[POINT OF VIEW: JO YU-RI - THIRD PERSON]
The sun moved across the sky, its light tracing long golden rectangles on the marble floor of the villa. The atmosphere in the living room had changed again. The euphoria of discovery had settled into a buzzing beehive of activity. Helena, Inspector Park, and Wi Ha-joon were engrossed in logistical planning that seemed as complex as a military invasion. They spoke of private planes, fake identities, surveillance equipment, and escape routes through the Thai jungle.
The rest of the group listened, their faces a mixture of fascination and absolute terror. The reality of the impending mission, the journey to the Hidden Dragon Temple, was becoming tangible. It was no longer a riddle on a map; it was a real point on the globe, a place they would have to go, a place where Helix would probably be waiting for them.
And all this time, Jo Yu-ri maintained her vigil.
She remained seated in the chair by the sofa, a silent guardian for the sleeping genius. The blanket rose and fell with the slow, heavy rhythm of his breathing. Sometimes, she heard a muffled murmur, a meaningless word escaping from beneath the fabric, and her heart clenched. The man who had defied a dictator now fought his own demons in the darkness of a medicated sleep.
She watched him and thought of the injustice of it all. His mind, an instrument of brilliance so sharp it could decipher the secrets of history, was also his own prison. The very gift that allowed him to see the world like no one else also prevented him from living in it. The medication that made him "manageable" for them, that allowed him to focus his genius for their benefit, was the same thing that stole his joy, his energy, the very essence of who he was.
She felt complicit in his misery. Everyone was. They had used his mind as a tool, and now that the tool had done its work, they had put it back in its box.
Guilt was a bitter taste in her mouth. She remembered the slap she had given him. In that moment, she had felt justified. Now, it felt as if she had kicked a man who was already down. She remembered her own reprimand, her anger at his apparent disregard for life. But now she understood that it wasn't disregard. It was simply... how he worked. His brain wasn't designed for stillness. Stillness, for him, was hell. And they, with the best of intentions, had put him headfirst into it.
Hours passed. Mission planning continued. Yu-ri silently stood up, her movements soft so as not to disturb the quietness on the sofa. She headed for the kitchen. She didn't know what else to do. She couldn't solve the logistical problems of a spy mission. She couldn't fight Helix. But she could do one thing. She could offer a small act of kindness. She could offer food.
This time, she didn't cook. She knew he wouldn't need a warm, comforting stew. He needed something else. Something that spoke the language of his brain. She rummaged through the pantry and the fridge, gathering ingredients with an idea forming in her mind. Sugar. Carbs. Quick, uncomplicated energy.
She prepared a tray. Not with stew, but with a feast of guilty pleasures. A huge bowl of instant ramyeon, the extra spicy kind that burned the tongue. A plate of tteokbokki, the chewy rice cakes swimming in a red, sweet sauce. And for the knockout punch, a plate with a mountain of hotteok, the Korean pancakes filled with brown sugar, cinnamon, and walnuts, still warm from the pan. It was a carbohydrate attack, a glucose tsunami. It was the perfect antidote for a dulled soul.
With the tray in her hands, she returned to the living room. The meeting paused again as she passed, but this time their glances were not of curiosity, but of silent understanding. She gently knelt by the sofa.
"Leo," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Wake up. I brought you something."
There was no response. Carefully, she pulled back a corner of the blanket. His face was pale, his eyes closed, but there was a furrow of tension in his brow, as if he were struggling even in dreams.
She placed the tray on the floor, as close to him as possible, so that the aroma of spicy ramyeon and sweet hotteok wafted directly towards him.
"Leo," she repeated a little louder. "Smell this."
And then, it happened.
[POINT OF VIEW: LEO - FIRST PERSON]
I was floating in a sea of grey fog. There was no sound. No color. No thoughts, just a monotonous, weightless existence. It was silence. My personal hell. I was trapped, aware of my own emptiness, and it was torture.
And then, something pierced the fog.
At first, it was just a sensation. A tickle in my nose. Then, a smell. No, not a smell. A symphony. Spicy. Sweet. Salty. It was the smell of life. The smell of energy. It was the smell of spicy noodles and caramelized sugar. It was the smell of dopamine.
My eyelids, which felt like they were made of lead, fluttered. I struggled to open my eyes, swimming towards that smell like a drowning man swims towards the surface. The grey fog began to dissipate, replaced by blurry shapes.
I saw a face. A worried face, framed by dark hair. Big, kind eyes. It was her. The avenging angel. And she held... paradise on a tray.
My eyes snapped open. The fog evaporated in an instant. The world snapped back into focus with blinding clarity. Grey was replaced by the bright red of tteokbokki sauce, the crispy gold of hotteok.
And my brain, my hungry, stimulus-starved brain, rebooted.
It was like a lightning bolt. I felt an electric jolt, not from Helena's taser, but from my own neurology snapping back to life. The silence in my head was shattered by an explosion of noise, of ideas, of colors, of life. I was back! The noise was back!
[POINT OF VIEW: GROUP - THIRD PERSON]
The change was so sudden and so dramatic that everyone in the room froze.
A second before, Leo was a languid, depressed figure. The next, his eyes snapped open, and the light that had been absent for hours returned to them with the force of a spotlight. It wasn't a slow awakening. It was an instant resurrection.
He shot up on the sofa with a speed that made Yu-ri flinch back in surprise. His gaze was fixed on the food tray, his pupils dilated, an expression of pure ecstasy on his face.
"Food," he said, his voice no longer a flat murmur, but a raspy croak filled with new, vibrant energy.
He lunged for the tray like a starved wolf. He didn't use chopsticks. He didn't use a fork. He grabbed the ramyeon bowl and began slurping the noodles directly from the bowl, making noises that were an affront to human etiquette. He finished the bowl in less than a minute, then attacked the tteokbokki, shoveling the rice cakes into his mouth three at a time. And finally, the hotteok, devouring them with such childlike, pure joy that it was both disgusting and strangely moving.
He finished everything in less than five minutes. He set the empty bowls aside, wiped sauce from his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked around, his eyes shining with a manic energy everyone recognized with a shiver of dread.
The depressed genius was gone. The hurricane was back.
He sprang to his feet, his body now vibrating with restless energy. He stretched, his muscles cracking. He looked around, at the silent living room, at the stunned faces watching him.
And then, he opened his mouth and let out a yell.
It wasn't a scream of pain or fear. It was a primal yell, a roar of pure, unrestrained exuberance. A yell that seemed to come from the Stone Age.
"YABBA-DABBA-DOO!!!"
The yell, Fred Flintstone's famous shout of joy, echoed through the luxurious villa, bouncing off the marble walls and the picture windows. It was so unexpected, so absurd, so completely out of place, that everyone's brain collectively short-circuited.
[POINT OF VIEW: JO YU-RI - THIRD PERSON]
Jo Yu-ri remained kneeling on the floor, staring at the man who was now bouncing around the living room as if he had just invented fire. She had just resurrected a caveman with instant noodles.
The medication hadn't worn off. She, with her well-meaning food tray, had counteracted it. The sugar and carb overload had been like pouring gasoline on the embers of his brain, triggering a dopamine explosion that had completely overridden the pill's sedative effects. She had released the Kraken.
Leo ran to the ancient screen, the precious clue to the Royal Seal, and began using it as an imaginary dance partner, twirling with it around the room. "Come on, old friend! We're going to Thailand! To find treasures and kick corporate ass!"
"LEONIDAS, PUT THAT DOWN RIGHT NOW!" Helena roared, standing up, but her command was lost in the new wave of chaos.
Leo put down the screen and ran to a surprised Lee Jung-jae. He clapped him on the back so hard that the veteran actor almost fell over. "Don't worry, 456! I've got a plan! A brilliant plan! We'll get that seal and celebrate with soju and karaoke! And this time, it's your turn to sing!"
He turned to Wi Ha-joon. "And you, detective! Get your gadgets ready! We're going to need a lot of gadgets! And maybe a monkey. I've always wanted a monkey as a sidekick!"
The room was a whirlwind of his energy. He jumped from one piece of furniture to another, laying out his plans, each crazier than the last. He talked about using elephants as a distraction, infiltrating the temple disguised as tourist monks, using a zipline from a nearby mountain. His mind, unleashed, was firing ideas in all directions like an uncontrolled machine gun.
Helena put a hand to her face, her expression one of utter defeat. Mr. Choi looked like he had suffered a second faint, but this time standing up. Min-jun and Ho-yeon had taken refuge behind a sofa, peeking over with a mix of terror and amusement.
Jo Yu-ri stood in the center of the storm, watching the man she had resurrected. The quiet, broken man on the sofa was gone. In his place was this natural disaster, this hyperactive ten-year-old in a superhuman's body.
She looked at him, his face smudged with sauce, his eyes gleaming with a brilliant madness, and she realized a deep, terrifying truth.
This was the real Leo. Not the silent genius. Not the tragic hero. But this. This glorified chaos. This lovable, exasperating idiot. This modern caveman yelling "Yabba-Dabba-Doo" after eating noodles.
And for the first time, she felt neither fear, nor anger, nor guilt. She felt a strange, twisted pang of affection. Because in his madness, in his noise, there was a brutal honesty. He was exactly who he was, unfiltered, unapologetic.
Leo stopped in front of her, his whirlwind of energy focusing on her for a moment. He grinned at her, a smile so wide and genuine that it lit up his entire face.
"Thanks for the food, Yu-ri!" he exclaimed. "You saved me! I was trapped in boredom! Now, let's go find some treasure!"
And with that, he dashed towards the balcony, probably to see if he could use the curtains as a vine.
Jo Yu-ri stood there, amidst the broken bowls and abandoned battle plans. She had wanted to help the broken man. And instead, she had unleashed the monster. And the scariest part of all was that she wasn't sure which of the two she preferred.