The rain hadn't stopped for three nights.
It beat relentlessly against the glass walls of Ji-Yeon's penthouse office, the storm outside a perfect reflection of the chaos inside her mind. The city of Busan flickered with neon beneath the downpour, but for once, the bright lights did nothing to calm her.
Two gangs gone.
Her men dying in alleys and rivers.
No warning. No pattern. No message.
The walls felt tighter than usual.
In the Meeting
"Where's Captain Seo?" Ji-Yeon demanded as she entered the room where her remaining lieutenants waited. A dozen sharp-eyed killers, men who had bled for her, now visibly shaken.
"He… he didn't make it, boss," said Song-Min, voice cracking.
Ji-Yeon's heart clenched, though she kept her face stone.
"How?" she asked.
"They found him in his car… throat cut. Just like Dae-Seok."
A heavy silence swallowed the room.
One by one, her lieutenants looked away. None dared meet her eyes. Tough men who had slaughtered rivals without blinking now shivering under the weight of invisible death.
She scanned them all.
"Cowards, every one of you."
But the truth clawed at the back of her mind: This isn't a turf war. This isn't business. This is a reckoning.
The Interrogation
Later that night, in a dimly lit backroom below a nightclub she once owned, Ji-Yeon stood before a battered, bloodied young runner named Jin-Ho. His face was a swollen mask, his eyes barely open.
He looked so small. So young.
She hated herself for what she was about to do.
"Talk to me, Jin-Ho. Who's behind this?"
Her voice was soft, too soft.
The boy whimpered. "Please… I don't know. It's like a ghost… they say he's taking them one by one… no one sees him… no one knows why…"
Ji-Yeon grabbed him by the hair, pulling his face close.
"Ghosts don't leave bodies. Men do."
Tears streamed down his face. "We're all dead, boss… you just don't see it yet."
She let him drop to the floor like a discarded rag.
For the first time in years, Ji-Yeon felt her hands tremble.
The Streets Whisper
Rumors clung to the alleys like smoke.
Names spoken in hushed, terrified tones.
Stories of dead men found with no wounds, of hideouts emptied like the tide had taken them.
Even her informants — the ones she paid dearly to sniff out rumors — had begun to vanish.
She could no longer trust anyone.
The streets, once hers, felt alien.
Every pair of eyes a threat.
Every corner a trap.
The Mirror Moment
Back in her private quarters, Ji-Yeon poured herself a drink.
She caught her reflection in the mirror.
For the first time in years… she saw fear in her own eyes.
Not for death — she'd made peace with dying young long ago.
But for powerlessness.
For the first time since she was a teenage street rat with a stolen knife in her boot, Ji-Yeon didn't feel in control.
And it gnawed at her soul.
The Map
On her desk, a map of Busan's gang territories lay pinned with colored markers.
Two pins — Red Scarves and Black Fangs — had been pulled and cast aside.
Now three more markers sat in a cluster, each representing her own trusted men.
She knew she was next.
And for the first time, she didn't know how to stop it.