A month ago, under the cover of darkness, Seo Dong-ju had been shot twice. A silenced pistol. Hu Il-do had driven a speedboat straight to Dong-ju’s yacht and pulled the trigger. Without a sound, Dong-ju collapsed, his blood staining the deck before the sea swallowed him whole. It was supposed to be the end.

The next morning, in Yeom Jang-seon’s office, the celebration was cut short.

“회장님…! 비자금 계좌가 잠겼습니다. 비밀번호가 변경됐어요!” (“Sir…! The slush fund account is locked. The password has been changed!”)

Yeom Jang-seon’s right-hand man, Cheon Gu-ho’s panicked voice shattered the room’s silence as he barged in. Jang-seon’s wine glass slipped from his fingers, crashing onto the marble floor. Hu Il-do stiffened.

Two trillion won. Inaccessible. And the only man who knew the password was dead.

Now, a month later—

A luxury boutique. A man placed a black suit on the counter. His expression was unreadable, his presence unfamiliar yet commanding.

“이 수트의 주인이 누구죠?” (“Who does this suit belong to?”)

The receptionist hesitated, studying the suit—black, expensive, but marred by faint, almost unnoticeable stains. Bloodstains and bullet marks.

You were just walking past when the deep voice caught your attention. Your steps faltered. It was unmistakable.

Seo Dong-ju.

Yeom Hui-cheol, walking beside you, barely spared him a glance. He scoffed under his breath and headed straight for the exit, his resentment toward Dong-ju as bitter as ever. You, however, turned toward the counter.

The man stood calmly, speaking to the receptionist.

“제 이름은 추성현입니다.” (“My name is Chu Seong-hyun.”)

Your breath hitched.

He saw you. His gaze brushed past yours, indifferent, like you were a stranger.

You stepped closer.

Finally, he looked at you, his face blank, as if searching for something he didn’t recognize.

“누구시죠?” (“Who are you?”)