The streets of Seoul were washed clean after last night's downpour, but the tension clinging to Han Yuna's shoulders remained untouched.
She parked her white hatchback in the department's underground lot and took a long breath before stepping out. Her black blazer was slightly wrinkled, her ID card swinging from her neck like a badge of guilt.
As she pushed open the glass doors of the Homicide & Organized Crime Unit, silence swept the room like a whisper.
Heads turned.
Whispers weren't loud, but they were sharp.
"She's the one who went in without orders.""First day and she already disobeyed the Commander."
Yuna awkwardly tugged at her blazer sleeve and gave a small, tight smile. "Morning," she muttered, walking stiffly toward her desk.
A man near the coffee machine coughed but didn't respond. Someone else just looked away.
Great, she thought. I've officially become "that rookie."
Reaching her desk, she froze.
A thick brown folder was slapped in the center, and next to it—stuck to the wall—was a yellow sticky note. The handwriting was neat. Cold. Sharp like a scalpel.
"You better go through the files and look after the victim. Or else out of the department."– Joon-seok
Yuna's nose scrunched in disbelief. "Seriously? He's threatening me?" she whispered to herself, pulling the sticky note off the wall.
Just then, a soft chuckle came from the desk beside her.
"You're Han Yuna, right?" a voice said.
Yuna turned. A girl stood there, maybe a couple of years older, with short auburn hair tucked behind her ears, dressed sharply in a dark blue suit.
"I'm Choi Hae-won," she said, extending a hand. "I'll be helping you with the investigation. Joon-seok Sir assigned me to assist."
Hae-won smiled like she'd heard that question too many times. "He might seem like a stoic cyborg who drinks gunpowder for breakfast, but…he is actually kind....he's saved more lives than anyone in this building. That includes mine."
Yuna looked at her, then back at the file, her lips tightening.
"What? kind? How does that stone-faced ice sculpture be kind?" she thought, biting her tongue.
Hae-won seemed to read her expression and laughed. "You'll see."
Yuna slumped in her chair and opened the file.
Inside were photos from last night's rescue—mostly of the child, Mina, who was now recovering at a private hospital. Details of her parents' involvement with Black Fang were scribbled in red pen.
Beneath the photos was another sheet.
A name. A lead. A time.
"Looks like we're visiting someone today," Hae-won said, reading over her shoulder. "You ready for round two, miss rookie?"
Yuna took one last look at the sticky note from Joon-seok, crumpled it in her fist, and stood.
"Let's do this."
The sun was out, but it didn't warm her.
Yuna sat in the front seat of the sleek grey police SUV, her eyes locked on the window as the city blurred past in streaks of concrete and glass. Her head rested against her hand, jaw tense, lips tight. The mix of frustration, guilt, and irritation simmered quietly under her skin.
Beside her, Haewon hummed to a pop song playing softly on the radio, occasionally stealing glances at her sulking partner.
"You're going to wrinkle your face like that," she teased.
Yuna didn't respond—just blinked slowly, eyes still fixed on the passing scenery.
In the backseat, the mood wasn't any lighter.
Commander Kang Joon-seok sat like a statue—legs straight, arms folded, expression unreadable. He wore the same black tactical jacket from the night before, though it had been cleaned and pressed to perfection. His sharp eyes stared straight ahead, as if every blink was a distraction from his mission.
Next to him sat Detective Seo Min-jae, his long-time field partner—casual, lean, and the total opposite of Joon-seok in attitude.
Min-jae popped a chewing gum and looked around. "Wow, so this is what it's like being stuffed between two thunderstorms," he muttered, clearly referring to the air between the front and back seats.
No one responded.
"Cool. Love the silence," he added, rolling his eyes.
The car eventually rolled to a slow halt near the Han River warehouse—the same crumbling building where chaos had erupted just last night.
Police tape still fluttered in the breeze, half-torn. Broken glass glimmered on the ground like forgotten stars. The building stood like a wounded beast—empty, but not silent.
Yuna stepped out slowly, her boots crunching against gravel. She stared at the place where the child had been tied. Where lives almost ended. Where her career had nearly crashed before it even began.
Haewon joined her, clutching the file under her arm. "Let's find something useful this time."
Behind them, Joon-seok and Min-jae moved like shadows—no small talk, no greetings. Just action.
They fanned out inside the warehouse, flashlights sweeping over walls scorched from makeshift bombs, crates that once held contraband, and stains no one dared to name.
Near one corner, Yuna spotted something.
A scorched symbol—crudely painted in black, half-burned but still visible. A fang-like mark.
Haewon knelt beside it. "Black Fang's tag. They were marking territory."
Min-jae whistled. "They usually don't leave these behind. This was personal."
Joon-seok didn't comment. He stood a few feet away, staring at the floor with narrowed eyes.
Then he crouched.
Yuna watched as he picked up a small silver object wedged between cracked tiles.
A bullet casing.
Custom made.
Laser etched with three vertical dots.
Min-jae's face darkened. "That's theirs, alright."
Haewon looked over. "Three dots means… second-tier squad."
Yuna frowned. "Second-tier?"
Haewon nodded. "Black Fang's hierarchy. Three-dot bullets mean enforcers, not grunts. That means last night wasn't just some petty hostage stunt."
"It was a message," Joon-seok finally spoke. His voice was low. Unfeeling. But each word landed like a hammer.
Yuna looked at him.
"So why the hostages?"
He glanced at her—his eyes cold steel.
"Because the girl's father was one of their defectors. They were sending a warning."
Yuna's eyes widened. "T-they were going to kill her...?"
"YEAH....and you nearly made it easier for them," Joon-seok added sharply, standing up, pointing at Yuna. "Had your timing been off by even five seconds, they would've detonated the bomb rigged to the beam. You didn't see it."
Her jaw clenched. "But I saved her."
"Yes," he said. "This time."
And he walked away.
Min-jae sighed. "Yuna… don't take it personally. That's just Joon."
"He talks like emotions are illegal," she muttered.
Haewon chuckled. "They probably are in his world."
Yuna didn't laugh.
She looked down at the floor, then back at the burned fang mark.
Something inside her twisted.
This wasn't over.
[end of chapter 2]