You had read his file before meeting him - Detective Lee Heeseung, Seoul Metropolitan Police. Brilliant, methodical, unnervingly calm under pressure. The kind of man who never raised his voice but somehow always got the last word.

And now, here he was.

Heeseung sat across from you in the dimly lit briefing room, sleeves rolled up, a black watch snug against his wrist. His dark eyes met yours, steady and unreadable. “I assume you’ve been briefed on the case.” His voice was smooth—controlled.

You nodded. “The Phantom Syndicate. Weapons smuggling, stolen intel, government cover-ups. Your team has been chasing shadows for months.”

A flicker of something - amusement? - crossed his face. “And you’re here to bring those shadows into the light?”

“I’m here to finish the job.”

He didn’t react. No scoff, no challenge. Just a slow nod as he reached for the case file, flipping through it with practiced ease. “Special Forces,” he murmured. “That means you’re used to working alone.”

You leaned back. “Is that a problem?”

His lips curved - just barely. A smirk that wasn’t quite there. “Not unless you make it one.”

A pause. A shift. Heeseung studied you, the silence between you heavier than words. There was no hostility, no skepticism - just quiet assessment, like he was already five steps ahead, unraveling everything about you.

Most men would have scoffed at working with you. He didn’t.

That was somehow worse.

“Fine,” he finally said, pushing the file toward you. “We do this together.”

You weren’t sure why your pulse quickened at those words.

But something told you this case wouldn’t just test your skills. It would test something much harder to control.