I didn't sleep that night.
Not because a briefing had been delayed or because the threat from Red Viper had begun to bite. Nor was it because the boss's orders were growing stranger and more laden with hidden meaning. I simply couldn't stop thinking about one name—Han Seo-yeon—as though it had become a mantra repeating in my head.
I sat on the balcony of my apartment, watching Seoul slowly let go of its nighttime lights. The wall clock read 4:18 a.m. A glass of cold coffee sat on the table beside me. I didn't even remember ordering it.
Usually, whenever something troubled my thoughts, I went looking for the answer immediately. Digging. Investigating. Who they were, what they wanted, who was behind them, what they were hiding. That was how I survived—by solving mysteries before they had the chance to become major problems.
This time was different.
Because the more I dug into Seo-yeon, the less I found. She was too clean. Too normal. No criminal record. No suspicious connections. No strange transactions. Just a doctor who worked too hard and a woman whose relationship with her father was strained.
I rubbed my face with my palm, frustrated with myself. “Why do I care?”
The question sounded stupid even as I said it. I took my phone from my pocket and opened our conversation. Her last message was still there—something simple about not forgetting to eat.
I read it once. Then again. My fingers began typing an equally simple reply. Before my brain could stop me, the message had already been sent. I stared at the screen.
The status changed to read almost immediately. But there was no reply. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Still nothing. I set the phone down as if it wasn't my problem, but five minutes later, I was picking it up again.
“Fine,” I whispered to myself, trying to laugh at her. “She doesn't care. Good.”
But this wasn't about whether she cared. It was about me starting to change into something I no longer recognized.
At 8:30 that morning, I was at the Black Hawk office. Do-hyun was already waiting, his expression telling me the new information wasn't good.
“The person who took the doctor's picture hasn't been found,” he said as soon as I walked in.
I set the file down harder than usual. “Red Viper?”
“Most likely.”
I looked at him in the way that usually made people in the organization stop breathing. “Most likely isn't an answer. Find certainty.”
He nodded quickly.
I sat down and stared at the map of Seoul spread across the table. Several red dots marked the locations along our distribution routes that they had already tried to breach. “How many areas?”
“Three.”
“How dare they get this bold?” The question came out as though I were digging down into something. Do-hyun opened another document.
“There may be information coming from inside. From our own organization.”
The room darkened beneath those words. Betrayal from outside could be predicted, planned for, handled. But betrayal from within was cancer—poisoning everything from the roots.
“Who do you suspect?”
“No clear pattern yet.”
I stood and walked to the map board. “Don't suspect everyone at once. If we treat everyone as an enemy, we'll never find out who's actually betraying us.” I pointed to the three locations. “Start with the people who have direct access.”
Do-hyun took notes. “Don't let them know we're investigating.”
I studied the map for a while longer, and something began to feel wrong in my head. Red Viper couldn't have learned our internal routes by coincidence alone. Someone had given them the information. But who—and more importantly, why?
I crossed out one of the points with my pen. “This is too obvious.”
“A trap?”
“They want us to think they're attacking our distribution routes. But their real target...” I stopped, because my thoughts immediately jumped to Seo-yeon's photo in the file. “Maybe it isn't our routes at all.”
Do-hyun didn't ask. He'd worked with me long enough to understand that I was piecing together a puzzle whose shape wasn't clear yet.
That afternoon, I returned to the hospital.
Not as a patient. Just as a man who had suddenly wanted to see someone's face and couldn't come up with a solid reason for it. I stood in the lobby, staring at the elevators. I could have called. But for some reason, I wanted to see how she'd react when I suddenly showed up.
The nurse at the reception desk recognized me from my last visit. “Are you looking for Doctor Han?”
I nodded. “She's treating a patient? For about an hour?”
I went up to her floor and waited in a chair by the window. A small child ran past laughing, with his mother chasing after him and apologizing. It was a simple sight I'd never seen before—happiness that didn't need a reason or a strategy.
The consultation room door opened. Seo-yeon came out with a file in her hand, her eyes scanning something until she saw me. She stopped.
“You?”
I stood. “Yes.”
“What are you doing here?” Her question was filled with curiosity, not suspicion.
“I wanted to see you.”
She stared at me for a few seconds, then smiled. “Straight to the point. No polite opening?”
“I'm not good at beating around the bush.”
“I know that,” she said, closing the file. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Not really.”
“You're lying.”
I shrugged. “I'm used to lying.”
She let out a small laugh. “Have you eaten?”
I shook my head.
She looked at me with an expression that made me feel like a patient who hadn't followed his doctor's prescription. “What's wrong with you? Come on, you're coming with me.”
I followed her without asking anything else. I didn't understand why I always obeyed whenever I was with her.
The restaurant she chose was simple and uncrowded—she said the food was good and not too expensive. We sat in a corner, and she immediately began eating with impressive confidence.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked as she picked up her chopsticks.
“I'm not looking.”
“You definitely are.”
“I'm thinking.”
She frowned. “Is there a difference?”
I shrugged, and she laughed. “Sometimes I wonder what's going on in that head of yours.”
“You wouldn't like it.”
“Why not?”
“It's a mess.”
She kept laughing. “I thought you were the type of person who always had an answer for everything.”
“I do.”
“For everything?”
I looked at her. “No.”
She stopped eating. The moment felt different—deeper. “What don't you have an answer for?”
“Questions about myself.”
She didn't laugh this time. “Why?”
I looked away. “Because there are too many things that can't be changed.”
Seo-yeon fell silent, then asked in a softer voice, “Do you regret anything?”
There were so many things I wanted to say—about Russia, about the people I couldn't save, about the choices that had made me into this person. But all I said was,
“Yes.”
“What?” she asked.
I gave her a faint smile. “It's not time for me to tell you yet.”
She didn't press me. She simply nodded and went back to eating. It was something simple, yet to me, the gesture felt extraordinary. In my world, people always wanted something—information, loyalty, power. No one ever said: I'll wait until you're ready.
I lowered my head, feeling something warm in my chest.
After we ate, we walked toward the Han River. Night began to fall, bringing a chill that made Seo-yeon shiver slightly. She stood by the railing, staring at the water as if she were talking to herself.
“I like places like this,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because everything feels peaceful.”
I stood beside her. “Even though the current beneath us is incredibly strong.”
She turned to me. “You always ruin simple things by thinking like that.”
I let out a small laugh. She turned her gaze back to the river.
“My father is like that too. Always seeing everything as a game, as if there's something hidden behind every action.”
I didn't ask right away. I just listened.
“I used to hate him for that. But now...” She let out a long sigh. “Now I'm still angry.”
I nodded. “Being angry doesn't always mean you've stopped loving someone.”
She turned quickly and stared at me as if I'd just said something important. “Are you speaking from experience?”
I felt my face grow slightly warm. “Maybe.”
She smiled. “You're not as cold as I thought.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
She laughed, and we kept walking. I don't remember how long we stayed there, but for a few hours, I didn't think about Black Hawk, the war with Red Viper, or who might be talking to the enemy. I was just Kang Tae-jun—a man walking beside a woman along the river, and that felt like enough.
But when we reached her apartment, everything changed.
I saw a black car parked across the street. Its engine was still running. Its lights were off. I stopped walking.
“Why?” Seo-yeon asked.
“Go inside.”
“What is it?”
“Get into the apartment.” My tone left no room for questions. She followed my instructions without arguing. I watched the car—it didn't move, but the way it was parked was too perfect, too strategic.
I walked a few steps toward the street. The car immediately turned on its lights and sped away. I followed it with my eyes until it disappeared around the corner.
Seo-yeon stood behind me. “Who were they?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you sure?”
I looked at her, my eyes serious in a way she'd never seen before. “No.”
“You're scary when you're like this.”
“I know.”
I handed her my card. “If anything strange happens, call me.”
“Any time?”
“Any time.”
She put the card away carefully, as if it were more than just a business card. I left after making sure she got safely into her apartment. But I didn't go home. I waited several blocks away, waiting for the car to appear again. When it did—and it did—I followed it.
Not as a lover. Not as a curious man. But as Black Hawk's right-hand man.
The car stopped at an old warehouse. A man got out. I recognized his face slowly, as if my brain didn't want to process the information.
Lee Min-seok.
The same man who had spoken to me that morning.
He went inside the warehouse, and I froze behind the wheel. If Min-seok was involved, it meant this problem was far bigger and more complicated than I'd imagined. I called Do-hyun.
“Follow Min-seok.”
“Why?”
“Don't ask.”
I ended the call. But before I could start the car, my phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number.
*“You're getting too close to something you shouldn't touch.”*
My hand clenched. Before I could think about who had sent it, a second message came in.
*“Stay away from Han Seo-yeon.”*
I stared at the screen in the darkness. Now I was certain—Seo-yeon wasn't just a doctor I'd happened to meet. There was something about her that made people move, made the organization worry, made my own boss issue strange orders.
And someone was trying to make sure I didn't dig any deeper.
Elsewhere in the city, on the third floor of an old building I didn't know existed, someone was holding two photographs.
A photo of Tae-jun.
A photo of Seo-yeon.
A photo of the two of them together.
The man smiled faintly.
“So it's true,” he whispered to himself.
Another man behind him—an assistant, a bodyguard, or perhaps something more—bowed his head and waited for instructions. “Should we stop him?”
“Not yet,” the first man said. “Let them move.”
“Why?”
The man stared at Tae-jun's photo for a long moment. “Because Tae-jun has always done what he was told. He's never made a decision of his own.” He slowly set the photo on the table. “For the first time, I want to see what he'll choose.”
“Choose?”
The man looked at Seo-yeon's photo, his expression full of sorrow. “Between loyalty and love.”
He walked toward the door. Before closing it, he stopped and said in a very serious voice, “And make sure no one touches my daughter.”
The assistant immediately bowed deeply. “Yes, sir.”
The door closed.
The secret was locked away in the darkness once more.
On the other side of the city, I didn't know that the man who had ordered Seo-yeon placed under surveillance was the same person who had been my boss for years. I also didn't know that the father of the doctor I was beginning to love was the most powerful man in the world I lived in.
And Seo-yeon still didn't know that her father—the man she'd avoided all this time, the man she believed treated people like pieces on a chessboard—was the one trying to protect her from my underworld.
Three lives intertwined. Three secrets waiting to explode.