When The Phone Rings

Chapter 66

"Hide...!"

At Heeju's urgent sign, the children quickly ducked into the bushes.

The headlights of a military jeep swept across their hiding spot before moving on.

Haah…

Heeju wiped the cold sweat from her brow and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Two months had passed since her arrival in Argan.

Thanks to her sister’s connections, she had safely entered the country through the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. But what came after had been an endless struggle.

Where could he be?

She had moved on the faintest possibility, with no clear plan or direction.

At first, she tried asking foreign correspondents about any sightings of an East Asian man. The effort yielded no results.

Given Baek Saeon’s background as a former war correspondent who had risen through the ranks to become an anchor, she thought he might be in the heart of the conflict zone.

But after witnessing children being gunned down in a fiercely contested area, she couldn’t bring herself to return to the frontlines.

Deaf children, in particular, were the most vulnerable.

Not being able to speak meant they couldn’t voice their protests. It also meant they were often the first to be subjugated. Heeju, more than anyone, understood the weight of that reality.

That was why she had started teaching international sign language.

Her days as a teacher were hectic, and searching for Baek Saeon felt increasingly out of reach.

Occasionally, she would ask the facility director, who went to town for supplies, to inquire about a handsome East Asian journalist.

But each time, the director would return, shaking his head apologetically.

At first, she would cry, consumed by disappointment. But over time, even despair became familiar, her resilience strengthening like a well-worn muscle.

The faint hope that she might meet him someday was the only thing keeping her moving forward.

"Damn it, we’ve been spotted...!"

The director’s panicked curse jolted her back to the present. From all sides, armed rebels with partially covered faces emerged, their rifles aimed.

"Hands up! Put your hands behind your head!"

Their shouted commands were harsh, the muzzles of their guns unyielding.

The terrified children instinctively dropped to their knees. Heeju clasped her hands behind her head and lowered her gaze.

The sight of military boots, riddled with bullet holes, filled her with dread.

"We heard there’s an international sign language interpreter at Buvin Care Facility."

"…!"

Heeju bit the inside of her cheek as the man spoke in slow, deliberate English.

"These kids seem like they’re from Buvin."

The barrel of a gun nudged one of the children’s ears as the soldier spoke, his tone cold and calculating.

Seeing the fear in the children’s wide, tear-filled eyes, Heeju trembled but raised her hand.

"I’m the interpreter."

"No, Heeju!"

The director grabbed her arm, trying to pull it down, but it was too late.

One of the rebels, a man with dark skin and thick eyebrows, scrutinized her.

"So you’re really the interpreter?"

"Yes."

"Then you’ll need to come with us."

"I can’t go with you."

"Oh, really?"

The man’s demeanor was disturbingly relaxed. With a nod, his men began grabbing the children and loading them into the truck.

The director, shouting in protest, was quickly shoved to the ground and stepped on, his cries silenced under the weight of a soldier’s boot.

"What are you doing?!"

Heeju’s voice trembled with anger, her face pale.

"If you won’t come, then they’ll all be hostages."

"…!"

The calculation was instantaneous. Heeju glared at the man standing before her.

"At least tell me why you’re taking me."

"We need an interpreter."

"An interpreter?"

"We captured the government army’s general, but he’s deaf. His younger brother was his interpreter, but I, uh… accidentally shot him."

"…!"

"Now the negotiations are a mess."

The man casually lit a cigarette, his actions infuriatingly nonchalant, as if the urgency of the situation didn’t apply to him.

Then, he stared directly at her, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you by any chance from Korea—"

"Let the children go."

Her abrupt interruption made him frown.

"I’ll go with you."

***

The bumpy, unpaved road made the vehicle lurch incessantly.

Heeju, blindfolded, was being taken somewhere. The sharp stench of exhaust fumes filled her nose, accompanied by the crackling sound of an old radio.

As the wind from the open window brushed against her face, she tried to make sense of her situation.

So...

If there’s a captured government official, then these people must definitely be rebels.

The car screeched to a halt, and she was yanked out by the back of her neck. Her ankle throbbed as it hit the car frame.

"We don’t have time."

"…!"

"You can start interpreting right away, can’t you?"

"W-Water... Could I have some water first?"

Her dry lips barely moved as she spoke, and the man nodded, gesturing for her to go ahead.

Still blindfolded, Heeju hesitated, fumbling her steps forward. Each time she slowed, the muzzle of a gun prodded her back.

A musty smell hit her as soon as they entered the building.

Then, without warning, her blindfold was yanked off.

"…!"

Even the faint light was enough to make her eyes sting and squint.

The room was a damp warehouse.

Plastic sheets covered the floor, and piles of wood, plastic tubing, and sawdust were stacked in one corner. It looked like a hastily repurposed hideout patched together from ruins.

At a shabby table in the center sat an elderly man, slumped and battered, his face a mess. Judging by his state, he was likely the government official in question.

As her pulse thundered in her neck, the reality of her situation hit hard.

Am I going to die just for getting caught in this mess?

Cold sweat trickled down her back.

With the soldier poking her repeatedly, Heeju reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat next to the older man. The man’s wary eyes scanned her as if trying to size her up.

"I’m an international sign language interpreter. Are you alright?"

When Heeju signed, the man’s expression brightened slightly.

"You’re really a sign language interpreter?"

"Yes, I am."

The man sighed in relief, resting a hand on his forehead.

"I’m the government’s Chief of Staff. Those bastards finally dragged in a sign language interpreter, I see."

A bitter smile crept onto his face.

At that moment, the sound of heavy boots echoed up from a set of metal stairs. The vibrations rattled the table legs precariously.

"…!"

The Chief’s face stiffened instantly. He quickly signed to Heeju.

"That’s the rebels’ negotiation expert. He’s not from Argan but has ties to the rebel leader from years back. From what I’ve heard, he’s deadlier than a viper and—"

A loud thud interrupted him as a cup was slammed onto the table, water sloshing onto the hand of the man who had placed it there.

The Chief’s signing stopped abruptly.

"I heard the guest requested water."

"…!"

The voice sent chills down Heeju’s spine.

She instinctively looked up, her eyes locking with the man standing under the flickering light.

"…"

"…"

Her breath hitched, a sharp intake of air as recognition dawned.

The scarf she had tied around her head slipped off.

His face, slightly tanned from his time in Argan, glistened faintly with sweat and grime. His hair, now grown long enough to touch his ears, framed his face naturally.

Dressed in a black short-sleeve shirt, pants, and thick military boots, his appearance was simple.

But the holstered pistol on his shoulder and the radio clipped to his belt made him look like a stranger, worlds apart from the man she once knew.

Once, he was the impeccable suit-wearing spokesperson who represented the government. Now, he had shed every ounce of that elite, polished image.

She found him.

Heeju’s heart whispered.

It was him.

The man she had come all this way to find.

Her eyes brimmed with tears, emotions surging to the surface.

But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Baek Saeon dragged a chair over with a screech and sat across from her.

His eyes flickered briefly to her face before he turned his full attention to the Chief, as if nothing had happened.

His gaze was precise, focused, and entirely businesslike.

"…"

The coldness snapped her back to reality.

That familiar yet foreign indifference.

It was as though she were invisible to him, a passing shadow.

Hurt swelled within her chest, but she clenched her fists tightly, refusing to let it show.

Baek Saeon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He shut his eyes briefly, a relaxed but commanding figure. The blue vein bulging at his temple contrasted with his languid posture.

"Now, we can have the conversation we couldn’t finish."

His words were calm, but his tone brooked no delay.

The firmness of his shoulders and chest, more pronounced than six months ago, hinted at a grueling transformation.

When Heeju hesitated, staring at him, Baek Saeon tapped the table with his fingers as if knocking.

"Interpret."

"Ah…!"

Startled, she tore her gaze away, her face flushing as she hurried to translate.

"They’ll halt their attacks in exchange for key strategic points."

"That’s absurd. We can’t agree to that."

"It seems you’re not ready to negotiate."

"Even so, that land—"

"It’s only a matter of time before the rebels advance further."

The conversation flowed smoothly with Heeju’s quick interpreting, though her mind was anything but calm.

"Is everything going well?"

The soldier who had brought her in smirked as he approached the table.

"You said you were thirsty. Why aren’t you drinking?"

An unsettling tension descended on the room.

The soldier’s sly grin was directed solely at Heeju.

Before she could react, the man grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Let’s fix that."

He lifted the glass of water, tilting it to pour into her mouth.

But before a drop could reach her lips, a radio, heavy like a brick, flew through the air and struck the soldier’s head with a resounding thud.