The interrogation room smelled of sweat and rust.
Lee Do leaned across the metal table, eyes locked on the man clutching his bleeding leg.
"You've got two options," he said flatly. "Talk… or hope your boss gets to you before the blood loss does."
The man spat on the floor. "You think you scare me? You don't even know who you're dealing with."
Lee Do's fist slammed the table. "Then educate me."
Hours passed. Silence broke the man before Lee Do did.
"They call him Moon Baek," the man whispered finally.
Lee Do had heard the name before — a ghost story in criminal circles. A man who could get you anything if you had the money.
"He's the one flooding the streets," the man continued. "And you can't stop him."
Lee Do left the room without another word.
Outside, his superior was waiting.
"Did you get anything?"
"Enough to know this isn't small‑time," Lee Do replied.
Across Busan, Moon Baek paced in his warehouse, phone pressed to his ear.
"Did he talk?" he asked.
"Not yet," came the reply.
"Then fix it," Baek said coldly.
He hung up and stared out the window.
Lee Do's name had crossed his desk more than once.
A cop who didn't know when to quit.
Baek almost admired that.
Almost.
That night, Lee Do sat in his car, watching the rain slide down the windshield.
The city felt different now.
Darker.
Like it was holding its breath before the storm hit.
His phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
He answered.
"Detective Lee," a voice said smoothly.
It was Moon Baek.
"You're in over your head."
Lee Do gripped the phone tighter. "Then come pull me out."
Baek chuckled. "Oh, I intend to."
And the line went dead.