The Algorithm Of Deceit

Chapter Three

A week had passed since the strange calls, and Ji-hyun had done her best to push them to the back of her mind. She had buried herself in work, convinced herself that if Soo-ah really wanted to talk, she would have done so properly. But every time she closed her eyes, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Morning jogging had become her way of shaking off the unease. The cold air against her skin, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement—it all helped clear her thoughts, even if only for a while.

Today was no different.

Panting slightly, she unlocked her apartment door, stepping inside and kicking off her sneakers. The faint scent of coffee and fabric softener welcomed her, bringing a small sense of normalcy. She had just grabbed a water bottle when—

Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

The sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through her apartment. Ji-hyun frowned. She wasn't expecting anyone. Setting down the bottle, she walked toward the door and peered through the peephole.

Her breath hitched.

Two men in military uniforms stood outside.

Her stomach tightened.

What did her troublesome sister do this time?

She could already imagine it. Maybe Soo-ah got into some kind of fight. Maybe she had finally gotten herself discharged for insubordination. Ji-hyun sighed, rubbing her temples. Seriously, that girl...

The last thing she wanted was to deal with Soo-ah's military drama. And worse, she didn't want these men seeing her face and making the inevitable comment—

"Wow, you two look exactly alike!"

She had spent three years avoiding anything that reminded her of Soo-ah. She wasn't about to break that now. Grabbing a beauty mask from the counter, she quickly slapped it onto her face, the cool gel clinging to her skin. It wasn't much of a disguise, but it was enough to keep them from staring too hard. With an irritated sigh, she pressed the door open just as the doorbell rang again. The two soldiers straightened, their expressions grim. One of them, a man with sharp features, carried a neatly folded flag with a silver military pendant resting on top. The other, slightly older, held an envelope. Ji-hyun's annoyance turned to confusion.

"What is this...?"

The older soldier stepped forward, his voice steady but solemn.

"Are you Kang Soo-ah's relative? She listed this address on her emergency contact form."

Ji-hyun hesitated before giving a slow nod. The man extended the flag toward her. "Lieutenant Kang Soo-ah served her country with honor. She was among the soldiers declared MIA, and after a three-month search, they have now been presumed dead."

Ji-hyun's ears rang.

The words didn't make sense.

MIA? Presumed dead?

The world around her blurred as the soldier unfolded the letter and began reading it aloud, but she barely registered the words. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on reality.

"Soo-ah is... dead?"

The letter was placed into her hands, but she couldn't even feel the paper against her fingers. The soldiers gave her a deep bow, their faces unreadable, and turned to leave. Ji-hyun didn't move. She just stood there, frozen, staring at the flag and pendant in her hands. The silver chain gleamed under the morning light, the same military pendant Soo-ah had always worn, the one Ji-hyun had mocked her for.

"So cheesy. What are you, a drama protagonist?"

"Shut up. I like it."

A bitter laugh bubbled in her throat, but it died before it could escape. As she stepped back into the apartment and closed the door behind her, her legs gave out. She collapsed onto the floor, the weight of everything pressing down on her all at once. She hadn't spoken to Soo-ah in three years.

And now... she never would again.
The flag, the letter, and the military pendant slipped from her trembling fingers as she collapsed onto the floor. The neatly folded fabric unfurled slightly, the weight of it heavy against her lap, while the pendant clinked softly against the hardwood, spinning once before settling.

Ji-hyun's breath hitched.

She reached out, her fingers closing around the cold metal chain, her grip tightening as she pulled it toward her.

Lieutenant Kang Soo-ah.

The engraving was clear, precise, official. But it felt like a lie. Her fingers traced over the letters, as if she could rewrite them, as if she could change the meaning. But the cold, unyielding surface beneath her fingertips remained the same. Lieutenant Kang Soo-ah. Not "Soo-ah, the stubborn idiot who never backed down." Not "Soo-ah, the sister who always dragged Ji-hyun into trouble." Not "Soo-ah, who swore she would come back, no matter what."

Just a rank, a name, a title belonging to a person who no longer existed.

Her vision blurred, and before she even realized it, a tear slipped from her eye, landing on the pendant. The drop clung to the metal for a moment before sliding off, disappearing into the fabric of her leggings. Ji-hyun let out a choked sob, her body shaking as the words from earlier crashed into her like a tidal wave.

"Lieutenant Kang Soo-ah served her country with honor. She was among the soldiers declared MIA, and after a three-month search, they have now been presumed dead."

No. No. No.

That wasn't right. That couldn't be right.

Soo-ah wasn't someone who just disappeared. She wasn't someone who died quietly in the dark. She was a fighter. A force of nature.

She promised.

"You don't have to like my decision, Ji-hyun, but I'll come back. I swear it."

Liar.

Ji-hyun let out a ragged gasp, her arms wrapping around the folded flag, clutching it against her chest as if it were Soo-ah herself.

"Soo-ah..." Her voice cracked, raw and broken.

The dam burst.

"Soo-ah! Ooh Soo-ah, why?!"

A wail tore from her throat, shaking her body as she curled in on herself, fingers twisting into the stiff fabric of the flag. She pressed her face into it, inhaling deeply, but there was no trace of her sister's scent. No warmth. No presence. Just fabric, thick and unfamiliar, suffocating in its finality.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to end like this.

Three years.

Three years of silence.

Three years wasted in anger and resentment.

Three years where she could have called, could have visited, could have told Soo-ah that—even if she didn't agree, even if it hurt—she still loved her. And now...

Now there was nothing but this flag, this cold pendant, and a silence far heavier than any fight they'd ever had. Her sobs filled the empty apartment, echoing off the walls. There was no one to hear her. No one to comfort her.

Just a name carved into metal, a folded piece of fabric, and a letter filled with words that meant nothing. Ji-hyun clutched the flag tighter, her fingers digging into the fabric as she rocked back and forth. She would give anything—anything—to hear Soo-ah's voice just one more time.

To take back the last words they ever said to each other.

To say goodbye properly.

But it was too late.

Too late.

~Hi readers, see you on Thursday~

~author~