto it."

"But you don't want to kill people, right? You were praying just now."

"Of course I don't want to kill if I can help it. But I've been trained. I can aim for a spot that won't be fatal. Back there I had no choice because it was do or die."

Song took the gun from Kuji and released the safety mechanism with familiar ease.

"Masatake, right now your life is the first thing we have to protect. For the sake of Nango, too."

"What's he got to do with it?" Kuji grumbled, but Song's judgment was sound. "All right, okay, what should I do?" he asked.

"Let's pile the benches up here. Then we turn off the lights."

"But then we won't be able to see the guys."

"And it'll be the same for them. Besides, I've been trained to apprehend people in low light conditions."

"Wow, you're amazing," Kuji said, impressed.

"I certainly didn't become a priest to receive those kinds of compliments," Song said, looking truly unsure of how to react.

The switch was turned off, and darkness closed in around them. Dim moonlight filtered in through the high windows, but it was enough to discern things by. The two of them crawled across the floor and hid in the shadows of the pulpit. Not even a minute passed before they heard creeping footsteps.

"Here they come," whispered Song, and they heard the doorknob turn as if on cue. The door crept open and immediately hit the barricade. There was a pause before the door burst open forcefully. The benches toppled over noisily, but that was all part of the plan. The intruders had now scattered obstacles all over the floor for themselves. They no longer had the option of laying down flat and crawling along the floor.

"They're probably wearing infrared goggles, so they'll be able to see us," Song whispered at his ear again. He felt something hard being pressed into his hand.

"It's a knife we use to cut the bread for sacraments. It's small, but it's better than nothing. Keep it with you."

Kuji nodded without a word. If they could see in the dark, it was probably a good idea.

They heard something creak.

"One of them is trying to climb over the bench."

Kuji sensed Song moving. The next moment, he heard a muted bang as fire spewed from the barrel of a gun. A cry of surprise rose as the bench groaned loudly.

"I shot him in the right shoulder. Given him the message that he's out of the game."

"You shot at him already?"

"It's our way of expressing our intent. I had no choice," the man answered. "I gave him a warning. This is my way of telling them I'm not looking for bloodshed. I gave him time to turn back."

"And are they going to?"

"I hope so."

The wounded enemy seemed to be making his way out through the door. The benches scraped noisily. But soon afterwards, there was a loud screech of something being dragged. The enemy was clearing the obstacles on the floor.

"It looks like my warning backfired. Now they know that I won't shoot indiscriminately."

"What do you mean?"

"He's clearing an opening so that the rest of them can breach it and fan out on each side. But we'll be able to buy ourselves some time while they clear the barricade."

He was right, Kuji thought as he strained his ears. The neighborhood was quiet and not a sound could be heard.

"Who knew the day would come when I'd be waiting to hear police sirens," he said. Although Nango had promised he was coming, Kuji wondered if he really would.

"We only have a while to wait until dawn. Let's hang in there," Song said encouragingly. Kuji nodded again. The scraping ceased. It looked like the enemy had finished taking the obstacles outside. There was a rustling sound.

"Keep your head low," Song said. Kuji got down on the floor. The pulpit was elevated from the floor, and although they had built a barricade around it, one could say that their position made them an easy target.

Something whistled through the air.

"What was that?"

"Shh," Song hissed. Simultaneously, they were hit by an impact from three sides. A dull blast sounded as wood debris scattered through the air. The impacts came in succession. One of the piled benches blew apart.

For the first time, Kuji felt fear well up inside him. This was something he had never experienced. This was a warzone.

The shooting stopped and they heard footsteps clambering on the floor. The enemy was approaching.

"Masatake, listen carefully," said Song's calm voice. "It'll be hard even for me to fend off an enemy that's coming at us from three sides. I'm going to lure their attention, and while they're distracted, I want you to take that side door to get outside. Run as far away as you can from the church."

"No," Kuji shot back immediately. In the dark, he saw another flare burst from the barrel of the gun. The momentary glow illuminated Song's profile.

"That's the only way for both of us to make it. There's a better chance of surviving than waiting for the police to come. And if you live, you'll be able to call for help. It'll increase my chances of making it out alive, too."

As much as Kuji wanted to refuse, he had to admit that Song was right. It was easier to protect one person than two.

"All right."

"I'll count. On three, go through the side door." With that, Song disappeared from his side instantly. Kuji's palms broke out into sweat.

"One, two, three!" Song rose up and opened fire. Kuji jumped back, crouched, and slipped through the side door. He emerged in the hallway of the first floor, and continued sprinting to the kitchen. He had never planned on abandoning Song in the first place. Kuji wasted no time in grabbing the metal tin of kerosene that was sitting beside the kerosene heater. He scrambled out the back door, hoisted the tin over his shoulder, and ran to the front of the church.

This was the only way. He was certain. Sorry, God. I'm gonna have to burn your house down. But you'll forgive me, right? It's to help Song, after all. Song said you'd forgive anything.

If he started a fire, it would draw out people from the neighborhood. These special unit guys, or assassins, or whoever they were, would have to give up on trying to kill them. Kuji splashed kerosene over the benches that had been dragged outside. He took a few steps back, took off his shirt, and poured kerosene over it, too. He then took a lighter out of his pants pocket. Just as he was about to set everything alight, he felt an impact jar him from behind.

"What...the..." Kuji looked over his shoulder to see a man standing behind him, dressed head-to-toe in black. Kuji's eyes registered the gun in his hand. Before he could realize he had been shot, he took another bullet and fell to his knees. The ground slowly rose up to meet him.

Kuji still managed to light his lighter and set his shirt on fire. Although he had no strength left to hurl the shirt at the debris, he grasped it tightly and crawled his way toward the church building. The flames crept to his hair and his pants.

This is it, this is good enough, Kuji thought as he threw himself at the bench, doused in kerosene.

* * * *

"Holy shit, you fucking faggot."

Kuji tried to open his eyes at the familiar voice, but lacking the strength, he soon gave up. He felt like he had something very important to say, but he couldn't remember. He heard many voices coming from far away. He heard the familiar sound of sirens. His body felt leaden, and he felt like the core of his brain had gone numb.

"What? Can't hear me, idiot?"

It's 　Nango Kuji thought. He simultaneously remembered the most important thing on his mind.

"How's Song?"

"Safe, you dumbass. We've rescued him."

"Good." That was all he needed to hear. He smiled. Nango's voice rained down on him from above again.

"Open your eyes, damnit! You've still got work left to do for us as an S, you hear me? The ambulance is on its way."

I wish I could open my eyes, but I can't, he wanted to say.

"Mr. Nango, Masatake needs me. Please let me be by his side," he heard Song's quiet voice say.

"Where are you?" Kuji asked. "It's so dark - I can't see."

"I'm right here." Someone gripped his hand with large, warm, and familiar palms.

"Masatake, I want you to listen carefully to what I'm going to say. And I want you to repeat after me. Got it?"

What?

"Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come..." Song was praying. Does that mean I'm going to die? Oh, well. I guess it's all good, since Song is safe. God must have saved him. Thanks, man. I don't believe in you, but if Song does, there's nothing I can do. I guess the least I can do is thank you.

God, huh. I wonder what he looks like. If I die, would I get to meet him? Hey, I should ask.

"Can I go to the kingdom of God?"

"You can."

"And so will you, right?"

"Yes, perhaps."

"Then, if I wait over there, I'll be able to see you again, right?" That was all he wanted to make sure. "Will you pray for me?"

"I will." The hands clasped tightly around his own. A dazzling light appeared in the darkness that had surrounded him. He heard that song - the song he had so loved.