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The esteemed Ha Si-yeon-nim probably knows immediately who I am, and if you don't, my understanding is that it is well within your Power to figure it out, so, for the sake of discretion, I shall refrain from introducing myself. I shall instead say only that, for reasons unclear to me, we have suddenly acquired a common interest, or perhaps two, as it were. It would surprise me to learn that you are unaware that I have been seeking them, a process that was going very well until you became involved in their affairs. All trace has quite disappeared, in fact, except the recipient of this letter.
One might imagine that I am quite piqued by this development, and I admit readily that I was at first, though since then, the sheer competence with which their whereabouts were obscured has given me significant comfort. You cannot have failed to notice by now that they require special care and handling. As I will be unable to resume this particular task, probably for good, I would like to privately share some advice with you over dinner.
There is a restaurant called the Yellow Field—or something similar, to be honest I've not seen that second character before and can't for the life of me track it down in any dictionary at all—about six kilometers from your office. Allow me to treat you at 4:00pm on the dot. Early for dinner, I know, but the place fills up fast and it was all I could do to swing a last-minute reservation for two. The reservation tomorrow will be under your own name, for convenience. Oh, and if they say "Happy Birthday," smile and nod? I had to pull some heartstrings.
The reservation is for two, by the way, and it would be horribly rude to bring a plus-one or -two or -twelve. My budget absolutely cannot cover sufficient aperitifs. I appreciate your understanding.
I look forward to our meeting! Sincerely,
A Raspberry Enthusiast
Malinin Misha wasn't meant to have been sent to the US. His power is good, and it's a confluence, but this power isn't that good, and there are plenty of homegrown dungeons that could've benefited from him. More to the point, he was hired only a couple of days ago, he's a liability, and he hasn't gone through proper induction yet. Sending him abroad is a terrible, terrible idea.
But you know what would have been an even worse idea? Letting Russia get him. And one Kliment Ilyich Konstantinov has been in Korean soil getting way too close to their trail. Too close for comfort, really.
So Misha was sent abroad.
And now... Kliment Ilyich Konstantinov wants to talk.
To Si-yeon, of all people.
Why him? He's unsure. Maybe it's obvious.
So he shows up at the appointed time. Wearing his own face, undisguised, because this letter was addressed to him personally. Dressed like it's a regular social event, not like he expects any danger. Not that it matters. He's shielded, and nowadays he could probably win a fight against Lee Tae-gun one-on-one if he wasn't caught by surprise.
He's not about to be caught by surprise. When he walked into this restaurant, he closed his eyes and decided that he'd look in the direction of the farthest active recording device that was targeting him, intentionally or accidentally, or at his right hand, whichever one was farther. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at his right hand. He repeated that trick when he was seated at the booth. And he repeats it again, more discreetly, when Kliment Ilyich Konstantinov walks into the booth.
That time, his eyes end up looking at the center of the table, under which he'd planted a recording device earlier and only just now activated.
That works for him.
He doesn't speak, at first. Let the other man be the one to start.
Kliment is wearing simple black garments, starched well beyond reasonable. He takes a long look at the table before sliding delicately into the booth, a process that does not afford much dignity but cannot be helped. He sits ramrod straight and smiles before gesturing to the prix fixe menu. No prices are listed. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. I'd recommend the edamame to start."
"I'm glad you think so, Ha Si-yeon-shi. We could carry on in German, if you preferred. I hear it's all the rage at Quasar." He signals with his hand to an approaching waiter, dressed identically to him but for an extra yellow vest, who nods and turns on his heel. "Your day was pleasant at work? I hope the early appointment did not cause you problems with your office."
He lifts an eyebrow and smiles. "No, not at all, I didn't have anything scheduled for this afternoon. Though it seems like your days have been somewhat less pleasant than mine, recently."
"I hope I haven't given that impression. I find Seoul quite a pleasant place. I do not have Yuri's affection for spicy food—there's a funny story about that, but—nonetheless I have particularly enjoyed learning about the food culture here. He always made such a production out of it whenever we had morkovcha at the bureau that I was looking forward to trying the ancestral dish that inspired it."
"Ah huh. And now he can have as much of it as he wants to."
Is this guy going to get to the point or is this going to be one of those loooooong conversations. Si-yeon is fine with either but if it's the latter he might need some tea.
"I always admired his ability to appreciate the little things. Contentment is the first step to bliss." As if on cue, the waiter returns with two small plates of edamame, arranged in a radiating pattern on a dish that probably took longer to assemble than the actual food itself. "Thank you, Kim Han-seok-shi," Kliment mutters before continuing. "I am trying to emulate him, even, in that regard, lately."
Yeah, tea conversation, it seems like. Before the waiter's left he orders some tea, and then waits until he's gone to look at Kliment again. "What little things have made you content, lately, Konstantinov Kliment-shi?"
"잘 먹겠습니다," he agrees, digging in. "I admire that outlook. I'm really quite bad at it, myself. A bit of a thrill-seeker, you see."
“Corporate work must be terribly dull for you, unless you get your thrills from tersely worded emails. I assume they would have to be awfully terse to count.”
"I am an active dungeon esper," Si-yeon observes, lifting an eyebrow again. "And it's a confluence."
“Oh? Forgive me. I had the impression that you found dungeons rather less than exciting, and your skill set of better value on the outside anyway.” He puts a hand to the side of his head of his head thoughtfully. “You would hardly be alone in that.”
"It certainly beats office work, and it's not like I have any other work, is it." He pops a bean into his mouth.
“Ah, so you were in the market for a new hobby, anyway. It all worked out rather well, then. How is it?” he asks with a nod toward the plate.
“Good, good. It just came onto the menu today, so we got a front-row seat to the debut.”
“Come now. I’m wearing the uniform still, minus the vest. I know that being an esper causes money to fall out of the sky in Korea but I haven’t quite learned the rain dance yet.”