The living room was quiet, almost oppressively so. Officer Jung sat slumped in his favorite leather chair, the faint hum of a ceiling fan the only sound. Shadows from the dim lamp stretched across the polished wooden floor, tracing the edges of the room like ghostly fingers.
His sister stood nearby, arms crossed, eyes sharp. The weight of her stare pressed down on him, slicing through his silence.
"How long are you going to hide it?" she asked, voice steady, but heavy with frustration.
Jung didn't answer. He stared at the floor, jaw tight, hands clasped loosely between his knees.
"You have to tell her," she continued, voice softening just enough to pierce the wall he'd built. "Who her mother really is."
He flinched at the words, the memories flickering behind his eyes. She didn't let up.
"You have to tell her how she left you... just because she was a wealthy heir."
Jung's jaw clenched further. His hands shook slightly, though he masked it with his posture.
"I don't want my daughter to go through that," he said quietly. His voice was low, brittle, but controlled.
Silence filled the space, heavy and almost suffocating.
"How do I tell her..." he began again, voice tighter now, "...that the person she likes the most..." A pause. His gaze dropped to the floor, voice lowering to a whisper. "...is the one she's been waiting for all along?"
The sister's eyes widened, stunned. She remained silent, waiting.
Jung's fingers flexed, gripping the armrest, knuckles white. "That person..." His voice was barely audible. "...is Eun-chae."
The words hung in the air like a stone dropped into still water. Silence claimed the room. The truth landed with weight, undeniable and irrevocable.
Bright lights flashed. Cameras clicked in rapid succession, reporters murmuring to each other like a restless tide. The government press hall was alive with anticipation, every inch of it sterile, polished, and precisely orchestrated.
A massive backdrop loomed behind the podium:
"PUBLIC HEALTH ANNOUNCEMENT – SYNAPSE BIOSYSTEMS"
At the center, CEO Seo Jin stood like a statue—composed, immaculate, utterly controlled. His tailored suit caught the lights, reflecting faint gleams across his shoulders. He adjusted the microphone and scanned the room, measuring every eye, every camera lens pointed at him.
"Good afternoon," he said, voice smooth, deliberate.
Hands shot up instantly.
"Mr. Seo, your close associate, Yoo Byung-chul, was found dead. What would you like to say?" a reporter asked, urgency threading through the question.
Seo Jin's gaze flickered briefly downward. "His death... was unexpected. He was more than a colleague. He was a friend."
Flashes erupted like fireworks. Cameras clicked furiously.
"I will attend his condolences," he continued, voice unwavering, "but before that, I have an important announcement."
The hall fell silent. Every face turned, every breath held.
"After twenty-five years of research..." His eyes swept the room, piercing. "...we have discovered a permanent cure for cancer."
A roar of excitement, disbelief, and hope collided in the space. Reporters whispered, shouted, scribbled, recorded.
"A permanent cure?!" one demanded. "Are you confirming this?" another shouted.
Seo Jin raised a hand. Silence snapped back into place.
"Through advanced stem cell research, we can give new life to cancer patients."
Questions rose again, but his expression stiffened. "The remaining details are confidential. I hope you understand."
The murmurs swelled, but no one dared push further. He gave a slight bow and stepped away, poised, untouchable.
The doors of his office closed behind him with a final, crisp click. The sterile light inside felt colder. A trusted employee fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot.
"Sir... the journalist—she has been dealt with," the employee said cautiously.
"Good," Seo Jin replied, voice calm, almost casual.
The employee hesitated, fear shadowing every word. "But... there's a chance she revealed something—"
Before he could finish, Seo Jin moved with inhuman speed. He grabbed him, slammed him across the polished desk with brutal precision. A strike, calculated and merciless. Silence followed. The body lay motionless.
Seo Jin straightened his sleeve, adjusted it with meticulous care, then pressed the intercom. A peon entered, eyes wide with terror.
"Clean this," he commanded. His tone left no room for discussion. "And listen carefully. Call the Black Squad. All of them."
The peon nodded, trembling.
Far away, underground, an army waited. Rows of men—armed, disciplined, nearly 150 of them—stood in perfect formation. Stacks of cash reflected harsh industrial lights. Among them, Ji-hoon stood apart, expression dark, cold, distant.
A leader stepped forward, voice echoing through the cavernous space. "Target—Cyber Crime Division. Destroy all evidence. No mistakes."
Heads nodded in unison. Eyes cold, unwavering.
Ji-hoon glanced down at the cash, fingers brushing over it lightly, then raised his gaze. Something in his expression had changed—a darkness, a resolve that didn't exist before.
The air was electric. The hunt had begun.