Inside the factory, Mika stared at the footage and couldn’t believe it. How could I know anything about Oracle — a name I’d only just heard?
“You were the first to detect Oracle’s existence. The first to suspect the AGI Talos.”
The footage kept rolling. The Mika on screen showed no fear, even with machine guns pointed at her.
“Say I have the list. You think I’d hand it over to people threatening me with machine guns?”
“Yeah. You will. Or you die here.”
Jo In-cheol said it gently. But his eyes were alight with bloodlust. Mika had to think. Had to find a way out of this alive.
“Kill me and that list gets automatically emailed in twelve hours. To journalists at every major network in the world.”
Jo In-cheol burst out laughing.
“Is that right? We know every account you use. We’ve got contacts at nearly every newsroom on the planet.”
The Mika on screen flinched. Jo In-cheol put on a sympathetic face.
“Here’s the thing — we looked everywhere for a scheduled email like that. Nothing. No list anywhere online. So I thought about it. Where would you hide something like that?”
He stepped closer. She stepped back.
“Only one conclusion. You’re keeping it analog. Either written on paper, or locked inside your head.”
He had it exactly right. The Mika in the footage said nothing. He kept going.
“You left no trace online. Not even in the cloud — nothing but throwaway articles. So if it’s somewhere offline — that won’t help you much either. Who’s going to take unverified printed paper seriously these days? No digital authentication, no credibility.”
A look of defeat crossed Mika’s face. Everything he said was true. She spoke quickly.
“Look, I don’t have any list. I came here to make a deal — I look the other way on you and Chairman Seo, you pay me for the silence.”
Please let him believe that. Jo In-cheol had plenty of hush money to spare. She couldn’t give him any reason to think she actually had the Oracle list.
“Really. Strange thing for a reporter who only tells the truth to say.”
Jo In-cheol spread his hand in the air. Holographic footage bloomed around them — every clip showing Mika sneaking into locations, photographing evidence, hunting for anything on Oracle. The blow landed. They already know everything I’ve done.
“You don’t use smart glasses. You carry an old folder phone that barely makes calls. You’ve left no data trail anywhere online. Which means if you simply die — the Oracle list you spent years building disappears. Just like that.”
Mika swallowed hard. Every word was the truth. If she died, the list died with her. Chk-clack — a machine gun chambered a round.
“That’s why I called you here. Checked the calendar, and today turned out to be an auspicious day. A very good day for you to die. I picked it especially for you. Grateful?”
There was no way out. Mika looked around — the Underdog Trackers had stepped in closer, tightening the circle. Then — Bang — a gunshot, and the padlock on the rooftop door blew apart. Crash — the door flew open and Detective Jang Jeong-guk, Chief of the Intelligent Crimes Unit at the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency, came through it.
“Nobody move!”
Detective Jang leveled his revolver at Jo In-cheol. Jo In-cheol smirked.
“Still carrying that antique, Chief Jang? Where do you even find bullets for something like that these days?”
Jo In-cheol and his crew each held an EMK-246. Four of them. One old revolver against four machine guns — there was no contest. Jang hadn’t anticipated they’d be armed. But he didn’t lower the gun. He looked at Mika. Mika looked back at him. Jo In-cheol began to clap.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
“Isn’t this a date? The happy couple, together at last.”
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