Episode 9 – Crimson Suite
Rain slicked Seoul's glass towers, city lights bleeding across wet asphalt. In Han River Holdings' boardroom, Kevin Kim leaned over financial projections, dark eyes narrowed. Across the room, Alex Kim twirled a pencil, one eye on market data, the other on his encrypted laptop.
Kevin's phone buzzed: "Unidentified corpse found at Royal Emerald Hotel. Possible political connection."
He exhaled slowly. "Time to move."
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At the National Forensic Service, Guen Park peeled off surgical gloves, stepping back from an autopsy table. Beneath harsh lights, a young man's body lay opened. She dictated findings into her recorder — precise, clinical — but her mind drifted: another life cut short, another truth buried.
A notification flashed: Meeting: CHIPER HQ, 7 p.m.
She wiped her brow, retied her short hair, and turned to the assistant. "Finish closing. I'll be back."
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In court, Park Dohee stood poised in a navy suit, cross-examining a witness. Her words cut like silk over steel. Outside the courthouse, she slipped on sunglasses, phone vibrating: New case. HQ at 7.
She murmured, "Understood," stepping into the rain.
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At Club Viper, Jeon Minjae landed a spinning kick on a punching bag, sweat rolling down tattooed arms. Gangsters watched, half in awe, half in fear. His cousin's message buzzed: 7 p.m., new case.
"Fun," Minjae muttered, tossing his gloves aside. "Boys, hold the fort."
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Choi Miran, in a quiet lab, pipetted reagents into vials. Chemical fumes curled under yellow light. She caught her reflection in the fume hood — tired, soft eyes behind protective glasses. Her phone chimed: HQ, 7. She nodded to herself, gathered notes, and locked the samples away.
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At exactly 7, CHIPER gathered in the dim HQ room. Concrete walls, big monitors, city map on the screen.
Alex tapped a key: CCTV footage appeared — a wealthy congressman entering the Royal Emerald Hotel, two hours later: a corpse wheeled out under a sheet.
Guen folded her arms. "Who's the victim?"
"Unidentified male, 30s," Alex answered. "Room booked under an aide's name."
Minjae whistled. "Politics and corpses — messy."
Kevin's gaze was cold. "Hotel management reported no guests leaving the suite. Body had ligature marks, signs of recent fight. Guen, tomorrow you join the autopsy officially. Find everything."
Guen nodded. "Understood."
Kevin turned. "Miran, analyze toxins, drugs. Dohee, check legal connections. Minjae — keep your gangsters' ears open. Alex, hack the hotel's private server."
Minjae stretched lazily. "Finally, something bloody." His grin flashed toward Miran, who shrank slightly, clutching her notes.
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Next morning
Kevin stood before Han River Holdings' glass facade, hair damp from drizzle, tie slightly loose. Inside, he chaired a board meeting, discussed market strategy. Half his mind stayed on the case.
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Guen stepped into the autopsy room. She pulled on gloves, greeting the government pathologist. As scalpels whispered over skin, Guen's trained eyes caught bruises inconsistent with self-defense.
She dictated quietly: "Possible struggle; suspect right-handed attacker, narrow wrist span."
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In the AI lab, Alex coded quietly, breaking firewalls. He grinned: "Hotel server unlocked." Dohee, at her law firm office, scanned through the congressman's financial records. "Interesting…" she murmured, spotting payments to offshore accounts.
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Minjae walked the club floor, neon lighting his smirk. "Boys, ask around: who sold anything to the Royal Emerald last night? Quietly," he added. His phone buzzed — Miran, texting about preliminary tox results. He chuckled, typing back: Good girl. Bring it tonight.
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That evening, CHIPER regrouped.
Miran, voice soft: "I found traces of scopolamine — the 'zombie drug' — used to disable victims."
Guen laid out photos: "Ligature bruises, defensive wounds. Victim likely fought back, attacker panicked."
Alex clicked a file open: CCTV showed the congressman's aide sneaking out a back door, changing clothes.
Kevin's jaw tightened. "The aide is the key."
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Suddenly, Kevin's phone buzzed: "Need to see you," Minjae texted.
Kevin found him in the garage, leaning on a black sports car. Minjae's grin faded. "Kevin, Miran's avoiding me. Always running. Today she nearly dropped chemicals shaking so hard."
Kevin's brow lifted. "And whose fault is that?"
Minjae laughed dryly. "Probably mine. But… damn, she looks breakable."
Kevin clapped his shoulder, half a smile ghosting. "Don't break her then. Scare her, tease her… don't shatter her."
Minjae looked away, cigarette glowing. "No promises, cousin."
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Later that night
Miran typed up her toxin report, eyes blurry with tiredness. Footsteps behind made her freeze.
"Scared?" Minjae drawled, leaning down, breath warm near her ear. Miran flinched back, heart hammering.
"Don't—" she whispered, voice cracking.
But his hand caught her wrist, spinning her. "You always run," he murmured, eyes dark. "Run now, kitten."
She couldn't. His arm caged her against the wall. Tears blurred her vision. "Please, let me go…"
Minjae's gaze softened — just for a second. Then hardened again. "No," he rasped, and kissed her — hot, forceful, claiming.
Miran whimpered, trying to shove him, but his strength held. When he broke away, she stumbled back, chest heaving.
"See you tomorrow," Minjae said, voice low. He left, leaving her trembling, lips swollen, tears sliding down.
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Meanwhile, Guen & Kevin
At the HQ map table, Guen frowned at photos. "So the aide drugged him, killed him, and what? Cleaned up?"
Kevin watched her face, heartbeat he wouldn't admit. "You think too fast."
She shot him a glance. "And you think too slow."
He smirked. "Ugly witch."
"Foolish beast," she shot back, but softer this time.
Their eyes locked, something electric crackled — but Alex's voice cut in: "I found the aide. He's hiding in a motel outside Seoul."
Kevin turned to Guen, voice cold again: "Gear up. We're bringing him in."
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