The alarms howled through the NIS headquarters like dying beasts. Red lights pulsed across the control room, painting every face in shades of panic and fury. Director Han stood at the center, his smirk unfazed by the chaos unfolding around him.
"You think this ends with me?" he said, his voice cutting through the noise, low and cold. "No, darling. The web is far more intricate than you could ever imagine."
Jiwoo's grip on her weapon tightened. "You're cornered, Han. There's nowhere left to run."
Han chuckled darkly. "Cornered?" He took a slow step forward, his reflection flashing across the glass panels behind him. "Keep digging like this… and one day, I'll eliminate your whole family. Every last one."
For a split second, Jiwoo froze. Her heart stuttered, fury flashing through her veins like lightning. But before she could respond, the room plunged into darkness.
Power cut.
Screams echoed. Footsteps thundered in every direction. The alarms died mid-note, leaving a suffocating silence. Jiwoo's instincts kicked in—she moved fast, grabbing Joonhyuk's arm and whispering, "Move!" They slipped through the confusion, guided only by the faint red emergency lights flickering down the hallway.
Behind them, Director Han's laughter echoed through the dark. "Run all you want, Agent Kang. The web already knows your name."
By the time dawn broke, Jiwoo's apartment was a battlefield of empty coffee cups and glowing monitors. Jungwoo, Dr. Min, and Joonhyuk were already working through the decrypted data.
Dr. Min's voice was tired but steady. "These files… they point to something far beyond NIS. A deeper conspiracy. Multiple offshore accounts, fake research grants, and ties to private militias."
Jungwoo nodded grimly. "We'll need someone with global intel connections. Someone who can trace these digital footprints across borders."
Joonhyuk leaned back in his chair. "I might know a few people. Not all of them trustworthy, but they owe me favors."
Jiwoo was only half-listening when her phone began to vibrate. Her manager's name flashed on the screen. She stepped aside, answering quietly.
"Jiwoo," his voice was brisk, professional. "The label just confirmed. You've been selected for the 'Eternal Echo' showcase. Three songs. It's a direct command from the board—you can't turn it down."
She rubbed her forehead. "Right now? You know what's happening—"
"No arguments. You're their headline act."
Jiwoo exhaled slowly. "Fine. I'm coming."
When she turned back, Joonhyuk was watching her with that familiar, knowing expression. "Going somewhere?"
"Company event. I have to perform."
He stood and walked to her, pressing a small black pouch into her hand.
"What's this?"
"Just… keep it with you. Safety gear. You might need it there."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "You think I attract trouble everywhere?"
He shrugged. "History says yes."
Jiwoo laughed softly. "Noted." She gave a small wave to the others. "Don't blow up my apartment while I'm gone."
Dr. Min didn't even look up from the screen. "No promises."
At the entertainment agency, Jiwoo was greeted by her manager, who looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Jiwoo! Thank God you're here." He gestured toward the boardroom. "The event—'Eternal Echo'—is a major broadcast for charity. Live audience, international stream, diplomatic guests. It's a big deal."
Jiwoo nodded, though her mind was far away—still tangled in the images of Han's smirk, the files on Dr. Min's laptop, and the shadowed name that kept appearing across encrypted reports: The Crimson Circle.
"You okay?" her manager asked, eyes narrowing. "You've been zoning out a lot lately."
She blinked, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."
He hesitated but nodded. "Alright. Dance practice starts in twenty. The dancers are waiting."
Inside the rehearsal room, the mirrors stretched endlessly, reflecting pieces of herself she barely recognized. Her phone buzzed. A message from Joonhyuk.
Focus on your event. Don't think about anything else. We've got it handled.
She exhaled, smiling faintly. Easier said than done.
When the back dancers entered, they greeted her with warmth and laughter. Their energy reminded her of what life used to feel like—simple, bright, untainted. For a few hours, she let herself move to the rhythm, letting the music wash away the chaos that had taken root in her soul.
Later that afternoon, Jiwoo slipped away to a small café in Seoul—the kind hidden between alleyways, where time moved slower.
Across the table, a familiar grin greeted her. "Jiwoo Kang," Haeun said, raising her coffee. "Still diving into dance and danger, I see."
Jiwoo couldn't help but laugh. "Some things never change."
Haeun, her best friend since university, was everything Jiwoo wasn't—reckless, tech-savvy, and unapologetically bold. Her reputation as a journalist had earned her both awards and enemies.
"I need your help," Jiwoo said, lowering her voice. "Something big. Dangerous."
"Anything for you," Haeun replied instantly. "What's the scoop?"
Jiwoo hesitated before explaining everything—from the observatory attack to Director Han, and finally, the shadow organization—the Crimson Circle.
Haeun's expression shifted from intrigue to resolve. "Then we find them. And we burn them down."
Jiwoo frowned. "This could risk your life."
Haeun only smiled. "You think I haven't risked it before?"
That evening, the two of them sat on Haeun's apartment rooftop, screens glowing under the dying sunset. Cables tangled across the table as encrypted codes streamed down her laptop.
"These signatures," Haeun muttered, typing rapidly, "they're linked to offshore networks, coded through shell companies in Zurich, London, and Seoul. All under a name—'The Crimson Circle.'"
Jiwoo leaned closer. "You're sure?"
"As sure as death," Haeun said. "They're everywhere. Governments. Corporations. Even NIS."
Jiwoo clenched her jaw. "Then we expose them."
Haeun stopped typing, eyes serious. "No. Not yet. If we move too fast, they'll erase us before we even know their full reach. We need to move quietly. Gather proof. Build a trail."
Jiwoo nodded, though her heart burned with impatience.
Night fell hard over Seoul. Jiwoo, Haeun, and Joonhyuk met in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The air smelled of rust and old secrets.
A figure stepped from the shadows—tall, hooded, voice rough with age. "I hear you're looking for answers."
Jiwoo aimed her flashlight toward him. "Who are you?"
"Name's Elias," he said, pulling down his hood. "Used to work for the Crimson Circle. Until I didn't."
Joonhyuk's eyes narrowed. "Why help us?"
Elias gave a humorless smile. "Because I've seen what they do. To people like you. To people like me."
He threw a small drive onto the table. "You want to bring them down? You'll need more than courage. You'll need to understand their network. It's not just a syndicate—it's a global web. Governments, militaries, corporations. Every level of power. They've embedded themselves everywhere."
Jiwoo swallowed hard. "Then why now? Why betray them?"
Elias' gaze darkened. "Because once… they killed someone I loved. And now, I want to watch them fall."
Hours later, as the city lights flickered beneath the horizon, Haeun's phone vibrated. She frowned. A new message had arrived.
STOP DIGGING OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.
Her throat tightened. She turned the screen toward Jiwoo and Joonhyuk.
"Looks like," Haeun said softly, "we've stirred the hornet's nest."
Jiwoo's expression hardened. "Then let them come."
The wind howled across the empty rooftop, carrying their silence into the night—three people standing on the edge of a truth too dangerous to name.
And far away, in a room filled with screens, a red insignia pulsed across the monitors—the mark of The Crimson Circle.
The hunt had only just begun.