The Cyber Crimes Investigation Division occupied a modest government building with tinted windows that revealed little of the activity inside. A signboard outside stated plainly: Seoul Metropolitan Police — Cyber Crimes Division.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Rows of desks stretched across the office floor, monitors humming softly as young officers typed briskly. Some glanced up when the glass doors swung open.
Kang Eun-ji and Eun-chae stepped inside, trying hard to appear casual. From across the floor, Lee Mi-ran—confident, sharp, and already reading the situation—approached them with her arms folded.
"You two know what you've just done?" she asked.
Eun-ji and Eun-chae exchanged an innocent glance.
"What did we do?" they replied together.
A sudden sound cut through the room.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A hush spread instantly. Officers rose from their seats as the glass conference-room door swung open. Director Park Do-young entered, stern and dignified in a charcoal suit, his presence commanding silence without effort. His eyes locked onto Eun-ji and Eun-chae, his expression unreadable, sharp.
"Play it," he said.
A nearby officer tapped the keyboard, and the wall screen lit up.
Noryangjin Market appeared on-screen.
A suspect lunged forward. Eun-ji ducked and drove a fist into his jaw. Gasps erupted. Chaos followed. Phones were raised. The crowd parted.
The footage ended.
Back in the office, silence hung heavy.
"That," Director Park said slowly, stepping forward, "is what you've done."
He approached them. "We train you for intelligence. Surveillance. Cyber forensics. Not street brawling."
His voice sharpened. "Every technique you've learned is meant to outsmart criminals. Not outpunch them."
He turned sharply. "Officer Jung."
From the rear, Jung Min-ho stepped forward, alert and composed.
"Officer Jung was undercover today," Director Park continued. "He saw you. Filmed this. Brought it to me." A beat. "That's presence of mind."
He didn't hesitate. "You're being promoted, Officer Jung."
Applause filled the room as Jung bowed humbly.
Eun-ji and Eun-chae held stiff smiles, their puppy-faced expressions barely masking their frustration.
"Learn from him," Director Park said. "The next time I see one of you on a screen, it better be in an interrogation room—not a viral clip."
His tone turned cutting. "Shame on you. Three of you—and not one working brain among you."
Lee Mi-ran frowned. "Why me, sir?"
"Don't think I don't know," Director Park replied. "The last case I gave you—rather than catching the target—you arrested our own undercover officer."
He paused.
"Every case your team handles ends the same way. Suspects bruised. Chaos in your wake. And me—writing letters of apology to Central."
Eun-chae folded her arms, unfazed. "Sir, you're the one who always says, 'Finish the case no matter how.'"
She glanced at Eun-ji and Mi-ran, and a short laugh slipped out before she could stop it.
Director Park glared at her. She froze.
"Look around," he said, gesturing toward the buzzing bullpen.
Young officers worked with focus, eyes forward, hands moving with precision.
"These kids—twenty-four, twenty-six, some even twenty-two—work like professionals." His gaze hardened. "You three? Pushing thirty. Still pulling stunts like it's high school."
He turned and walked away.
Silence followed.
"Did he just call us thirty?" Eun-chae muttered.
"Did he mean… old?" Eun-ji asked quietly.
Eun-chae cupped her cheeks in an exaggerated pout. "Look at this face."
"Gorgeous," Eun-ji said. "Glowing."
"Delusional," Mi-ran muttered as she passed behind them.
They burst into laughter.
A loud crash echoed across the room.
"Back to work!" Director Park's voice rang out.
Everyone jolted. Officers dove back into their desks.
Eun-ji, Eun-chae, and Mi-ran sat down. Files opened. Fingers hit keyboards.
Professional mode re-engaged.