After a blade-sharp warning—
Do you really think you have a choice?
—Borislav turned and walked out.
No command.
No glance back.
Just the quiet certainty that we would follow.
For a moment, the room stayed still.
Junseo looked at me, jaw tight, anger and confusion tangled together. He was waiting—for refusal, for hesitation, for me to say we were done.
Instead, I stood.
The decision felt heavier than it should have.
We followed Borislav.
The corridor beyond the room was narrow and clean, lined with dull metal panels and recessed lights that flickered softly as we passed. Cameras tracked movement overhead—not obvious, but deliberate. Controlled.
This place wasn't hidden by neglect.
It was hidden by design.
Doors opened with keycards and biometric scans. Screens glowed behind glass walls, filled with data I didn't recognize—numbers, maps, timestamps constantly updating.
Junseo slowed beside me. "Hyung… this is under that old building?"
"Yes," I said quietly.
The thought settled uncomfortably.
Every day, people walked above this place without knowing what was beneath their feet. No mystery. No myth.
Just infrastructure.
Borislav walked ahead of us, hands behind his back, unarmed—and completely confident.
We stopped at a wide observation platform overlooking a control room. Men and women worked in silence, headsets on, fingers moving fast. No wasted motion. No unnecessary conversation.
Efficiency.
"This is relevance," Borislav said calmly, finally turning to us. "Not power. Not noise."
Junseo scoffed. "Looks like paranoia to me."
Borislav smiled faintly. "Survival always does."
We stood there, surrounded by quiet machines and watching eyes.
I felt it then—not fear, but pressure. Like stepping onto a floor you weren't sure would hold.
"You said relevance," I spoke, breaking the silence. "If you want something from us… then we want something too."
Junseo stiffened.
Borislav's eyes locked onto mine.
For a second, the room seemed to narrow around that look—testing, weighing.
"Sure," he said at last, lips curving faintly. "Why not."
He turned slightly, pacing once before stopping.
"If there is something for me," Borislav continued, "then there will be something for you too."
He faced me again.
"Name it," he said simply. "Say what you want—and it will be yours."
Junseo inhaled sharply.
I didn't answer right away.
I let the silence sit.
Then I smirked—small, controlled.
"Then," I said, "I'll tell you when the time comes."
Borislav stared at me for a beat.
Then he laughed.
Not loud. Not mocking.
Genuine.
"Sure," he said, nodding. "Sure."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"And now that you've agreed," Borislav added, "it's time you meet the rest of your team."
I felt Junseo stiffen beside me.
Borislav turned toward the far wall.
A door slid open with a muted mechanical hiss.
People stepped inside.
Four of them at first—foreign accents, sharp eyes, unfamiliar posture. European, most likely. They moved with confidence, like they already knew the ground they stood on.
A woman stepped forward.
Short hair. Calm smile. Eyes that missed nothing.
"So," she said, studying me openly, "you're the one we've been waiting for."
I met her gaze. "Seolwol."
She nodded once. "Orina."
She glanced to my side. "And?"
"My brother," I said. "Junseo."
Junseo gave a half-wave. "Unfortunately."
Orina smiled.
Behind her, a man sat at the table, completely uninterested in introductions. He was hunched over a laptop, fingers moving fast, screens reflecting in his glasses.
"Gu Wen," Orina said, jerking her chin toward him. "He talks more to machines than people."
Gu Wen didn't look up.
Another man stood nearby—broader, a little older than us, with tired eyes and a relaxed stance.
"Peter," he said simply. "Nice to finally see faces."
I scanned the room instinctively—entries, exits, blind spots.
Then—
The temperature shifted.
Footsteps echoed from the corner entrance.
Slow. Heavy.
Every conversation died.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows.
White hair. Not aged—unnaturally pale. Sharp blue eyes that felt cold even from a distance. His presence pulled the room inward, like gravity tightening.
He didn't rush.
He didn't acknowledge anyone.
He took a seat at the table without a word.
Junseo leaned close, barely moving his lips.
"Hyung," he whispered, "who's that ajusshi?"
Before I could answer, Orina stepped closer to me, her voice low.
"You haven't met him yet," she said. "But he's the reason this operation exists."
I looked at her.
She met my eyes.
"His name," Orina said quietly, "is Miran Konstantinov."
The name settled heavily in the room.
Miran didn't look up.
Didn't blink.
Didn't react.
And for the first time since this deal began—
I felt something linger.
Not fear.
Not confidence.
A warning.