Ch.176Epilogue (3) – Where Is My Friend’s Home? (2)

The lawyer, thankfully, didn’t ask “What?”

He was a talented individual with excellent imagination and execution skills, capable of preparing for impossible scenarios and planning accordingly.

The lawyer said, “I understand. In my opinion, if we include these various conditions… we can gain more.” He then suggested favorable terms that Sagan hadn’t even considered.

“Please do that. But I’d like to add one more option.”

“Just tell me.”

“The authority to analyze the save files of 400 million users.”

“I’ll convey that.”

* * * * *

The lawyer obtained even more than what he had told Sagan.

Not only did he secure a personal apartment for Sagan near the East Studio, but also included a vehicle, living expenses, utility bills, and insurance coverage.

Thanks to that, Sagan was quite busy for a while, preparing to move and getting familiar with the new neighborhood. The area was clean and quiet, a typical upper-middle-class block with a low crime rate.

Sagan also visited the studio to get an access card and check out the work facilities. Very few people knew Sagan’s exact identity, and thanks to the federal government’s threats, they would never breathe a word of it for the rest of their lives.

“Okay, taking the photo now.”

Taking a new photo, giving a new name and age, and confirming his position. He received database access permissions and was assigned a personal desk and equipment.

Just like when he had stolen water department uniforms and infiltrated the temporary museum with his assistant…

“You seem to be in a good mood, aren’t you?”

Sagan was startled back to reality.

“Not particularly. Did I look that way?”

The HR employee grinned.

“You had the brightest smile I’ve seen all day.”

Sagan could only respond with an embarrassed smile.

* * * * *

The car radio was chattering about looking up at the night sky tonight. It was the day Mars would be closest to Earth. They said you could see the red planet with the naked eye.

‘I hope it doesn’t come too close, though.’

Sagan still shuddered slightly whenever he looked at vines.

He arrived at the studio and met the new employees. It was a gathering to get acquainted and confirm roles before officially starting work.

The employees were all young, professionals, and fans of the Call series. Sagan thought he might recognize their forum nicknames if he looked at their phones.

“Let’s wrap up for today. Time to go home.”

“Aren’t you leaving, Team Leader?”

“I want to look around a bit more.”

The last studio employee left through the door.

Sagan turned on the computer. He wrote a program that could find specific codes from save files collected from 400 million users.

Since he had been planning this for a very long time, he could write it quickly.

‘Execute.’

The fan whirred loudly as it spun rapidly. The computer began its calculations. Sagan’s program was excellent, but the computer inevitably had performance limitations, and there were far too many files.

“Where are you, my friend?”

Sagan muttered to himself.

Among the 400 million save files, there must be one about the sixth assistant. There might even be records of his own past actions.

Of course, it would be easier to find a needle in the ocean.

“Hey.”

An irritated voice came from behind. A frowning woman was standing there. She was tall and slim, with a book in her hand. ‘Men Are from Mars, Women…’ The rest was obscured.

“Who do you think you are, hogging all the studio resources?”

Sagan tilted his head.

He had memorized most people’s faces. But this woman was definitely not on the organizational chart.

“Who are you? I haven’t seen you on the org chart.”

“Of course you haven’t. I’m from headquarters. I’m in charge of network security. I heard resources spiking and came to check—what exactly are you doing? The official start date isn’t until tomorrow.”

Sagan was about to snap back about nitpicking over trivial matters when he noticed something unusual.

A withered flower was tucked behind her ear.

Sagan smiled.

“I’m looking for a friend.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m serious.”

“Programmers.” The security officer sighed.

“Meeting internet friends is fine, but when numbers spike like this, someone has to file a security violation report. Not me—you. And if you don’t answer my questions properly, I’ll reject your report. What exactly are you doing?”

“If I tell you now, will I be exempt from writing the report?”

“No. You still have to write it.”

“Then what’s the point of telling you?”

“Do you want to finish with a one-page report, or would you prefer a ten-page one? I can reject it over fifty times if I want.”

The woman was smiling with her eyes. Sagan stopped the program. Looking at the time, it seemed appropriate for dinner.

“I’ll submit it now, then.”

“Just verbally?”

“With a steak on top.”

“Let’s see about that.”

* * * * *

As the sun set, the moon shone white like a street lamp. Next to it, Mars twinkled like a red pebble. As soon as they entered the restaurant, Patricia led Sagan to the outdoor terrace.

“Mars is rising today. Eating meat while watching Mars. That’s special, isn’t it?”

Patricia seemed somehow excited.

“Network administrators,” Sagan shook his head.

“Keep quiet unless you’re going to organize my cables for me. Before I tie you up with cable ties. Do you know how annoying it is to tie up vines?”

Even ordering from the menu wasn’t normal. Vegetables or fruits should be thoroughly grilled. Meat should be cooked minimally.

“Um, this way the blood won’t drain out? It’s practically raw meat at this point.”

“Meat should be enjoyed for its taste.”

The waiter, faced with such a brazen response, didn’t ask further. Only after taking Sagan’s ordinary order did he retreat with a relieved expression.

“Are you perhaps from Mars?”

“Ha. That’s classified. How did you know?”

“It’s obvious just by looking.”

Patricia looked up at Mars.

“So where are you from?”

“Massachusetts, R’lyeh.”

Sagan answered, half-joking, half-serious.

“Ha. Ha. Do you like squid?”

“No. I hate it.”

“I hate it too,” Patricia shuddered.

“I don’t like the texture from the start. It’s fishy and gives me indigestion whenever I eat it.”

“What about vegetables and greens?”

“They’re not even worth looking at, let alone eating.”

“Then meat?”

“You shouldn’t give it time to wait. You should eat it.”

The waiter brought the tray with an “I don’t want to know” expression. The steak was delivered not so much cooked as briefly introduced to the fire.

“The outside is too well-done.”

Patricia complained but ate the steak with apparent enjoyment. It wasn’t an ordinary skill. The steak knife had something like a saw blade attached, so it was closer to slicing than cutting, but even considering that, her skill in smoothly cutting through the nearly raw chunk of meat was impressive.

“You cut it beautifully.”

“That’s a compliment, right?”

Patricia chewed on a piece of meat.

* * * * *

Parks at night are generally dangerous.

That’s why Sagan and Patricia went up to the studio building’s rooftop with plenty of food and drinks. They even brought plastic tables and chairs.

“Is it okay if you get home late?”

“I’m an adult,” Patricia downed a can of beer. She didn’t seem to have any intention of driving home. Neither did Sagan.

“So tell me. What were you really doing earlier?”

Patricia asked with a slightly slurred voice. The withered flower by her ear seemed to twitch.

“If you tell me why you wear a dead flower, I’ll answer.”

“It’s my preference.”

“Ah.” Sagan smiled.

“Well. What was I doing earlier… You can think whatever you want. It’s true that I was looking for a friend.”

Patricia didn’t press the issue. Though she did empty another can of beer.

“Was it a precious friend? A lover?”

“Not a lover, but precious, yes.”

“Ha. What kind of relationship was it?”

Sagan caressed his beer can. Mars seemed to be getting redder.

“Want to know a secret, Ms. Headquarters?”

“What is it?”

“I’m actually a secret agent.”

Patricia wasn’t surprised.

“Really? I’m actually from Mars.”

“I already knew that.”

“Wow. How did you know? You really are a secret agent. Cheers!”

Patricia and Sagan clinked their beer cans.

“So. How did a secret agent end up at this fledgling studio?”

“Ha. I was, and this is a secret, a different quality of secret agent than those who go around showing off. I passed all the credit to others and never bragged about what I did.

In front of friends, I was just a layabout who chain-smoked, loved drinking, and worried about how to pay rent. My landlord even scolded me to live more like a human being.”

“If that’s how you were in front of friends, how were you in front of people who weren’t friends?”

“I killed it.”

“Hmm.” Patricia’s lips curled upward. “Really? I’d like to see how you killed it. But why did you do that? That’s foolish.”

“What else would a secret agent be? A secret agent has to remain hidden. Real secrets aren’t necessarily hidden somewhere specific—the real secret is what you didn’t even know was a secret.”

“Is the soy sauce factory manager’s bean pod a peeled bean pod or an unpeeled bean pod?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Wordplay.”

Again. Clink.

Empty beer cans rolled on the floor. With loosened tongues, the two babbled. It was like children’s conversation.

Adults might not understand, but don’t children communicate perfectly well just with babbling?

“So. Did that friend save your life or something?”

“They did something even more.”

“Ah. What was it?”

“Being there for me.”

“Hmm.”

Patricia snapped her fingers.

“Sounds interesting. What’s the story?”

“You’d find it boring.”

“It sounds like the most interesting story you’ve told so far, so go ahead. You know what? Your score so far is zero. Forget about getting one point—try to at least hit the bonus stage.”

Sagan grinned. With reddened eyes, he looked at the red Mars.

“Well. I did many things. My mission was to constantly sabotage someone without revealing my identity. I couldn’t brag about it or spread rumors. Because the moment my identity was discovered, I’d die. Game over.”

“Hmm.”

“So I always gave the glory to someone else, that’s what I’m saying.”

“That must have been frustrating.”

“At first, it was. Honestly.”

“And later?”

“I started thinking, what does it matter?”

“How did you come to such a sad conclusion? Did you just resign yourself to it?”

“No. I found a real friend.”