The rain hammered against the windshield of my sedan. The worn rubber wiper blades squeaked back and forth, pushing the heavy sheets of water aside, only for the glass to instantly blur again. The orange glow of the dashboard dials illuminated the dark cabin, casting long, shifting shadows across Lee Jae-Hyun’s pale face.He sat in the passenger seat, his wet trench coat dripping onto the cheap fabric floor mats. The tight space smelled strongly of damp wool, stale nervous sweat, and the faint, bitter scent of the cold coffee I had abandoned on my desk.I kept both hands on the steering wheel, my grip firm. My knuckles were pale in the dim light. I merged onto the empty highway heading toward the Seongdong-gu district, the tires hissing loudly against the flooded asphalt.Jae-Hyun kept checking his phone. The glowing screen cast a sick, blue tint on his chin. His thumb trembled every time he pressed the button to wake the device. He was staring at a blank screen, pretending to wait fo

The air inside the Seoul Central District police precinct tasted like stale coffee and harsh lemon floor cleaner.It was 3:15 AM. The adrenaline that had kept my blood pumping in the abandoned warehouse was completely gone, leaving behind a cold, hollow exhaustion. Every time I inhaled, the fractured ribs wrapped tightly in my medical compression brace sent a dull throb radiating across my chest.I stood in the dimly lit observation room, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my damp wool coat. Through the thick two-way mirror, I stared into Interrogation Room B.Lee Jae-Hyun sat at the center of the room.His ruined, expensive trench coat had been confiscated. He wore a wrinkled white dress shirt, soaked through with sweat and rain. Both of his wrists were secured to the heavy steel ring bolted to the center of the table. He was shivering. He kept his head bowed, his messy dark hair hiding his face from the bright fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.Prosecutor Han Do-Woon stood n

The red light on the digital audio recorder blinked in the dark, a steady, pulsing crimson eye.It held everything I needed. Inside that small piece of plastic rested Lee Jae-Hyun’s terrified, tear-soaked confession. It was the golden thread that tied the four armed fixers directly to CEO Cha Seung-Ho. If Prosecutor Han Do-Woon submitted that audio file to a federal judge, the raid on Titan Law would begin before sunrise. The syndicate would finally bleed.But I looked through the thick, two-way glass.Jae-Hyun was still chained to the steel table, his head buried in his arms. He was a broken, pathetic shell of the ambitious man I used to call my brother. He had walked me into a trap. He deserved to rot in a concrete cell for the next twenty years.But if that tape went on the federal record, the syndicate would know he had flipped. And the moment Cha Seung-Ho realized his junior partner was singing to the authorities, he would send a cleaning crew to silence the only leverage they he

Inside my second-floor office, the air conditioning unit struggled to keep up. It rattled against the window frame, blowing a weak stream of cool air that smelled faintly of Freon and dust. I sat at my wooden desk, rubbing my thumb against my temple. The sharp ache behind my eyes was a byproduct of two hours of sleep and a massive intake of cheap black coffee.My ribs throbbed a steady, rhythmic warning against the tight medical compression brace. The events of the previous night—the warehouse, the arrest of Jae-Hyun, the extraction of his pregnant wife—felt like a fever dream, but the exhaustion weighing down my bones was completely real.The heavy steel door to the office clicked open.Reporter Kim Soo-Yeon stepped inside. She didn't have her usual bright, fierce energy. Her dark eyes were shadowed, her lips pressed into a thin, grim line. She carried her laptop under one arm, but she didn't walk over to the broadcasting desk."Tae-Rin," Soo-Yeon said softly, closing the door behind

Shin Na-ri sat across from me, her bruised face illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights of my office. Her thin shoulders shook under the oversized trench coat. She waited for my response, her dark, swollen eyes filled with a carefully constructed desperation."I will take the case," I repeated, keeping my voice low and perfectly even.A heavy, jagged sigh of relief escaped her lips. She reached forward, her trembling fingers brushing the edge of the forged medical documents resting on my desk."Thank you," she wept, bowing her head. "Thank you, Attorney Jin. I knew you were a good man."I didn't smile. I rested my forearms on the cheap wood of my desk, ignoring the sharp throb in my fractured ribs."You misunderstand me, Ms. Shin," I said, my tone dropping into a freezing, empty register.Na-ri stopped crying. She slowly raised her head. The performance faltered for a fraction of a second, revealing a flicker of genuine confusion underneath the battered makeup and real bruises."I