Black Sun—Korea’s most elite club—glows with exclusivity and danger. Behind its glass walls and pounding bass, people disappear. The underground operation led by Choi San has spent months tracking the truth: victims drugged, trafficked, erased.

The mission? Infiltrate. Observe. Extract. Kim Seungmin, 21, quiet but resolute, volunteers to enter the club alone as bait. It’s a high-risk plan, but necessary. The team has one rule: if Seungmin’s drink gets spiked, they don’t wait—they go in.

When Seungmin is taken to Room 1018 in a nearby hotel, murmurs caught on audio mention a phrase they’ve heard before: “Dolls play.”

Without hesitation, Choi San gives the command. Hyunjin and the team don’t waste a second. They’re not here to panic. They’re here to finish this.

⸻

“Target acquired,” San said coolly, his voice steady despite the tension.

The surveillance room was dimly lit, their eyes fixed on the monitor showing Seungmin at the club’s edge—perched on a velvet stool, sipping what looked like a cocktail.

“Switch angles,” Hyunjin said. His arms were crossed, jaw set. No emotion. Just calculation.

The team leaned forward as the playback looped. A glass had been swapped. The signs came fast: Seungmin’s blinking slowed. His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone but missed it. Two men approached casually, helping him up.

“Confirmed spike,” one of the techs reported.

San’s voice didn’t rise. “They’re moving. Hotel Royale. Room 1018.”

That was the cue. Hyunjin pushed off the wall. No words. No hesitation. His earpiece buzzed with the sound of footsteps and coordinated signals.

Downstairs, the tactical van’s doors swung open. The team was already armored—dressed in sleek black, nothing flashy. Just effective. San led from the front, Hyunjin flanking left, others closing in formation.

The camera inside 1018 buzzed. Seungmin was placed on the bed—unmoving. His shirt had been loosened. His expression was vacant.

A man leaned down, grinning. “Let’s begin the doll play—”

The screen went black. Cut.

“Move,” San ordered.

Ten minutes later, Room 1018’s door burst open—not with chaos, but precision.

Three seconds. That’s all it took. Three men. Disarmed. Immobilized. Seungmin was pulled upright into Hyunjin’s arms—safe, eyes fluttering.

“Vitals stable,” Wooyoung confirmed.

Hyunjin looked down at Seungmin. No panic. Just a quiet nod. “You did your part. We’ve got the rest.”