The gym on the second floor was exactly as Dae-hyun had described—empty, fully equipped, and covered in a fine layer of dust from months of disuse. Weights lined one wall. Mats covered the center of the floor. Punching bags hung from the ceiling like silent sentinels. A boxing ring stood in the corner, its ropes sagging slightly.
Min-jun whistled. "Someone spent money on this place."
"Budget issues," Dae-hyun said flatly. "They built it, then never staffed it." He moved to the light switches and flipped them on, fluorescent lights flickering to life above them. "Now it's ours."
Jin-young was already examining the equipment, his eyes wide. "This is actually nice. Like, really nice."
Shi-eok moved to the punching bags, running his hands over the worn leather. A rare smile crossed his face. "I haven't trained in a proper gym in months."
Soo-ah bounced on her heels, her enthusiasm undimmed by the late hour. "What do we do first, Captain? Punches? Kicks? Sparring?"
Dae-hyun looked at them—his team, his responsibility, his problem to turn into something more. "First, we warm up. Then we see what you can do. Then I teach you what you can't."
He moved to the center of the mat and turned to face them. "Line up. Facing me."
They scrambled into position—Min-jun on one end, then Jin-young, Shi-eok, Soo-ah, Hae-rin, and Seo-ah at the other. Six people in varying states of readiness.
"Twenty minutes of basic conditioning. Follow my lead. Don't stop until I say."
What followed was the most brutal twenty minutes any of them had experienced since the academy.
Dae-hyun led them through jumping jacks, burpees, push-ups, sit-ups, squats, lunges, and exercises none of them had names for. He moved through each movement with fluid precision, his breathing steady, his face calm. Behind him, his team struggled to keep up.
Jin-young collapsed after five minutes. Dae-hyun pulled him up by the collar and put him back in position.
Min-jun's face turned an alarming shade of red, but he kept moving, pride refusing to let him quit.
Shi-eok handled it easily, his special forces training kicking in, but even he was breathing hard by the fifteenth minute.
Soo-ah surprised everyone. Despite her small frame, she kept pace better than most, her academy training still fresh in her muscles.
Hae-rin moved with controlled grace, never rushing, never slowing, conserving energy with cold efficiency.
And Seo-ah—Seo-ah moved like someone who had spent years training her body. Not for fighting, but for performance. For stamina. For control. She kept up, never falling behind, never complaining.
When Dae-hyun finally stopped, they collapsed in a heap on the mats.
"Twenty minutes," Min-jun gasped. "Twenty minutes and I feel like I ran a marathon."
"That was the easy part." Dae-hyun wasn't even sweating. "Now we work."
---
The next hour was a blur of instruction and correction.
Dae-hyun moved among them like a ghost, adjusting stances, correcting angles, demonstrating techniques with terrifying precision. He showed Shi-eok how to hide his tells—the slight shoulder drop before a strike, the weight shift before a grapple. He taught Jin-young how to fall without injuring himself, how to roll with impact instead of fighting it. He worked with Min-jun on using his lower center of gravity to unbalance larger opponents. He showed Soo-ah how to turn her small size into an advantage, targeting weak points instead of meeting force with force.
With Hae-rin, he focused on escapes—how to break free from holds, how to create distance, how to survive long enough for help to arrive. She absorbed it all with the same analytical focus she brought to profiling.
And with Seo-ah, he did something different.
He faced her directly, their eyes level. "You have training. I can see it in the way you move."
"Dance," she said quietly. "And stage combat. For roles."
"Good. But stage combat is choreographed. Real fights aren't." He stepped closer. "Hit me."
She blinked. "What?"
"Hit me. As hard as you can. Right now."
Seo-ah hesitated, then threw a punch. It was fast, precise, aimed at his chest. Dae-hyun sidestepped it like it was moving in slow motion. Before she could recover, his hand caught her wrist and twisted, spinning her around until her back was against his chest, her arm trapped.
"Stage combat," he murmured near her ear, "teaches you to hit where you're supposed to hit. Real fights teach you to hit where your opponent isn't." He released her. "Again."
They went through it a dozen times. Each time, Seo-ah improved. Each time, Dae-hyun corrected something new—her footwork, her timing, her tendency to telegraph her intentions with her eyes.
By the end, she was breathing hard, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead, but there was something new in her expression. Focus. Determination. The beginnings of something harder.
Shi-eok watched from the side, his own workout paused. "She learns fast."
"She does." Dae-hyun stepped back. "That's enough for tonight. Everyone, cool down. Stretch. Don't skip it or you'll regret tomorrow."
They scattered across the mats, stretching aching muscles, comparing bruises, laughing at each other's struggles.
Jin-young collapsed onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "I'm never moving again. This is my final form. A puddle on the floor."
Soo-ah poked him with her foot. "You did good, oppa. You only fell like eight times."
"Seven," he corrected. "The eighth was a tactical repositioning."
Min-jun laughed, then winced, clutching his ribs. "Don't make me laugh. Everything hurts."
Shi-eok sat cross-legged on the mat, his breathing finally steady. He looked at Dae-hyun, who was calmly stretching nearby, not a hair out of place.
"Captain," Shi-eok said.
Dae-hyun glanced up. "Yes?"
"You're a monster."
The words hung in the air for a moment. Then Min-jun snorted. Jin-young started laughing. Soo-ah covered her mouth. Even Hae-rin's lips twitched.
Shi-eok continued, his face serious but his eyes warm. "I spent eight years in special forces. I trained with the best instructors in the country. And you just spent two hours teaching me things I've never seen before. You read our movements like we were broadcasting them on television. You corrected twelve different people simultaneously without missing a single detail." He shook his head slowly. "You're not human."
Dae-hyun's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "I've had practice."
"Practice?" Jin-young sat up. "Practice at what? Being a ninja?"
"Growing up on the streets." Dae-hyun stood, brushing off his pants. "You learn to fight when fighting is the only thing between you and starvation. You learn to read people when reading people is the only way to know who to trust." He paused. "Which was no one."
The gym fell quiet.
Soo-ah's eyes were wide. "Captain..."
"It was a long time ago." Dae-hyun's voice was flat, closed off. "Now it's just training. Nothing more."
He moved toward the door, but Min-jun's voice stopped him.
"Hey. Captain."
Dae-hyun turned.
Min-jun grinned through his exhaustion. "Thanks. For all of this. For building this squad. For... I don't know. For making us feel like we belong somewhere."
The others nodded, murmuring agreement.
Dae-hyun looked at them—six tired, sweaty, bruised people who had just worked harder than most civilians worked in a month. And for the first time since forming Team Zero, he allowed himself a small smile.
"You're welcome," he said quietly. "Now get cleaned up. We're not done yet."
Jin-young groaned. "More training? Captain, I can't feel my arms."
"Not training." Dae-hyun reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, checking something. "I booked something. For all of us. A reward for solving the case."
Soo-ah perked up. "A reward? What kind of reward?"
Dae-hyun's smile widened just slightly—a rare and unsettling sight. "A spa. The best one in Seoul. Private rooms, hot baths, massages, the works. Reservation is for nine o'clock. We have forty minutes to get there."
Silence.
Then Jin-young scrambled to his feet with miraculous speed. "A spa? Like, an actual spa? With hot water and massages and—"
"And food," Dae-hyun added. "I ordered dinner there too."
Min-jun was already moving toward the door. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"
Soo-ah laughed, grabbing her bag. "Oppa, you said you couldn't move!"
"I can move for a massage!"
Even Shi-eok was smiling now, a genuine warmth in his eyes. Hae-rin gathered her things with unusual speed. Seo-ah watched them all, a small smile tugging at her own lips.
Dae-hyun led them out of the gym, down the stairs, through the quiet station, and into the night.
---
The spa was everything Dae-hyun had promised and more.
It occupied the top three floors of a high-rise in Gangnam, all marble and soft lighting and the gentle sound of flowing water. A private attendant met them at the entrance and led them to a reserved wing, away from the other guests.
"This way, please. Captain Kang has arranged for the royal suite. You'll have access to the private baths, sauna, steam room, and massage rooms. Dinner will be served in the relaxation lounge whenever you're ready."
Jin-young's jaw dropped. "Royal suite?"
Min-jun clapped him on the shoulder. "Try to act like you've been somewhere nice before."
"I haven't!"
They separated—men to one side, women to the other—with instructions to meet in the relaxation lounge in an hour.
---
The women's bath was a sanctuary of warm light and gentle steam. Soo-ah sighed as she sank into the hot water, her muscles finally releasing the tension of the day.
"I could live here," she murmured. "Forever."
Hae-rin sat nearby, her eyes closed, her expression peaceful. "It's nice."
Seo-ah was quieter, sitting apart from them, her face thoughtful.
Soo-ah noticed. She paddled closer. "Unnie? Are you okay?"
Seo-ah looked up. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
"About what?"
A pause. Then Seo-ah spoke quietly. "About today. About the captain. About all of you." She looked at Soo-ah, something vulnerable in her eyes. "I wasn't sure, when I first joined. If I would fit. If any of you would ever see me as anything other than..." She trailed off.
Soo-ah's expression softened. "Unnie. You're one of us now. Captain said so. And the captain doesn't say things he doesn't mean."
Hae-rin opened her eyes. "She's right. We don't care who you were. We care who you are. And who you are is a detective on this squad. Same as the rest of us."
Seo-ah looked at them—Soo-ah's earnest face, Hae-rin's calm certainty. Something in her chest loosened.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Soo-ah beamed. "Now stop being sad and enjoy this amazing bath! When will we ever get a chance like this again?"
Seo-ah laughed—a real laugh, light and surprised. "You're right. We should enjoy it."
She sank deeper into the water, letting the heat soak into her bones.
---
In the men's bath, the atmosphere was considerably less serene.
Jin-young had discovered the jet pools and was experimenting with different settings, his expression one of intense concentration. "This one is stronger. No, this one. Wait, this one—"
Min-jun was stretched out on a bench in the steam room, a wet towel over his face. "Kid, if you break it, they'll make us pay for it."
"It's designed to be adjusted!"
Shi-eok sat in the hot bath, his massive frame relaxed for once, his eyes closed. The heat worked its way into muscles that had carried tension for years. He let out a slow breath.
Dae-hyun sat nearby, saying nothing, simply existing in the warmth.
Shi-eok opened his eyes and looked at him. "Captain."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For this. For everything." He paused. "I didn't realize how much I needed to just... stop. For a while."
Dae-hyun nodded slowly. "We all need that sometimes. Even people who forget."
Jin-young abandoned the jet pools and joined them in the hot bath, sinking in with a blissful sigh. "This is the best day of my life. And I once hacked into the National Intelligence Service database for fun."
Min-jun emerged from the steam room, red-faced and dripping. "You did what?"
"It was a Tuesday."
Min-jun shook his head and lowered himself into the water. "I work with children."
They soaked in comfortable silence for a while, the tension of the past days slowly dissolving in the heat.
Then Jin-young spoke again. "Captain. Can I ask you something?"
Dae-hyun glanced at him. "You just did."
"Ha ha. Seriously, though." Jin-young's voice was quieter now. "You said you grew up on the streets. How did you... how did you get from there to here?"
The water lapped gently against the tiles. Dae-hyun was silent for a long moment.
"Someone saw me," he said finally. "A detective. I was fourteen, living in a box under a bridge. I'd just fought off three older kids who tried to rob me. He watched the whole thing, then came over and offered me a choice. Come with him, or stay on the streets." A pause. "I went with him."
Min-jun's eyes were serious. "Who was he?"
"His name was Kang Dae-shik. He never married, never had kids. He took me in, gave me a home, made me go to school. Taught me everything he knew about being a detective." Dae-hyun's voice was quiet, controlled. "He died five years ago. I took his name. It's the least I could do."
The bath was silent.
Then Shi-eok spoke. "He would be proud of you."
Dae-hyun said nothing. But something in his expression shifted—softened, just slightly.
---
An hour later, they gathered in the relaxation lounge.
The room was all soft cushions and low lighting, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city. A table had been set with an extravagant spread—grilled meat, fresh vegetables, rice, soups, and more side dishes than they could count.
Jin-young made a beeline for the food. "I love this squad. I love all of you. I love the captain. I love everything."
Min-jun grabbed his arm. "Wait for everyone, you gremlin."
"But food—"
"Wait."
They settled around the table, still in their spa robes, hair damp, faces relaxed. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Soo-ah raised her glass of water.
"To Team Zero," she said. "And to the captain, for being a monster who somehow also knows how to spoil us."
Laughter rippled around the table.
Dae-hyun raised his own glass. "To surviving training. Tomorrow, we do it again."
Jin-young choked on his rice.
They ate and talked and laughed late into the night, the city lights glittering below them, the warmth of the spa still clinging to their skin.
For the first time since they'd gathered in that empty bullpen, they felt like something more than colleagues.
They felt like family.