March 31, 1942
Jimin was sitting on the rooftop of the inn where he was staying. He checked the time by glancing at the waning moon and his wristwatch, then descended and walked down to Jongno. Jimin took off his shoes, staggered, and shouted loudly. He was the epitome of a drunken rascal. Passersby only tsk-tsk'd and glanced at him, but otherwise seemed unsuspecting. As he walked down the streets of Jongno, the rascal soon arrived at a sign that read Mirabeau Hotel. His gaze shifted, and Jimin went inside. Silence filled the hotel. Jimin glanced at the employee standing at the entrance. The employee, who had noticed him, raised his head slightly.
“Park Jimin. Is that right?”
“Yes. I have a separate reservation for my host.”
“Please wait a moment.”
The female employee went into another room and then came out again.
“Please come in.”
Jimin followed the female employee's instructions into a long hallway. She stopped at the beginning of another hallway.
“I can’t go in from here.”
“Thank you. I’ll go in alone.”
How long had it been since I walked? I heard voices coming from the room at the end of the hallway.
“Who is it?”
Knocked twelve times. A voice came from inside. Jimin took another deep breath and opened his mouth.
“It’s me, comrades.”
The door opened. Jimin chuckled. Familiar faces appeared near the fireplace. Jimin spread his arms and smiled broadly, his heart pounding. On the wall, he saw palms stamped with red ink on the Taegeukgi flag. There were exactly ten of them.
“Everyone is gathered here.”
Everyone stood up, but some were missing. Jimin raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. Namjoon shrugged. Jimin counted the members again with sharp eyes. There were still seven, including himself. When Jimin glared at Namjoon again, his expression even more serious, Taehyun stood.
"Comrade Wolsong and Comrade Jeon are still in Manchuria. We cannot neglect the military."
“But there’s still one person left?”
“Hey, Malmoi. Calm down.”
Jimin stared at everyone, eyes as if ready to point a gun at them at any moment. And at that moment, the door slammed open. The man, drenched in rain, nervously threw off his coat and shook his wet hair. Rainwater dripped onto the carpet. Jimin, delighted by the sight, approached Yeonjun. The stern expression from earlier was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, who is this? Are you our ‘Rooftop Assassin’?”
“It’s raining outside.”
"I'm sorry," Yeonjun said, his voice sharp. As he crossed his arms and sat down by the fireplace, everyone's eyes turned to him. For a moment, Yeonjun seemed puzzled by the stares, but then he let out a short "Ah."
“I have something else to do.”
“Please be on time from now on. There’s no one in the world who isn’t busy.”
Taehyun spoke in a dry voice. Yeonjun nodded. "I'll try to come a little earlier next time. I hope this doesn't happen again." The two exchanged a brief exchange.
“What does it mean to have work?”
Beomgyu asked. Yeonjun looked at him for a moment. An awkward silence fell. Even the other members found it odd. He felt Taehyun's gaze on him. Yeonjun opened his mouth and spoke.
“Does everyone know a guy named Kim Taehyung?”
Jimin flinched. But no one noticed. They were all too busy thinking of the "Kim Taehyung" they all knew. Even Taehyun couldn't offer a proper answer. Then Jimin raised his hand.
"I heard he was a teacher at Gyeongseong Imperial Elementary School. His subject was music, I think..."
“…I see. I understand.”
Jimin sighed in relief and cleared his throat. Yeonjun picked up his coat, which was now almost completely dry, and stood up.
“Where are you going?”
Taehyun asked. Yeonjun looked back.
“What else does an assassin do besides kill?”
“Wait, who…”
“That man, Kim Taehyung. I saw the assassination.”
"I didn't know if they were friend or foe, so I kept them alive." Yeonjun muttered softly and slammed the door shut loudly before leaving. Jimin gaped, his mouth hanging open in a daze. It was Yeonjun. The independence activist known as the "Assassin on the Roof." Unlike other assassins, he wasn't part of an assassination squad. He could point a gun at Joseon whenever he pleased. Jimin hurriedly ran down the hallway of the Mirabeau Hotel and ran through the streets of Jongno.
March 31, 1942
The waning moon rose. Gyeongseong was remarkably quiet, save for the noise of the revelers, revelers engrossed in their party. Because it was a dark, starless night, and a sudden rain was falling, no one, save the vodka-addled drunks, looked up at the sky. No one knew what was in the sky. This was a blessing for the late-night assassin. He leaped over the tiled roofs and raced through the Gyeongseong night. The cold air enveloped him. His entire body, clad in pitch-black, resembled that of a black tiger. Running with the waning moon behind him, he stopped on a rooftop. He silently loaded his gun and aimed at his target. He aimed without hesitation, and, like a beast of prey, waited breathlessly for the perfect moment. That moment was when there was nothing between target and gun. Nothing could be more dangerous than the wrong victim. He pulled the trigger, and two bullets fired simultaneously with a loud crack, severing the target's life. Inside, the only sounds were the terrified cries of those who saw the blood-splattered room. Women screamed, and men with swords shouted in Japanese, searching for the assassin. The operation was a success. Having confirmed their target's death, the assassins of Gyeongseong's night turned their guns on each other.
“There were two, not one.”
"Yeonjun said," the two men said. They aimed at each other without a word, ready to shoot at the slightest movement. A suffocating tension hung between the two assassins. Turning their backs would mean allowing the other to take their life, so neither seemed inclined to turn around. The moon was obscured by the drizzling, dreary gray clouds, revealing the other's face as a pale black.
“Who are you? You’d better answer.”
Yeonjun's cracked voice asked from the darkness. The muzzle of the gun pressed for an answer. At that moment, the clouds passed, revealing the waning moon once again, revealing the faces of the masked men beneath it. They were the faces of men without names, status, or rank, simply standing in the same place with the same purpose. The man facing him opened his mouth as if to answer.
"taehyoung kim."
Jimin kicked open the door. The loud vibration caused the man playing the cello to shatter it, pull out the gun hidden inside, and aim it. His eyebrows were thick, and his lips were pressed tightly together in a firm line. Jimin raised both hands. The man let out a "Ah," and dropped the gun to the floor.
“It’s no longer usable.”
Taehyung spoke bluntly. Jimin picked up the gun from the floor and aimed it at Taehyung's window. A dark figure was aiming the gun from the roof of the building beyond the window. Jimin struggled to decide what to do, trying to think of the best option. Jimin stared at Taehyung for a moment.
“If that’s the case, you should have told me a long time ago.”
Taehyung lifted his pillow, pulled out a pistol from it, and fired without hesitation at Jimin's target. The bullet shattered the window. Nevertheless, Taehyung continued to fire. Inyoung staggered as if hit. Jimin's pupils dilated to the point where they could no longer dilate. Jimin grabbed Taehyung's arm, his grip tightening as promised. Then Taehyung turned his head. The gun was still propped up against the window. But at that moment, Inyoung, still staggering, mustered the last of her strength and fired. The gun struck Taehyung in the right shoulder.
"taehyoung kim!"
Jimin turned his gaze toward Inyoung. She was gone. Next to Jimin, Taehyung groaned in pain. Jimin hurriedly opened the drawer and searched for a cloth. But there was nothing suitable to stop the bleeding. He bit down on his shirt sleeve, tearing it lengthwise. Fortunately, the bullet was easily removed. Jimin tied the sleeve around Taehyung's right shoulder.
“What was that just now?”
Taehyung asked, breathing heavily.
“…Have you heard of ‘Assassin on the Roof’?”
“…?”
“He’s my colleague.”
"Why is that guy shooting at me? I heard he's an independence activist too. If that's the case, then aren't I on the same side?"
“The problem is…”
Jimin sighed. The person he'd tried to kill wasn't "independence activist Kim Taehyung." Guilt weighed heavily on him. Jimin desperately prayed that Inyoung on the roof had reached safety, and that she hadn't been hit in a vital spot.
"How about we stop here now? It seems like everything's been revealed."
“It’s not like I can look for another school.”
"No," Jimin said. "I know a place." Taehyung nodded.
“I can trust you.”
“While we’re on the subject, let’s talk.”
You, don't you have any intention of working in a group at all?
Taehyung looked at Jimin with a puzzled expression. It was understandable, after all, it was in the past. Jimin grabbed Taehyung's hand and looked at him with a determined expression. This was the best Jimin could think of. If they knew that the two of them had exchanged fire on New Year's Eve, they might go wild. But if it meant preventing future clashes between Koreans, this seemed like the best option. Jimin stroked Taehyung's hand. His eyes spoke.
‘Everything is okay now.’
Taehyung smiled reluctantly. He wanted to believe these hypnotic words.
'okay.'
Taehyung raised his left hand and patted Jimin's shoulder.
‘Everything is okay now.’
April 3, 1942
Jungkook sat at his desk, scribbling crooked equations. Yoongi stood in front of him, his arms crossed, staring at him. Jungkook, keeping an eye on Yoongi's expression, finally put down his pen.
“"Okay? I've solved everything! Let me use the machine gun too!"
The machine gun played a crucial role in Jeongguk's ability to solve a math problem that wasn't even in his horoscope. This was because Yoongi had promised that if he studied math, Jeongguk would "think" about using a machine gun. The Korean Independence Army, led by Yoongi, had recently imported a fairly high-quality machine gun from the Yang family.
“No. Did you think I would say yes tomorrow?”
“Then why did you set that condition?”
"Captain, you're really lethal. Do you understand?" Jeongguk slumped against the desk. Yoongi clicked his tongue. "You even got half the answers wrong. You told me to study, not get them all right! But you're not going to give me a lethal machine gun, are you?"
“I said I’d think about it later. You’re still seventeen.”
“Don’t all the other brothers use it too!”
“There’s a lot to talk about. We’re going to Gyeongseong soon, so get ready.”
At those words, Jeongguk raised his head. His bright eyes sparkled even brighter. It was at moments like this that Jeongguk's true identity as a student truly dawned on him. Born and raised in Manchuria, Jeongguk had only been to Gyeongseong a handful of times. Whatever the reason, Jeongguk was already starting to feel excited.
““Is it true?”
"okay."
“Are the other brothers speaking the same way?”
"no?"
"Are you crazy enough to drag the whole unit along? Just the two of us are going." Yoon-gi grinned.