Free Web NovelTBC “Men on the Go – Police Special Unit, Part 3”
Dawn’s dim light. Clouds sweep across in fast-forward, and the morning sun breaks through to reveal the base’s exterior.
Broadcaster Nami Lee’s cheerful narration:
“Today is finally the last day with the Police Special Unit. Oh my, everyone looks so tired.”
The men stagger from their bunks. When eldest brother Lee Pil-seung flips on the lights, they all squint. Groggy faces soon exchange smiles.
Min Tae-won: “This is our last day, right?”
Jo So-hyung: “Really, even a real special unit wraps up today.”
Park Ho-beom: “It’s not over until it’s over. We can’t let our guard down until we head to the airport.”
Jo So-hyung: “Ho-beom, you know how to kill the mood.”
The cast’s morning banter shifts to Han Tae-hyeon—or rather, to two empty bunks beside him, the blankets neatly folded.
Narration: “But where are those two trainees? My, out early this morning—where could they be?”
The cast murmurs.
Lee Pil-seung: “Hyun-jo, where did those two go?”
Han Tae-hyeon: (wide-eyed) “I’m not sure...”
Min Tae-won: “They even folded their blankets. Maybe they got up early to greet the morning.”
Jo So-hyung: “They’re so diligent. Maybe it’s because their stamina is so good.”
The cast, rubbing sore backs, marvels at NewBlack’s endurance. Just as Pil-seung shouts, “Let’s get ready!”, they clumsily fold blankets. The door opens and the two idols enter.
Woo-ju: “Good morning. Did everyone sleep well?”
Jung-hyun: “Good morning!”
Showered, washed, and crisp in black uniforms, they look so sharp the cast’s eyes widen.
Jo So-hyung: “Where have you two been?”
Woo-ju: “We went for a morning jog outside...”
Jo So-hyung: “Jog? Why?”
Their slightly downcast faces spark curiosity.
Woo-ju: “We woke early, so Jung-hyun and I went for a walk. We were told it was okay. But...”
Park Ho-beom: “But?”
Woo-ju: “We ran into Tactical Team 1. They asked if we were out for a jog and invited us to join...”
Everyone laughs at Team 1’s unwavering love for Trainee No. 8. The screen ripples into a flashback.
30 minutes earlier
Under the pre-dawn sky, Woo-ju and Jung-hyun stroll under an observation camera. They’re in mid-debate: if you had to eat one cold noodle forever, bibim naengmyeon or mul naengmyeon? Suddenly Woo-ju spots Team 1 heading to work.
Woo-ju: “Gah...!”
Like lightning, he dives into the bushes, mastering concealment. Jung-hyun scrambles after him. As they hold their breath, Team 1 strolls by.
Officer Go: “Our No. 8. What are you doing there?”
Woo-ju: “...” fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
Officer Go: “Even in ambush, this instructor sees everything. Who taught you that?”
Woo-ju: “Good morning...”
Leaves tumble from Woo-ju as he emerges. The special forces team smile: “Teach one, know ten,” and “There’s our rookie.”
Cut to Woo-ju and Jung-hyun in Team 1’s grip, forced into morning jog—a lively narration plays:
“Another energetic morning with the Special Unit! Let’s get this day started.”
The last day begins with the Special Unit commander’s speech. As he thanks them and reminds them not to forget the unit’s toil after returning to civilian life, everyone nods solemnly. When he finishes, Lee Pil-seung bellows,
“To the commander, salute!”
“Special Unit!”
The commander steps down, shakes every hand, and departs.
“Move out!”
“Move out!”
They suit up for patrol. The more gear they don—black uniform, “SWAT” vest, red beret—the more solemn their expressions. They feel like real operators and the weight of responsibility.
Min Tae-won: “I feel like we must do this well.”
Park Ho-beom: “Me too.”
Lee Jeong-ah: “It’s amazing what the uniform does. I didn’t know in just black, but with this on... it’s intimidating.”
Everyone agrees. Slinging the dummy rifle with empty magazine across their necks, they look the part. Even those with paunches now resemble battle-hardened veterans.
“Wow...”
Amid the praise, one stands out.
“Jung-hyun’s shoulders are huge.”
“You could be the unit’s promo model.”
“Wow...”
Jung-hyun beams, returns a thumbs-up. Broad shoulders, tall, plus full kit—he looks like a film hero.
“Our No. 9’s fit is art. He really looks the part.”
Tactical Team 1 waiting by the vehicles nod in agreement. Sergeant Go surveys the group.
“We’re outnumbered, so we’ll split up. Some will ride in the armored vehicle marked SWAT with us. The rest take the bus—No. 8, come with us.”
“Yes!”
For once, Woo-ju is the favorite. The others envy his ride in the SWAT vehicle. After fierce rock-paper-scissors, Park Ho-beom wins the second seat.
Facing each other in the vehicle like in a movie, Sergeant Go says,
“Patrol’s nothing special—just a quick loop and back.”
“It’s a show of force patrol: to signal we’re guarding the airport so no one dares threaten it.” Corporal Park adds. They nod. Rookie Lee Jeong-ah, sensing nerves, soothes,
“No need to be tense. You can speak casually now.”
“Yes!”
“No surprises—just occasional people approaching.”
“Approach?” I ask; she nods.
“They’ll come up and ask where the currency exchange is, or if the rifles are real.”
“They really ask that?”
“Surprisingly,” she smiles.
Sergeant Go: “And remember: be kind to every civilian. Can you do that?”
“Yes!”
“You’re the face of the Special Unit now.”
As Incheon Airport nears, Woo-ju and Park Ho-beom don extra gear: sunglasses and masks to hide their identities so filming won’t get disrupted. They likely think it’s a documentary crew following us.
“Looks the part?” I ask Ho-beom.
“What do you think? No one can ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) tell who we are now.”
“Uh... yeah.”
His awkward reply makes me blink.
Incheon Airport, Departures, 3rd Floor
Busy morning. Counters stretch endless lines, murmurs echo under the vaulted ceiling. Some thrill to travel, most endure yawns through tedious check-in. Amid boredom, all eyes converge.
“Oh, look over there.”
“Si-woo, look! Men with guns—and dogs!”
“Are those real guns?”
A four-man unit in red berets patrols. One leads a German Shepherd, the rest carry rifles. A cameraman trails.
‘A documentary?’ viewers think—then spot one figure odd among the burly operators.
‘A celebrity.’
‘A model or actor.’
‘A celebrity experience show?’
Though masked, the gait and build scream idol. The lone celebrity is oblivious, happy at “No one recognizes me!” Woo-ju and Ho-beom hold back laughs.
Ho-beom: “So many people.”
I: “This time slot is always packed. It’ll quiet down soon.”
Crowds part for them, but the crush still makes sweat drip despite the AC.
“It’s fun,” Ho-beom grins. How many get to patrol an airport with a gun? He puffs up at passers’ awed glances.
As promised, no crises—only a child lunging to pet the dog before being pulled away. Endless radio chatter and travelers’ buzz.
While strolling, someone approaches them.
“Police! Police!”
A Chinese woman calls “police” in Mandarin. The team blink at each other.
“Are they calling us?”
“Do you understand?”
“No idea. Should we hand them to airport police?”
At that moment, Woo-ju raises his hand.
“Oh, Woo-ju. You know?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then go help translate.”
Confident, Woo-ju addresses the Chinese woman.
‘Oh... he’s good.’
‘Of course, our Team 1 rookie.’
Though brief, his Mandarin sounded native. The woman’s face lit with surprise. Ho-beom signals the cameraman to get it.
Woo-ju explains:
“They say their family got into an argument with another traveler. What should we do?”
“Let’s go. Plenty of time until shift change.”
“Yes.”
They approach the families. A suitcase divides a Chinese family and another with fierce expressions. On seeing the unit, both light up.
‘Police! The police are here!’
But the team and Ho-beom blink.
‘What?’
‘They’re Japanese.’
Apparently Chinese and Japanese families had quarrelled. How to resolve it? Woo-ju smiles and switches to Japanese—flawlessly.
“...?”
Both families stare at each other then at Woo-ju.
‘Chinese and Japanese fought—but a Korean mediates.’
He listens calmly, translating like a diplomat. Just when you admire his calm mediation—
Chinese family shouts: “What did they say? Tell them exactly!”
Japanese family roars: “Tell them what I said, right now!”
Mandarin and Japanese clash in a chaotic crescendo. The Special Unit grins.
“...they’re fighting worse now.”
“They argue because they understand each other.”
“Look at Woo-ju—they’re fueling the flames.”
In under five minutes, Woo-ju looks exhausted, silently pleading, “Rescue me.” Both families clutch him.
‘They came to mediate, but it backfired,’ everyone laughs.
I walk on autopilot as the team titter. Ho-beom shoots me a glance and suppresses a laugh.
But wait—I deliberately omitted all hurtful remarks in translation. Yet because they could communicate, the fight escalated.
Thankfully the airport police arrived, and we handed them off, escaping the chaos.
“....”
Had I stayed quiet, maybe peace—but the army’s lesson rings true: do less, avoid trouble. As I ruefully reflect, the camera director reports to PD Do Jun-gi, who is delighted; we hear him chuckle that we got good broadcast footage.
We resume patrol.
“But the crowd isn’t thinning.”
“Seems like it’s growing.”
I: “I thought departures would calm down by now.”
Soon we realize why.
“Looks like idol groups are departing.”
“Ah, that’s it.”
“An experienced eye knows.”
It’s the familiar scene of idol fans at departure: masked fans, portable ladders, cameras with massive lenses. At first I wonder if TNT or TeenSpirit is arriving—but both are abroad touring now. With so many fandoms converging, maybe a joint overseas concert or music show.
“Heehee...”
My laughter escapes the mask. It’s hilarious patrolling in full kit among idol fans.
“....”
We hide behind cameras when fans glance suspiciously, but they don’t spot us. Who’d guess we’re special unit trainees here?
Passing through gates 3–4, crowded with fans, we enter the quieter west side of departures.
“Uh...?”
Amid sparse travelers, I spot a familiar face: tall, long limbs, distinctive fashion—an idol with her manager. Ho-beom notices too.
“Hey, that person?”
“Just recognized someone.”
“Should I introduce her?”
“May I...?”
With permission as it nears shift swap, I approach and lower my mask.
“Hello.”
She jumps in surprise.
“Oh my!”
Her exclamation makes nearby travelers laugh. Recognizing me, she removes sunglasses to reveal wide eyes.
SNS celeb Maxy smiles softly:
“Oh, you scared me.”
Her warm greeting makes me smile. It’s been a year since we met on ShowSeHan’s C Team. Maxy asks,
“Woo-ju, you became a soldier?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” ƒгeewebnovёl.com
“Because the PD asked.”
“I see...”
Her quirky sigh makes the unit members gape then laugh. Turning to her brother standing awkwardly, I ask,
“And this is...?”
“My assistant,” she says.
“My sister,” he adds firmly, drawing laughs.
We watch Maxy coo “Hello, sweetie. What’s your name?” to the detection dog. I turn to her brother’s bemused look, and he says,
“My sister pays me well.”
Truer words were never spoken. Disappointed by the unresponsive dog, Maxy declares “I like cats.”
I: “Where are you headed?”
Maxy: “To an MC invitation at a K-Pop concert in LA.”
“Oh...”
I suddenly understand the earlier fan gathering. A U.S. K-Pop concert this summer like the one in Saitama we attended.
As she excitedly plans to visit her parents, I smile and bow,
“Our shift change is soon. See you later.”
“Okay. Keep the country safe. Cheer up!”
She gives the unit a gentle smile then strides to the camera.
“Hello, everyone! I’m Maxy—M.a.x.y!”
“...”
“Please remember me~!”
Blowing kisses to the camera, she’s whisked away by her brother’s sigh. I wave quietly.
Ho-beom mutters:
“I thought that was a show bit, but it was real.”
“Yeah.”
“I wanted to say hi but forgot.”
I sympathize—when I first filmed, I was just as flustered.
“Alright, let’s swap shifts.”
As we move to change, Corporal Park taps my shoulder:
“Woo-ju, that looks like an idol group. Do you know them?”
“Who...? Oh!”
At the sight of a befuddled seven-member boy group, I grin:
“Yes, I know them well.”
“Wow...”
Members of IRIS take in the airport. Though not their first airport, it’s their first departure as idols, hearts pounding.
“We’re K-Pop concert performers...!”
Their chests swell with pride, then slump.
“But we have no fans here.”
“Maybe we booked the wrong flight. If over there, we’d see other groups’ fans...”
“Maybe one day we’ll get fans.”
Other idol seniors have fans waiting, home-madams snapping photos. In the emptiness, their spirits droop.
“Oh—IRIS.”
“Wow!”
Someone recognizes us. All seven members smile and turn.
“Hello~”
They freeze mid-step, staring at someone in the eight-man Special Unit, mask slipping to reveal his face.
“Senior?”
“Long time no see.”
“Why are you here?”
“Have a safe trip. See you later~ IRIS, fighting!”
They awkwardly salute Woo-ju. He raises his mask and walks on. They stare in stunned silence.
“...What.”
“Why is our senior here?”
“What’s going on?”
IRIS members exchange bewildered looks.
‘What on earth.’
They came to the airport to depart—and found their senior singer now a Special Unit member.
