Morning greeted Do-yun with an unaccustomed silence. His body still remembered the warmth of Seung-ho's hands, the scent of his pheromones absorbed into his skin overnight. It seemed that if he simply turned onto his side, he would feel his breath on his neck again. But the pillow next to him was cold.
A note lay on the kitchen counter, left in neat handwriting: "Directors' meeting. I will be back in the afternoon. Wait."
Do-yun ran his fingers over the paper and fell into thought. His mind returned to Seung-ho's words from the previous night: "I won't allow anyone to leave their trace on you." That phrase held him more strongly than any embrace.
***
The boardroom was the same as always: a long black-wood table, cold overhead lights, faces reflected in the polished glass. The air here always felt dry and heavy, as if every phrase weighed more than the truth itself.
The directors sat in strict order, their expensive suits blending into a single pattern. The silence before the start of the meeting resembled the pause before a hammer strike.
Seung-ho sat next to the chairman, his gaze focused. But inside, he felt the same suffocating tension that hadn't released him since last night.
The door opened. Director Lee entered the room. His face was calm, but his steps were too hurried, as if he controlled himself with effort. A man walked beside him.
— Allow me to introduce, — Lee's voice was even, almost dry. — This is my new assistant.
The man bowed slightly. His movements were impeccable, but that was precisely what put Seung-ho on edge. An overly refined gesture, a head tilt at too perfect an angle. His gaze was direct, but a shadow slipped within it, latching onto anyone who met his eyes.
Seung-ho felt the muscles in his neck tighten. He had seen this man. Not here, not in a suit. There, by the warehouse, next to Lee.
— I hope he quickly grasps the working processes, — Lee said, a strange confidence resonating in his voice.
The other directors nodded. No one asked unnecessary questions.
Seung-ho squeezed his fingers on the armrest. Everything inside him screamed: he is connected to the disappearances. His instincts were sounding the alarm. But he had nothing except that memory—the silhouette that flashed in the warehouse gloom, and what he and Do-yun had seen together.
— Let's begin, — the chairman said evenly, and the room once again drowned in cold formality.
Seung-ho forced himself to sit up straight, leaning back. But his eyes kept returning to the figure of the assistant, who stood slightly behind Lee, like a shadow.
The phone, hidden under the table, vibrated barely noticeably in his palm. Seung-ho quickly typed a short message, trying to make his finger movements look casual.
"I'll pick you up after the meeting. We'll go to the warehouse again. Lee and the assistant will be busy in the office; the warehouse will be empty."
He pressed "send" and looked up again. No one, it seemed, had noticed. Everyone was absorbed in discussing figures and reports, behind which, as he knew, much more was hidden than it appeared.
After the meeting, the room slowly emptied. Directors left in groups, discussing details among themselves. Lee lingered. His new assistant stood nearby, leaning in slightly, showing him something on a tablet. Both of them spoke quietly, too quietly for an official conversation.
Seung-ho pretended not to watch. But every movement of that man seemed too deliberate—as if he were not just a subordinate, but someone who controlled the very course of events.
When they disappeared into the corridor, Seung-ho allowed himself a brief exhale. Now he had time.
***
Do-yun was waiting for him at the house. He came out when the car stopped at the entrance and immediately noticed the same tension in Seung-ho's eyes that had been there last night.
— What happened? — he asked, settling into the seat. — Lee introduced a new assistant, — Seung-ho said curtly. — I saw him before. At the warehouse. — Are you sure? — Absolutely. And now we have a chance. They are both busy at the office; the warehouse is empty. We need to check it.
Do-yun clenched his hands on his knees. His heart started beating faster. — Let's go.
The warehouse greeted them with silence. The vast space, lit by rare overhead lamps, seemed empty, but something foreign lurked in that emptiness. The smell of dampness and rust bit into the skin. Metal beams towered like the bones of an ancient beast.
Their footsteps echoed, as if someone was following their lead.
— Look closer, — Seung-ho said quietly.
Do-yun nodded. He examined the crates, walking past rows of tools. Everything seemed ordinary, but too clean for a place where supposedly nothing was happening.
And suddenly… — Seung-ho, over here.
Do-yun bent down, picking something up from under a rusty beam. In his hand was a badge—a plastic card with a faded photograph. It had a name. The name of the very waiter who had come to the precinct a few days ago, begging for protection.
Do-yun froze. His chest tightened. — It's him...
Seung-ho took the badge, squeezing it in his hand so the plastic creaked. His face remained cold, but something dangerous glinted in his eyes.
— So, he was already... — his voice trailed off.
Do-yun felt a lump rise in his throat. The man who had trusted them was now part of this chain.
— Now we know one thing, — Seung-ho said, putting the badge in his pocket. — Everything is connected. And Lee holds it closer than we thought.
The echo rolled through the warehouse again. And in that hollow emptiness, Do-yun felt acutely for the first time: their pursuer was almost near, just a step away.