Episode 5: The Manager Who Vanished
Morning in Seoul cut sharp through glass windows, casting steel light across CHIPER HQ. Kevin stood by the screens, one hand in pocket, jaw tense. Guen entered, coat half-buttoned, ponytail wet from the shower. They didn't speak at first — just shared a look too weighted for words.
Alex's voice broke the silence. "Got data on Lee Sungchul — senior finance manager at Han Seung Group. Went 'on vacation' three days ago. Except: no flight, no hotel booking. And his phone pinged last in Namyang, then went dead."
> "So not a vacation," Guen muttered, dropping her bag.
> "More like buried under concrete," Minjae drawled from the doorway, flicking his car keys around a finger.
Dohee frowned. "Why him?"
> "Because," Kevin said, stepping closer, "if Yuri was chasing dirty money, Lee would know where it went."
Guen's gaze met Kevin's, heat sparking under the calm. "So we find Lee, we find the money trail."
> "Exactly," Kevin murmured, voice low.
---
The team spread out in HQ's glass-lined room, each at their station: Alex pulling CCTV, Dohee scanning property records, Minjae lounging against the window, eyes sharp despite the lazy grin. Miran set up her chemical test kit on a steel table — hands steady even though her pulse raced.
> "Old warehouse in Namyang," Alex said finally. "Lee signed a shipping document there two days before he vanished."
> "Warehouse again," Guen whispered, remembering Yuri. Her stomach tightened.
> "We check it," Kevin ordered, grabbing his coat.
---
Outside, the team split into two cars: Kevin driving the SUV with Guen and Miran, Minjae behind them in his coupe, Alex and Dohee squeezed in beside him.
Rain smeared the city in silver streaks. In the back seat, Miran's phone buzzed — Grandma's caretaker reminding her to send medicine money. Miran's heart clenched. Before she could type back, Minjae's voice crackled over the comms.
> "Hey, chemical girl. Don't look so worried. You'll wrinkle that pretty face."
Miran flushed scarlet, mumbling, "Shut up."
> "What was that?" Minjae teased, voice silk over static.
> "I said, shut up!" Miran repeated, louder.
In the front, Guen hid a smile. Kevin's fingers tightened on the wheel, but his eyes flicked in the mirror, catching Miran's blush.
> "Focus," he warned, voice low.
---
At the warehouse, rust ate the corrugated walls, and broken glass crunched under boots. Kevin and Guen moved first, flashlights cutting the gloom. Miran followed, chemical kit banging softly against her hip.
They found an office in back — metal desk, rotted papers, smell of oil and mold. Guen rifled drawers; Kevin scanned the floor, boot scuffing dust aside.
> "Got something," Guen murmured.
A cufflink — silver, engraved: LSC.
> "Lee Sungchul," Kevin confirmed, turning it over.
> "So he was here," Guen breathed.
> "Or still is," Kevin muttered, scanning shadows.
---
Behind them, Miran crouched by a dark stain on cracked cement. She pulled test strips from her kit, dipped carefully. The paper flushed blue, then dark rust-red.
> "Blood," she whispered, voice tight.
Kevin knelt beside her. "Fresh?"
> "At most forty-eight hours," Miran answered, swallowing.
> "Then it's his," Guen murmured, eyes darkening.
They stood, the warehouse suddenly colder.
---
At that moment, Alex's voice hissed in Kevin's earpiece. "Boss — you've got company. Two black sedans just pulled up outside."
> "Minjae?" Kevin barked.
> "On it," came Minjae's calm reply, engine already roaring.
---
Outside, Minjae's coupe shot forward, tires shrieking. The first sedan swerved to block; Minjae's grin sharpened.
> "Hold tight, princesses," he muttered, and spun the wheel.
The coupe fishtailed, clipped the sedan's bumper, and roared past. Inside, Dohee swore softly, Alex turned pale, and Minjae only laughed.
> "Chasing me means they're not chasing you," he told Kevin over comms.
---
Inside the warehouse, Kevin grabbed Guen's arm. "We move — now."
> "Don't touch me," she snapped.
> "Then keep up," he shot back.
They ran. Miran stumbled; Kevin caught her wrist, tugged her behind stacked crates. Footsteps echoed — heavy, quick.
---
Behind the crates, Guen whispered, "Plan?"
> "Fight," Kevin murmured, eyes dark as stone.
Guen swallowed, pulse drumming wild. She nodded. As footsteps neared, Kevin met her gaze — a breath of heat, raw and wordless — then swung out.
---
Fists cracked bone. Guen ducked under a wild swing, heel slamming into the man's knee. He dropped; she punched, breath ragged. Kevin elbowed another into the wall, grabbed his collar, slammed him down.
Miran, heart hammering, yanked a chemical spray from her kit and dashed it into an attacker's face. He screamed, clawing at burning eyes.
> "Good girl," Kevin barked, eyes flicking to her — pride buried under urgency.
---
They fled through the side door into rain. Minjae's coupe skidded up, passenger door flung open.
> "Get in, dolls!" Minjae shouted.
Kevin shoved Miran in first; Guen scrambled in next, breath tearing her lungs. Kevin jumped behind them, hand braced on Guen's shoulder to steady her.
> "I'm driving," Kevin ordered.
Minjae scowled, but slid over, grin flashing. "Fine. Don't scratch my paint."
---
They sped away, city lights strobing past. Guen's heart pounded; Kevin's hand still rested, hot and heavy, on her shoulder.
> "You okay?" he muttered.
> "Since when do you care?" she shot back, voice trembling.
> "Since always," he rasped, too quiet.
Their eyes locked. For a breath, everything else blurred: rain, city, blood on her sleeve. Just heat, raw and real, sparking in silence.
---
Back at HQ, Alex replayed street cams. "Boss — before Lee vanished, he met someone. Face hidden, but I pulled a frame from reflection."
The image: half-blurred, but the build clear. A man in a dark tailored coat.
> "Recognize him?" Alex asked.
Kevin's jaw tightened. "That's Kang Jaewon — special advisor at Han Seung. Ex-military. Ruthless."
> "So Lee was meeting him?" Guen whispered.
> "And then Lee vanished," Kevin finished, voice dark.
---
In the corner, Minjae cornered Miran by the lockers, dripping rain onto the tiles. His grin softened, eyes narrowing.
> "Why'd you jump in front of that guy?" he asked, voice low.
> "I… had to," Miran whispered, looking away.
> "Stupid," he murmured, stepping closer. "Brave. But stupid."
She flushed, breath catching. "Stop teasing—"
> "Not teasing," he murmured, hand brushing wet hair from her cheek.
She froze, heart slamming. His thumb traced her jaw, slow, heat pooling low in her stomach.
> "Minjae…" she whispered.
> "Shh," he breathed, and kissed her — quick, fierce, tasting rain and fear and something dangerously real.
Miran broke away, eyes wide, breath ragged.
> "Don't do that," she whispered.
> "Then don't look so kissable," he shot back, grin crooked, though his voice trembled.
---
The case had turned darker, and the city felt sharper around them. But under rain-soaked skin, hearts beat wild — for truth, for justice, and for each other.
---