Agent 004

5 : Agent 005

Flashback

"Noted."

June grins and pulls a familiar brown folder from his cabinet. "Great. Now while you keep an eye on Agent 001, I have another mission for you."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, June never lets me breathe for more than five minutes.

He slides the folder across the table toward me.

As I read the contents, June talks like a news anchor. "There’s been a k********g not far from where Agent 001 is operating. Emphasis on ‘kid.’ Your mission is to find out who’s behind it and bring them in."

"What if it’s the same culprit Agent 001’s after?" I mumble, flipping another page.

"Not likely," June replies, lips pursing. "We’ve done the research—crime scenes don’t line up. No patterns, no similar evidence."

I hum, not entirely convinced.

End of Flashback

Just because Agent 001 isn’t currently active doesn’t mean I have to wait for him to make a move.

Which is why I’m on my way to where he’s stationed.

His disguised as Park Hanseul. A a coffee shop waiter.

Ten Belles.

One of the city’s original specialty coffee spots—small, warm, and buzzing with life. The scent of roasted beans from Belleville Brûlerie hangs in the air. The place is always packed with regulars, coffee enthusiasts, and tourists pretending to be regulars. Locals love it so much they buy the café’s mugs and thermoses like they’re collector’s items.

I push open the door and scan the room. Behind the counter is Christian—Agent 001 himself—taking an order with the kind of warm smile that makes you forget he can probably kill you with a paperclip.

I have to be careful.

A plain mask and hat would make me stand out more. So I come prepared: crystal blue contact lenses, a red wig with long curled ends, freckles scattered across my cheeks, dentures for a crooked smile, a nerdy patterned shirt, and round glasses.

Final result: I look like if a deer and a beaver had a child.

Or Hailey Brendon.

I step up to the counter. Christian’s eyes flick to me for a second before he asks, "Yes, miss. What can I get for you?"

Something that’ll last long enough for me to sit here without looking suspicious.

"Bubble tea, please."

"Very well, miss."

When he smiles, I almost forget my mission for half a second. At school, Christian has the reputation of being cold and untouchable, so seeing him play the role of friendly barista so convincingly is… unsettling.

"Your order will be right up."

I pick a table by the window—close enough to keep him in sight. Pulling out my laptop, I start digging into the news about the mysterious k********g in Great Britain.

Five minutes later, my order arrives.

"Interesting."

The word snaps me out of my focus, and I flinch. Out of reflex, my fingers hook the top edge of my laptop, ready to slam it shut—but I stop halfway.

Christian is standing right beside my table, smile as warm as if he hasn’t just caught me red-handed reading something I shouldn’t. "I wouldn’t get too engrossed in that thing if I were you, little miss."

"And why’s that?" I ask.

He sets my bubble tea on the table with practiced ease, balancing the tray in his other hand. Up close, he almost doesn’t look real—blond hair catching the light, swaying over eyes so deep and dark they almost swallow you whole.

"Well, for starters," he says, tone casual but deliberate, "you’ll get nightmares. I mean, look at you. You could pass for a kid yourself. Wouldn’t you be scared if someone tried to kidnap you?"

For a fleeting second, his expression shifts—eyebrows pulling into a faint glare—before it’s smoothed over again by that easy smile.

"It won’t happen," I reply, more firmly than I expect.

"Right." He chuckles, the sound light but drawn out, ending in a soft sigh. "Anyway… enjoy your drink, little miss."

And just like that, he walks back to his post behind the counter.

I stare at the cup in front of me, its plastic lid catching the light. My fingers hesitate before curling around it. A faint bitterness creeps onto my tongue before I even take a sip.

"I hate bubble tea," I mutter under my breath, scrunching my nose.er than they should before he turns away.

Meanwhile, Back at HQ

Agent Giyoon has many ways of dealing with stress. Today, it involves a gun and a human-shaped cardboard target.

Ten consecutive shots. Ten consecutive hits straight to the heart.

He would keep going if Agent 005 didn’t barge in like a hurricane.

"Yoon! I’m so sorry—I didn’t think it’d actually send. Chris said it wouldn’t, so I figured it wouldn’t, and I swear I—oh, is that a new Gucci belt?"

The glare Giyoon gives him could burn a hole through steel.

Blake freezes. "Right. The email thing. My bad."

"My bad?" Giyoon echoes, voice dangerously calm.

"Okay, my huge catastrophic life-ruining mistake," Blake corrects, hands raised. "But in my defense, the system was acting weird. Like… maybe possessed? Also, you left your computer unlocked."

"You were on my computer?"

"I was trying to help!" Agent 005—who prefers going by the name of Blake when he isn’t doing his job—yelps. "I just—clicked the wrong file. And maybe attached the wrong picture. But honestly, who even opens attachments from me?!"

"Apparently, important people," Giyoon says flatly.

Blake winces. "Right. So… how mad are we talking here? Like ‘silent treatment’ mad or ‘bury the body in the woods’ mad?"

"Walk."

Blake scrambles after him, still babbling excuses about how “it probably didn’t even go to anyone important.”

By the time they reach Giyoon’s office, he’s had enough.

He grabs a USB from his desk and slaps it into Blake’s hand. "Deliver this to Agent 004 before sunset. If you don’t, don’t bother coming back."

Blake clutches the USB like it’s a holy relic. "Got it, boss. I’ll run like my life depends on it—because it does."

Giyoon doesn’t say it, but in the back of his mind, he’s already preparing for the storm that wrong email is going to cause.