A rough sack covered Ming Soo's head as they dragged him from one car to another. His arms were bound, his wrists aching from the tight restraints. He kept track of every turn, every stop, committing them to memory. Five minutes in one car. Twelve in another. The air shifted, cool, damp, the scent of mildew creeping through the fabric of the sack. A basement. Underground.
When they finally tore the sack from his head, blinding light flooded his vision. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the sterile glow of a single hanging bulb. The room was bare: concrete walls, a wooden chair beneath him, and a small metal table to his right. The air was stale, the walls lined with faint water stains and a hum of silence that made every sound feel louder.
In front of him stood a man, American, sharp black suit, face hidden behind a smooth, expressionless mask.
Ming Soo shifted his gaze. Two armed men lingered near the entrance. One was tall, black, with muscles straining against a tactical vest. The other was lean and restless, his fingers rhythmically drumming against his rifle.
The man in front of him leaned forward. "Oi, kid. Name's S3," he said, thick accent curling every word with cocky confidence. "That jittery sod over there? That's S6." He jerked his thumb at the twitchy one. "And the brick shithouse by the door? That's S5."
Ming Soo didn't react. His eyes scanned the room instead. But these weren't the men who had captured him. They must have swapped teams somewhere during transport. Which meant there were more. Too many to escape from.
S3 smirked behind the mask, utterly unbothered. "Relax, sunshine. We ain't gonna hurt ya—long as you play nice, yeah?"
Before Ming Soo could respond, the heavy steel door creaked open. The sound echoed through the basement like a warning.
Three figures entered. Two men and a woman. Like the others, they wore dark gear and concealed their faces. But the woman moved with command. Confidence.
She dragged a chair in front of Ming Soo, metal scraping against concrete. Sitting across from him, she set her pistol down on the table with deliberate calm. Her presence shifted the energy in the room, tighter, colder.
A long silence settled. The bulb buzzed overhead. She stared at him with sharp eyes from beneath her hood.
"I'm S1," she said, voice crisp, slightly amused. "And you must be Sung Ming Soo, right? Right."
Her tone was unnerving, half-interrogation, half-conversation. She didn't wait for a response.
"You must be wondering why you're here. Right? Right," she repeated, smiling faintly, then gestured to the others. "This guy on my right is S4. The silent one over there? That's S9. Say hi, guys."
S4 and S9 didn't budge.
"So the reason you're here is simple. And you really won't have to do much," she said as she reached into her coat. She pulled out three photos and laid them on the table.
Ming Soo glanced at the photos.
The first two faces meant nothing to him. But the third one, blurry, partially obscured, was unmistakable. His aunt.
S1 seemed to grin behind her mask. "Do you recognize any of them?"
He kept silent, his eyes never leaving hers.
S1 grinned like a predator that had caught the scent.
"Oh, that's interesting," she said, her voice still light. "So you do know one of them. Yes?"
Ming Soo said nothing. His gaze remained cold, unreadable.
"Yes? Yes," she answered herself again, tapping the pistol rhythmically against the metal.
What the hell is wrong with her? Ming Soo thought.
"Are you comfortable?" she asked, still tapping. "Hey, we're friends, ain't we? Yes we are."
Without warning, she picked up the gun and hurled it at the wall. It hit with a loud clatter.
Ming flinched, caught off guard.
"Friends don't need guns, right?" she said softly. Then her tone hardened. "You know Sung?"
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Her tone had dropped. Her voice, no longer playful, was sharp, slicing through the room like a blade.
Ming Soo stared back. Something about her presence unnerved him. It wasn't power in the traditional sense. It was her control of the room.
She began clicking her tongue and drumming the table again, the only sound now filling the silence.
"Oh, so you do know about them," she said suddenly, rising from her chair.
Ming remained unfazed.
She grinned under her mask. "Do you know why you're here?"
Ming Soo squinted his eyes.
She turned her chair around and sat backward on it, arms resting on the top. "Sung," she said.
"Sung?"
"Yes. Sung," she replied, voice shifting into a more dramatic tone. "An organization that works in the shadows. Connected to every dirty thing in this world. It's big. Real big."
Ming Soo's eyes narrowed.
"You could call it an organization from hell. Kidnappings, murder, grand theft, you name it," she continued. "The government turns a blind eye because Sung controls them. But eventually, people got tired of being puppets. That's where, us, come in."
Ming Soo looked confused by the whole situation .
"uh?", Ming Soo opened his mouth
"Yes?", S1 paused.
"Me no speak English?", Ming Soo said.
They both looked confused.
"You don't speak English? Cute, then let's speak a language you understand", S1 says in Korean.
That same night, in Ming Soo's modern home, an elegant structure with minimalist decor and warm lighting, tension brewed like a storm.
In the living room, his aunt stood rigid with fury, pacing.
"YOU WHAT?!" his aunt, screamed at the man across from her.
"I lost him," Lornad replied calmly.
"How the fuck do you lose a fucking kid?!" she snapped, voice like thunder.
"Pfft..." Nightwalker tried and failed to suppress a laugh.
"All of you," she growled, her voice laced with venom, "I want you to find him. Now."
She let out a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "The situation just got complicated because someone couldn't resist his lust."
Nightwalker's lips twitched. He looked like he was about to burst.
Lornad glared at him. "Don't. You. Dare."
"Right now, if my assumption is correct, he's in Crimson Veil's hands. They'll show themselves eventually, but I want all of you looking for him," she said, rubbing her temple. "I'm going to visit someone first."
She vanished in a swirl of silver smoke.
"That bitch," Lornad muttered, still pissed.
"HUAHAHAHA!" Nightwalker finally erupted in laughter, clutching his stomach.