HID Seoul Headquarters — Sublevel B6 — Black-Level Security
A glass wall faced the city, but the room's true window was the projection of the Seoul Dome collapse. Slowed to one-eighth speed. Paused at the exact moment the rig froze mid-air, inches above five lives. Five pop stars. Five untrained civilians.
And one untraceable variable.
Karasawa stood with his hands behind his back, back straight, face carved from tension and thought. He was still. He was always still. The type of stillness that meant something was moving beneath it.
"No visual lock?" he asked without turning.
An aide — faceless, featureless — stood behind him.
"Negative, sir. The subject disappeared before real-time intercept. However—"
"—We got a spike."
"Yes, sir. Constant-class resonance. Cross-indexed against global archives. Signature match… 99.97%."
Karasawa's expression didn't change.
"Ten years," he said, softly. "And he finally shows his face for a pop concert."
"It's possible he didn't intend to reveal himself—"
"Nothing Sagara does is unintentional," Karasawa snapped.
Silence. Then:
"Have you pulled Seoul-based operatives?"
"Four activated. Two already in the field. We're soft-pinging the district's entire kinetic grid."
Karasawa turned finally, and the light caught the edges of his silver hair.
"Send in Seung-min," Karasawa said.
Before the aide could move, a proximity chime blinked red across the bottom of the screen.
"New update, sir," the aide said. "Black channel. Seung-min."
Karasawa didn't turn. "Let's hear it."
The aide scanned the message, lips tightening slightly.
"He claims Sagara is holed up in Mapo. Says he's in active pursuit, possible confirmation trail — weak heat trace, potential residue ping. Requests discreet backup to triangulate before subject slips again."
A long pause.
Karasawa watched the screen flicker. That blurred figure again. That signature stillness in motion.
He's moving like he doesn't care who sees him.
"Backup?" he asked, too softly.
"Two field agents. Minimal presence."
Karasawa nodded once. "Send it."
The aide turned to relay the order.
"And the girl?" Karasawa asked without looking.
"Dorm status unchanged," the aide replied. "Passive sweep only. Shadow net remains on external proximity grid. No active interior monitoring."
Karasawa's voice was calm — too calm.
"Good. Don't touch the dorm. Don't make noise. But keep her wrapped in glass."
He stepped closer to the footage, pausing it again — Lisa mid-turn, mouth open, eyes locked on a blur that didn't belong.
"If Sagara's returned for anything," Karasawa murmured, "he'll orbit the girl again. And this time, he won't stay in the shadows."
The aide hesitated. "Sir, do you want a direct intercept on her location?"
Karasawa's eyes narrowed.
"Not yet. But when he moves again — I want to feel the tremor before it hits."
The aide nodded and exited silently.
Karasawa stood alone, hands behind his back.
He watched the rig fall again. Watched the figure rise to meet it.
Then he whispered, almost like it was to himself:
"One slip, Sagara. Just one more. I'll be waiting."