When he thought about it, it was the very first time Jeong Tae-ui had been kidnapped. There had been a few times when he almost was, back when he was a child, but he had never actually been taken. His older brother had been kidnapped once, although he always came back quickly. So, when he was little—meaning when the risk of being kidnapped was still real—he used to think, ‘If I got kidnapped, it would definitely be scary. The kidnappers would probably starve me or beat me,’ and he was afraid. But as he got older, as his head grew bigger and he became too big to be taken by adults, he stopped having those thoughts.

“I never thought I’d get kidnapped at this age...”

Jeong Tae-ui muttered absentmindedly.

Back in high school, once during vacation, he had gone on a backpacking trip alone and experienced a busjacking. That could be considered a kind of kidnapping, but it wasn’t targeted at Jeong Tae-ui specifically. He wasn’t important then, and he wasn’t the only one taken, but now he was the one specifically targeted and kidnapped.

Looking back on it, his life might have been quite tumultuous. Busjackings and kidnappings. Yet he’d survived somehow and considered himself lucky in his own way. And if he were to insist on calling something lucky, it would be that this first kidnapper didn’t starve or beat him like the child Tae-ui once feared. They did lock him up, but they gave him food when the time came, and they didn’t come at him roughly without reason. That said, he wouldn’t exactly call them gentle kidnappers—if the room got noisy, they would knock on the door and yell.

Jeong Tae-ui woke up after having fallen asleep from a headache and dizziness. Some time had passed. When he asked others, they said it looked like he’d slept about three or four hours. Without a clock, he couldn’t be sure, but people’s guesses ranged between two and four hours, so he assumed around three hours. Still, since he didn’t know when exactly he first woke, it was uncertain.

There was a window, but it was nailed shut so he couldn’t see outside. However, at the top, one board was shorter, leaving a gap of a few inches where light filtered through.

“Maybe seven or eight o’clock... or later?”

Jeong Tae-ui tilted his head. The sliver of sky visible through the gap was a navy blue with faint reddish hues mixed in. The sun had set, and night was deepening.

While still dazed from sleep, Tae-ui chewed on some bread that the kidnapper had tossed into the room and looked around. The others were chatting casually about worldly matters. There was no tension. Tae-ui found this strange. Usually, when ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) a kidnapping happens, important hostages don’t die. The ones who die first are unfairly the unimportant people. So if anyone here died first, it would be him... Still, with so many reported cases of hostages dying after kidnappings, it was curious that there was such a lack of tension.

He watched them for a moment and smiled quietly. But this atmosphere wasn’t so bad.

Some of them seemed acquainted; some, strangers. Yet in a locked room with just five people, dividing into friends and strangers didn’t make much sense. Tae-ui occasionally chimed in during conversations, and when they paused, he suddenly asked:

“Are you all okay? I’m a little scared. We don’t know who’s outside or what will happen. Though I guess nothing too serious will…”

A man next to him, who’d been thinking for a moment, comfortingly patted Tae-ui’s back.

“No need to worry so much. It’ll be fine. If you’re talking about something like Kyle, this kind of thing happens sometimes. He’s good at negotiating.”

An older man sitting below the window nodded in agreement.

“Right. This isn’t my first time, so I just take it easy. Think of it like this: if you’re meant to die, you might get hit by a car while out and about. But if you’re meant to live, you survive even in the middle of a war.”

“Ah... that’s true.”

Tae-ui smiled a little. Thinking like that was comforting. No matter what, if he believed he wouldn’t die—even if he were shot and dying—he could think, ‘If I lose consciousness now and open my eyes again, I’ll be in a hospital.’ Even if death was actually coming, and he could feel it.

But Tae-ui didn’t know the real fear and despair a person feels when death is close. He had never experienced the moment his own life flickered out.

However, he had seen that fear and despair in others. He knew the eyes of someone on the brink of death. No need to look far—he’d seen it at UNHRDO too.

Shaking his head, he pushed the unpleasant memory away.

“Hm... but kidnapping, Kyle’s situation is difficult too. If the demands are simple, it might be okay, but if they want something difficult, it will be tough... But if the demands were simple, they wouldn’t have kidnapped him in the first place.”

Jeong Tae-ui shrugged and muttered. But saying it made him genuinely curious. How would they respond to difficult demands? It wasn’t the first time, so surely there was a way to handle it.

“Do they refuse to negotiate with kidnappers holding hostages and take a firm stance…?”

He murmured to himself and shook his head. No way, this isn’t America.

Someone sitting a little apart—a Black man—gave a vague answer to Tae-ui’s question.

“Now that you mention it, I think there used to be a division at T&R that handled this kind of case exclusively. What was it called? I heard it once but forgot.”

Tae-ui nodded, thinking, ‘Ah, I see.’ Though unfamiliar, it made sense that a company where this danger always existed would have a dedicated team.

But another man sitting opposite corrected him.

“No, that’s a bit wrong. I know what you mean, but that wasn’t a department inside T&R, and it’s already gone. It only lasted about two years, not long.”

“Oh, you mean the private task force funded by T&R but spun off as a separate company.”

The man next to Tae-ui nodded knowingly. The first Black man raised his hands in confusion.

“Task force? What kind of company is that?”

“It was like a mercenary company. It had an official name, but everyone just called it the task force. It was small—only a few dozen people—but recruited from well-known task forces or special forces.”

Listening to their conversation, Tae-ui vaguely remembered hearing something like that before. He never heard details, but long ago in military academy when learning weapons engineering, they had briefly discussed weapon manufacturers. T&R was one of them, and he’d heard a little then.

A mercenary company funded by the same source as T&R. Very small, but with huge financial backing, recruiting only top talent. But it closed soon after, due to public opinion. The conclusion was that operating a company that deployed combatants alongside weapons manufacturing was ethically problematic and should not exist.

“If it’s gone, then it’s hard to expect help from them.”

Tae-ui said, and the man nodded, his face briefly tightening as if in thought.

“Besides, if they came, I wouldn’t really want it. They’re all too rough. Though it’s luxurious to say that when you’re kidnapped.”

“Rough?”

“Yeah, very harsh. I saw them once when I was with Kyle before. They’re reckless, kind of wild like that.”

The man clicked his tongue bitterly, muttering. Tae-ui said nothing but inwardly thought, ‘How luxurious indeed.’ Though being kidnapped wasn’t their fault, this wasn’t a time to pick who would save him.

“Whoever saves me, I’ll be thankful. As long as I get out alive, it doesn’t matter who it is.”

The man next to Tae-ui seemed to think similarly, shrugging. The other man frowned as if displeased but pressed on with his point, frowning harder.

“But the place was full of people like Kyle’s younger brother.”

Tae-ui went quiet for a moment. Even those who nodded casually looked slightly troubled. Everyone who said they knew Kyle seemed to know that ‘Kyle’s younger brother’ too, and their faces twisted subtly. Noticing this, the man added:

“Sorry if I sounded harsh... They’re not all terrible people, but about half of them are that rough. So sometimes I wonder if I’d even survive being with those guys.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, including Tae-ui, but he silently lamented while watching them.

Of course, it was natural—Ilay had lost everyone’s goodwill thoroughly. He didn’t care, and it was his own fault, but the taste left in Tae-ui’s mouth was bitter.

“If someone like Riegrow saved me, I’d be worried. Would I really survive his hands?”

The man beside him muttered, and people laughed as if joking. The man smiled as if making a joke too.

But Tae-ui didn’t feel like laughing. He slapped his chest, regretting having thought ‘how luxurious’ earlier to the man by the window. This situation wasn’t about choosing who would save him, yet if given a choice, Tae-ui would rather stay here with kidnappers than be rescued by Ilay.

“...No way... Ilay’s coming to save me...?”

Tae-ui muttered, and the men by the window and others all looked surprised. Their gazes focused on Tae-ui, who flinched and looked up. They all looked at him as if he’d said something reckless.

“...? Huh? Me?”

“Dangerous youth. That name shouldn’t be said lightly. You’re still young, so watch yourself.”

“One person I know called Rick his first time meeting him—well, first meeting, so maybe didn’t know better—and ended up with eight weeks of recovery.”

“That name shouldn’t be said. Saying it brings great trouble.”

People murmured in unison. Tae-ui quietly closed his mouth and lowered his head.

Ilay. He had lost so much goodwill it was like looking at a demon from a distance. It must be his own fault, but it was bitter.

Tae-ui shut his mouth, unnerved. After some murmuring about the ominous presence, the topic naturally returned to what Tae-ui last said.

“But he won’t come. Since joining UNHRDO, he’s had to handle two jobs and hardly does anything else. Last time something similar happened, other operatives contacted by him handled it; he didn’t get involved.”

The man’s words made Tae-ui nod. Even he thought Ilay must be stretched thin. Though he seemed to live leisurely, UNHRDO’s workload was enormous. If T&R had a branch that size, there would be plenty to do even if one only observed. Ilay’s work speed was fast, but even when Tae-ui was around, Ilay had huge tasks. Also, if a man from UNHRDO stepped beyond overseeing company affairs to intervene directly in T&R branch incidents, that would be cause for complaints.

Tae-ui counted these points, nodding quietly. That man he didn’t know—Kim Young-soo—wouldn’t cause such trouble for someone he barely knew just to rescue them.

“...”

But just thinking about it gave him chills. Tae-ui rubbed his arms. Though only wearing underwear, it wasn’t that cold for the season, but the thought chilled his spine. Luxurious or not, he couldn’t help it. If that guy came to rescue him, he’d run away to the kidnappers immediately. He wasn’t sure if they’d accept him, being of little hostage value.

Thinking that, Tae-ui sighed, realizing that being trapped like this with so much time made him think all sorts of pointless things.

He stood and entered the bathroom attached to the room. Though he hadn’t drunk anything, he felt the urge to relieve himself—human nature. Inside the bathroom was nothing except basic fixtures like the toilet and sink. Everything else seemed removed.

While relieving himself, his gaze caught a small ventilation grille high on the wall. It was about a span wide, too small for a person to escape through. But beyond the vent fan was a dim navy blue sky.

“Hmm...”

After thinking a moment, Tae-ui reached out. There was nothing to step on, but the vent fan was within reach. He could grasp the blades.

He turned a blade lightly with his fingertips. It wasn’t a bell, but fairly sharp. If he gripped it roughly with bare hands, it would cut into his palm. He pushed a blade with his finger. It moved a little but was firmly fixed. Holding it loosely wouldn’t do.

He hesitated. He couldn’t escape through the vent anyway. He briefly thought about shouting for help outside, but the kidnappers wouldn’t be stupid enough to position themselves so poorly. They would hear and come running before anyone else did and stuff a towel into his mouth.

So the vent was practically useless.

“...”

After a moment, Tae-ui took off his underwear. Wrapping it around his hand like a glove, he went under the vent.

“Alright...”

Hanging like a pull-up, gripping the vent grate with one arm to support himself, he reached up with the other hand wrapped in underwear and firmly grabbed the center of the fan. Then he placed the supporting hand over the gripping hand to hold it tight. After securing his grip, he kicked the wall with his feet, shaking the fan hard.

His body swung in midair a few times. A screeching metal noise rang sharply in his ears. The sound wasn’t very loud but he worried the people outside might hear it and come. But logically, the noise echoed only in the enclosed bathroom.

Three, four times, he kicked off the wall, shaking the fan. His wrapped hands hurt from the sharp blades digging in; his finger joints felt like they might tear apart.

“...!”