"I might be staying in Seoul for a few more days," Jack announced as he returned to the private dining room, causing the other FBI agents to glance at him in surprise.
"I'm just helping Detective Ma with a minor case—it's a way to repay him for the help he gave us earlier," he added casually, explaining the cover story he had worked out with Ma Seok-do.
Jubal frowned. "You don't have official authorization. You have no jurisdiction here."
"I know. I'll follow the rules. This remains Ma's case. I'm just here as an advisor, to help smooth things out since it involves a foreigner."
Jack grinned and waved dismissively. "I won't steal any credit from anyone. Ma helped us a lot, and it's only right for the FBI to return the favor."
The others asked a few more questions but quickly lost interest when they realized it was just a small street-level drug case.
After all, the drug busts they had worked on were typically in the hundreds of kilos—the NYPD case they handled together involved nearly three tons, one of the largest drug seizures in recent years.
Plus, compared to the U.S., Korea was practically a crime-free paradise. Even the police force's gear reflected that—most beat cops didn't carry firearms, and even Tasers weren't standard issue.
Only Jubal and Clay remained somewhat concerned. They were aware of where most of Korea's street drugs came from, and they worried Jack might poke the wrong hornet's nest.
But when they heard this particular supply was from Japan, they relaxed.
One country hosted the world's largest U.S. overseas military base, earning the nickname "Playground of the Army."
The other had the highest number of U.S. bases globally.
As long as Jack didn't mess with the U.S. military, he had Washington's full backing.
The only one visibly upset was Hannah, who pouted—clearly annoyed that Jack was getting into something exciting without her.
But there wasn't much to be done.
This was an official FBI mission, and they were all supposed to return together. If one stayed behind, it was because of work—if two stayed, what would that look like? A honeymoon?
Thus, Jack's return ticket was canceled, and the Hanok they had rented was extended for another week.
The official excuse was that he would assist with Lee Geon-woo's extradition process and handle the final procedures.
For extra security, Jack called Rossi, and a formal request was sent to Prosecutor Kim Jun-ho.
As long as Ma Seok-do could link the case to a foreign national, Jack's temporary consultant role with the FBI would be fully legitimate.
—
"Okay, so what's your plan?"
With everything settled, the FBI agents returned to their lodging to rest.
Jack and Seok-do, still standing outside the hotpot restaurant, discussed their next steps.
Seeing Seok-do still staring blankly, Jack chuckled and patted his shoulder.
"Seriously, but damn… this country pisses me off sometimes," Seok-do muttered irritably, rubbing his temples.
He knew Jack was helping him, but the whole process had been so easy that it was actually frustrating.
Most Koreans liked to tell themselves that the U.S. was their paid bodyguard, protecting them from their "Northern brother".
But anyone with a bit of sense knew the truth—Korea was still a semi-colonial, semi-feudal puppet state.
The real rulers weren't the chaebols, but the Americans, who kept any potential threats to their control firmly in check.
Take Samsung, for example.
Koreans called it the company that controls your life from birth to death.
Yet, despite its global dominance, the Lee family only controlled 2% of its shares.
Over 80% of Samsung's stock was held by Wall Street.
—
"Obviously, we start at Orange Club."
Seok-do's words caught Jack off guard—it took him a second to connect the dots.
Orange?
Oh.
The nightclub stamp found on the victim's hand.
"Alright, 'Orange Club' it is," Jack smirked.
But then he scanned Seok-do's outfit—a baggy blue-and-white striped tracksuit—and frowned.
"You're planning to walk into a nightclub like that?"
Seok-do glanced down at himself, confused.
"What's wrong with it?"
He looked at Jack's casual attire—just a plain T-shirt—and grew even more puzzled.
Jack gestured at his own face.
"I don't need to dress up. You won't even get through the door."
"Ah, come on! Women love me!" Seok-do grumbled, his jowls shaking slightly in protest.
But in the end, he gave in.
"Fine, fine. I'll go change. Here's the address—meet me there."
He scribbled on a napkin, handed it to Jack, then drove off to change.
—
One hour later – Gangnam District
Jack, now dressed in a casual blazer, arrived outside Orange Club.
The place was packed.
A long line of people snaked down the street, while massive bouncers stood like gatekeepers, carefully screening guests.
Nightclub entry rules in Korea were similar to the U.S.—you weren't guaranteed entry unless the bouncers approved.
But their criteria were clear:
- Hot girls in revealing outfits? Always welcome.
- Stylish, good-looking guys? Come on in.
- Goth and Shibuya-style outfits? No problem.
- Slippers and striped tracksuits? Absolutely not.
Age was also a factor—minors and middle-aged men/women weren't outright banned, but they had to reserve a VIP booth or private room.
Money spoke volumes—VIP booths had minimum spending limits, while private rooms were even pricier.
Several below-average-looking girls had already been rejected and were now waiting in line, hoping the bouncers would relent once the club emptied out a bit.
Jack scanned the crowd and quickly spotted Seok-do, who was awkwardly peering around like a fish out of water.
With a smirk, Jack adjusted his blazer and confidently strolled over, drawing curious stares from the crowd.
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