The Hunter Registry conference room on the fourteenth floor was designed to hold twenty people comfortably.
It had a long table. Fourteen chairs. A presentation screen at one end. A window overlooking Gangnam that cost a significant portion of the building's annual budget to clean properly and which Han-Ho had noticed on the way in contained a small mana residue smudge in the lower left corner that somebody had been missing for approximately six months.
He did not say anything about it.
Yet.
Seven S-Rank Hunters were seated around the table.
This had never happened before outside of a national emergency. The last time all available S-Ranks had been in the same room simultaneously was the Incheon Gate incident four years ago which had required three days of coordinated response and resulted in two documentaries and one autobiography that had sold very well.
Today they were here because of a Wednesday briefing about an F-Rank Mana-Janitor.
The mood was difficult to describe precisely.
Imagine seven of the most powerful people in the country — people who had destroyed mountains and frozen seas and commanded shadows and done things that made news anchors forget how to speak — sitting in office chairs around a conference table looking at a door.
Waiting.
For a janitor.
S-Rank Hunter Yoo Chae-Won was thirty four years old, had Re-Awakened once, and had a brand portfolio that included three energy drinks, one athletic wear line, and a collaboration with a furniture company that she had agreed to before fully reading the contract and now deeply regretted. She was seated at the far end of the table with the posture of someone who had left a brand partnership meeting on Friday to respond to an emergency alert and had not received a satisfactory explanation since.
She had asked for a written explanation by Saturday morning.
It was Wednesday.
She had not received it.
"I want it on record," she said, to the room, "that I was promised a written explanation by Saturday morning."
"Noted," said Park Sung-Jin, who was standing by the wall with his folder and the expression of a man who has been noting things all week and is very tired.
"It is Wednesday," said Yoo Chae-Won.
"Also noted."
"I left a brand meeting."
"I'm aware—"
"A brand meeting I had been preparing for two weeks. There were mockups. There were mood boards." She looked at the Director who was seated at the head of the table with the composed authority of a man who had made peace with the fact that this Wednesday was going to be one of the more unusual days of his seventeen year career. "Director. What is the threat level of whatever we're here about."
"There is no threat," said the Director.
"The alert said UNCLASSIFIABLE."
"The situation has been assessed."
"UNCLASSIFIABLE is the highest threat designation the system has."
"I understand that—"
"UNCLASSIFIABLE means we don't know what it is which means it could be anything which means it could be worse than anything we have a classification for—"
"Hunter Yoo—"
"I LEFT MOOD BOARDS—"
"Hunter Yoo the situation is not a threat."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at the Director.
The Director looked back with the steady composure of someone who has read Ms. Yoon's file twice and has prepared for this briefing extensively and is confident in approximately forty percent of what he is about to say.
"Then what is it," said Yoo Chae-Won.
"Ms. Yoon will present," said the Director. "When our subject arrives."
"Our subject," said S-Rank Hunter Baek Sung-Il, who was forty one years old, had Re-Awakened once, and had the physical presence of someone who had been breaking things professionally for twenty years and had the quiet confidence of a man who was very good at his job. He was seated to the Director's left with his arms crossed and the expression of someone who had driven very fast to a building on Friday evening and had subsequently been told to go back to training. "We have a subject."
"Yes."
"Not a threat. A subject."
"Correct."
"Why does a subject require all eight S-Ranks."
"Seven," said Min-Seo, from his seat midway along the table.
Everyone looked at Min-Seo.
Min-Seo had been seated at the table when everyone arrived which several of the S-Ranks had noted because Min-Seo being somewhere first implied Min-Seo had information they didn't and Min-Seo having information they didn't was something that several of them found professionally irritating.
"Seven," said Baek Sung-Il. "You already know what this is."
"I have context," said Min-Seo carefully.
"You have context."
"Yes."
"You've known since Friday."
"Since Thursday actually."
Baek Sung-Il looked at Min-Seo with the specific expression of a man who has Re-Awakened once and destroyed several things and is currently choosing patience as a deliberate act of will.
"Min-Seo," he said.
"Yes."
"What is it."
"Ms. Yoon will present," said Min-Seo, with the serenity of a man who has spent five days processing something and has arrived at a state of acceptance and would now like to watch other people begin the same journey.
Baek Sung-Il looked at the Director.
The Director looked at his watch.
"He should be here at two," said the Director.
"He," said S-Rank Hunter Jin Tae-Yang, who was thirty eight years old, had Re-Awakened once, and had gone back to his dinner on Friday evening and found it cold and had feelings about this that he was maintaining professionally. "It's a person."
"Yes."
"A person triggered the UNCLASSIFIABLE alert."
"Yes."
"A person caused our entire monitoring system to activate simultaneously."
"Yes."
"A person is making eight S-Rank Hunters sit in a conference room on a Wednesday afternoon."
"Seven," said Min-Seo.
Jin Tae-Yang looked at Min-Seo.
"I Re-Awakened once," said Jin Tae-Yang.
"I know," said Min-Seo.
"I destroyed four buildings in the Busan incident."
"I know."
"Four buildings Jin-Tae-Yang. Simultaneously."
"I know Tae-Yang."
"Who is this person that requires—"
The door opened.
Han-Ho walked in at two o'clock exactly.
He was in his one good jacket and clean jeans. He had his work bag. He had taken his shoes off at the entrance to the conference room because the carpet looked recently cleaned and he had professional respect for recently cleaned carpet.
He was in his socks.
Moru was on his left shoulder.
Kjor was on his right shoulder.
River was visible in the front pocket of his work bag, two small eyes looking out through the mesh with great interest at the fourteen chairs and the seven S-Rank Hunters and the presentation screen and the window with the residue smudge in the lower left corner.
Min-Seo was already there.
Han-Ho looked at the table.
Looked at the seven S-Rank Hunters looking at him.
Looked at his socks.
"The carpet was clean," he said, by way of explanation.
Nobody responded.
Seven of the most powerful people in South Korea looked at the man in his socks with the small dark creature on his left shoulder and the other small dark creature on his right shoulder and the work bag with two small eyes in the front pocket and processed this information in seven different ways that all arrived at the same destination which was profound confusion.
Han-Ho pulled out a chair and sat down.
Put his bag on the table in front of him.
River's eyes tracked the room with great curiosity.
Moru settled on Han-Ho's shoulder with the composed dignity of something that has attended important meetings before, albeit in a different capacity, and is conducting itself accordingly.
Kjor looked at the presentation screen with interest.
Han-Ho looked at the Director.
"Should we start," said Han-Ho. "I have a route at five."
The silence lasted approximately four seconds.
It was a very full four seconds.
Yoo Chae-Won looked at Han-Ho. Looked at Moru. Looked at Kjor. Looked at River in the bag pocket. Looked at Han-Ho's socks. Looked at the Director with an expression that communicated several complete sentences without words.
Baek Sung-Il looked at Han-Ho with the focused assessment of someone whose entire professional skill set involves evaluating threats and who was currently finding his skill set inadequate for the situation in front of him.
Jin Tae-Yang looked at Min-Seo.
Min-Seo looked at the table with the serenity of a man watching people arrive at the beginning of a journey he completed five days ago.
The other four S-Ranks — Hunter Park Do-Hyun, quiet, methodical, Re-Awakened once; Hunter Lee Soo-Bin, youngest S-Rank in Registry history, twenty six years old, visibly trying to maintain composure with varying success; Hunter Oh Kyung-Soo, oldest active S-Rank, fifty three, had seen many things, was currently revising his definition of many; Hunter Song Mi-Rae, whose shadow energy was so refined it was invisible until the moment it wasn't, who was looking at Han-Ho with the focused stillness of someone cataloguing information — all looked at Han-Ho in their respective ways.
Han-Ho looked back at all of them with the patient expression of a man who has somewhere to be at five and would appreciate it if the meeting started.
Ms. Yoon stood up.
She had her file. She had her notes. She had her coffee and the quiet contained energy of a person who had been waiting for this specific Wednesday for four years and had prepared extensively.
"Thank you all for coming," she said. "My name is Ms. Yoon. I am a Senior Registry Analyst. I have been tracking the subject for four years." She opened her file. "The subject is Kang Han-Ho. Rank F. Mana-Janitor. Registration number 4471-B. He is sitting across from you." She gestured. "In his socks."
Han-Ho looked at his socks briefly.
Looked back at Ms. Yoon.
She continued.
"Four years ago Mr. Kang filed a complaint about a status window display error. The complaint was not processed because it came from an F-Rank Hunter and F-Rank complaints are not prioritized." She paused. "I found it two weeks after filing and began monitoring Mr. Kang's case because the status window error was not an error."
"What was it," said Baek Sung-Il.
"The system had run out of numbers," said Ms. Yoon.
Silence.
"The status window display field has no star limit," she continued. "It displays exactly as many stars as the system can measure. Mr. Kang's field filled completely and continued past the display capacity and then the system generated an error message not because the display malfunctioned but because it had no number large enough to represent what it was measuring."
She clicked to the first slide.
Han-Ho's status window appeared on the presentation screen.
Every star. The error message. The final line: Status: Please seek professional help.
The seven S-Rank Hunters looked at it.
Hunter Lee Soo-Bin, youngest S-Rank, twenty six years old, made a small sound.
"That's," said Lee Soo-Bin.
"Yes," said Ms. Yoon.
"That's a lot of stars."
"Yes."
"My status window has five stars."
"Yes."
"I'm the third most powerful Hunter in Korea."
"Yes."
Lee Soo-Bin looked at Han-Ho.
Han-Ho looked at Lee Soo-Bin with the patient expression of a man who has been hearing variations of this for five days and has not yet found a satisfying response.
"The display is—" Han-Ho started.
"Not an error," said seven people simultaneously.
Han-Ho closed his mouth.
Ms. Yoon continued.
She presented four years of data. The zero residue sites. The forty seven monster evacuations. The monitoring anomalies. The three word system classification. She presented it with the focused precision of someone who has rehearsed this presentation in their head many times and is delivering it exactly as planned.
The S-Ranks listened.
Their expressions shifted in ways that were subtle but visible to anyone paying attention. The shift from confusion to something more careful. The shift from what is this person to what is this person.
At the part about the Frost Giant Yoo Chae-Won looked at Kjor.
Kjor looked back at Yoo Chae-Won with nine thousand years of ancient existence behind eyes the size of small marbles.
"You're Kjorvaan," said Yoo Chae-Won.
"Kjor," said Kjor. "I go by Kjor now."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at Kjor for a long moment.
"I have an energy drink named after you," she said. "KJORVAAN. The Eternal Frost series. It launched last year."
Kjor looked at her.
"I was not consulted," said Kjor.
"You were sealed in ice at the time."
"Nevertheless."
"It sold very well."
"I want residuals," said Kjor.
"Kjor," said Han-Ho.
"I froze seven seas," said Kjor. "My name has commercial value. I want residuals."
"We can discuss that later," said Han-Ho.
"I am putting it on record," said Kjor. "For the meeting notes."
Park Sung-Jin, by the wall, wrote something in his folder.
Yoo Chae-Won looked at Han-Ho.
"Does he always—" she started.
"Yes," said Han-Ho.
Ms. Yoon pressed on.
At the part about the Demon King Baek Sung-Il looked at Moru.
Moru looked back at Baek Sung-Il with ten thousand years of darkness behind eyes that were currently the size of small coins and completely calm.
"You're the Demon King," said Baek Sung-Il.
"Former," said Moru.
"Malachar. The Eternal Darkness."
"I go by Moru now."
"Sovereign of the Nine Hells."
"Former Sovereign. Currently I am Han-Ho's." Moru paused. Considered the word. "Associate."
"Associate," said Baek Sung-Il.
"It seemed more professional than companion."
"You're the Demon King."
"Former."
"You unmade seventeen civilizations."
"Also former. They were unmade. I cannot re-make them. The unmaking is unfortunately permanent." Moru's expression carried the particular quality of something that has made peace with its history. "I have tried not to unmake anything recently. I have been largely successful."
"Largely," said Baek Sung-Il.
"There was a cockroach on Tuesday," said Moru. "I overreacted slightly."
Han-Ho looked at Moru.
"You said you didn't know what happened to it," said Han-Ho.
"I have updated my account of events," said Moru.
"Moru."
"It was very fast and I reacted instinctively and it no longer exists in any dimension and I apologize."
Han-Ho rubbed his face.
Jin Tae-Yang, across the table, watched this exchange with the expression of a man who had gone back to cold dinner on Friday and was now sitting in a conference room listening to a former Demon King apologize for dimensionally eliminating a cockroach on Tuesday.
He had destroyed four buildings simultaneously in Busan.
He had never felt less relevant.
Ms. Yoon finished her presentation.
The room was quiet in the specific way rooms are quiet when everyone in them is processing the same information and arriving at conclusions they are not sure they are ready to have.
The Director looked at the assembled S-Ranks.
"Questions," he said.
Several people had questions.
Yoo Chae-Won went first.
"Mr. Kang," she said. "Are you aware of what you are."
"I'm a Mana-Janitor," said Han-Ho.
"Beyond that."
"Rank F."
"Beyond that."
"One skill."
"MR. KANG—"
"Stain Removal," said Han-Ho. "I clean things. I have been cleaning things for ten years. I clean them thoroughly. I don't know what else you want me to say."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at him with the expression of someone who has presented a brand partnership to thirty companies and knows when a negotiation is going in an unexpected direction.
"The system called you CLEAN UNKNOWN DANGEROUS," she said.
"I heard," said Han-Ho.
"In that order."
"I know."
"Clean first. Then unknown. Then dangerous."
"The clean is accurate," said Han-Ho. "I'll accept that one."
"What about the other two."
Han-Ho looked at his hands.
The work-roughened hands of a man who had cleaned four thousand three hundred Gate residue sites and one Demon King and one Frost Giant and one river contamination entity and the lobby of this building and was currently in a conference room in his socks being looked at by seven S-Rank Hunters and a Director and a Senior Registry Analyst who had spent four years building a file about him.
"I don't know what I am," said Han-Ho.
He said it simply. Without drama. Without the performance of false modesty or the deflection of someone avoiding a difficult truth.
Just a man who genuinely did not know and was saying so.
"I have one skill," he said. "I clean things. That's all I've ever done. I don't know why it works the way it works. I don't know why the status window does what it does. I don't know why the monsters leave before I arrive." He looked at the Director. "I filed a complaint about the status window four years ago. Ms. Yoon responded on Monday. I appreciated that."
Ms. Yoon nodded once.
"What I know," said Han-Ho, "is that there are residue sites that need cleaning. There are reports that need filing. There are routes that need running. Whether my skill has one star or a thousand or whatever number is apparently too large for the system to display—" He looked at the presentation screen where his status window was still showing. "The sites still need cleaning."
The room was quiet.
Baek Sung-Il was looking at Han-Ho with the expression of someone whose entire professional identity is built around power and strength and who is encountering someone who has more of both than anyone in the room and appears to be primarily concerned about his afternoon schedule.
Lee Soo-Bin was looking at Han-Ho with the expression of someone who is twenty six years old and became the third most powerful Hunter in Korea and has just discovered that third most powerful in Korea is a very relative term.
Oh Kyung-Soo, oldest active S-Rank, fifty three, who had seen many things, was looking at Han-Ho with the particular stillness of someone who has just understood something they are going to be thinking about for a long time.
"You clean things," said Oh Kyung-Soo. Slowly. Deliberately. The way someone speaks when they are choosing each word carefully. "That is what you do."
"Yes," said Han-Ho.
"And the Demon King. The Frost Giant. The river entity."
"Needed cleaning."
"They were threats. Active threats. Class A or above."
"They were also making a mess."
Oh Kyung-Soo looked at Han-Ho for a very long moment.
"I have been a Hunter for thirty years," he said. "I have faced things that required everything I had. Everything." A pause. "I want you to know that I mean no disrespect when I say that I genuinely cannot determine whether you are the most powerful or the most dangerous or simply the most inconvenient person I have ever met."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive," said Han-Ho.
Oh Kyung-Soo looked at him.
"No," he said slowly. "I suppose they aren't."
The practical portion of the meeting lasted forty minutes.
The Director proposed a new classification for Han-Ho. Something above S-Rank. The Registry had never created a classification above S-Rank because S-Rank had always been the ceiling.
They needed a new ceiling.
"What would you call it," said Baek Sung-Il.
"We're working on it," said the Director.
"It should not have a letter," said Oh Kyung-Soo. "Letters imply a scale. He is not on the scale."
"He's on the scale," said Lee Soo-Bin. "He's just at a point on the scale where the scale stops having numbers."
"That's not on the scale. That's past the scale."
"Semantics—"
"It's important semantics—"
"Can I suggest something," said Kjor.
Everyone looked at Kjor.
"The classification," said Kjor, with the calm authority of something that has existed for nine thousand years and has therefore seen many classification systems rise and fall, "should simply say what the system already said." A pause. "Clean. Unknown. Dangerous. In that order. That is accurate. That is complete. That tells anyone who reads it everything they need to know."
The room considered this.
"That's three words," said Yoo Chae-Won.
"Good classifications are brief," said Kjor.
"It's not a rank," said the Director.
"No," said Kjor. "It is not. Because he is not a rank. He is a fact."
Silence.
The Director looked at Park Sung-Jin.
Park Sung-Jin wrote something in his folder.
Han-Ho looked at the window with the residue smudge in the lower left corner.
He had been looking at it periodically throughout the meeting.
"Mr. Kang," said the Director.
"The window," said Han-Ho.
"What about the window."
"Lower left corner. Mana residue. Class F. It's been there approximately six months based on the density. Whoever cleans this floor has been missing it."
The Director looked at the window.
Looked back at Han-Ho.
"You've been looking at the window for forty minutes," said the Director.
"It's been bothering me," said Han-Ho.
"We are in the middle of a briefing about your classification level—"
"The classification can wait two minutes."
"Mr. KANG—"
Han-Ho stood up. Walked to the window. Pressed his hand against the lower left corner. The golden glow. The soft warm light of Stain Removal doing what Stain Removal did.
Two minutes exactly.
He stepped back. Looked at the window.
Clean. Completely clean. The residue was gone. The window was just a window overlooking Gangnam in the afternoon light.
Han-Ho nodded with quiet professional satisfaction.
Walked back to his chair.
Sat down.
Looked at the Director.
"Sorry," he said. "It was bothering me."
The Director stared at him.
The seven S-Rank Hunters stared at him.
Ms. Yoon, who had watched Han-Ho clean the lobby floor on Monday evening and had therefore already processed this specific aspect of his personality, drank her coffee with the composed expression of someone who has developed a system.
"He does this," said Min-Seo, to the table in general, with the tone of someone providing genuinely useful contextual information. "You get used to it."
"Does he clean things during all his meetings," said Yoo Chae-Won.
"This is his second meeting," said Min-Seo. "He cleaned the lobby after the first one."
"He cleaned the LOBBY—"
"There was a residue mark."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at Han-Ho.
Han-Ho looked back at her.
"There was a residue mark," he confirmed.
Yoo Chae-Won pressed both hands flat on the table.
Took a breath.
"Mr. Kang," she said, with the controlled precision of someone who has managed seven brand partnerships simultaneously and is accustomed to unusual situations.
"Yes."
"I am going to ask you something directly."
"Okay."
"Are you going to keep cleaning things."
"Yes."
"Gates. Residue sites. Rivers. Ancient evil entities. Things that the rest of us require full teams and specialist equipment and emergency protocols to address."
"If they need cleaning."
"Even if they're Class A threats."
"The class doesn't change whether they need cleaning."
"Even if they're S-Rank level dangers."
"The danger doesn't change—"
"Even if they're things that make the entire Registry monitoring system activate simultaneously and send emergency alerts to every S-Rank in Korea."
Han-Ho thought about this.
"I'll try to keep my status window closed during working hours," he said. "If that helps."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at him for a very long time.
She had left mood boards for this.
"It helps a little," she said finally.
"Good," said Han-Ho.
"But Mr. Kang."
"Yes."
"The next time there is a Red Gate." She leaned forward slightly. Not threatening. Just direct. The directness of someone who has Re-Awakened once and spent her career being one of eight people responsible for the safety of an entire country. "We would like to know. Before you handle it by yourself in work trousers in a river."
Han-Ho looked at her.
"I filed a report," he said.
"I know you filed a report."
"Three weeks ago."
"I know—"
"Seventy two hour response window."
"MR. KANG—"
"I'm just saying," said Han-Ho, "that if the response infrastructure were functioning correctly I would not have needed to handle it in work trousers in a river."
Yoo Chae-Won stared at him.
Han-Ho looked back with the patient sincere expression of a man making a factual observation about institutional response times.
Oh Kyung-Soo made a sound.
It was quiet. Brief. But it was unmistakably a laugh.
Everyone looked at Oh Kyung-Soo.
Oh Kyung-Soo had the expression of someone who had not intended to laugh and was not going to apologize for it.
"He's right," said Oh Kyung-Soo. "The response infrastructure is not functioning correctly. He filed a Class B report three weeks ago. Nobody responded. The contamination became Class A boundary. He handled it in work trousers in a river." A pause. "He is correct."
The Director looked at his table.
The table looked back with the neutral expression of furniture that has no opinions about institutional response times.
"We will review the report response protocol," said the Director.
"I have a list," said Han-Ho.
Everyone looked at him.
Han-Ho opened his work bag.
River's eyes tracked the movement.
Han-Ho took out his notebook.
Opened it to a page that had dates and report numbers and response times written in two colors.
"Forty three reports filed in the last year," said Han-Ho. "Seventeen received responses. Twenty six did not. The ones in red are the ones that exceeded the mandatory response window." He looked at the notebook. "There are nineteen red entries."
He put the notebook on the table.
Slid it toward the Director.
The Director looked at the notebook.
Looked at the nineteen red entries.
Looked at Han-Ho.
"I will personally review every outstanding report," said the Director.
"And the response protocol," said Han-Ho.
"And the response protocol."
"The seventy two hour window."
"Yes Mr. Kang."
"It exists for a reason."
"Yes Mr. Kang."
"The reason is that Class B becomes Class A if—"
"I know why it exists Mr. Kang."
Han-Ho closed the notebook. Put it back in his bag.
River settled back between the notebook and the pens.
"Good," said Han-Ho. "Thank you."
He looked at his watch.
Four forty seven PM.
He stood up.
"I need to go," he said. "I have a route."
"Mr. Kang we haven't finished—"
"The classification can be whatever you decide. Clean Unknown Dangerous is accurate. I'll accept that." He picked up his bag. "The important thing is the response protocol. And the report backlog."
He looked at the assembled S-Ranks.
Seven of the most powerful people in South Korea looking back at him from their conference room chairs.
"Thank you for coming," said Han-Ho, with the genuine politeness of someone raised to be courteous to people who have made time for a meeting. "I know it was short notice."
He put on his shoes.
Which he had left by the door.
Walked out.
Moru floated.
Kjor floated, pausing at the door to look back at the room.
"Residuals," said Kjor, to Yoo Chae-Won. "KJORVAAN energy drink. I want residuals. Park Sung-Jin has it on record."
Yoo Chae-Won looked at Kjor.
"We'll talk," she said.
"Yes we will," said Kjor, with great dignity, and floated out.
River's eyes were the last thing visible through the door before it closed.
The conference room was quiet.
Seven S-Rank Hunters sat around the table.
The Director sat at the head.
Ms. Yoon sat to the side with her file and her coffee and the expression of someone who has just watched four years of careful professional work arrive at exactly the conclusion she expected and feels entirely validated.
Park Sung-Jin stood by the wall.
The window was clean.
Han-Ho's notebook was on the table in front of the Director.
Nineteen red entries.
"Well," said Yoo Chae-Won, to the room.
Nobody had a better word for it.
"He took his shoes off for the carpet," said Lee Soo-Bin, after a moment. "Did anyone else notice that."
"Yes," said several people simultaneously.
"He noticed the window residue within three minutes of sitting down."
"Yes."
"And then cleaned it."
"Yes."
"During the briefing about him."
"Yes."
Lee Soo-Bin looked at the clean window.
"I have five stars," said Lee Soo-Bin.
"I know," said Min-Seo.
"I'm twenty six."
"I know."
"He's also twenty six."
"I know."
"He has—" Lee Soo-Bin gestured at where Han-Ho's status window had been on the presentation screen. "That."
"I know," said Min-Seo.
"And he's worried about the report response protocol."
"Yes."
"The PROTOCOL."
"He has nineteen red entries," said Min-Seo. "He has been keeping that list for a year. In red ink. With follow up dates." A pause. "He is the most relentlessly responsible person I have ever encountered and he does not know he is anything other than a Mana-Janitor and I have been sleeping on his couch since Thursday and I am no closer to understanding any of it than I was when I first saw him walk toward a Frost Giant with his hands in his pockets."
The room was quiet.
Oh Kyung-Soo looked at the notebook on the table.
Looked at the window.
Looked at the door Han-Ho had walked through.
"Clean," he said quietly. "Unknown. Dangerous."
A pause.
"In that order," said Oh Kyung-Soo. "Clean first. That's not an accident."
Nobody had a response to that.
Outside the building Han-Ho was already three blocks away heading toward his five o'clock route with Moru on his left shoulder and Kjor on his right shoulder and River in his bag pocket eating a fragment of honey butter chip that Kjor had passed down before leaving the conference room.
His notebook was on the Director's table.
He had a spare in his bag.
He had always had a spare.
Some Wednesdays were just like this.