Agent 004

4 : Agent Min Giyoon

[AXEYL’S POV]

Ignoring the sharp sting in his upper left shoulder, the black-attired figure adjusts his cap lower and slips into the abandoned building.

Every inch of the place is guarded by men carrying heavy, expensive artillery. If he isn’t careful, he won’t make it out alive.

The office warned him the task would be risky considering his current injury, but Axeyl was never the type to turn down a challenge.

First task: find the meeting area — or in simpler terms, the place where they cook up their plans and schemes. Then, hopefully, retrieve information that will give him the upper hand the next time he shows up.

From the outside, the building looks like it’s moments away from collapsing, its walls tattered and chipped. But inside? They’ve made it almost… cozy. Boxes — which he’s willing to bet are filled with drugs — are stacked neatly in every corner.

Crossing a dimly lit hall, Axeyl hears faint murmurs seeping from behind a half-closed door.

“Agent 001’s already taken down most of my men,” a gravelly voice snarls. The sound of a palm slamming against a table follows. “You said you shot him!”

“Y-yes, sir. B-but he escaped before we could—”

A deafening gunshot cuts the stammer short. A body hits the ground with a dull thud, blood spilling across the dirty tiles.

“I want Agent 001 dead, you hear me? Dead!” the furious man roars.

While the room remains distracted, Axeyl slips inside unnoticed, weaving through the small crowd. His gloved hand closes over a rolled-up blueprint on a table — an exact replica of the one he came for. Not a single head turns his way.

Pathetic.

Blueprint secured, he backs out of the room, his movements silent and calculated.

“Gotcha,” he mutters with a smirk before vanishing into the night.

[ELKA’S POV]

“You’ll be disguised as Hailey Brendon — twenty years old, college student, works part-time, lives with her travelling aunt and two cats.”

Tyler pulls off his glasses as our jet lands on British soil. He fixes his mask, tugging it snug against his face, then secures his black cap, pulling his hair back for a cleaner look.

It doesn’t take long before we’re out of the airport and he’s being handed a car key.

“It’s been a while,” Tyler says, grinning in that way that shows the little dimple in his left cheek.

I’m too busy scanning the crowd, trying to keep my eyelids from drooping. I slept through the entire flight, yet somehow I’m still tired.

Tyler gives me a small nudge toward the car.

It hits me as we pull away — the last time we had a duo mission here was… what? Two, maybe three years ago? I can still remember the rainy streets, the endless cups of bad coffee, the stakeouts that turned into quiet arguments over which one of us was better at blending in.

The sleek black Maybach Exelero glides out of the airport, and my smartwatch chimes with a new message. Must be from the office.

Just thinking about the mission makes my head throb harder. The plane ride blessed me with a mild headache, and flying always does this to me. I’ve never liked being in the sky. Or the ocean. Basically, anything that involves leaving solid ground.

In our agency, passing training earns you a wristwatch — more than just a timepiece, it’s an all-in-one tool designed by Agent 003, with occasional tweaks from Tyler himself.

I tap the watch screen. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tyler sneaking glances at me.

“Is that it?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, eyes scanning Agent 001’s updated file.

Then I freeze.

The familiar face on the screen has my stomach dropping. My eyes go wide before I can stop myself.

Tyler tsks. “Not the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”

I pinch the screen to zoom in, just to be sure I’m not hallucinating. “Are you serious?”

Tyler tries — and fails — to hide his smirk.

“Surprise, surprise.”

I stare back at the photo. “Christian Park?”

Tyler blinks, caught off-guard. “Park… uh…” He trails off like he’s debating whether to explain.

I barely hear him.

So the school bully is actually an agent. Who would’ve guessed? I guess it makes sense. Playing the jerk in public is a clever way to deflect suspicion from his real work.

And to be fair, Christian’s never been the physical type of bully. He’s more about words, snide comments, and the kind of smug looks that make you want to throw something at him.

The car slows to a stop beside a modest house. A neat white fence wraps around it, with a small mailbox standing near the gate.

“No one’s currently using it,” Tyler says. “Built specifically for agents in the field. And don’t worry about the cats — I know you hate them, so I had someone take them.”

I grab my backpack from the back seat.

“We’ll keep in touch,” Tyler says, leaning toward my window with that warm-eyed look. “Agent 001 won’t be as active right now, so maybe we can grab coffee. Just like the old days.”

“Sounds good to me.” I toss the house key up and catch it. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime. That’s what friends are for.” He winks, slides his shades on, and drives off.

I watch the car disappear before heading for the door.

-

Meanwhile, at the office…

The door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall with a loud thud.

June, halfway through sipping his tea, jolted in his seat and nearly sent the hot liquid down his expensive suit. “For the love of—”

June didn’t even lower his cup. “Excuse me?”

“That alien,” Giyoon jabbed a finger toward the hallway, “messed up my computer and sent the wrong emails to your agents.”

June arched an eyebrow. “Alien?”

“Agent 005.” Giyoon threw his hands up. “He just broadcasted my grocery list to half the active field team. Half of them think I’m in urgent need of pickles, duct tape, and a blowtorch.”

June set his tea down with a sigh. “And this is my problem because…?”

“We’ve got agents chasing the wrong people in the wrong cities. One poor soul is probably sitting in a café in Prague right now spying on the wrong target. ” Giyoon snapped, pacing the room like a caged tiger. “Do you have any idea how much cleanup I’ll have to do for this?“

On a normal day, Giyoon might’ve brushed it off, maybe even laughed. But today, with only two hours of sleep and a caffeine crash creeping in, it was enough to send him storming down the hall like an avenging pajama-clad warrior.

“You’re impossible,” June muttered, picking his tea back up.

“And you’re far too calm for someone who just oversaw an international pickle-and-false-intel crisis!” Giyoon shot back before storming out again.

Everyone knew Agent Giyoon was unpredictable. But catching him before noon, in slippers, with the entire agency in chaos?

That was when things got really dangerous.