Yoon Jae-hyun stepped into the Seoul Central District Prosecutor's Office, his polished shoes clicking against the marble floor as heads turned to look. At over six feet tall with sharp features and eyes that didn't flinch, he didn't look like a man who'd been a prosecutor for just five months. Maybe it was the way he walked—shoulders squared, movements precise—or maybe it was the quiet, unreadable expression on his face. Whatever it was, people noticed. He wasn't there to make friends. He was there because someone high up wanted him in Seoul, and everyone in that building knew that didn't happen without a reason.
He approached a desk where a young prosecutor was flipping through case files and asked, "I've been assigned under Prosecutor Kang So-hee. Where should I go?" The man barely looked up, motioned toward the elevator, and said, "Second floor. Someone there will guide you." Jae-hyun nodded, turned, and walked to the elevator. He pressed the button for the second floor and waited. The metal doors slid halfway closed before a hand stopped them. A woman slipped inside, slightly out of breath. She adjusted the lapel of her blazer and gave him a glance. "You're new, huh? Haven't seen you before."
"Yes," he said, polite but reserved. "I've been assigned under Prosecutor Kang So-hee. I've heard she's... intense. Has anger issues. Is that true?" The woman laughed, head tilted. "Well, I'd be a little crazy too if a hottie like you ended up working under me." Jae-hyun's expression froze. He bowed quickly. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean any disrespect—" "No need," the woman interrupted, her voice smooth and amused. "And don't call me ma'am. I'm Kang So-hee." Jae-hyun blinked. Of course. His new boss had just heard him call her crazy to her face. But she didn't seem offended. She looked him over instead, like she was reading something in his posture. "I heard you're not afraid to go after the powerful. That true?"
"I just don't like people who think they're above the law," he replied calmly.
"And you're not scared of consequences?"
"I've lived through worse."
Kang gave a short chuckle. "Good. I can work with that."
The elevator chimed. Second floor. As they stepped out, she asked, "Your stuff still in your car?" He nodded. "Good. Go get it, set yourself up, and head home. You'll be assigned your first case tomorrow. Don't be late." "Understood," he said, and then, after a brief pause, "I'm looking forward to working with you." "Just don't disappoint me," she replied without turning.
The sky outside was clouded over as Jae-hyun stepped into the cold wind and made his way to his car, a black Genesis G80 with tinted windows and no government tags—registered under his current identity. He popped the trunk and pulled out two duffel bags. They held the essentials: a few changes of clothes, his laptop, a burner phone, and a hardbound notebook filled with messy writing, old case notes, and clippings about a company he'd never stopped watching—Seongjin Group.
His new apartment was in Mapo-gu. Government-issued, clean, minimal, and far too quiet. He dropped the bags inside and stood by the window for a moment, watching the busy streets below. Then his phone buzzed—a private number, unlisted. He answered.
"You're not using a secure line, hyung." The voice was sharp and unmistakable. His younger brother, Min-jae, sounded irritated.
"I just got here," Jae-hyun replied. "Give me a minute to unpack before scolding me."
"I told you not to take the Seoul post. Not yet. Things are moving here, and they're moving fast."
"Exactly why I came. Busan was too quiet."
"You're not an agent. You're a prosecutor."
"Just a prosecutor?" Jae-hyun smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Min-jae didn't laugh. "This isn't like before. Seongjin Group isn't just a gang with money. They're inside the system now. Intel says their chairman has half the country in his pocket—and the other half too afraid to look him in the eye."
"I'm not afraid."
"You should be. You're alone."
Jae-hyun's voice dropped. "Not completely."
Silence.
"You're not thinking of calling them back," Min-jae finally said.
"No."
"You left that life behind. You swore to me."
"I remember what I said. But I also remember who I was back then."
Min-jae's tone softened slightly. "You don't have to be that person again."
"I'm not. But I still know how to fight."
Another long silence passed between them.
"Just don't make me regret helping you disappear," Min-jae said quietly.
"You won't," Jae-hyun replied.
He hung up and stood still for a long moment. The phrase stuck with him. Disappear. He remembered the night—the alley behind the warehouse in Incheon, blood on his knuckles, one man not breathing. The crew had pulled him away before the cops arrived. His name changed. His life reset. Everything after that had been part of a plan—to get here. To take them down from the inside.
The next morning, he was in the office before 8 a.m. Kang So-hee was already there, sipping black coffee, standing in front of a whiteboard plastered with photographs, lines, and notes scribbled in different colors. "You're early," she said without turning.
"You're earlier."
"Here," she said, pointing at a name on the board. "Park Jong-seo. Your first assignment."
Jae-hyun walked closer. The name was familiar. Too familiar. "He's connected to Dongcheon?"
"Allegedly," she said. "Officially, he runs real estate firms. Unofficially? He launders money for every mid-sized gang in the south of Seoul."
"Who protects him?"
"No one we can touch. Probably someone in the upper tiers. Maybe even Seongjin."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Then: "And you're assigning this to me?"
"You said you weren't afraid of powerful people."
He looked up at her. "I'm not. But if I take him down, someone else will take his place."
"Then take them all down."
That night, in his apartment, Jae-hyun sat in front of the file. He flipped through pages of surveillance logs, wiretap transcripts, and blurry photos of Park Jong-seo. One picture caught his eye—Park shaking hands with a man in a gray suit, his face turned away, but the ring was distinct: a thick band with the Seongjin insignia. A symbol of status few outside the inner circle would dare wear.
It wasn't just about Park anymore. It was about who stood behind him.
Jae-hyun leaned back in his chair, phone in one hand, photo in the other.
"I'm coming for you," he whispered..