The office emptied out like a tide receding, leaving behind the soft hum of computers and the distant rumble of Seoul traffic forty-two floors below. Seo-jin waited until the cleaning crew finished their rounds before making her move.
9:47 PM. Perfect.
Min-jae's office door was locked, but three years of NIS training had taught her that corporate security was more about deterrence than actual prevention. The electronic lock yielded to her keycard cloner in under thirty seconds.
His office felt different in the darkness—less like a throne room, more like a carefully constructed stage. Seo-jin moved to his desk, fingers ghosting over the surface before settling on his computer.
Please be stupid enough to leave it unlocked.
The screen came alive at her touch, immediately prompting for a password. Of course.
She tried the obvious combinations first: birth dates, company founding year, common corporate passwords. Nothing. Then, on impulse, she typed: SevenSecretsries .
Access denied.
Wait.
TruthAndLies .
The desktop bloomed to life.
"Interesting password choice," Seo-jin murmured, navigating to the file directory. Her pulse quickened as she found what she was looking for: a folder labeled "Mokpo Operations - Restricted."
Inside were shipping manifests, financial transfers, and—
"I was wondering when you'd make your move."
Seo-jin spun, heart slamming against her ribs. Min-jae stood in the doorway, still in his suit but with his tie loosened, jacket slung over one arm. In the office lighting, his expression was unreadable.
"Mr. Han." She forced her voice to remain steady. "I was just—"
"Breaking into my computer. Yes, I noticed." He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Though I have to admit, I'm impressed you figured out the password so quickly."
Play dumb. Deny everything.
"I was looking for the quarterly reports you mentioned. I thought—"
"Seo-jin." Her real name on his lips made her freeze. "We both know why you're really here."
The jig was up. Training kicked in—assess threats, calculate escape routes, prepare for confrontation. But Min-jae didn't move like someone about to call security. Instead, he walked to his desk, set down his jacket, and poured himself a glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter she hadn't noticed before.
"Drink?" he offered, holding up a second glass.
"I don't understand."
"Agent Yoon Seo-jin, National Intelligence Service. Three years active duty, specialized in corporate infiltration and financial crimes." Min-jae took a slow sip, studying her over the rim. "Assigned to investigate Hanwool Corporation's potential involvement in illegal arms trafficking through Mokpo port."
The words hit like physical blows. Her cover wasn't just blown—it was obliterated.
"How long have you known?"
"Since before you walked into the interview." Min-jae moved around the desk, coming to lean against it directly in front of her. "The question is: how long have you known that I've been feeding information to the NIS for the past eighteen months?"
Seo-jin blinked. "What?"
"Agent designation: Frost King. Handler: Director Kim Jae-sung." Min-jae's smile was sharp, but for the first time since she'd met him, it reached his eyes. "Though I have to say, your handler Park didn't mention how stubborn his new asset would be."
The world tilted sideways. "You're... you're working with us?"
"Working is a strong word. Let's say our interests align." Min-jae set down his glass, moved closer until she could see the exhaustion hidden behind his controlled facade. "My father built this company, but somewhere along the way, certain board members decided to expand into markets he never would have touched. When I discovered what was happening in Mokpo..."
"You became an informant."
"I became someone willing to burn his own inheritance to stop arms dealers from using my family's name." His voice carried a weight she hadn't heard before—something raw and real beneath the corporate polish.
Seo-jin stared at him, pieces clicking into place. "The interview questions. The password hints. You were trying to help me find the evidence."
"I was trying to see if you were good enough to find it without getting yourself killed." Min-jae reached past her, pulling up a file on his computer. "Because what's happening in Mokpo isn't just about money. The people involved... they don't leave loose ends."
The file opened to reveal photographs: shipping containers, manifest documents, and faces she didn't recognize. But the numbers made her blood run cold—enough weapons to supply a small war.
"Who else knows about this?" she asked.
"Inside Hanwool? Three board members, maybe four. Outside?" Min-jae's expression darkened. "That's what we need to find out. Because someone leaked your real identity to them two days ago."
"That's impossible. Only my handler—" She stopped, the implications hitting her like ice water.
"Exactly." Min-jae's voice was gentle, but his words cut deep. "Agent Yoon, I think your handler Park is working for the other side."