The atmosphere in the interrogation room was so dense it seemed to press on every inch of the space. The anthracite-gray walls, devoid of any decoration, vibrated under the pervasive hum of the air conditioning, creating a monotonous background noise. The stark white light from a recessed ceiling fixture cast sharp shadows around the two chairs and metal table at the center. Every element was designed to immerse the subject in psychological isolation.
Jin, seated on one of the chairs bolted to the floor, appeared strangely composed. His posture, though upright, exuded nonchalance. His fingers tapped softly on the icy surface of the table in an irregular rhythm, a subtle provocation for those observing him. He knew he was being watched. The one-way mirror to his right reflected only a wall, but he could sense the presences behind it. He imagined agents, analysts, and perhaps even superiors scrutinizing his every move, looking for a crack, a sign of nervousness. For Jin, this silence was just a game. He had faced worse. He had felt worse.
The metallic door slid open with a sharp hiss, abruptly breaking the silence. Two armed guards entered first, their boots echoing on the concrete floor. They cast hard looks at Jin, but he didn't move. He simply lifted his eyes to the man who followed them.
Daegun walked in with a quiet confidence. A crimson suit, blood-red tie, as vivid as his carefully combed hair. His thin-framed glasses momentarily concealed his eyes, but Jin could feel their intensity.
He carried a thick file in his left hand, which he dropped onto the table with a heavy thud before taking the seat opposite Jin. The guards remained by the walls, silent but vigilant.
"Kang Soo Jin," he stated, his voice deep but calm. "Twenty-two years old, born in Nyoseong. No criminal record, a model citizen. Yet here you are, in one of the most secure rooms in this building, claiming to have information of critical importance."
He paused, opening the file in front of him with deliberate slowness. Pages filled with text, graphs, and photos slid under his fingers.
"I've read your file," he continued, without looking up. "And I must say, it's... puzzling. Too clean, perhaps? A man with no history is either a genius or a liar. So tell me, Kang Soo Jin, which one are you?"
Jin raised an eyebrow slightly, a faint smirk appearing on his lips.
"You flatter me," he replied, his tone relaxed. "But I doubt you're here to compliment my orderly life. So why not cut to the chase? I know you don't believe a word of what I said."
Daegun finally lifted his eyes to Jin, and the intensity of his gaze was palpable.
"You're right. I don't believe you. Not yet."
He closed the file abruptly and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table.
"But I am curious. What kind of man walks into this palace, voluntarily gives his identity, and sits here, in this room, thinking he'll walk out unscathed?"
Jin didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying Daegun. In this exchange of looks, he was searching for something—a crack, a hesitation, a detail that would betray the agent's thoughts.
"You're good, Daegun. I understand why they gave you this task," he finally said. "But I'm sure you already know I'm not a fool. You want answers? So do I. Maybe we can find some common ground."
Daegun let out a short laugh, devoid of warmth.
"Common ground? You think I'll compromise based on vague promises and insinuations?"
"No," Jin replied calmly. "I think you'll listen because you know I have something you can't afford to ignore."
Daegun straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze, now sharper, seemed to probe Jin's mental defenses.
"You're very confident, Kang Soo Jin. Maybe too much. You want my attention? Fine. Tell me why I shouldn't throw you in a cell and forget you exist."
Jin leaned forward slightly, his expression hardening.
"Because you need me. You know it, and so do I. I know things your government doesn't. Truths about what's coming, about what no one wants to admit."
Daegun frowned but didn't reply immediately. Jin sensed that he had piqued his curiosity, even if the agent refused to show it.
"You're talking about the meteorites," Daegun finally murmured. "The steles. Rumors the government doesn't take seriously. Why should I believe you know more than our own experts?"
Jin smirked. It was a cold smile.
"Because your experts are working with incomplete data. I'm working with certainties."
But Daegun was not a man easily convinced. He placed his hands flat on the table and leaned forward again, reducing the space between them.
"You're good at enigmatic phrases, Kang Soo Jin. But that won't be enough. If you want me to take a risk, you'll have to give me something concrete. Now."
Jin observed Daegun in silence for a few seconds, weighing his options. Finally, he straightened and locked eyes with him.
"Fine. I'll give you proof. But first, I have a request: order your men to cut the microphones and leave this room."
Daegun let out a short laugh.
"You want me to make that decision based on what? Your confidence?"
"Based on the fact that if you don't, you risk missing something that could change the course of what's to come."
Daegun hesitated, but the glint of defiance in Jin's eyes pushed him to act. He turned toward the one-way mirror and made a hand signal. A red light briefly flashed on the ceiling, indicating the recording had stopped.
"Very well, Kang Soo Jin," Daegun said. "You have my full attention. Now, speak."