polygraph test.
DATE: 20190128 LOCATION: first floor, main headquarters TIME: 12:04
He sighs when his name is called, knowing very well what is going to happen after seeing his colleagues go and then come back with bothered expressions on their faces. He knows he’s going to be the next soon, and his name had never sounded gloomier like it did when those strangers called for him.
Seojun rises from his seat calmly, with a blank and emotionless expression on his face and hands were stuffed into his jacket’s pockets. He walks next to them in silence, there’s nothing to be talked about between them — plus, he wants this whole thing to end as fast as possible, which is why his steps were wider and faster when he walked to the first floor, following those people.
You may be wondering why they were strangers, right? That was one of the first things Seojun noticed after coming back to NIS: the unknown faces, the unknown names on certain desks that once used to be owned by people he knew very well. It made him feel even more out of place, like he was the foreigner even after being a part of the agency for so long.
He walks into the office room still in silence, but greets the interviewer with a nod of his head, taking a seat by the polygraph like hw is told to. They attach the machine to his body, sending an uncomfortable, almost claustrophobic, feeling down his throat into his chest. But he doesn’t say a thing, just stares at the person across of him and answer to the first questions — a protocol to be follwed, those are only for identification. But doesn’t take long for them to start asking the real questions.
“Where were you on the 28th of OCTOBER, 2018? Do you have an alibi?”
And Seojun is still expressionless, figuring that question was probably made to every single agent in the building. He’s relaxed, though, he doesn’t have anything to do with the death of their previous director — even though he hates the fact he wasn’t around to attend to his funeral. He was a good man, he had all of Seojun’s respect.
Rest in Peace, Park Jaekwang, he thought.
“I was doing military service, you can ask for and check their records.” He says simplistic, without hesitating. It was the truth, after all, Seojun hadn’t left the army not even once during the whole twenty-one months he was in there — he didn’t want to distract himself with the outside world, he wanted to focus on what he had to do back then ( even if it meant doing smaller tasks, like cleaning the dorms or the gym area ).
“I wasn’t around.”
“And what are your thoughts on Park Jaekwang? What are you thinking about the murder?”
This time he stays silent for a moment, but his body doesn’t move an inch. He’s never been good at dealing with death: even the death of someone that wasn’t close to him made Seojun feel emotional. It always made him wonder what was the purpose of life, ‘what are we truly supposed to do here?’, he would always question himself whenever the topic would cross his mind.
“I feel sad for the loss. He had a family, and I’m sure losing someone like him was tragic for them.” He speaks basing himself on his own experience — losing someone you love is the worst detail of life, but isn’t that a crucial element of what love actually is?
“But other than that, I don’t know what to think. All I want is the murderer found and arrested, paying for what they’ve done. I’m sure director Park didn’t deserve that.” And he makes another pause before he looks directly at the person right in front of him. “Count on me, if necessary. I’m willing to help find the guilty person.”
“Is there anything that dissatisfies you within the agency?”
That question makes Seojun squint, thinking about an answer that wouldn’t mention the frustration he feels every time he has to visit the medical bay, because yes, if there is one thing that has been bothering him ever since he came back is the treatment he is receiving from a certain doctor. But he’s sure that’s not what they wanna hear.
He takes a deep breath and frowns a little bit, looking at the ceiling for a moment when he speaks. “You know, it’s very weird to come back after almost two years and barely recognize the place you used to work at. Things have changed, it’s pretty obvious, and it didn’t affect only the administration but the whole atmosphere of the place as well. It’s pretty easy to notice when you’ve been away for so long. I was surprised to see so many new faces… It gave me a strange discomfort. But I don’t think there’s nothing to be done about that — it’s my own fault for exiling myself.”
He thought about mentioning the whole situation about the missing agents, how it made the discomfort feel even worse, but changed his mind immediately. He didn’t want to burn himself.
“Have you been in contact with any of your previous military contacts recently? Has there been any exchange of information about the agency?”
Seojun can’t help the eyebrow that has arched itself involuntarily after he hears that question in particular, and once he notices that that spontaneous action of his could cause a problem, his facial expression quickly went back to its blankness. But he lets a quiet and almost imperceptible sigh escape from his lips before he answers the question.
“No, I don’t.” He shakes his head, quite firmly. “I don’t have any sort of contact with any of the soldiers, that’s not what I was in the army for. I didn’t make friends, I didn’t make connections, I didn’t mention NIS at any moment. I signed a contract when I got recruited here and I follow its rules strictly, and confidentiality was an essential part of it.”
“What do you think about coming back to the agency after two years? Why did you leave?”
That one leaves him silent for a longer period of time, and a deep breath is taken before he can say anything — it was simple to notice some wounds were still open, taking their time to heal even after all the time that has passed.
“Coming back feels strange. I’ve been away for such a long time, it felt extremely nostalgic to be back— seeing my colleagues again, my desk… the few people I could call my friends. Nostalgic and yet unknown, because of the changes and the new people. But still familiar.” He makes yet another pause, looking down at his hands and eventually at the machine that captures every change in his body. His mouth tastes bitter.
“I left because I needed some time for myself, some time to think about what happened, about what’s going to happen. Time to heal after the death of my fiancée. I needed time for myself.”
