>"Uh—"
The strange sound crackled through her earpiece.
While everyone's attention remained fixed on the projection screen, a thick fog began to envelop the stage. It resembled the dry ice effect commonly used in theatrical performances—billowing white clouds that rolled across the platform in gentle waves. Because it seemed to blend with the video content, the timing felt almost perfect.
_Almost._
But one security officer's instincts screamed otherwise. He immediately pressed his communication device.
"This is A-4. Was fog part of the program?"
His heart began to beat faster. An inexplicable premonition made him clench and unclench his fists repeatedly, his body preparing for something his mind hadn't yet identified.
>"No. There was no prior information about that."
Just moments after hearing the reply, the Cyber Operations Commander on stage suddenly staggered. He covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve, waving his hands frantically as if trying to bat away invisible insects.
"—!"
Realizing something was wrong, the security officers nearby rushed onto the stage. The commander's eyes had turned bloodshot in seconds. Saliva dripped from his mouth. His legs buckled.
_All of it happening within heartbeats._
A young officer trembled for a moment but held his position. Despite the obvious emergency, part of him still believed it was just a minor incident—a technical malfunction, perhaps, or an allergic reaction.
Until a pungent aroma slammed into his face and contorted his expression in agony.
"Ugh!"
A sharp, stabbing sensation attacked his eyes and nose simultaneously, as if someone had driven needles into his sinuses. With just one breath of the fumes, his entire throat felt like it was being scoured with sandpaper. This wasn't ordinary dry ice. Even the slightest touch of this gas on his skin felt like pressing against hot coals.
The smoke rose with a loud, hissing roar—confirming his worst fears.
The whispers among the crowd transformed into widespread panic within seconds. Coughing erupted from all directions. Those who reacted quickly immediately covered their faces—especially their eyes and noses—with whatever fabric they could find. Suit jackets. Handkerchiefs. Conference programs pressed desperately against mouths.
The officer's gaze fixed on the dry ice machine installed beneath the stage. Coughing violently, he covered his nose with one hand, but each breath felt like tearing his throat apart from the inside.
As a former soldier, he recognized the compound instantly.
_There was no mistaking it._
The smoke—carried efficiently by the heating system's ventilation—spread with terrifying speed. Shouts began to echo off the high ceilings. The Cyber Operations Commander, now surrounded by bodyguards attempting to shield him, grabbed the microphone with a shaking hand.
"Guh! This is tear gas! Everyone—**evacuate now!**"
Chairs scraped harshly against the polished floor as attendees scrambled to their feet, rushing toward the exits in a surge of bodies. In an instant, the entire Grand Hall descended into chaos.
>"Who put tear gas in the dry ice machine?!"
An angry voice barked through the communication device. It was hoarse—probably also exposed to the gas.
>"Seal off the entire Grand Hall and evacuate everyone! **Now!**"
The remaining security officers immediately threw open the doors and began herding attendees out. At that same moment, the shrill wail of a manual alarm reverberated across the fifth floor, its piercing tone cutting through the screams and coughing.
The young officer bit his lip while watching the crowd surge toward the exits. His eyes stung so badly he couldn't open them fully, but even as tears streamed down his cheeks, he didn't stop scanning his surroundings.
_Most of the attendees were professors from prestigious universities. Even the Deputy Director of the National Intelligence Service was here._
_This is bad._
_Really bad._
The emergency alarm seemed to shake his skull from the inside. Nausea rose in his stomach like a slow tide.
"What are you doing?! Quickly secure the commander and get him out of here!"
A firm voice rang out from the direction of the stage. It was Joo Seolheon—the First Deputy Director of the NIS. Her sharp command cut through the pandemonium, snapping the young officer back to his training.
"A-4, I will execute protocol and protect Alpha!"
_"Alpha"_ was the code designation for the Deputy Director. The Cyber Operations Commander himself was already being escorted off the stage by the Blast Company security team, his bodyguards forming a protective shell around his stumbling form.
The young man pushed through the chaos toward the Deputy Director.
"Ma'am! From now on, I will escort—"
Before he could finish, someone roughly grabbed his arm. Reflexively, he shook it off and prepared to counterattack—but the person easily neutralized his movement with a simple redirection of force. Then, in a voice far too calm for the circumstances, she said:
"I'll take care of the Deputy Director. Please assist the evacuation team. We're short on field leaders."
"…!"
_Why is someone from the Special Advisory Team here?_
The thought flickered through his mind despite the chaos swirling around them. The woman had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and she was already wearing a disposable gas mask—an emergency evacuation mask with a transparent urethane face shield. The kind stored in fire safety cabinets.
_How did she get that so quickly?_
Han Seoryeong deftly fitted an identical mask onto the face of the Deputy Director, who was coughing violently and squeezing her eyes shut against the chemical assault.
"I—I understand," the young man nodded, slightly dazed.
Han Seoryeong was quite well-known within the company, even outside the Special Security Team. Whether she was training in sweat-soaked athletic wear, or walking the halls with her hair tied up or let down, the men at the base were often heard talking about her. _That_ Han Seoryeong. Here, now, taking charge with an authority that brooked no argument.
"Deputy Director, this is a new staff member from our company! You can trust her!"
The smoke continued to thicken, reducing visibility to mere meters. Without looking back, the young man ran to help the remaining attendees. Those worst affected by the tear gas were desperately rinsing their eyes and skin with mineral water, their faces contorted in pain. He carried several elderly professors out of the Grand Hall, one arm supporting them while the other shielded his own face.
The last thing he saw was Han Seoryeong leading the Deputy Director away from the main exits.
_Why are they going that way?_
He frowned, confused. But before he could dwell on it, the corridor outside the Grand Hall also filled with an unidentified smoke—different from the tear gas. This new smoke seemed colorless and odorless. _Likely from a smoke grenade_, he realized, his tactical training supplying the assessment automatically. The visibility dropped to nearly zero.
The corridors were chaos incarnate. People had collapsed or fallen. Others pushed and shoved near the elevators, all sense of order abandoned. Although communication through the earpieces continued in fragmented bursts, few truly understood what was happening. Everything was in disarray.
_So was the Cyber Operations Commander really the target?_
Most of the security officers had been focused on protecting him—perhaps they had managed to prevent direct harm. However, the continuous wail of the emergency alarm and the sight-obscuring smoke slowly drained his remaining strength. With a pale face, he continued evacuating guests while searching for Han Seoryeong's figure, which had vanished into the artificial fog.
_I'm sure she'll be alright. She said she's tougher than she looks._
He took a deep breath.
"Cough!"
Finally, a slight sense of relief washed over him.
_The Deputy Director was in good hands._
---
## — The Descent —
But this wasn't the time to relax.
Adrenaline still coursed through Seoryeong's veins like liquid fire. Her heart pounded against her ribs. Her mouth felt paper-dry. _Was it because she was finally realizing her long-held desire? Or because she had just committed multiple crimes in the span of three minutes?_
_Maybe both._
The hope of getting closer to Kim Hyeon—to the truth—surged in her chest like something wild and barely contained.
Seoryeong, still supporting the staggering Deputy Director Joo Seolheon, moved quickly away from the Grand Hall. But she didn't lead them toward the evacuation route where the other guests were gathering in coughing, tearful clusters.
Instead, she chose the opposite direction.
Toward the wedding hall on the same floor.
"Guh… Haa…"
As the Deputy Director tried to remove her disposable gas mask, Seoryeong stopped her with a firm grip.
"Don't take it off. Just in case."
The Deputy Director's eyes still couldn't open properly. Tears flowed uncontrollably down her cheeks like water from a broken faucet, the chemical irritation still working through her system. Seoryeong held her arm and shoulder tightly, supporting her with apparent care—but her fingers had already turned white from the pressure she was actually applying.
Behind the bride's waiting room—which, critically, wasn't equipped with security cameras—was an emergency staircase leading directly to the underground floors.
"This… an emergency staircase, right?"
A hoarse voice came from behind the mask. Seoryeong pushed open a small service door with all her might, her reply smooth and unhesitating:
"Yes. This is an emergency staircase leading directly to the second basement level. This area isn't open to regular guests. Only a few technical staff know about it."
"Why didn't you evacuate people this way earlier?"
"It would have become too chaotic."
"…!"
Joo Seolheon's body stiffened. Seoryeong felt the change in tension through her grip but continued forward without acknowledgment.
"Don't worry—no one will get hurt. Most of the male guests have experienced tear gas during their mandatory military service." A pause. "Besides, I didn't make it too strong."
"…"
Only the echo of their footsteps filled the deserted stairwell—a hollow, rhythmic sound that seemed to emphasize their isolation. Deputy Director Joo hadn't spoken another word, but Seoryeong didn't care. This staircase only led to the second basement level. There was no exit before they reached the bottom.
_No escape._
Glancing at the time displayed on her smartwatch, Seoryeong noticed Joo Seolheon's pace beginning to slow. Resistance—subtle but unmistakable—had entered the older woman's movements. Seoryeong responded by pulling her along more forcefully, like dragging a stubborn ox toward slaughter.
Just then, the Deputy Director forcefully ripped off her gas mask.
"Huff… huff…"
Her face looked disheveled—makeup smeared, eyes swollen and red, hair falling from its careful arrangement. But her heavy breathing seemed to bring her some relief. As her eyelids began to lift, allowing her to see properly for the first time since the attack, Seoryeong moved closer. As if she had been waiting for exactly this moment.
"Do your eyes still hurt?"
Joo Seolheon's lips trembled as she finally got a clear look at her rescuer's face. Her expression shifted—recognition dawning, followed by something that might have been disbelief.
Meanwhile, Seoryeong removed her own gas mask, pushing her sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead with a casual gesture.
"I'm surprised," Joo said slowly, her voice steadier now. "You're smaller than I imagined."
Seoryeong responded to this observation with a strange smile—one that held no warmth whatsoever. Joo wiped her face with her palm, her own expression settling into something flat and unreadable.
**CRASH!**
A loud noise suddenly echoed through the stairwell, making the metal handrail vibrate beneath Seoryeong's palm. She frowned, looking upward into the shadows above.
_This is outside the plan._
Someone was running down the stairs. Judging by the rhythm of the footsteps—heavy, hurried, leaping down two or three steps at a time—it was likely just one person.
_She could handle one._
Seoryeong tightened her arm around the Deputy Director's neck, pulling her forward again without mercy. Her fingers found the watch face of her smartwatch and tapped out a coded message—**"arrival delayed"**—sending it to Lee Wooshin, who was waiting somewhere else in the hotel.
_If not for Wooshin's preparations the night before—breaking in, accessing the dry ice machine, setting up the smoke grenades along the corridors—none of this would have been possible._
Suppressing the urge to overthink, Seoryeong drew her collapsible baton from inside her jacket and raised it toward the approaching figure. Her gaze was sharp, calculating.
_Probably an underling of the Deputy Head. Someone who noticed something wrong._
But as soon as the figure emerged from the shadows above—baseball cap, backpack, the look of a college student—her eyes widened.
"—"
Her eyelids twitched. Recognition struck her like a physical blow, and her eyebrows furrowed sharply, the composed mask slipping for just a moment.
"…Dong Jiwoo?"
---