Baekwol Security.Neither a subsidiary of the Hansung Group nor a known partner—just a nameless subcontracted security firm.But Jo Dalsik remembers.Three years from now, this obscure company will fall into someone's hands and shake the very core of Hansung.
That hand? It'll be his.
"You're to report by 9 a.m. this Thursday."
That building—its floor plan, blind spots in the CCTV, hallway directions, emergency evacuation routes—Jo Dalsik remembered all of it.Three years ago, or rather, three years from now, this is where the Hansung connection begins to unravel.
He wasn't here just to join the company.He came back to break it down, rearrange it, and swallow it whole.
The woman's voice on the phone was robotic. But that didn't matter.
This company handles all the dirty work: security, bodyguard detail, surveillance, even VIP escort. Only those unafraid of getting blood on their hands stick around.
"Register your fingerprints as soon as you arrive. Uniforms will be issued later in the afternoon..."
Jo Dalsik didn't listen. He already knew. And in three years, this company will be at the heart of that incident.
His first day.Wearing an old uniform, he sat in a cramped guardroom.The moment his body sank into the chair, a wave of déjà vu hit him.No—it wasn't unfamiliar. It was too familiar, and that made it worse.Reliving a moment already lived... it made him nauseous.
A faint vibration climbed up his lower back.He remembered this feeling.This room...It would soon become the eye of a storm.Not his brain, but his body reacted first.
In front of him: nine old CCTV screens, a dusty landline, and an unsecured entrance door.
"You starting today?"
A middle-aged man in a worn-out jumper spoke to him.
"Yes," Dalsik replied curtly.
He remembered this man.One of Baekwol's first generation.In three years, he'll sell internal data to Hansung and vanish.
"What's your name?""Jo Dalsik.""…Weird name.""So I've been told."
The man gave a crooked grin.
"If you want to survive, keep your head down. Don't stand out."
But that was wrong.In this game, only the ones who do stand out survive.
This man, too, was just another shade of gray—neither ally nor enemy.He'd sell out anyone, bolt at the first sign of trouble.Jo Dalsik remembered him well.
Instead of replying, Dalsik stared at the monitors.
Nothing seemed to be happening.But he could already tell who was moving, when, and why.Two blind spots near the entrance.The CCTV server had no backup.One female staff member came in three times a week—once seated, she never stood up.Routine. And once that breaks, it gets dangerous.
He wasn't watching people.He was reading patterns.
The intercom buzzed.
"There's a drunk guy loitering at the entrance."
Without a word, Dalsik stood up.
Beyond the glass lobby window, a staggering man flailed.
"Call security!"
Someone shouted.But Dalsik walked slowly.
At the door, the drunk spat insults.
"What the hell are you lookin' at, punk?"
Dalsik stared back—silent.Three seconds.
The drunk looked away first.
Dalsik turned.No one got hurt.No sound was made.Only silence—the kind that dominates—remained.
Lunch break.He sat alone in the cafeteria, softening instant noodles.The smell of old, used oil seeped into the steam.It wasn't the hygiene—it was the atmosphere.This place was rotting from its system upward.
Other employees gathered in groups, smoked, shouted.
"Hey, you."
A guy slammed his cup down at the next table.
"You ever done guard work before?"
Dalsik didn't look up.
"Bet you didn't even serve in the military properly."
His chopsticks paused.He lifted his head.
Just one look.That was all.
The guy flinched, then sneered.
"What's with that stare? You a psycho?"
Dalsik bowed his head again and continued eating.
Only two kinds of people smile in this room:Those who are clueless,Or those who know they can win.
"See that guy's face? Doesn't say a word.""Bet he quits in a day or two."
Dalsik chuckled quietly.A day or two?
He knew.This company would soon split in two—lower ranks gutted, upper ranks preserved.
In two months, the leader of Security Team 3 would come to him quietly.
"Hey... what do you say we start our own little crew?"
That's when it really begins.He even remembered the guy's voice, face, and cigarette brand.
No one knew the future he'd seen.This company wouldn't last.The top was rotten.The bottom was starving.
It might look like rock bottom now,But he knew everything—The diseased corners, the broken chains, the wobbly hierarchy.
Then he noticed someone sitting in a shadowy corner.A man he couldn't remember.
And that was strange.Because Jo Dalsik remembered everyone.But that face...That one, he'd never seen before.