They piled back into Dae-hyun's SUV, the mood noticeably different from the morning ride. There was something electric in the air now—the feeling of a case starting to crack open, of pieces beginning to fit together despite the confusion. Jin-young was already typing on his phone in the backseat, running searches before they even reached the station.
Dae-hyun glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Focus on two things. First, the current owner of that jewelry store. I want everything on him—financial records, personal history, anyone connected to him. Second, Park Jae-won. Find out if he has a child. A son, specifically."
Jin-young nodded without looking up. "On it."
Min-jun turned in the passenger seat. "You think someone's continuing the family business?"
"I think criminals teach their children. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes just by existing." Dae-hyun's voice was flat. "If Park Jae-won has been inside for nine years, someone on the outside learned his methods. A son would have had years to study before the arrest."
Hae-rin spoke from the back. "It fits the profile. The precision, the military-style execution, the familiarity with high-end jewelry. This wasn't a random crew. This was someone who knew exactly what they were doing."
They reached the station in twenty minutes. Dae-hyun parked and led them inside, past the new uniformed officers and administrative staff that Commissioner Hwang had brought in. A few of them glanced up as Team Zero passed, curiosity in their eyes, but no one spoke.
Upstairs, in their private bullpen, Jin-young immediately commandeered the largest desk and spread his equipment across it. Three monitors, a tablet, his phone, and a small keyboard he'd pulled from somewhere. Within minutes, he was deep in databases and records, his fingers moving constantly.
The others settled around him, waiting.
Soo-ah brought coffee for everyone, setting cups on desks with quiet efficiency. When she reached Yoon Seo-ah, the actress looked up and nodded her thanks. It was a small moment, but Dae-hyun noticed it. Soo-ah was trying. He filed that away.
"Found something," Jin-young said suddenly.
They gathered around his monitors. On the screen was a prison visitor log from Daejeon Correctional Facility.
"Park Jae-won has had regular visitors for the last five years," Jin-young said. "His wife, came every month like clockwork. But look at this." He pointed to a name on the log. "Park Ji-hoon. First visit was four years ago. Then every few months after that. Relationship listed as son."
Min-jun leaned closer. "How old?"
"Twenty-three now. Would have been nineteen at that first visit." Jin-young pulled up another screen. "I cross-referenced. Park Ji-hoon has no criminal record. Clean as can be. Works at a tech startup in Pangyo. Lives alone in a nice apartment. No red flags anywhere."
Hae-rin frowned. "Too clean."
"My thought exactly." Jin-young pulled up financial records. "But look at his bank account. Moderate salary, regular expenses, nothing unusual. Except..." He zoomed in on a series of transactions. "Every few months, he deposits cash. Small amounts, ten to twenty thousand won. Nothing that would trigger reporting requirements. But it's consistent."
Dae-hyun studied the screen. "He's being paid. Something under the table."
"For what?" Soo-ah asked. "He has a job. A good one."
"Maybe the job is the cover." Shi-eok spoke quietly from the edge of the group. "Trading startup gives him flexibility. Explains why he might be out at odd hours. Why he might have knowledge of systems."
Dae-hyun straightened. "Jin-young, find everything on that startup. Who owns it, who funds it, what they actually do. And dig deeper into Park Ji-hoon's life. Friends, associates, anyone he spends time with."
Jin-young nodded and turned back to his screens.
Dae-hyun looked at the others. "The rest of you, review the case files again. Look for anything that might connect to a young man with technical knowledge. Hae-rin, start building a profile of what Park Ji-hoon might be like now. Min-jun, go through the witness statements again—see if anyone mentioned seeing a young man in the area."
They scattered to their tasks, and the bullpen fell into a focused silence broken only by the clicking of keyboards and the turning of pages.
Hours passed. The sun moved across the sky and began its descent toward evening. Takeout containers accumulated on a corner desk. Coffee cups multiplied.
Dae-hyun worked in his office, but he left the door open, listening to the sounds of his team. At some point, he heard Soo-ah ask Min-jun a question about witness statements. He heard Jin-young mutter something about "encrypted files" and "amateur security." He heard Hae-rin and Shi-eok discussing something in low voices.
And he heard, just barely, Yoon Seo-ah's quiet contributions—a suggestion here, an observation there. She was finding her place, slowly.
By eight in the evening, they were running out of steam. Jin-young had compiled a thick file on Park Ji-hoon and his supposed tech startup. Hae-rin had written a preliminary profile. Min-jun had found two witness statements that mentioned a young man in the area before the robbery. Soo-ah had organized everything on the whiteboard.
Dae-hyun came out of his office and studied the board. "Good work. All of you."
Min-jun stretched, his back cracking. "So what now? We bring him in?"
"Not yet." Dae-hyun shook his head. "We have connections, but nothing solid. A son visiting his father in prison isn't a crime. Cash deposits that don't trigger reporting aren't proof. We need more. Jin-young, keep digging. Find me something we can use."
Jin-young nodded tiredly.
Dae-hyun looked at them—exhausted, hungry, but still alert. "Let's go for dinner, my treat."
They ended up at a samgyeopsal place near the station, the same kind of casual restaurant with grills built into the tables and soju in green bottles. This time, they took a table in the main room, not a private one, and the noise of other diners surrounded them.
The meat sizzled. Soju flowed. Gradually, the tension of the day began to ease.
Soo-ah, emboldened by her second glass, looked across the table at Shi-eok. "Oppa, can I ask you something?"
Shi-eok glanced up from his lettuce wrap. "Sure."
"You were special forces, right? Like really elite?" Her eyes were wide with curiosity. "So who do you think would win in a fight? You or the captain?"
The table went quiet.
Min-jun choked on his soju, coughing and laughing at the same time. Jin-young's eyes lit up with interest. Hae-rin raised an eyebrow. Even Yoon Seo-ah looked intrigued.
Shi-eok considered the question seriously. "Captain Kang is very skilled. I saw the Park Sung-ho arrest file. Three minutes against a known fighter."
"But?" Soo-ah prompted.
"But I have eight years of special forces training. Hand-to-hand combat was my specialty." Shi-eok's voice was calm, matter-of-fact. "It would be a good match."
Min-jun snorted. "A good match? Kid, I've seen the captain take down men twice his size. He doesn't fight like a normal person."
"No one fights like a normal person in special forces," Shi-eok said mildly.
Jin-young leaned forward. "So who wins?"
Dae-hyun, who had been quietly eating through this entire exchange, set down his chopsticks. "You want to find out?"
Shi-eok looked at him. For a long moment, they simply stared at each other across the table. Then Shi-eok smiled—a rare thing, genuine and slightly competitive.
"Here?" he asked.
"Back alley. Two minutes." Dae-hyun stood and pulled out his wallet, dropping bills on the table. "Everyone finished?"
They scrambled to follow, Soo-ah practically vibrating with excitement. The restaurant owner looked confused as they all rushed out, but Min-jun waved her off with a laugh and told her they will be back soon.
The alley behind the restaurant was narrow, lit by a single flickering light, the ground damp from earlier rain. Shi-eok stepped into the space and rolled his shoulders, loosening up. He was massive in the confined space, his presence filling the alley.
Dae-hyun stood across from him, smaller, quieter, utterly still.
"No rules," Shi-eok said. "First to tap out?"
"First to tap out," Dae-hyun agreed.
They circled each other slowly. Shi-eok moved with the practiced grace of someone trained for combat—weight balanced, hands up, eyes tracking every micro-movement. Dae-hyun moved like water, flowing around the space, impossible to predict.
Shi-eok struck first.
It was a fast combination—jab, cross, hook—the kind of sequence that had ended fights in seconds. Dae-hyun wasn't there. He slipped under the jab, leaned away from the cross, and let the hook graze past his ear. In the same motion, he drove his palm into Shi-eok's ribs.
Shi-eok grunted but didn't slow. He grabbed for Dae-hyun's arm, trying to trap him, but Dae-hyun was already gone, spinning behind him. An arm snaked around Shi-eok's throat.
For a moment, Shi-eok was trapped. Then he dropped his weight, trying to pull Dae-hyun off balance. It should have worked—he had eighty pounds on the captain. But Dae-hyun moved with him, staying attached, keeping the choke in place.
Shi-eok drove backward, slamming Dae-hyun against the alley wall. The impact was brutal, enough to stun most people. Dae-hyun's grip loosened just slightly, and Shi-eok twisted free.
They separated, breathing hard.
Shi-eok's ribs ached where Dae-hyun had struck him. His neck burned from the choke. And Dae-hyun had just been slammed into a brick wall without flinching.
"Interesting," Shi-eok said.
Dae-hyun said nothing. He simply waited.
Shi-eok came at him again, this time with a different approach—grappling, not striking. He wanted to use his size, his weight, his strength. He got close, got his hands on Dae-hyun's jacket, and tried to lift.
Dae-hyun let himself be lifted. For one terrible second, he was airborne. Then his legs wrapped around Shi-eok's arm, his weight shifted, and suddenly Shi-eok was the one off balance. They crashed to the ground together, but Dae-hyun was on top, his elbow pressed against Shi-eok's throat, his knee pinning Shi-eok's arm.
Shi-eok struggled. He was stronger, he knew he was stronger. But he couldn't get leverage. Every move he made, Dae-hyun anticipated and countered. It was like fighting water—impossible to hold, impossible to predict.
"Tap," Dae-hyun said quietly.
Shi-eok's pride screamed at him to keep fighting. His body told him differently. The elbow on his throat was precise—not enough to choke, but enough to remind him that it could. The knee on his arm meant he couldn't strike. He was trapped.
He tapped the ground twice.
Dae-hyun released him instantly and stood, offering a hand. Shi-eok took it and pulled himself up, breathing hard but smiling—a real smile, wide and genuine.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Shi-eok asked.
"Street." Dae-hyun dusted off his jacket. "You're strong. You're fast. But you telegraph your moves. When you're about to strike, your shoulder drops slightly. When you're about to grapple, your weight shifts to your back foot. In special forces, you fought people who fought like you. I fight people who fight dirty."
Shi-eok nodded slowly, absorbing the criticism. "Show me?"
Dae-hyun's lips twitched. "Tomorrow. After work."
From the mouth of the alley, applause broke out. Soo-ah was clapping wildly, her face bright with excitement. Jin-young was grinning. Min-jun looked smug, like he'd known the outcome all along. Hae-rin was smiling—actually smiling, a rare sight. And Yoon Seo-ah stood at the back, watching Dae-hyun with something new in her eyes. Respect, maybe. Or curiosity.
"That was amazing!" Soo-ah bounced on her heels. "Captain, you moved like—like water! And Shi-eok oppa, you were so fast! I thought you had him there for a second!"
Shi-eok laughed—a real laugh, deep and warm. "So did I."
Min-jun clapped Shi-eok on the shoulder. "Told you. The captain doesn't lose."
"No," Shi-eok agreed, still smiling. "He doesn't."
They walked back toward the restaurant, toward the street, toward the night. Behind them, the alley was quiet again, the flickering light still struggling to stay lit.
Dae-hyun fell into step beside Shi-eok. "You really want to learn?"
"Yes."
"Then tomorrow, after we solve this case, we start."
Shi-eok nodded, and something passed between them—respect, maybe, or the beginning of trust.
Behind them, Soo-ah was already chattering about the fight to anyone who would listen. Jin-young was pretending not to care but clearly cataloguing every detail. Hae-rin walked in comfortable silence. Min-jun hummed an old tune.
And Yoon Seo-ah watched Dae-hyun's back and wondered what other surprises the captain of Team Zero had hidden beneath that calm surface.