Rock, Paper, Secrets
Barcelona
The grand ballroom of the Lotte World Tower was unnervingly quiet, save for the occasional murmur of the wedding guests trying to stay calm amidst the tension. They city crew was resting just in the room alongside. Jimin, code name Barcelona, lounged against a gilded pillar near the back, looking thoroughly uninterested in the whole ordeal. His fingers flicked idly at a deck of cards as Hoseok—Havana—sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, balancing a stack of sugar cubes on his knee.
“Jenga with sugar cubes?” Jimin asked, raising a brow as he shuffled his cards again.
“Why not? Stakes are higher if it’s edible,” Hoseok replied, his grin as carefree as ever.
Jimin snorted, leaning down to place his own sugar cube on top of Hoseok’s precarious tower. It wobbled, but didn’t fall.
Namjoon—Vienna—was standing a few feet away, leaning against the bar counter and checking his watch. His calculating gaze flicked over the room before landing on the two troublemakers. “You two done playing kindergarten games? It’s time to get Kang.”
Jimin’s eyes lit up instantly, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Finally! I was getting bored.” He shot Hoseok a look. “How about this? Rock-paper-scissors. Winner gets to take the lead on sweet-talking Kang out of his room.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Hoseok laughed, shaking his head but holding his hand up. “Fine. But if I win, you have to stop pretending you’re the main character.”
Jimin smirked, already shaking his fist. “As if anyone else could be.”
They played one quick round. Rock. Paper. Scissors.
Jimin’s paper smothered Hoseok’s rock.
“Ha!” Jimin crowed, standing up triumphantly. “I knew it. You might have the muscles, Havana, but I’ve got the brains and the charm.”
Hoseok just laughed, pushing himself up from the floor. “I’d never ruin your fun, anyway. Go ahead, Romeo. Let’s see your magic at work.”
As Jimin preened, Yoongi—Cairo—barely looked up from his laptop on a nearby table. His fingers moved quickly over the keys, likely disabling another security measure or queuing up the next livestream. “You two better not mess this up,” he muttered, his voice deadpan. “We need the viewers engaged, not laughing their asses off.”
Jimin shot him a wink. “Relax, Cairo. I’ve got this. By the time we’re done, our dear CEO will be trending for all the wrong reasons.”
Namjoon gestured toward the doors, where two other masked men stood guard. “Hurry up, Barcelona. The livestream’s in twenty minutes, and Kang’s secret isn’t going to reveal itself.”
Jimin nodded, adjusting his jacket and signaling for Hoseok to follow. The two strode through the grand ballroom, weaving through anxious guests who flinched at the sight of their masks. Jimin, ever the showman, waved jauntily at a group of terrified onlookers.
Hoseok chuckled under his breath as they approached the private rooms. These rooms, originally meant for wedding VIPs, now served as isolation cells for the special hostages whose dirty laundry the crew was airing bit by bit. The masked guards standing outside stepped aside as Jimin gave them a nod.
“Which one’s Kang?” Jimin asked, glancing at the doors.
The taller of the guards pointed to the middle room. Jimin tilted his head dramatically, cracking his knuckles. “All right, Havana. Show time.”
Hoseok leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t take too long. We don’t want him passing out before the livestream.”
“Please, my charm is lethal, but not that lethal,” Jimin said, pushing the door open with a flourish.
Inside, CEO Kang Sung-min was perched on the edge of a plush bed, his face pale as paper. His eyes darted to Jimin and Hoseok, widening in terror as realization dawned.
“No,” Kang stammered, his voice shaky. “It—not me. It has to be someone else. You don’t need me!”
Jimin leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head with a saccharine smile. “Aw, don’t sell yourself short, CEO Kang. The public seems very interested in you. You’re trending, actually.”
Kang swallowed hard, his hands gripping the bedsheets. “I can pay you. Whatever you want, I’ll double it. Triple it. Just—just let me go.”
Hoseok stepped into the room, rolling his shoulders casually. His presence alone seemed to sap what little fight Kang had left. The CEO shrank back, his voice faltering.
“You think this is about money?” Jimin said, his tone dripping with mock sweetness. “That’s cute. But no. This is about the truth, Mr. Kang. And lucky for you, the truth loves company.”
Kang stared at them, sweat beading on his forehead. His voice cracked as he tried one last time. “Please. I’ll do anything. You don’t have to—”
“Get up,” Hoseok said simply, his tone so calm it was almost chilling.
Kang hesitated, his eyes darting between the two masked men. Jimin crossed his arms, feigning impatience. “Don’t make Havana here carry you. He will, you know. And trust me, he’s not gentle.”
Hoseok smirked faintly, cracking his neck. The mere motion made Kang scramble to his feet, trembling. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Jimin said cheerfully, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go. The audience is dying to see you, Mr. Kang.”
Kang shuffled past them, looking like a man walking to his own funeral. Jimin turned to Hoseok, grinning. “Rock-paper-scissors was totally worth it.”
Hoseok just chuckled, following behind as they led their newest “guest” back to the ballroom. “You’re ridiculous, Barcelona. But I’ll give you this—you do know how to put on a show.”
*******
[Live Broadcast - Wedding Korea TV]
[The screen buzzes to life once again, revealing the now-iconic wedding livestream set. The moderators, Kim Hyejin and Park Jinwoo, sit at their table, their nerves stretched tighter than ever. Between them stands the masked man, as confident and ominous as ever. The Hahoetal mask’s expression appears almost mocking under the studio lights.]
[Masked Man]:
“Ah, our devoted audience. Welcome back. I see you’re still with us—how touching. I hope you’re ready for todays… entertainment.”
[He gestures to the center of the stage, where a single chair stands under a spotlight. Kang Sungmin, the CEO of a renowned real estate company, sits with his back unnaturally straight, his hands gripping the armrests like a lifeline. His tailored suit does little to hide the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.]
[Masked Man]:
“Let’s not waste time, shall we? You already met Mr. Kang Sungmin—visionary, innovator, and, dare I say… fraud?”
[Kang Sungmin’s head snaps up, his eyes darting between the masked man and the moderators.]
[Kang Sungmin]:
“Excuse me? Fraud? That’s a baseless accusation!”
[The masked man chuckles softly, the sound both amused and menacing.]
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, Sungmin-ssi, you wound me. We’re just here to shed a little light on your creative business strategies. Isn’t that right, moderators?”
[Kim Hyejin clears her throat nervously, shuffling her cue cards.]
[Kim Hyejin]:
“Uh, yes. Mr. Kang, we’d like to start with a few questions…”
[Kang Sungmin forces a smile, though it looks more like a grimace.]
[Kang Sungmin]:
“Of course. I have nothing to hide.”
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, we’ll see about that.”
[Park Jinwoo]:
“Mr. Kang, your company, Horizon Development, has been praised for its ambitious projects. However, critics have accused you of cutting corners and exploiting loopholes. What’s your response to those allegations?”
[Kang Sungmin adjusts his tie, his voice carefully measured.]
[Kang Sungmin]:
“Those are unfounded rumors spread by competitors. My projects follow all legal regulations.”
[Kim Hyejin]:
“There’s also the issue of the Gangnam redevelopment project. Reports suggest that hundreds of families were displaced without adequate compensation. How do you address that?”
[Kang Sungmin]:
“Let me clarify: we offered compensation that aligned with market standards. The project was necessary for the greater good.”
[Masked Man]:
“Ah, yes. The ‘greater good.’ Is that what you told the elderly couple who refused to leave until bulldozers showed up unannounced? Shall I play the video for everyone?”
[The color drains from Kang Sungmin’s face as the masked man holds up a remote. The screen behind them flickers, but he doesn’t press play—yet.]
[Masked Man]:
“Now, Sungmin, since you’re so adamant about your innocence, let’s spice things up. Shall we?”
[He snaps his fingers, and the screen behind him comes to life, displaying a slideshow of damning evidence: contracts signed under suspicious circumstances, leaked emails discussing cost-cutting at the expense of safety, and even photos of the aforementioned bulldozers.]
[Kim Hyejin gasps audibly, while Park Jinwoo mutters something unintelligible under his breath.]
[Kim Hyejin]:
“Are… are these real?”
[Masked Man]:
“Every last one, verified and authenticated. Care to explain, Mr. Kang?”
[Kang Sungmin stammers, his composure crumbling.]
[Kang Sungmin]:
“T-These are taken out of context! This is a smear campaign!”
[Masked Man]:
“Smear campaign? Sungmin, you’re doing a fantastic job smearing yourself. Oh, and let’s not forget your ‘charity initiatives.’ Tell me, do the orphanages you so generously donate to know that the funds come from money laundered through offshore accounts?”
[Kang Sungmin shoots out of his chair, his voice rising in panic.]
[Kang Sung-min]:
“That’s a lie! You have no proof!”
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, but I do.”
[The screen shifts to a list of offshore accounts, complete with transaction records and incriminating notes. The moderators sit frozen, their expressions a mix of shock and horror. Kang Sungmin collapses back into his chair, his face pale. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.]
[Masked Man]:
“Ladies and gentlemen, let this be a lesson: secrets don’t stay buried forever.”
[He waves cheerfully at the camera, his tone mockingly cheerful.]
[Masked Man]:
“See you all after lunch at 1pm.”
[The screen cuts to black, leaving the moderators, Kang Sungmin, and the audience in stunned silence.]
*******
Havana
Kang Sungmin looked as if his soul had been dragged through a meat grinder. Pale and trembling, the man sat in his chair like a marionette with its strings cut, his face glistening with sweat. The hostage room buzzed with tension, though the rest of the crew seemed unbothered.
Jimin leaned casually against the wall, the corner of his mouth tugged up in his trademark smirk as he adjusted the cuff of his jacket. His easy demeanor almost made you forget that his voice, calm and honeyed, had just driven Sungmin to the edge of a breakdown on the livestream. That’s what you got for gambling with Barcelona.
“Hyung,” Jimin called out lazily to Namjoon, not bothering to lift his eyes from inspecting his nails. “So, what’s next? What’s the plan?”
Namjoon sat on a stack of crates nearby, thumbing through the pages of a well-worn notebook. Even in a hostage situation, the man looked more like a university professor running a lecture than a criminal mastermind. He glanced up from his notes, his sharp gaze immediately setting Jimin straight.
“Everything is already in motion,” Namjoon replied, closing the notebook with a satisfying snap. “All you need to do is focus on what I’ve assigned you.”
Jimin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, muttering something under his breath about Vienna needing to chill. Hoseok, meanwhile, was leaning on the back of a chair, chin resting in his hand as he watched the scene unfold with mild amusement. He had the relaxed air of someone who could switch from clown to executioner in the blink of an eye.
No one was paying attention to Sungmin.
No one noticed the way his hands clenched and unclenched, his knuckles turning white.
No one registered the sudden fire that flared in his bloodshot eyes as he shot out of his chair, screaming, “YOU RUINED MY LIFE!”
Hoseok blinked.
“Uh-oh.”
It all happened in the span of three seconds. Sungmin lunged at Jimin, who, to his credit, didn’t flinch but instead raised one delicate eyebrow as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Oh, you’re brave,” Jimin muttered, just as Sungmin tackled him to the floor with a strangled cry of rage.
Jimin let out a grunt, mostly in annoyance. “Yah! Watch the jacket! Do you know how expensive this is?”
Before Sungmin could do anything regrettable, a shadow moved. Hoseok, quick as a flash, had sprung into action. In a fluid motion, he yanked Sungmin off Jimin like he weighed nothing more than a bag of rice and twisted his arm behind his back in one brutal but efficient move. Sungmin yelped in pain, his bravado evaporating instantly.
“Well, that escalated,” Hoseok said cheerfully, despite the iron grip he had on Sungmin. He hauled the man back to his feet as if he were a misbehaving child caught throwing a tantrum.
Jimin groaned, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket. “Unbelievable. Do you know how much this costs? I swear, if there’s a scratch—”
“Focus, Barcelona,” Namjoon interrupted with an exasperated sigh. His sharp eyes turned to Hoseok. “Get him out of here. Lock him in his room, and don’t let him out until I say so.”
Hoseok straightened up, a sly grin creeping onto his face. “Aye, aye, Captain.” He began to haul Sungmin away, but not before Namjoon stepped closer, leaning in so his words were a razor’s edge against Sungmin’s ear.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” Namjoon said softly, his voice calm but laced with something so dangerous that Sungmin froze. “You’ve already lost everything. Don’t give me a reason to take the rest.”
Sungmin swallowed hard, his face going from defiant to terrified in a matter of seconds.
As Hoseok dragged Sungmin down the hall, the man tried feebly to resist, but Hoseok wasn’t having it. “Hey, relax,” he said, his cheerful tone so at odds with the steel in his grip that it was almost comical. “You’re not exactly Bruce Lee. Do yourself a favor and stop embarrassing yourself.”
When Sungmin didn’t respond, Hoseok clicked his tongue. “No comeback? You really are having a bad day.”
They reached Sungmin’s temporary room—a small but secure space set aside. Hoseok opened the door with one hand while still holding Sungmin in an unbreakable grip with the other.
“Alright, here’s your new digs,” Hoseok said as he shoved Sungmin inside with surprising gentleness. “You’ve got four walls, a ceiling, and the world’s worst attitude. Should be cozy.”
Sungmin turned to glare at him, but Hoseok just grinned. “Don’t give me that look. You’re lucky Vienna told me to be nice.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and tilted his head. “Now, if you behave, I might bring you something to eat later. Maybe.”
Sungmin’s glare didn’t falter, but he stayed silent.
Hoseok winked at him before closing the door with a soft click. As he locked it, he muttered under his breath, “And that is why I don’t do customer service.”
He walked back to the others, shaking his head. “Well, that was fun. Who’s next?”
*******
Jungkook
The police tent buzzed with tension, though the air had become uncomfortably quiet after Kang Sungmin’s livestream. The silence was finally broken by the soft tsk of Jungkook clicking his tongue in disapproval.
“Well,” he muttered, arms crossed and expression unreadable. “There goes the downfall of Kang Sungmin.”
Captain Park, seated at the head of the table, let out a low grunt of agreement. “His reputation won’t recover from this.”
Jungkook didn’t even glance at the older man, his sharp eyes still glued to the frozen image on the screen. Sungmin’s face, pale and sweaty, stared back at him, the camera capturing every ounce of his humiliation.
Jaesun, seated at the edge of the tent like an awkward guest at a party he didn’t want to attend, looked visibly shaken. He had been quiet throughout the ordeal, but now his voice came out strained. “I knew Kang Sungmin from a few events,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “We weren’t close, but… I never thought he could be that ruthless.”
Jungkook gestured at the rest of the team, his voice sharp and commanding. “We have a few hours to prepare before the next show. Use this time. We need leverage—something solid to turn this mess around.”
Seokjin, who had been quietly typing away at his laptop in the corner, finally looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Funny you should mention that,” he said, reaching into a folder on the table. “While the rest of you were busy psychoanalyzing Sungmin, I took the liberty of pulling security footage from just before and during the heist.”
Jungkook narrowed his eyes, interested now. “And?”
“And,” Seokjin continued, laying seven photographs face-up on the table in a neat row, “I cross-referenced the description Signal gave of Seonsaengnim—blond hair, short, bulky—with men who were in or around the hotel at the time. These seven are the best matches.”
The group leaned in to inspect the photos. Each image was grainy, taken from various angles, but they all showed men who could fit the description.
Jaesun hesitated, staring at the photos as though one of them might leap out and accuse him of something. “You think one of these men is Seonsaengnim?”
“That’s the idea,” Seokjin said, tapping a finger on one of the images. “But guessing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
Jungkook straightened, his mind already racing. “We bring Signal in. He’s sitting in a cell not far from here. If anyone can ID one of these guys, it’s him.”
Captain Park frowned. “You want to bring in a known accomplice of the mastermind? How do we know he won’t lie to protect him?”
“He might,” Jungkook admitted. “But he might not. Either way, we don’t have a better option right now.”
Seokjin leaned back in his chair, smirking faintly. “I’m with Jungkook. Worst case, Signal stalls, and we’re back to square one. Best case? We get a name, and that name gives us a lead.”
“Exactly,” Jungkook said, looking at Captain Park with a determined expression. “We can’t afford to waste time second-guessing this. Let’s bring Signal in, give him the photos, and see what happens.”
Captain Park sighed, rubbing his temples as if Jungkook’s intensity was giving him a headache. “Fine.“
Jungkook leaned over the table, his fingers drumming impatiently as he dialed the number for the precinct where Signal was being held. He tapped the speaker button so everyone in the tent could hear. The phone rang twice before a sleepy voice answered.
“This is Officer Kim,” the voice said, as though he’d rather be anywhere else but on the call.
“Officer Kim, this is Investigator Jeon Jungkook. I need Signal brought here immediately,” Jungkook said, his tone clipped and demanding. “We’ve got critical work to do, and I need him ready for questioning.”
There was a pause, the kind that made Jungkook narrow his eyes.
“Uh…” Officer Kim began awkwardly.
“Uh?” Jungkook repeated, sitting up straighter. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“About Signal…” Kim stammered.
“What about Signal?” Jungkook’s voice was already edging toward a growl.
“He’s… gone.”
For a moment, the words didn’t register. Jungkook blinked at the speaker as though it had just insulted him. He froze, his body unnaturally still. Then his jaw clenched, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone.
“Gone?” he said, each syllable sharp as broken glass. “What the hell do you mean gone?”
“I-I mean, uh,” Officer Kim’s voice cracked, clearly realizing he’d just stepped into a minefield. “He’s, uh, not in custody anymore. His bail… it was paid.”
The tent went silent. Seokjin’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly touched his hairline, and even Captain Park stopped mid-sip of his lukewarm coffee.
Jungkook leaned closer to the phone, his tone icy. “Bail? You’re telling me someone paid an ungodly amount of money for this low-life during an ongoing hostage crisis?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” Kim’s nervous laugh was practically audible. “It, uh, it was a huge sum, and we had no choice. He made bail fair and square.”
“Fair and square?” Jungkook repeated incredulously, his voice rising now. He slammed a hand on the table, causing Jaesun to flinch slightly beside him. “Do you understand how idiotic that sounds? Fair and square doesn’t apply when we’re dealing with a heist of this scale!”
“I-I know, sir,” Kim stuttered, clearly floundering. “But we’ve got his contact details, and we told him he has to stay in Seoul and be available for questioning—”
Jungkook laughed, a sharp, humorless sound that sent a chill through the tent. “Stay in Seoul? Oh, great! That’ll definitely keep him from running back to the arms of his criminal buddies.”
“W-We’ll call him right away if we—”
“Do that!” Jungkook barked, cutting the man off. He jabbed the end call button with such force it felt like the phone might crack.
For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the equipment in the tent. Then Jungkook swore, loudly and creatively, before slamming the phone down on the table.
“Dammit!” he growled, pacing like a caged tiger. He raked a hand through his hair, glaring at everyone and no one. “It had to be Seonsaengnim. He must’ve been watching, waiting for us to grab Signal.”
Captain Park rubbed his temples. “If that’s true, then he’s closer than we thought.”
Jungkook nodded grimly, his hands resting on his hips. “He’s not just running the show. He’s one step ahead of us—again.”
“Hang on,” Seokjin interjected, leaning back in his chair with an inquisitive look. “If it was Seonsaengnim who paid, then that raises some questions.”
“Like what?” Captain Park asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Like,” Seokjin said, tapping his fingers on the table, “where he’s getting that kind of cash. Maybe he’s blowing all the profits he’s made from selling those votes and secrets on his website.”
“That’s possible,” Captain Park muttered.
“Seokjin’s right,” Jungkook said, forcing his focus back to the matter at hand. “How much was Signal’s bail?“
Seokjin sighed, finally setting his pen down. “If I had to guess, somewhere north of 300 million won. Guys like him don’t come cheap, and his charges weren’t exactly petty theft. Why?”
Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “300 million won? For that guy? That’s insane.” He started pacing again, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “It doesn’t add up. Why would Seonsaengnim spend that kind of money on a guy like Signal? He’s not worth that much—not even close.”
Captain Park cleared his throat, folding his arms. “Maybe Seonsaengnim needs Signal for something specific. Maybe he’s got intel we don’t know about.”
“Or,” Jungkook interrupted, his tone sharper, “what if Seonsaengnim doesn’t care about the money?”
That got everyone’s attention.
“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked, his brow furrowing.
Jungkook stopped pacing and turned to face them, his expression serious. “Think about it. What if Seonsaengnim’s already rich? What if this isn’t about money at all? What if he’s doing this…” He paused, gesturing vaguely as he searched for the right words, “…for the sake of it?”
Jaesun blinked, sitting up straighter in his chair. “For the sake of what, exactly?”
“For the sake of burning it all down,” Jungkook said, his voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial. “What if this whole thing—the heist, the livestreams, everything—is about flipping off the elite? Exposing their dirty laundry and watching the chaos unfold?”
The room went silent again as the weight of Jungkook’s theory sank in.
Seokjin leaned back in his chair, his lips pursed in thought. “So you’re saying he doesn’t need the money because he’s already got it. And instead of running some elaborate get-rich-quick scheme, he’s pulling a Robin Hood?”
“Not Robin Hood,” Jungkook corrected, his tone sharp. “Robin Hood actually helped people. This guy’s not handing out gold coins to peasants. He’s just… what’s the word?”
“A narcissist?” Seokjin offered helpfully.
Jungkook smirked. “That too. But no, I mean he’s playing god. Like, ‘Look at me, I know all your secrets, and I’m gonna expose them because I can.’”
Captain Park exhaled loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This is giving me a headache.”
“Join the club,” Jungkook muttered, but his eyes flicked toward Jaesun, who was sitting unnervingly quiet, his hands clasped together on the table.
And then it hit him.
The thought wasn’t fully formed, but it was there, lurking in the back of his mind, growing louder the longer Jaesun stayed silent.
He shifted, his gaze narrowing slightly. Jaesun’s silence wasn’t just the awkward kind; it was the heavy kind, the kind that made Jungkook’s instincts buzz.
“What if you know him?” Jungkook asked, his tone deliberate, almost careful.
Jaesun’s head shot up, his dark eyes locking onto Jungkook’s. “What?”
Jungkook’s brow furrowed as he studied him. Jaesun looked startled—no, more than startled. There was something flickering beneath the surface, something Jungkook couldn’t quite pin down.
“You heard me,” Jungkook said, stepping closer. He wasn’t accusing, not exactly, but there was a weight to his words. “You’re part of this world. The parties, the fundraisers, the backdoor deals—you’ve been around these people your whole life.”
“That doesn’t mean I know Seonsaengnim,” Jaesun said carefully, his voice calm but tense.
Jungkook stepped closer. “Think about it. If Seonsaengnim really is rich—if he’s part of the same elite he’s trying to expose—then he’s been in the same rooms as you. He’s shaken hands with the same people, attended the same galas. Hell, for all we know, you’ve had champagne with him and didn’t even realize it.”
Jaesun’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Jungkook’s gaze drifted down, lingering on the way Jaesun’s fingers tightened against each other.
Jungkook swallowed, his voice softening just slightly. “Listen. I’m not saying you’re involved. I’m not accusing you of anything. But if there’s even the smallest chance you’ve crossed paths with this guy—even if you don’t realize it—it could be the key to figuring this out.”
Jaesun’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to the floor before meeting Jungkook’s again. “You really think it could be someone I know?,” he said quietly, his voice steady but strained.
Jungkook didn’t respond immediately. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on Jaesun like he was trying to see through him. Something about Jaesun kept pulling him back, like an unsolved puzzle he couldn’t leave alone.
Finally, Jungkook stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Maybe,” he said, his voice clipped. “If you think of anything—anything at all—you let me know.”
Jaesun nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease.
Seokjin cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Even if Jaesun does know him, we’d need more than a hunch to connect the dots.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook muttered, turning away. “I know.”
But as he walked back toward the table, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jaesun might be the key to cracking this case wide open. And if Jungkook had to stick to Jaesun’s side to figure it out, well… there were worse assignments.