Episode 4: The Vanishing
The black van vanished into rain-thick night, taillights bleeding red along the cracked road. Kevin slammed the factory door open, boots splashing into shallow puddles, breath steaming in the cold.
> "Alex!" he barked into his earpiece. "Track that van — fast."
Alex's voice crackled through static. "Traffic cams are patchy in that district. Give me a minute."
Behind Kevin, Guen caught up, chest heaving. "She was right there—"
> "We move," Kevin cut in, voice sharp. His jaw was set so tight the muscle twitched under skin. "Come on."
They raced back to the car, tires screeching as Kevin swung it around. Guen gripped the door, hair plastered wet against her cheek. Raindrops blurred the windshield, city lights smearing like bruises.
---
Back at CHIPER HQ, Alex's fingers danced over keys, brows furrowed. "Got partial plates from a traffic cam three streets over. Heading east toward the old container yard."
Dohee, standing behind him with arms crossed, frowned. "Why there?"
> "Abandoned buildings, lots of blind spots," Alex murmured. "Perfect place to hold someone."
> "Or dump a body," Dohee said quietly.
Alex glanced up, swallowed. "I'll keep eyes on cameras nearby."
---
Kevin slammed the brakes near rusted chain-link fencing, engine growling low. Guen jumped out, soaked hair whipping across her face. They ducked under the fence, sneakers splashing through oily puddles.
> "Stay close," Kevin muttered.
> "Don't order me around," Guen snapped back, breath quick but steady.
> "Then keep up," he threw over his shoulder.
They moved deeper among stacked containers, shadows stretching tall under broken floodlights. Guen's flashlight beam caught fresh tire tracks, mud still wet.
> "Here," she whispered.
Kevin crouched, fingertips brushing the prints. "They're recent. Less than twenty minutes old."
Guen nodded, eyes scanning dark corners. Her pulse kicked hard — not just from the hunt, but from Kevin's closeness, the rough scrape of his breath, the scent of rain on his jacket.
> "Kevin," she murmured, voice low. "She was terrified. What if they—"
> "We find her first," he cut in, eyes hard. "Or we don't go home."
---
Elsewhere, Minjae and Miran arrived in Minjae's car — a sleek black coupe, engine still rumbling low. Minjae climbed out, flicked rain from his hair, and shot Miran a look.
> "Stay behind me," he ordered, voice clipped.
> "I know," Miran whispered, though her voice trembled.
She followed him toward the containers, chemical kit clutched tight. Minjae scanned shadows, hand brushing the concealed knife at his belt.
They stopped near the tracks Guen had found. Miran knelt, rain soaking her jeans. Her gloved fingers brushed something pale caught on a bolt.
> "Cloth," she whispered. "Maybe from her dress."
> "Give it here," Minjae said.
Their hands touched — her cold, trembling; his warm, rough. Miran jerked back, blush flaring. Minjae's grin turned lazy, sharp-edged.
> "Scared?" he teased, voice dropping lower.
> "No," she lied, but her lashes fluttered.
> "Liar," he whispered, leaning closer. For a second, the air felt hot despite the rain. Then footsteps echoed — Kevin and Guen approaching.
---
Kevin stopped beside them, eyes narrowing. "Report."
Miran swallowed. "Cloth scrap. Probably from the victim."
> "Good," Kevin said. "Guen, check the container doors."
She moved ahead, boots slipping on wet steel. Kevin followed, hand brushing the small of her back — half guide, half warning.
> "Don't touch me," she hissed over her shoulder.
> "Then walk straight," he shot back.
They reached a door rusted at the edges. Kevin shoved; it groaned open, smell of mold and old metal spilling out. Inside, shadows pooled thick around rotting crates.
> "Empty," Guen whispered, shoulders sagging.
> "Keep looking," Kevin ordered.
---
Meanwhile, back at HQ, Alex's screen blinked: a new hit. Dohee leaned closer, heart hammering.
> "What is it?" she asked.
> "CCTV caught the van stopping at a side alley, then leaving again — lighter," Alex breathed. "They dropped something. Or someone."
> "Where?" Dohee demanded.
> "Near the old foundry, three blocks from you."
She grabbed her coat. "Tell them. Now."
---
At the foundry, the team converged. Rusted machines loomed like fossil bones; floor littered with chains and broken glass.
Kevin's flashlight cut across the shadows — and stopped.
> "There," Guen gasped.
The woman lay crumpled beside a burned-out barrel. Hair matted, dress torn, skin pale under dirt and bruises. Guen rushed forward, fingers on her neck.
> "Pulse," she whispered, relief trembling in her voice. "Weak, but there."
> "Move," Kevin said, voice harsh from adrenaline. He knelt, lifting the woman carefully. Guen steadied her head, hands slick with rain and sweat.
> "She's freezing," Guen murmured, voice raw.
> "Then help me," Kevin snapped.
They carried her out as Minjae cleared the path, knife flashing in hand. Miran hovered close, face pale but determined, chemical kit ready in case poison had been used.
---
Back at HQ, Guen worked fast — IV line, warming blankets, whispered reassurances. Kevin stood over them, rain dripping from his hair, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
> "She'll live," Guen finally whispered.
Kevin exhaled, a shudder he tried to hide. Guen caught it — and for a heartbeat, her anger softened. But before she could speak, he turned away.
---
Alex tapped the screen, tension tight in every word. "The woman's name really is Song Yuri. Missing journalist. She was investigating Han Seung Group — and a political slush fund tied to illegal weapons trade."
> "Dangerous," Dohee murmured. "That explains why they wanted her silent."
Kevin's eyes darkened. "And now they know we're in it."
> "What now?" Minjae asked, twirling his knife, grin fading.
> "Now," Kevin said, voice cold as steel, "we follow the money. And anyone who stands in the way…"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
---
Late that night, the rain eased. Miran wiped blood from her gloves, breath catching. Minjae leaned against the wall, watching her.
> "You did good," he muttered.
> "I just… helped," she whispered.
> "Yeah," he said, voice lower. "But you were scared. And you stayed."
Miran met his gaze, heart tripping over itself. "Why do you always tease me?"
> "Because," Minjae drawled, stepping closer, grin sharp, "you make the cutest face when you're angry."
> "Stop it," she breathed, backing into the wall.
> "Make me," he murmured.
Their faces nearly touched, air electric — before Miran shoved past him, cheeks burning.
> "Stubborn," Minjae whispered, smile crooked. "I like that."
---
At the same time, Guen cleaned blood from the victim's skin. Kevin stood nearby, silent.
> "What?" Guen asked, voice tired.
> "You still rush in headfirst," Kevin murmured.
> "And you still act like it doesn't scare you," she shot back.
> "It does," he rasped, softer than rain.
Their eyes locked, breath slowing. But before either could speak, Alex's voice cut through:
> "Boss — found something. A name."
> "Whose?" Kevin demanded.
> "Lee Sungchul. Senior manager at Han Seung. And guess what? He disappeared two days ago."
Guen's gaze sharpened. "Another missing piece."
> "Or the next victim," Kevin murmured, eyes shadowed.
---