There are a few things humans can get used to easily.
The biting cold that reaches all the way to the bone. The kind of loneliness so deep that the sound of your own heartbeat becomes perfectly clear. Pain that comes in every color and texture. Even death, if it comes slowly enough, can become an old friend.
But the sound of fear from the people standing in front of me? That was something I would never manage to ignore.
2:37 a.m.
I stood on the top floor of an old building in Gangnam. From here, Seoul looked like a living painting—a sea of lights moving to a rhythm of its own. Skyscrapers stood proudly, clawing at the sky; cars flowed like blood through neon veins, and a light rain gently dampened the window glass.
This city really was beautiful from above.
Maybe because from here, I didn't have to see too clearly what was actually happening below.
"It's done," a voice came from behind me.
I didn't turn around right away. Looking at the city lights still felt more important at that moment.
"How many?"
"Eight."
I could see Park Do-hyun's reflection in the glass—the head of one of our units, who had worked for this organization for seven years. His face was always tense when he reported to me. Always.
"And the others?"
He was silent for a few seconds. I knew he was choosing his words carefully.
"Everything is secure."
I finally turned to look at him directly.
"Secure?"
The color drained from his face. Do-hyun knew I didn't like vague words that could be interpreted ten different ways.
"The primary target was taken into custody. Two people were wounded, and the rest surrendered without a fight," he said faster than usual.
I gave a small nod. "Good."
It was only one simple word, but I could see his shoulders drop slightly and his breathing relax. I didn't know when it had started, but the people in Black Hawk had begun treating conversations with me like walking across broken glass. One wrong step, and everything could shatter.
I walked over to the table in the middle of the room. Several black file folders were neatly arranged on top of it. No names. No official logo. Just the hawk emblem with its wings spread wide.
Black Hawk.
The organization that had been my breath and blood for years.
To the outside world, this place barely existed. There were no registered offices. No official hierarchy. Its leader had never shown his face on television. But in the underworld that never made it into newspaper headlines, the name Black Hawk carried an entirely different weight.
Power. A far-reaching network. Money. And, of course, fear.
I sat down.
"The financial report?"
Do-hyun handed me a file folder. I opened it and read the numbers scattered across its pages. I didn't hurry. I took my time. Every number had a story.
"This month's shipment is late," I said without looking up.
"Yes."
"The reason?"
"Strict inspections in Busan. More than usual."
I raised my head. "Who's conducting them?"
"A few new officials have started to suspect our distribution routes."
I slowly closed the file folder.
"If they've started getting suspicious, then someone is talking. Find out who."
"Understood."
"Don't touch his family."
Do-hyun looked surprised. I knew what was on his mind. An organization like Black Hawk wasn't known for passing any test of humanity. But I had never liked destroying people who were innocent of someone else's mistakes.
"If he chooses to stay silent, let them live in peace," I explained.
"What if he doesn't stay silent?"
I stood up. "Then we'll discuss something else."
Do-hyun nodded. He already knew the discussion was over.
I returned to the window. Seoul was still shrouded in rain. I gazed at the city in a long silence, and my thoughts suddenly flew somewhere else. Somewhere colder. Emptier.
Russia.
Snow that never stopped falling.
A childhood that felt as though it belonged to someone else.
I still remembered the wind slamming against the windows of the small apartment where I had grown up. It sounded like a cry that would never end. Back then, I thought Korea was home—the place where my roots were planted. But after years in Russia, I understood something fundamental.
Home isn't about where you're born.
Home is where people aren't afraid to accept you as you are.
And I had never truly had that.
"Hyung."
Do-hyun's voice pulled me back to reality.
I turned around.
"The phone."
He handed me the phone without telling me who was calling. The screen showed no name, only a number. I knew immediately. There was only one person who contacted me this way.
I answered.
"Yes."
The voice on the other end belonged to a man. Calm. Seasoned by time. Yet there was a pressure beneath it that made anyone instinctively straighten their posture.
"The situation?"
"Under control."
"Busan?"
"A leak."
There was a brief silence. I could almost hear him thinking.
"Handle it," he said.
I didn't answer. There was no need.
"And Tae-jun."
"Yes."
"Go to the hospital tomorrow."
I frowned slightly. This was strange.
"I'm already in Seoul."
"I know."
His tone remained the same. It didn't shift. It gave nothing away.
"There's a doctor. Meet her."
I almost laughed—almost, because I hadn't truly laughed in a long time. An order like this had never happened before. Not in all my experience.
"Who is she?"
"Han Seo-yeon."
The name meant nothing to me. Just a combination of letters and sounds.
"What's her specialty?"
"Trauma surgery."
I closed my eyes for a moment. This felt like the beginning of something I wasn't ready to begin.
"Why me?"
"Because I'm asking you to."
The line went dead.
I stared silently at the phone screen. Do-hyun was still standing behind me, and he must have heard part of the conversation. He didn't ask anything. He knew better.
"Is there a problem?" he asked carefully.
"No."
I slipped the phone into my pocket. "I'll go to the hospital tomorrow."
He nodded.
I picked up the black jacket from the chair. As I was about to leave the room, I stopped.
"Do-hyun."
"Yes?"
"Don't tell anyone about that doctor. Anyone."
He looked slightly confused, but he understood not to ask any further. "Of course."
The building's corridors were silent. Several Black Hawk members standing guard immediately lowered their heads as I passed. No voices. No conversation. I didn't need them to be afraid of me, but I had never tried to make them feel comfortable either. Because in the world I lived in, comfort was often the beginning of every disaster.
I went down to the ground floor. A black car was already waiting.
The driver opened the door for me.
"Where to, Director Kang?"
"Home."
I got in and leaned my head against the seat, closing my eyes as the car began moving through Seoul's still-wet streets.
Han Seo-yeon.
That name kept circling through my mind for no clear reason. I didn't know her. I didn't know who she was, why my boss cared, or what connection she had to our organization. And of course, I didn't know that within less than twenty-four hours, this woman would change everything.
At the time, I was still naive enough to believe that my life had a clear and certain path. I was still convinced I could control every aspect of my existence.
It turned out I was very, very wrong.
Because some encounters don't come to complete our lives.
They come to change the entire meaning of the word life itself.