DAY ONE — 06:00 KST
VILLA JEONGMAE, OUTSKIRTS OF GANGWON PROVINCE
The snow was falling in silence, thick like wool, blanketing the world in a stillness that felt almost sacred. The sun had barely pierced the sky when three sharp cracks echoed across the pine-covered hills.
Gunshots.
The birds didn't move. But the security feed flickered once—then went black.
Inside the villa, the smell of burnt coffee still lingered. A mug, still warm, lay shattered on the floor. The leather chair in the study spun gently, as though someone had risen from it in a hurry—or never had the chance.
President Lee Kyu Min, leader of the Republic of Korea, had disappeared.
---
Back in Seoul, the Blue House stirred long before the public caught wind of the silence. There was no press release. No emergency broadcast. Only a single encrypted message sent to one man's private terminal:
> "Eagle missing. Secure silence. Await further code."
Agent Han Tae Kyung, once praised for his loyalty and precision, read the message with trembling hands. He had known something was wrong the second the schedule changed—when the President requested minimal detail and reduced coverage. It wasn't like him. Lee Kyu Min had always been cautious. Too cautious.
Tae Kyung's instincts flared like alarms. He reached for his badge.
Within hours, he was shut out.
His clearance—revoked. His access—cut. His questions—met with blank stares and vague commands.
Something was happening, and it was bigger than a disappearance.
It was a betrayal.
And in a nation where power moves in whispers and enemies wear uniforms, Tae Kyung knew one thing for certain:
If he didn't find the President in 72 hours,
he wouldn't need to.