The Diamond Hall was no longer a place of business; it was a cage. As the shareholders scrambled for the exits, the massive gilded doors slammed shut with a heavy, mechanical clunk.
Min-jun's eyes narrowed. He looked at the security monitors. The feed was dead.
"I told you, Min-jun," CEO Park wheezed from the floor, a manic grin splitting his face. "Aegis isn't just a company. It's a lung. If you stop the breath, the body dies. And the body... has friends."
From the shadows of the mezzanine, six figures descended. They didn't use the stairs; they dropped silently, landing with the predatory grace of professional killers. They wore matte-black combat gear with a single red eye insignia on their chests.
The Shadow Syndicate.
"The cleaners," Old Man Kang muttered, tossing his empty bag of shrimp crackers aside. He cracked his neck, the sound echoing like dry wood snapping. "Told you, kid. You hit a hornets' nest, you get stung. These guys don't care about audits. They only care about silence."
The lead operative, a woman with a scarred throat and eyes like flint, stepped forward. "The Ghost Files, Min-jun. Hand them over, and we might let the lady live."
She pointed a jagged combat knife toward the front row. Elena stood frozen, a laser dot dancing across her forehead.
Min-jun felt a surge of cold fury. The romance he'd tried to kill in his heart flared back to life—not as a weakness, but as a fuel. He stepped in front of Elena, shielding her with his body.
"You're late," Min-jun said, his voice flat. "The files are already uploaded to a secure cloud. If my heart rate drops below sixty, the entire database goes public. Including your payroll."
The scarred woman paused. This wasn't the "weak to strong" cliché she expected. This was a man playing chess with his own life.
"He's bluffing!" Choi screamed from behind a tipped-over table. "Kill him! Kill them all!"
"Choi," Min-jun said, not looking back. "You really should have checked your dry cleaning this morning."
Min-jun snapped his fingers.
Pop.
A small, pressurized canister hidden in Choi's tuxedo lapel—disguised as a boutonniere—exploded into a cloud of pink, incapacitating foam. Choi was pinned to the wall instantly, looking like a very angry marshmallow.
"Comedy first, business second," Min-jun smirked.
The Syndicate leader didn't find it funny. She lunged.