Hwang Hyunjin, 23, is a skilled member of an underground business that targets some of the filthiest criminals in Seoul’s nightlife. Led by the ruthless yet magnetic married power couple, Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, the group includes a roster of equally dangerous members: Jihyun, Ryujin, Soohyun, Woojin, and Bambam.
Their next mission brings them to Scarlet Pulse, a sprawling club with three stages and a glowing underbelly of crimes that go far beyond music and drinks. The owner hires minors as dancers, drugs targeted customers, and allows VIPs to treat them as living dolls.
When the team arrives, Hyunjin’s attention is stolen by a single performer — a boy with milk tea brown hair and blonde bangs, dressed in a white open-back bodysuit and pearls on his hips. His delicate frame and hypnotic moves burn into Hyunjin’s memory. But when business calls, San reminds him to stay focused. Hours later, as the club empties, Hyunjin and the crew head upstairs to find the boss — only to collide with the same boy, now dressed down and off guard. His name is Kim Seungmin… and he may not be as innocent as he seems.
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The bass shook the walls in slow, heavy pulses, each one rolling through the crowd like a heartbeat. Red strobes cut through the smoke, splashing over bodies packed tight on the floor.
Hyunjin entered with San and Wooyoung at the front, a quiet formation behind them: Jihyun, Ryujin, Soohyun, Woojin, and Bambam. No one needed to speak — their presence alone carved a path through the chaos.
Scarlet Pulse was larger than expected. Three elevated stages commanded separate corners, each with its own world of movement — elegant pole work, impossible acrobatics, and the kind of sensual choreography that made the crowd erupt.
Hyunjin didn’t let himself look long. But once was enough.
Center stage. A boy with milk tea brown hair, a streak of blonde falling across one eye. Skin soft under the lights, almost glowing. His white backless bodysuit clung delicately to a narrow frame, pearls resting loosely on his hips. Every shift of his weight made them sway.
Hyunjin hadn’t planned to be distracted. He never was.
Yet the dancer moved like he knew eyes were on him — slow, fluid, dangerously controlled. Then came the part that froze Hyunjin in place: Seungmin dropped to his knees and let his body melt into the floor, his back arching with effortless grace.
San leaned closer without looking at him. “Stay sharp.”
“I am,” Hyunjin murmured, though he wasn’t entirely sure.
For two hours, they worked. Observing exits. Tracking guards. Watching the club’s pulse slow as customers filed out. Scarlet Pulse transformed from a frenzy to a hollowed-out shell, music fading to a low hum.
Perfect timing.
“Move,” Wooyoung said softly.
They slipped into staff corridors, quiet steps echoing faintly along the narrow hall. The workers who remained were too busy counting tips or sweeping glitter to bother looking up.
They were nearly at the staircase when someone turned the corner too quickly.
A small figure in a black hoodie, hood up, phone in hand. He walked straight into Hyunjin’s chest, stumbling back with a startled breath.
“Oh— sorry.” The voice was soft, polite.
The hood shifted. Milk tea hair. Blonde bangs.
Hyunjin blinked. Of all people.
The dancer looked different without stage lights. Smaller. Tired around the eyes. Real.
He paused when he realized who he’d bumped into — six strangers dressed too clean and standing too still to be ordinary customers. But he didn’t panic. He just straightened his hoodie and gave a tentative, almost apologetic smile.
“Didn’t mean to run you over,” he said lightly.
San stepped forward, not aggressive, simply… assessing. “You’re still here this late?”
The boy shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Long night. Cleaning up takes forever.”
He glanced at Hyunjin again — a brief look, curious, not afraid.
“I’m Seungmin,” he added. “I dance here. Usually.”
Hyunjin didn’t miss the emphasis. Usually.
Wooyoung offered a small nod — calm, collected. “Rough place to work.”